When I first became serious about being published, I attended meetings and traveled to conferences. I took workshops, met wonderful people, and scheduled appointments with editors and agents. At my first national writer’s conference, I pitched to an editor of a well-known publishing house who said she was intrigued by my story and asked me to send her my full manuscript. I was so excited that when I got home, I polished it and sent it out right away.
A few months later, I received a letter from her. Dear Laura, it said. I want you to know that I read your entire story. You have a beautiful voice, and while your premise is promising, it is not a good match for what we are looking for …
Being green and uneducated about the publisher’s line, I did not know that my story breached several of their specific guidelines, like premarital sex and touching below the shoulders – you get the idea.
Although it was a rejection letter, I was thrilled. Wow, she’d read my entire story and thought my premise was promising, but what intrigued me the most was the mention of my “beautiful voice”. I had a beautiful voice? Who knew? But what the heck was my voice?
Since I am inquisitive and have to know everything, I asked several friends in my Chapter and even my critique partner at the time who scratched her head and told me to let her know when I found out. After a little research, I found that most definitions of a writer’s voice state that it is the literary term used to describe the individual writing style of an author. Voice is considered to be the combination of a writer’s use of syntax, diction, punctuation, character development, dialogue, etc.
I believe that a writer’s voice is the essence of his/her words. It is the unique quality or style of how he or she delivers their story to the page. When I think of voice, I think of meter, flavor, embodiment, and style – all the ingredients that make your words your own.
Once I discovered I had a voice, it was hard for me to learn to discern it. I only know that when I write, the words sound right. They flow from me to the page in a way that only I can deliver them, but that’s not to say they are perfect – in fact they are far far from it.
Learning to edit my work with others was and still is a challenge. I have to be careful not to lose my voice or water it down while working with my critique partners. I write historicals, and sometimes my work flirts on the edge of being more purple than my gutsy, comedic, paranormal, romance writing critique partners would like.
While they have taught me to set aside my crown as the Queen of Redundancy, and to drop the leash for walking the dog, I too have had to remind them that the William Shatner method of bad dialogue just…doesn’t…cut…the…mustard.
I appreciate my critique partners for their honesty and earnest desire to help me deliver a better story. However, knowing the difference between what will make our writing stronger and what might compromise our unique styles is a struggle.
Understanding your voice is key when you work with others. I recommend taking some time to look at your own words. Ask yourself what stands out about your work, then ask others to read it and describe what they believe your voice is.
Remember your style is unique to you, and if you haven’t already – Take time to discover your voice.
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