Writers: Voice

 I have not worked on "Love Stinks" today. Oh, it is hot and sultry to the point of defeating any expense of energy.  I have caught up with some of my email and my blogging instead. Creativity needs energy.

I believe this is the first time I am drawing on Beyond Craft, a Substack from a former editor (IIRC) of the now-defunct Orca. Frankly, I hope to find out why they rejected everything I sent them. Reading this paragraph, I may have found one answer (I think the other is the story was just not up to snuff):

Voice in creative writing is the foundation of your work. It is the combination of all literary elements, such as the ones mentioned above, combined into a single method of delivery that allows each one to come through without having to be unnecessarily emphasized. It is the personality of the story. It is the alchemy of the story. Just like talking to that person at the party, or listening to a standup comedian. The voice has to make you feel comfortable in the world of the story, and yet excited for what is to come.

Particularly with the last work on "Theresa Pressley" I found the voice I used in my original stories to be stodgy. Whether my changes have made the characters compelling remains unknown.

Not something I have actually done, albeit I have tried to think of a possible reader when writing. 

I’ve always believed that a writer should determine, as best as possible, who the audience for their work should be. Who do you imagine reading this story? What is the level of language that will challenge that audience without being obscure or didactic? Just as important you have to assess the characters, the theme, and the action of the story so they are represented in a way that makes them seem spontaneous and realistic. You want readers to believe the story could have actually happened.

You also have to pay a lot of attention to the point of view. Which character should be telling this story? Should it be first person or third person? Maybe even second person. Present or past?

If I apply the amount of rejections received to the idea of a possible reader, I may be a bit delusional about who is my ideal reader.

I definitely have not done the following with regard to voice; although, I would like to think that I did work on voice. Again, the number of rejections have me doubting the success of my efforts.

When planning a story I will typically take several weeks going over the different options for voice in my mind, listening to how they sound delivering what I have decided should be the opening scene of the story, looking for the best possibility of engagement, and the best way of communicating the ideas and theme I want to convey to the audience I have in mind. Then I have to find a way to craft the voice so that readers don’t think of it as story, but are engaged to where it becomes an experience. Essentially I want to create a literary oxymoron—write a story that seems so real it takes readers out of their daily reality. That’s perhaps the hardest part of all this.

This is great advice put clearly. When I can think of something besides the heat, humidity, and sweat popping up in places annoying.

I also like the kindness in this paragraph; it is a sign of humility on the part of its writer.

Which is another reason writers shouldn’t be so bummed out when their work is rejected. A rejection is not an editor necessarily saying you don’t have good writing skills. Instead it should be read as your voice is not resonating with that particular reader. Keep that in mind, especially when you ask for feedback on your work. Editors and members of writing groups have a tendency to pick apart stories, offering criticisms about specific aspects of craft, and making them sound like there can be no other interpretation than, “your story isn’t ready.” In my own experience, though, I’ve found that the criticisms often contradict within the group. For example, one person might say they didn’t understand the main character’s motivation, and the next person might say they identified with the character completely.[1] Really what the critics might have said is that the voice just didn’t work for them. A writer can usually tell, though, especially when opinions about a submission are divided. 

As the writer says towards the end, no concrete answers. That is fine; I have doubts about pronouncements that sound like the literary version of paint-by-the numbers. The most I get out of this advice - and the other advice I am posting here - is to make me think more broadly about my work. That is, not to just get it done, but to question my process of writing.  Has it worked? Let me answer that when I finish the pudding. Until then, it is about applying the ideas to the work, so I need to get back to writing.

 sch 6/22