Perspective and Your Authorial Voice
By Jo Eberhardt | May 6, 2017 |
It’s become something of an adage that every literary agent (or publisher, or editor, or reader…) is looking for is a fresh and distinctive Voice. But what, exactly, is Voice?
Depending on where you look, you’ll find any number of people offering definitions, ranging from Rachelle Gardner:
Your writer’s voice is the expression of YOU on the page.
To Leah McLellan:
Your personality comes out in your writing. Your voice is a combination of your attitude, your tone, and your personal style.
Or Darcy Pattison:
Voice is something subconscious that appears as a result of style; that is, a consideration of vocabulary, sentences, punctuation, rhythms, and formality.
None of those definitions are wrong, but nor do they really nail the description. Perhaps, like pornography, a distinctive Voice is hard to define, you just know it when you see (hear?) it.
I’m not the first person on Writer Unboxed to talk about Voice, and I will definitely not be the last. There are fantastic essays here on the site by Meg Rosoff, Mike Swift, and Donald Maass, amongst others. And I’m not going to attempt to define the indefinable. Instead, I want to talk about one specific aspect of Voice:
Perspective.
Often when people talk about Voice, they talk about vocabulary and sentence structure and rhythm; about style. And that is definitely a large part of what we mean when we talk about Voice. But there’s another element as well. Allow me to share a paragraph from Donald Maass’s essay:
The thing is, every novelist already has a voice. It may be comic, deadpan, dry, pulpy, shrill, objective, distant, intimate, arty or a thousand other things. It comes through in the story that an author chooses to tell and the way in which they choose to tell it. (emphasis mine)
A big part of finding and maintaining a strong, distinctive authorial voice is telling the story from the perspective that feels most “natural”–most “right”–for you. Your choice of perspective will depend on your background, your experiences, your core beliefs, and your mindset, and it is the first step in making the story that you tell authentically yours.
Several years ago, Stephen Fry was asked for his take on the difference between American and British comedy. This is part of his answer: (You can watch the whole thing here.)
When it comes to comedy, it’s satisfactorily, I think, obvious that the American comic hero is a wise-cracker who is above his material, and who is above the idiots around him. … You know that scene in Animal House where there, uh… there is a fellow playing folk music on guitar? And John Belushi picks up the guitar and destroys it. He just smashes it and waggles is eyebrows at the camera, and everyone thinks: God, he’s so great. Well, the British comedian would want to be the folk singer.
Leaving aside the American vs British aspect (although Fry’s reasoning as to why this is the case is fascinating), the fact is that some people feel more comfortable telling the story from the perspective of the eyebrow-waggling, wise-cracking hero, whereas others prefer to tell the story from the perspective of the poor, suffering guitarist whose life is a long series of disappointments.
Now, sometimes that choice seems obvious. And it’s definitely a stylistic choice. But, make no mistake, it’s also a representation of your Voice.
Would you choose to tell the story of a brave a
nd courageous man protecting his world from alien invasion? Or of an alien conscript, forced to do a job he hates so he can one day return to the lady alien he left behind, only to be summarily punched in the face by Will Smith?
On that note, let’s think about the Voice of movies. Whose voice is it that we’re experiencing? Regardless of the screenwriter or the actors, it’s the director’s Voice which is most evident in a finished movie. The director chooses the shots; the focus; the lighting. She directs the actors as to where to stand, and how to say their lines. She makes decisions about costuming and set design and music. It is the director’s Voice we see when we watch a film.
Regardless of how many movies a director makes, their Voice tends to remain consistent. If we go see a Michael Bay movie, we know to expect explosions and scantily-clad women in unnatural poses. If we sit down to watch an M. Night Shyamalan movie, we know to expect close-ups of actor’s faces and a twist ending. Those are aspects of the directors’ Voices, and their films wouldn’t feel like their films without them.
Imagine, if you will, the movie Titanic, as directed by Quentin Tarantino.
Or Transformers, as directed by John Hughes.
As writers, we don’t have access to music or lighting or soft focus. All we have are words. But before we worry about vocabulary and sentence structure, we need to figure out where we stand; whose story are we telling, and how are we telling it?
How does perspective influence your authorial voice? Would you rather write about John Belushi or the guitarist? Or someone else entirely?
[coffee]
Jo Eberhardt is a writer of speculative fiction, mother to two adorable boys, and lover of words and stories. She lives in rural Queensland, Australia, and spends her non-writing time worrying that the neighbor’s cows will one day succeed in sneaking into her yard and eating everything in her veggie garden.
Imagine, if you will, the movie Titanic, as directed by Quentin Tarantino.
“And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who would attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the ICEBERG when I lay my vengeance upon thee.”
Hahaha. That almost makes me want to watch Tarantino’s Titanic.
James, oh my gosh, how awesome ^.^
What an interesting post on a difficult to define subject, Jo. I love that you addressed perspective because it feels to me to be the closest we can get to definition. I’ve often wondered if readers “hear” an author’s voice in the same way that the author “hears” his own voice as he/she writes. Do we even authentically “hear” ourselves as we write or is it all just a happy accident of personality, style, etc?
I like to think that we do “hear” oursleves and that voice may be something of a choice dictated by the stories we tell. For me as an author of historical fiction, it depends on the period, the locational setting, and the person in which I am writing. I like to think, I certainly hope, that my voice shifts somewhat when I am writing a novel set in the American South and Brazil in the nineteenth century as opposed to one set in Morocco in the mid-twentieth. With the earlier setting, I push my sentence structure and dialogue to feel more like nineteenth century language and forms of expression, but without overdoing it so much as to be off-putting to modern readers. With my work set in the twentieth century, I try to make distinctions again between the first quarter and mid-point of the century. I think I can feel a shift again when I write in close thrid person as opposed to first. Or maybe, I am just really talking about style and craft rather than voice. I would love to know yours and other peoples’ thoughts. As you said, voice is a difficult thing to define!
Thanks for your thoughts, Linda. You’ve raised some really interesting questions.
I think that, when done well, the voice the reader “hears” when reading a novel is the same (or close enough) to the voice they’d hear when listening to you speak. Yes, there may be some changes in style, but the overall perspective, worldview, and vocabulary etc remains the same.
(On a side note, that’s how I can always tell if someone has pulled out a thesaurus when writing–one word that just sounds out of place, that I couldn’t imagine them actually saying.)
I think one of the best modern examples of this is John Green. His voice is very distinctive, and quite different to the voices of many YA authors. He doesn’t shy away from words or concepts or knowledge that many people would feel are too “advanced” for teenagers. His writing is deep and thoughtful, and yet slightly quirky. And he runs on sentences like nobody’s business, not with commas, but with a series of ‘and’ that make you feel, when reading, that he’s talking non-stop without pausing for breath; like the words are pushing you down a hill with greater and greater speed. If you’ve ever read one of his books, you’ll know what I mean. And then you can go listen to him talk on his YouTube channel (vlogbrothers), and he talks EXACTLY like that in person. I know people who find him hard to listen to because he talks so fast they can’t follow him.
As to your point about different Voices for different time periods, that makes perfect sense to me. You do need a different style of writing. However, you’ll probably find that the books all still sound like you. Which is to say that, despite a different sentence structure and use of vocabulary, there’s a good chance you’ve got a similar perspective and worldview. Do you always write about wealthy or poor people? What are your inferred biases? How do YOU see the world, and what message are you sending based on your character arcs and how THEY see the world?
That’s exactly why Voice is more than just the way you phrase your sentences.
In real life, we speak differently in different settings (in the corporate world vs to a traffic cop vs to our friends), but we are still uniquely us. It’s that You that comes across in your Voice, regardless of what century’s language you’re writing in.
Thank you for a great clarification! Thinking about your points, I can see that you are spot on regarding the things do not change with one’s voice.
Hi, Jo:
You may have inadvertently invented a new parlor game: describe for us [movie name] if it were directed by [director name].
The same could be done with novels of course: Write the opening of Moby Dick if it had been written by Mickey Spillane.
That said, you raise a sneaky, mind-expanding point: How much of a novel changes given whose perspective you choose to tell it from, and how much the result depends on that character’s own unique voice.
I think most writers inadvertently default to a version of their own authorial voice when deciding to approach the material. At least, this is true of me. The characters’ voices — including significantly their perspectives on events — emerge as I begin to develop their scenes.
But the notion of building from the very start on a certain character’s perspective and owning only that view, even as you develop the things he doesn’t see, recognize, understand, feel — that’s a fascinating challenge.
I’ve not done a lot of first person writing, but the novel I’m working on now requires it. And this post makes we want to return to the character a bit more to flesh out more of just what it unique — and flawed — in his understanding of events. For that too, as you say, is fundamental to voice.
I’m now going in to teach a weekend worth of workshops. Thanks for the wonderfully inspirational sendoff.
Thanks, David. There’s so much to talk about on the subject of Voice, isn’t there?
Starting with an understanding of our own perspective and Voice, and then developing from there is such an interesting way to go about writing–particularly in first person. I’m a big fan of Unreliable Narrators for that reason–being able to present an authorial perspective in the text that is substantially different to the perspective of the first person protagonist. It’s a fun challenge.
Have a great time teaching!
I wouldn’t write about the brave hero or the alien conscript. I’d write about the left-behind lady alien, who gets tired of the war and shows up to stand between the sides and force them to talk instead. And then she’d be so sick of the guys and their fighting that she’d find a nice girlfriend and settle down on Earth as an expat and teach alien language and culture lessons.
I’m contrary. It’s part of my voice.
In all seriousness, though, I think this gets at why so many writers (including me) struggle with voice. If voice is fundamentally about your perspective, then it requires confidence, or at least trust in yourself. Self-consciousness and second-guessing stifle voice like nothing else.
I’m sitting here determined not to edit this comment. I will not second guess. I will trust my voice.
“If voice is fundamentally about your perspective, then it requires confidence, or at least trust in yourself.”
Yes! This is exactly it. So many people talk about finding your voice, or working on your voice, but, really, it’s about finding your confidence to be uniquely you. And that’s hard. I mean, putting yourself out there for everyone to see can be terrifying. It feels so much easier to hide behind a wall of “style” and “convention” than letting your contrary voice shine through in all its glory.
And I LOVE your take on the alien invasion. I would absolutely read that version of Independence Day.
It is a sobering moment when you look at what you do, and realize that, for better or for worse, you have a voice.
From that moment on, you have your own standard for your new writing to meet.
The fears become about something else: losing your ability to write in your own voice.
Yes! I think that’s one of those things that many writers don’t think about; something that actually gets harder after each book you publish.
But I think it’s also important to realise that our Voices can grow and change with us. If our Voice is the truest, most authentic version of ourselves, then it’s going to grow as we grow as people. It will still be authentically us, just a more enlightened version of us.
Great post, and comments too. Voice is one of those quirky, you-know-it-when-you-see-it qualities. I can imagine Charles Dickens writing about the outrageous, over-the-top luxury and decadence of a Danielle Steele romance, first from the heroine’s POV, then from a servant’s. The character we “inhabit” as authors affects the intonation of our voice.
Yes, I think that’s true, to an extent. In that we will generally (but not always) choose to “inhabit” characters that amplify our own Voice. But it’s definitely possible to have an authorial Voice that differs from the Voice of the characters.
I love the idea of Dickens critiquing Danielle Steele’s voice. Hilarious.
Interesting and thought-provoking post on Voice. You don’t come up with a definitive answer, which is appropriate as Voice can be so many things. Question: Do you distinguish between author’s voice and protagonist’s voice? (I’ve heard/read many times that publishers are looking for a character with a distinctive voice.) In my own fiction I look for and work on different portrayals of voice in different stories, though I suppose my own voice somehow comes through in each of them.
Yes, there is definitely a difference between authorial voice and protagonist voice. Sometimes–particularly when writing in 1st or close 3rd person–the two seem to mesh seamlessly, but the fact that you’ve chosen to tell the story from that character’s perspective is an aspect of your authorial voice.
Each character should have their own unique voice, but your author’s voice will also shine through, not just in your word use and sentence structure, but in your perspective, worldview, and implicit biases.
I’m writing my first novel. I’ve written a short story that was self-published in a holiday anthology a couple of years ago. My roommate tells me she likes my voice. She mentioned this over a small scene that I wrote as an exercise. I asked her what she meant. I am such a newbie that I wasn’t sure that I even had a voice. She couldn’t explain it either. She said she liked the way it was worded and the little twist at the end. I am confused a lot about voice. I’ve heard that when a writer is new, it takes time to develop it. How do you know when you have a particular voice?
Hi Rebecca. Thanks for commenting. In answer to your question, I believe everyone has a Voice–the trick when you’re a beginner is learning to have confidence in your Voice. (Read Laura Swanson’s great comment above for more on this.)
In my opinion, what takes time to develop is not your voice, as such, but your ability to confidently put your voice on the page. Often when we start out, we try to emulate writers we love. Now, there’s nothing wrong with that–those writers are our “influences” in much the same way that you can often listen to a new band and pick out which older bands influenced them. But the step from beginner writer to intermediate writer involves moving away from emulation and into using your own distinct voice without self-censorship.
To paraphrase Stephen King (from his book ‘On Writing’, which is absolutely wonderful–if you haven’t read it yet, I highly recommend it): The only way to improve your voice is to read a lot and write a lot.
Good luck!
Thanks, Jo. Yes, I have read Stephen King’s On Writing. It is wonderful. This makes a lot of sense. I guess the only way to really know that voice is experience.
Hey, Jo,
Almost forgot your article was up today! My head is off in a million places, so Siri read it to me via Morse code vibrations and I’m commenting touch type. I hope it returns soon; I can’t sleep without a head.
You and I have talked about perspective before and how the difference in our voices definitely affected our perspectives on the same story idea — from whose perspective we’d tell it, the genre we’d choose, etc.
For me, I can’t get away from the comic vein — not that I’ll write comedy, per se, but there’s always some chuckle in even the darkest of moments, like an audible fart at a funeral. And when strong enough, both will bring tears to your eyes.
Great, fresh take on voice. And why? Because it was a different voice with a new perspective!
And thanks for mentioning my article. 😃
Thanks, Mike. Yes, I forgot to remind you my post was going live today–thank goodness Siri was there to remind you. :)
I’m glad you enjoyed my article. Keep on writing–and keep the comedy gold flowing.
I enjoyed this take on trying to nail down voice through perspective. It made me suddenly cognizant of my choices in that regard. No matter the surrounding story, my perspective is always told from the innocent, unaware character, being pulled along into the new adventure with a certain skepticism and a bit of irreverence. From relationship squabbles to epic tales, I always take the view of this character, and the rare times that I don’t, the tone and voice of the piece always feels very distinctive and strongly differs from the rest of my work. Thank you for helping me make this grand discovery!
Hmmmm! I find this slightly disturbing. Sounds like my finished book will be full of unfinished sentences, digressions, and I forgot what I was I thinking…wait what was I talking about?
Ah well. The writing is fun. :)
Thanks for great perspective Jo.
A big part of finding and maintaining a strong, distinctive authorial voice is telling the story from the perspective that feels most “natural”–most “right”–for you. Loved this line. “feels most “natural”–most “right”–for you” is the most important thing for voice. If you’re writing in an unnatural way or in some way that doesn’t feel right then your voice will suffer greatly. But seriously, who would do that? You may want to write a novel from the POV of a 17th century murder and write the book using language that would have been used in the 17th century even in the prose so the book feels like it was written in that time period (not just about that time period). Can be done. However, if this is not natural to you (come easily, with or without research) or feel 100% right (more struggle than worth it) it will kill your voice and thus your story. If a 17th dialect comes naturally to you, then good, write in it all you want. If not, it can with a lot of practice and dedication, but if those are not something you want to exert then probably don’t write in that voice.
The point is, be who you are when you write. Which does not mean just write and however it sounds is acceptable because you are you and that’s how you wrote it, but does mean write it in a way that feels like “this is me” on the page. Not sure what is you? Write. Just write. And you’ll find yourself (eventually)…and when you do, you’ll know it.
If you’re not true to yourself…your readers will know (even if you don’t).