Each writer has
her or his own distinct “voice.” Some writers spend decades looking for their unique
voices, and others find theirs with the very first story they write. Voice and
style are related but different.
Voice is what a
reader hears inside his or her head when reading words. Storytelling is an art
that existed long before the written word, and the best storytellers have a
natural rhythm that mesmerizes listeners with alliteration, repetition, rhyme, parallel
structures, and patterns of pacing that enchant and entrance.
Too many writers
are unaware of how the human mind processes language. Various structures in the
brain—some in the left hemisphere and some in the right—work together to make
sense out of symbols. Symbols include, besides alpha-numeric digital
representations, sounds, gestures, signs, maps, smells, tastes, and physical
feelings. It is the mind that gives meaning to each symbol based on prior
associations dredged out of memory. The map is not the territory but merely a
representation of the territory.
During conversations
with fellow writers at the 2015 Nebula Award Banquet in Chicago, I identified
successful new writers by which symbols had salience for them and the way they accessed
information. Some writers were very verbal and had a fluidity of language based
primarily on auditory processing of sensory input. Those people were able to
instantly duplicate and respond to what they heard as they heard it. Sounds
themselves had salience. Those writers are akin to the musician who plays mostly
by ear, translating auditory input into kinesthetic output without the
additional steps auditory-digital types like me require to process input and
output.
One of those
writers admitted to having difficulty reading stories published in books and sf
magazines. It wasn’t until he listened to books on tape or CD—auditory files—that
he found his own voice for his writing. He “hears” stories inside his head.
Then he translates those stories into symbols that comprise the written word
based on the spoken word. Once he discovered where his voice came from, he has
become a prolific author.
I work differently. I “see” stories, then
translate them into words that describe my visions. First I see the scenes.
Then I see the written symbols that best represent that scene. I see each
letter, each punctuation mark, each space at the beginning of a new paragraph,
the way words and white space look laid-out on a page, the way each page
contributes to the story as a whole.
I write at the
keyboard where my fingers automatically translate the symbols in my head into
kinesthetic actions that produce the symbols that appear on the screen or piece
of paper. I cannot listen to music while writing. Background music interferes
with the words in my head. Other writers find that listening to music while
writing is a big help. Different strokes for different folks.
If you are primarily
auditory like Stephen King, Kevin J. Anderson, and the guy I met at the nebulas,
you might find writing easier if you dictate and capture the words into a
digital recorder or into a program like Nuance’s Dragon Naturally Speaking.
Dragon for Windows or Macs will type your spoken words for you with up to 95%
accuracy. There is a slight learning curve, but it will increase the output of
an auditory person exponentially.
If you are
primarily kinesthetic, you might prefer to write with a pen on paper before
revising your works on a keyboard or sending your notebooks to a typist. The
feel of the paper itself, the touch of the pen to paper, produces words from
your subconscious faster and better than any other process. Kinesthetic writers
also love to pound out words on manual typewriters. They write with a flourish
that adds to their style. James Patterson is a kinesthetic writer.
If you’re more
like me, however, you separate the process into a series of “drafts.” The first
draft is primarily visual, and you describe what you see. The second draft
includes imagined sounds, tastes, feelings, smells. During the third draft I
read all the words aloud to hear how the words sound and to feel how they roll
off my tongue. I add punctuation marks to match my pauses, inflections,
intonations. I tend to cut unnecessary flourishes out of my stories unless they
add momentum to the plot or help describe a specific character.
If a story is to
work, it must engage all of the reader’s senses. Some readers are primarily
auditory, some are visual, some are kinesthetic, some olfactory, and some gustatory.
The majority of people in this world are auditory. They respond best to
dialogue, to alliteration, to phrasing. Kinesthetic people respond best to
action and they translate words on paper into muscle movements. If you want to
appeal to every reader, you need to reach each of them in their own personal
comfort zones.
I can listen to music
all day and appreciate the rhythms but not duplicate the sounds “as is” on a
musical instrument. I can, however, imagine the notes appearing individually on
a musical score, write those notes down, arrange counterpoint and harmony, and
play the music on nearly any instrument by following the sheet music. After
translating the visual score into kinesthetic fingerings or vocalizations, I
can practice until I get the rhythm right. I then artificially add feeling to
change tone and timbre and provide warmth to the composition. The end result
might be the same, but it takes an auditory-digital a much longer time to get
there than an auditory-kinesthetic. I don’t do well at impromptu jam-sessions.
I don’t hear or feel the music. I see the music.
It took me fifty
years to find my voice. I went about it the long and hard way. Instead of
listening to other voices, I saw written words on paper. I only imagined what
those words sounded like. It wasn’t until I read my written words aloud at
conventions that I decided to include the spoken word as an important part of
my writing process.
Some people tell
me they find it difficult to imagine. They feel, they do, they hear, they
speak. They don’t see images. They’re not lying. They can’t easily visualize. The
way to reach such people is to touch them, to speak to them, to mimic them and
then lead them to accept new experiences via their primary senses. It’s easy
once you have established rapport. Let them hear and feel what you want them to
see. Images will eventually appear in their mind’s eye. It just takes some
people longer than others to see what you want them to see.
Auditory digitals,
like me, often get hung up on description. We tend to write long narratives
that include copious details better left to dialogue. We tend to view scenes
from multiple viewpoints rather than a personal POV. We tend to lecture and to provide
too much information, much more than any one character (or any one reader) is
capable of handling. Therefore, we need to be ruthless in our editing. We need
to butcher our little darlings. We need to cut out all the fat but leave enough
meat on the bone to be both nourishing and palatable.
To find your own voice,
determine how you primarily access information and process sensual input. Listen
to your voice, see your voice, feel your voice, taste your voice, smell your
voice. Temper your voice with style. Style is deliberate manipulation of words
to invoke more than one sense by using alliteration, onomatopoeia, rhythm,
rhyme, metaphor, simile, and all those other verbal skills you possess but don’t
normally use. Begin in your own comfort zone and venture outside it. Write
until all your fingers are sore, you’re vividly hallucinating, and the voice
inside your head is telling you what to do next. Then stop just long enough to
smell the roses and to taste success before you pick up the pen to write again.
Tell your stories
in your own way with your own voice. Just remember that not everyone will be
able to see or hear your words the same way you do.
