As writers, many of us start out as stylists, endlessly perfecting words on a page. Some are smitten by that great character voice that seems to take on a life of its own. But all of us can come unstuck when someone – usually a workshop leader or fellow workshop attendee – insists but where is your voice in all this?
What does that even mean?
Some days you feel close to that elusive quality when your work takes on a natural rhythm and flow. And then just like that it’s gone again. Surely, if you can lose it that easily, you surmise, then you'd never truly found it in the first place. Which means what? That you've failed in some way?
The workshop leader - in all kindliness - may even set you a few exercises. The group might posit a few suggestions. Well, he/she [the writer] is funny/confident/whimsical. But that’s not it. However flattering or unflattering the terms might be, you know something is still eluding you.
I've done my fair share of reading novel-length manuscripts over the years, all seeking publication, and my theory - and it is just a theory - is that ‘finding your voice’ is a misnomer. What everyone is actually demanding of you is 'what are you questioning?' What is the bold statement that you are making that we can wrestle with? What are you demanding?
What is it? That the world sit up and listen? That love conquers all? That humour is the best antidote? That we're all doomed unless we change our ways/stick to our guns/change our guns.
So figure that out and, there you go, you've found your voice.
But maybe that's the reason why so many writers shy away from asserting their voices. Because, while the novel is all about conflict, not many of us would seek that out in our daily lives.
Personally, I'm tired of arguing. I’m more interested in the writer who has lost their voice and is on an active search to find it. And is open enough to take us along on his/her journey. Now that’s someone I’d want to read.
(Editorial Manager)
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