Let’s go over what “voice” in a story is, why it’s important, and look at some good examples from books.
Then YOU vote for what kind of “voice-y” story we’ll write together!
During the last stream, a subscriber requested that we go over how to write with voice in a story.
You can watch the video here to or scroll down for notes/highlights.
How to Write Voice
What is Voice?
- Voice is the personality of a character being expressed in their narration and dialogue in a story
- For example, the sentence “The candy store was nearby my house” is generic, anyone could say it.
- But if you change it to have voice in it…
- Hoodlum voice: “I could piss from my bedroom window and hit the candy store.”
- Funny voice: “Thanks to living next to a candy store, I was fat, toothless, and reeked of candy corn.”
- Anxious voice: “The bright lights of the candy store next door called to me at night, seducing me into relapsing.”
- There is also a thing called authorial voice, which is an author’s similar writing style over several different stories, but that’s not what we’re going over today
Why is Voice Important?
- Voice is what transforms a story from mere words on the page to sounding like something a real person is telling you
- A story without voice will get very boring very quickly, you need to have it start strong from the first paragraph and continue strong throughout the entire story
- Voice also can help direct a story: look at the three different examples above, each of their plots is being pulled in a different direction, thanks to the voice of the character
Voice in the 1st Person
- 1st person means a story that is told from one character’s POV and uses “I/me”
- 1st person requires a strong voice to work, otherwise it will feel inauthentic
- Let’s take a look at some examples:
#1. The Fault in Our Stars by John Green
So here’s how it went in God’s heart: The six or seven or ten of us walked/wheeled in, grazed at a decrepit selection of cookies and lemonade, sat down in the Circle of Trust, and listened to Patrick recount for the thousandth time his depressingly miserable life story—how he had cancer in his balls and they thought he was going to die but he didn’t die and now here he is, a full-grown adult in a church basement in the 137th nicest city in America, divorced, addicted to video games, mostly friendless, eking out a meager living by exploiting his cancertastic past, slowly working his way toward a master’s degree that will not improve his career prospects, waiting, as we all do, for the sword of Damocles to give him the relief that he escaped lo those many years ago when cancer took both of his nuts but spared what only the most generous soul would call his life. AND YOU TOO MIGHT BE SO LUCKY!
- Just by reading the narration, you get a feel for what kind of character Hazel is
- She’s sarcastic, morbid, and deals with her cancer/depression through dark comedy
- One of the driving forces to read the book, beyond the plot, is to see the world through her eyes
#2. The Hate You Give by Angie Thomas
I shouldn’t have come to this party. I’m not even sure I belong at this party. That’s not on some bougie shit, either. There are just some places where it’s not enough to be me. Either version of me. Big D’s spring break party is one of those places.
I squeeze through sweaty bodies and follow Kenya, her curls bouncing past her shoulders. A haze lingers over the room, smelling like weed, and music rattles the floor. Some rapper calls out for everybody to Nae-Nae, followed by a bunch of “Heys” as people launch into their own versions. Kenya holds up her cup and dances her way through the crowd. Between the headache from the loud-ass music and the nausea from the weed odor, I’ll be amazed if I cross the room without spilling my drink.
- The voice of the main character here, Starr, is not as in-your-face as Hazel’s, but it’s still strong
- Her use of certain words goes a long way to showing her personality
- Also her thoughts about herself are part of her voice, showing her out-of-place-ness
#3. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime by Mark Haddon
It was 7 minutes after midnight. The dog was lying on the grass in the middle of the lawn of Mrs. Shears’s house. Its eyes were closed. It looked as if it was running on its side, the way dogs run when they think they are chasing a cat in a dream. But the dog was not running or asleep. The dog was dead. There was a garden fork sticking out of the dog. The points of the fork must have gone all the way through the dog and into the ground because the fork had not fallen over. I decided that the dog was probably killed with the fork because I could not see any other wounds in the dog and I do not think you would stick a garden fork into a dog after it had died for some other reason, like cancer, for example, or a road accident. But I could not be certain about this.
- Chris is an autistic boy, and we understand that just through reading the first paragraph of the book
- Here, it’s not so much single words to get the voice across, instead it’s his odd observations and dispassion
- NOT having a character react in a certain/expected way can be a part of their voice too
Voice in the 3rd Person
- 3rd person means a story that is told from one or more characters’ POV and uses “he/she/they”
- Voice in the 3rd person is typically seen as harder to do than voice in the 1st person, but that’s not necessarily true
- Let’s take a look at some examples:
#1. Carrie by Stephen King
That was good for Momma, all right for her. She didn’t have to go among the wolves every day of every year, out into a carnival of laughers, joke-tellers, pointers, snickerers. And didn’t Momma say there would be a Day of Judgment and an angel with a sword?
If only it would be today and Jesus coming not with a lamb and a shepherd’s crook, but with a boulder in each hand to crush the laughers and the snickerers, to root out the evil and destroy it screaming — a terrible Jesus of blood and righteousness. And if only she could be His sword and His arm.
- Looking at this example, we’re just as much in Carrie’s head as we would be if the story were written in 1st person
- Since the book jumps around to many different POVs, it would be hard to write in 1st person since the reader would lose track of who is who, which is likely why the author went for 3rd person
- But just because it’s written in 3rd person doesn’t mean the paragraphs can’t ooze with personality
#2. Game of Thrones by George RR Martin
Catelyn had never liked this godswood. She had been born a Tully, at Riverrun far to the south, on the Red Fork of the Trident. The godswood there was a garden, bright and airy, where tall redwoods spread dappled shadows across tinkling streams, birds sang from hidden nests, and the air was spicy with the scent of flowers.
The gods of Winterfell kept a different sort of wood. It was a dark, primal place, three acres of old forest untouched for ten thousand years as the gloomy castle rose around it. It smelled of moist earth and decay. No redwoods grew here. This was a wood of stubborn sentinel trees armored in grey-green needles, of mighty oaks, of ironwoods as old as the realm itself. Here thick black trunks crowded close together while twisted branches wove a dense canopy overhead and misshapen roots wrestled beneath the soil. This was a place of deep silence and brooding shadows, and the gods who lived here had no names.
- This example shows another important part of voice: showing the character’s unique POV
- Catelyn’s POV on the godswood is going to be very different from her husband’s, who would likely see it as a beautiful place, so getting the negative details from her POV is part of her voice
- Your character is a unique person, with their own unique view, make sure that their biases, likes, and dislikes come across clearly and often!
#3. Unwind by Neal Shusterman
“There are places you can go,” Ariana tells him, “and a guy as smart as you has a decent chance of surviving to eighteen.”
Connor isn’t so sure, but looking into Ariana’s eyes makes his doubts go away, if only for a moment. Her eyes are sweet violet with streaks of gray. She’s such a slave to fashion — always getting the newest pigment injection the second it’s in style. Connor was never into that. He’s always kept his eyes the color they came in. Brown. He never even got tattoos, like too many kids get these days when they’re little. The only color on his skin is the tan it takes during the summer, but now in November, that tan has long faded. He tries not to think about the fact that he’ll never see the summer again. At least not as Connor Lassiter. He still can’t believe that his life is being stolen from him at sixteen.
- This example combines both the “getting in their head” part of Carrie and the “unique POV” part of Game of Thrones
- We see Connor’s thoughts (his life is being stolen) and his biases (thinking Ariana is a slave to fashion)
- There’s not even too many unique expressions here, but we still feel like we really know Connor after just one paragraph
IN SUMMARY!
- It doesn’t matter if your story is 1st person or 3rd person, you still want to make sure your character’s voice is strong
- Do that by getting in their head, pulling out their personality, and making it ooze onto every paragraph of narration, dialogue, and words/expressions they use
- No one wants to read a story about a generic blob, they want to read about a PERSON, so give that person a VOICE!
After that, chat voted that we write a story with a strong voice based on these two images: a campfire at night and a UFO space-vortex.
Here’s what we came up with:
The end of the world saved my marriage. Look, I’m not saying that the millions of people dying or the aliens invading via apocalyptic vortexes in the sky was a good thing, necessarily. I’m just saying that some good came out of it. Such as me and Elle finally speaking to each other without shouting for the first time since the legendary fight we had arguing over who got to cut our wedding cake.
I suppose seeing your elderly neighbor Mrs. Holden fried to death from UFO death ray really has a way of putting things in perspective.
Now, instead of yelling at her about leaving globules of hair blocking up the shower drain, or her getting on my case about “missing” the toilet bowl, we had slightly more important things on our minds. Collecting firewood, hiding when we heard the whirrs of the UFOs, and the nonstop gathering of food.
When Elle first showed me a rabbit she’d snared in a trap that she’d made on her own, without even realizing it, a compliment slipped right through my lips.
“Dang, you’re amazing!” I said. Her face lit up like I’d just struck a fire between us, a combination of delight and horror.
“Did you just say something nice to me?” she asked, squinting her eyes in disbelief.
“I guess I did. There’s just something about seeing a lovely woman holding a dead rabbit that really whets my appetite.”
Elle smirked at me. “That’s not all it wets, you know. I forgot how sweet your tongue could be.”
“Well then,” I said, drawing her close. “Let me remind you.”
As it turned out, all we needed to rekindle the flame between us was some kind words, a little appreciation going both ways, and a massive space vortex vomiting out aliens that caused the near-extinction of the human species. Nothing a little couples’ therapy couldn’t mend.
Elle and I rested against a thick oak tree in the woods, both of us taking a nap after our star-crossed love. I woke up before her, not even realizing she was wrapped in my arms, and I gently let her down to the leafy ground. Seeing her innocent, sleeping face, it made me feel like we were meant to be together.
Although that might’ve been because I literally hadn’t seen another woman in about a week, and for all I knew we were the last people on Earth.
I started up a fire to cook the rabbit, my mouth tingling in anticipation of its knotted, chunky flesh. A week ago, just the thought of eating it would’ve required a whole box of antacids to get my stomach under control — I ordered Tums by the bulk to calm my stressed, rampaging organs after every time Elle and I fought. You know when your “drug dealer” is the manager at CVS who orders your meds at a discount for some cash slid under the counter, you have a problem.
Now though, that rabbit smelled as good as Hamburger Helper. Well, maybe Tuna Helper, if I’m being honest. A solid six out of ten.
The least I could do to thank Elle for catching it was cook it. I strung the rabbit through a stick, laid it over a spit, and frictioned my way with some stones and wood to get a flame sparking beneath it.
Unfortunately, I forgot to skin the Tuna Helper.
The fire licked the rabbit’s fur, and the whole damn thing went up in flames like a roasted, fluffy marshmallow. I kicked it off and doused it in dirt, sending plumes of black up to the sky. Finally cooled off, the charred rabbit stared up at me from the ground, its face and limbs contorted in burnt confusion. This must’ve been what Mrs. Holden felt like when she got vaporized from the sky.
A painfully familiar voice came from behind.
“What the hell have you done?” Elle asked. It was just me, her, and the dirt-soaked rabbit. Our usual arrangement, only I didn’t have my box of Tums to cool my churning stomach.
A whirring sound came from above as a UFO passed overhead. The last wisps of my stupid-smoke disappeared into the sky, but not before being noticed by them. Apparently.
“You idiot!” Elle shouted. “You brought them to us.”
My stomach burned and the only way I could soothe it was by spitting its anger out of my mouth.
“I was trying to help us!” I said. “It was an accident, which you’d know if you weren’t busy sleeping.”
“Excuse me?” Elle shrieked. “I was only sleeping because I thought I could trust you enough to not be an idiot for just one goddamn second.”
“Oh wow,” I said, rolling my eyes. “So my wife thinks I’m an idiot, eh? Glad to see I married a real winner.”
“At least you didn’t marry an imbecile, like I did!”
“Dang, imbecile? That’s a big word. I guess your Ivy League education is finally coming in handy, huh?”
“You’re going to be doing a lot of coming in hand-y when I leave your ass!”
The whirrs above us suddenly shifted to whines, like gears stuck together. Elle and I looked up at the UFO, now wobbling instead of its usual smooth hover. It jiggled around in the air unsteadily, until it cracked against a giant tree and crashed to the ground. A tremor roared through the dirt, sending me and Elle collapsing into each others’ arms as birds burst out of the forest, cawing in fear.
“What happened to it?” she asked.
Before I could answer, another UFO appeared on the horizon, coming straight at us. If our little fire before had caught their attention, now this crash was going to bring an entire army to our location.
“I don’t know what happened,” I said. The fear of imminent death spiked an icicle of acid up my esophagus, keeping my mood and stomach sour. “Why don’t you tell me what happened, little Miss Know It All!”
Elle pushed me away. “It’s your fault the first one came. Maybe they’re just attracted to your stupidness!”
“You would know,” I said. “You married me!”
“A decision I’ve regretted every day since! I’d rather be married to a moldy slice of American cheese!”
“Oh yeah? Well I’d rather be married to a dead rabbit! At least the dead rabbit was smokin’ hot!”
Again, the whirring came to a screeching halt in the air, and the new UFO crashed to the ground, next to the other one. Elle and I fell to the dirt, staring at each other in disbelief.
“That’s the second one,” she said quietly. “Is there something going on in this area? Like some sort of electromagnet thing?”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “The UFOs were fine, until…”
Both Elle and I looked right at each other and spoke at the same time.
“…we started arguing.”
Elle smacked her hands together as if just realizing something.
“It must be acoustic instability! Those spacecraft are sensitive to angry words. Most people are going to cry and tell people they love them when they’re about to get zapped, but not us.”
I grunted out a laugh. “Guess your Ivy league education did come in handy after all.”
More whirrs sounded on the horizon. A dozen UFOs were headed toward us. Elle and I stood up together to face them, and clasped our hands together.
She smiled at me. “Are you ready to argue enough to bring down an entire army of aliens?”
“Of course,” I said. “I’m sure I can come up with something mean to say to my wife, the only person in the world capable of looking fat in jeans when we haven’t eaten in a week.”
And thus began the most explosive argument of our lives.
Here’s an illustration of the story by our awesome viewer cozyrogers, based on the original images!
Be sure to check out the video to see how we came up with the voice of the story, how we used it, and of course, a dramatic reading!
If you want to join us and help write a story by trolling in chat, or share your own writing for feedback, then we’d love to have you join us on Twitch.
And you missed the stream, you can still watch them on the YouTube channel or watch the full stream reruns.
Hope to see you next time, friend!
Featured image: Pakutaso