Your voice is part of your style, and your style is part of your Voice. The two are separate things, but they work together to create an individual flavor for each author’s storytelling. Today we’ll cover the different aspects of style and how to recognize, and even shift, your own.
This should become especially clear for those of you who write in multiple genres, or who want to. Once your voice is strong, it will be heard, no matter what genre you write in. That’s not to say it can’t change or shift from genre to genre, or even story to story, if this is what you choose. But it’s my opinion that your voice will always flavor your style.
So…let’s ge to the nitty gritty for a moment. What exactly is style?
It’s how a writer puts together the elements of a story.
~Language (word choice)
~Speech (dialogue)
~POV distinction (IS each character’s thought pattern and words distinctive? or do they all sound the same?)
~Do you use short sentences or long sentences. Flowery and Descriptive or tight and sparse? Do you use alliteration a lot? What about metaphors?
These are the things that make up style. While your voice is part of your style, your voice will remain “˜yours‘ in whatever you write, and you’re style can change from book to book, if you so choose.
There is no wrong or right, but knowing what your own style is, will help build your confidence, and make your stories stronger because one of the worst things you can do …is change your style in the middle of a story. Don’t think just because you’ve found your voice, or defined your basic style that you are locked into that forever.
Multi-published author Vivi Anna writes for Aphrodisia, as well as Silhouette Nocturne, and she says “I don’t think my voice changes, but I believe my style does depending on which genre I’m writing in. My erotic futuristics are going to be different from my paranormal romances. In word usage, the way I put sentences together, and even the POV’s I use. But my voice, the strength of it, the distinctiveness of it, I believe stays the same no matter what I’m writing.”
Example. My Style is to use sparse description. I’m not strong with flowery words or soft and lush prose. But when I wrote my April release LUSH, I deliberately softened my style. I wanted my stories to match the setting of a lush erotic art gallery. My voice is still strong through the book, but the style has shifted from my others like BOUND or KINK, which have a fairly tight and edgy style. LUSH has longer sentences, less cursing, more romantic, although still explicit and erotic. MEANDROS, one of the Free Reads on my extras page, is yet another style for me. MEANDROS is certainly not my normal style, it’s extremely emotional, and even melancholy in places. Yet, my voice is still strong in it. (This will also tie into the TRUST YOUR CHARACTERS post tomorrow)
On the flipside…Think of something like the hit TV show CSI. It started with the original, and now there is CSI New York, and CSI Miami. Not only do all of them have the same format, but also the elements that actually create style, are the same. The characters change, with dialogue and personalities changing to match each new setting, but each one has the male lead, the second in command female. The team’s interactions are all quite parallel. Each show focuses on scenery shots of the city it’s set in, as well as the science procedures, and interrogation scenes.
Does this make sense?
Voice is the “it” factor. It’s not any one thing, and if I had to list the “elements of it” then yes, the list is the same as the “elements of style”
The thing is… style is easily changed and emulated. Where as Voice is not.
Voice when writing is the same as voice when speaking….sort of..
Think of this. Do you know that song “I will always love you.” Written by Dolly Parton, and sung by her. The same song, is also sung by Whitney Houston. The lyrics are the same, the STYLE is even the same, (both soft love ballad style with the same timing and shifts) , but the FEEL of each song is different. Not just the sound of their voices, but the “it factor” of them is different.
If we were in a classroom, and I handed all of you identical papers with the exact same scene written on them, and asked each of you to read it out loud…do you think you would all read it the same? OR do you think someone would emphasize different words, or pause in a different spot? The scene is the same, the words are the same, but the way it’s read is different.
Yes, the words you use, and the way you put them together contribute to Voice. You can look at the list of elements of Style, and every one of those thing contributes to Voice, but Voice is more than the sum of them…Voice truly is the Magic behind the words. The “it” factor.
EXAMPLES:
TROUBLE: Berkley Heat, August 2007
Author: Sasha White
It was easy for Samair Jones to stride past the crowd lined up outside the nightclub Risqué, and through its front entrance. All it took was a sultry smile for the doorman, and she was in.
Okay, so it was more than just the smile. It was the attitude behind the smile. And the happenings of the last few hours had given her just the kick in the ass she needed for an attitude adjustment.
For the last three years she’d been a good girl. She’d worked a “˜proper’ job, had a proper relationship, and a boring uneventful life. Now it was time to remember how to live.
Samair knew there were times when the image she showed the world shifted and a certain energy emanated from her that made people sit up and take notice. It was something she used to hate.
The energy was from deep within, and one she hadn’t felt it in way too long. It was the same energy that had made teachers single her out as the troublemaker in school, and her parents berate her for being too flamboyant. But tonight, she’d decided to give it free rein.
To give herself free rein.
She looked out over the dimly lit dance floor. Friday night and the place was packed and the music was pumpin’. Bodies of all shapes, sizes, and sexes filled the club in varied levels of dress – or in some cases undress – undulating to the music, and an almost forgotten spark of energy flowed through her. Risqué had a reputation as the classiest dance club in the city, and she could see why. The place was perfect.
THE PETSHANI:
Paranormal Short story, Bonus Read in PRIMAL MALE, coming soon from Aphrodisia
Author Sasha White
I summoned the image from my dreams to my mind’s eye, and braced myself. He was tall, more than six feet, and solid. Dark hair swept back from rough-hewn features, and bared dark eyes and full lips to my view. The lift of his head told me of his pride, his arrogance. But it did little to detract from the magnificence of him. His nakedness hid nothing from my view. My blood heated at the sight of his golden skin stretched taut over firm muscles. The glinting silver hoops that pierced his nipples shimmered in the air. There had to be some significance to them, but I didn’t know exactly what it was, so I filed away the fact for future research.
I’d thought it was just my repressed libido manifesting him in my dreams. The fact that I awoke each morning for the last week from dreams of him, wet between the thighs, but sated and heavy as only a well-fucked woman could be, should’ve warned me that there was more to him than being a simple dream lover. But it had taken him appearing to me, in front of my desk at work earlier this afternoon—while I was wide-awake—to make me accept that fact.
Now, as I studied the image in my mind, preparing to call to Blodwin, Moon Goddess well versed in Lunar Mysteries and Dreams, a warm breeze drifted over me, and a sense of magic filled the room. I slowly opened my eyes, only to have my breath catch in my throat. He was there. All six-feet-whatever of gleaming masculinity. In front of me. In my bedroom.
Sort of.
Trying not to appear as startled as I felt, I stood to face the translucent figure. Dressed in loose-fitting trousers, he was no longer naked, but close enough to make my heart race. A quick visual check showed me my circle remained intact.
“Who are you?”
Example 2:
Excerpt from Hell Kat copyright 2006 — Vivi Anna
LOWER BC PLAINS, THE YEAR 2275
Dust devils whirled viciously around the broken remains of civilization. Buildings that once stood proud and strong were now only jagged cement shards protruding from infertile dirt and rock. The sun was a big glaring ball of light in the sky. Where it had once produced growth and warmth, it now scorched what was left of the Earth with its brutal rays.
Kat looked up into the blistering sun and wondered for the second time today what in the hell she was doing out on the Outer Rim. The fierce, arid wind whipped at her cloak and tried to tear it from her body. Sand peppered her face like a tiny barrage of bullets. Pulling her hood forward, she adjusted her tinted goggles over her eyes and continued to search the rubble for her treasure. No small feat, considering her right eye was covered by a black leather eye-patch.
She kicked at the dirt and crumbled concrete with her steel-toed jackboots. Nothing. They’d been searching for nearly two hours now. She glanced over at her partner.
“Damian! See anything?”
Damian stood from where he squatted, raising his head toward Kat, his blue eyes glinting in the sun. He held up his hand, something encased in his glove.
“Just this cute little dolly.” He waved it at her, grinning mischievously.
The doll, headless and encrusted in filth, rattled in his hand.
“Quit fucking around. And put on your goggles.” Kat shook her head. The kid knew better. An hour under the unprotected sun produced cataracts. Cataracts usually led to blindness. She’d seen it happen more and more. Her sister had succumbed to blindness before she had died from the flu. Damian was lucky he had his hood pulled over his head.
“Yes, momsie.” Damian reached around to his pack and unzipped a compartment. He came away with his tinted goggles.
Kat watched him put them on.
“Better?” He flashed a grin.
She shook her head but smiled. He always managed to make her smile. That was one of the reasons she had bartered for his life two years ago.
EXCERPT Dark Lies copyright 2007 — Vivi Anna
CHAPTER ONE
The moment Jace Jericho stepped into the Boneyard’s staff room, he knew there was trouble.
The entire crime scene unit was assembled. Lyra, their young witch, sat on the sofa, her petite frame rigid with nerves. The chief, Caine, leaned against the corner as if unaffected, his new wife Eve next to him, not quite pulling off the impassive look. Her hand rested on his forearm, in a sure sign of support and affection.
Jace still had a difficult time accepting that his best vampire friend had married a human. But it was obvious that Eve made Caine deliriously happy, so he didn’t protest. At least not out loud.
Kellen, the firearms expert, Gwen, the lab tech, and Dr. Givon Silvanus, the medical examiner, sat at the long wood table. Even the baron himself, Laal Bask, was present. He stood in the center of the room trying to command the attention of the others. As usual, everyone on the team ignored him.
When Jace entered, Caine acknowledged him with a nod. “Thanks for coming in on your night off.”
Jace shrugged. “It didn’t sound like I had a choice.”
“You didn’t.”
Settling in beside Lyra on the sofa, Jace glanced around the room. Everyone looked nervous, especially Eve. She kept her eyes on Caine; Jace could see the tension in her face and in the way she twisted her hands in her lap. Something major was going on, and it had to be human-related.
Jace prayed they hadn’t found another human body in Necropolis.
Caine moved to the center of the room to stand beside Laal. The baron took that as his cue to start talking.
“First of all, I’d like to thank everyone for coming in. I know some did so on their days off.” He tipped his head to acknowledge everyone.
Caine cleared his throat. “Let’s just cut to the chase, Laal. We’re wasting time.” Caine glanced around the room meeting everyone’s gaze. “There has been another murder.”
Lyra shivered beside Jace. He glanced over at her and saw a look of knowing in her big brown eyes. Her hand was on the silver pentagram amulet at her neck and she was rubbing her thumb over it. For comfort or concentration, he couldn’t be sure. Had she had a vision? Was she having one now? Sometimes she knew things before the rest of them did. As powerful as his wolf senses were, Jace’s abilities were no match to Lyra’s.
* * *
What do you think? Both excerpts in each example written by the same Author, yet still different. Right? The author voice is strong, yet the styles change to suit what the story the author is telling.
EXCERCISE FOR YOU:
Choose a piece of something you’ve written, old or new. And not a super long piece, this is just an exercise.
Examine the piece, and make note of your sentence structures. Are they the same – as in always long sentences- or do you mix them up? Do you like to start a scene by setting it with narrative and description, or do you jump in with action and dialogue? Notice any favorite words or phrases that you like to use?
Just look at what you have with fresh eyes, and write yourself a style list in point form.
Now, IF you have another piece of work, either a different story, or even the same story, but a different spot in it, a different character – and do the same thing.
Feel free to ask questions, or post your findings here. (or email them to me)
Comment on todays post and be entered to win a copy of Blood Secrets and Dark Lies by Vivi Anna. The winner will be announced on Friday.
OTHER WORKSHOPS around the net right now.
PBW’s Power Plotting was up yesterday, and I for one, found it very worth while. Today she has one titled Eff the Editing.:twisted:
And I found this one on Gender Differnces: Male Body Language pretty cool.
PS: Thanks to Alison Kent for the awesome LB& LI graphic.
Old (2 yrs. ago): Longer, flowing sentences. Lyrical, but with a diluted sense because the content is hard stuff. Short dialogue, sparse. First person, backstory. This was an expiremental piece I thought turned out well. I can see how I would change it now, but what’s odd is I can see my voice in it.
This is interesting!!
New (current WiP): Lyrical sentences, flowing, though not as long. Dialogue-heavy, but the dialogue itself is often terse, no dissertations here. I rarely if EVER have a character who speaks for more than one full paragraph. Third person, immediate action (prologue of a novel).
What excites me is I see myself in both pieces. I can see the glimmer of my voice. I’m a tighter writer now (in first drafts I used to wind on in my narrative, explaining what I had just said, prettily redundant) but now I’m cleaner – but the lyricality is still there, my voice is still there even though I’m “leaner”.
I’m going to post a couple sentences from each piece so you can see what I mean if that’s okay. 🙂
Old: “Growing up without a father was easy. It was growing up with a mother that was hard. When I was six years old, I remember her cold voice telling him, “I never want to see you again,” and she didn’t, so neither did I. He rode off in the beat-up Pontiac that exploded a year later when a drunk driver smashed into it head-on somewhere in Oregon.”
New: “He fought with all he knew but he did not know enough. They claimed immortality and they claimed Longnight — that the sun will shine for but a few hours each day, and then they will reign, unchecked. Cyran believed them. He was the last man standing. “
I can definitely tell my voice. And the tone within the style changed by genre, but the style stayed basically the same. This was very interesting for me to see. I’m not a plotter so I feel as if I just write what comes, but in reality I do have a patter and a style.
Thanks Sasha — that was great!!!
Laurie Kap
:inlove:
Sasha, thanks! I took a writing hiatus (about 4 yrs). When I jumped back in last summer it was with both feet. I wrote something new off the cuff, because writing never really left my life. After writing one new manuscript, a friend bugged me to pull out other abandoned ones. I was leery because I felt like what I had written was fresh… was better. After much coercing I finally pulled out two old mss and they weren’t bad, lol. I was surprised to find a lot of the same qualities there as the new one. My style/my voice I guess. Anyway you put a finger on what I saw and couldn’t wrap my brain around saying. If that makes any sense at all. Rambling post that it is, I did want to say thanks, great stuff!
YAY!
Jess, Of course you can post your stuff here. I want to see how y’all are doing. Lyrical is an awesome way to describe your voice. I can see it very strongly, especially in the second piece.
Laurie, patter and style…even in your comments you have a strong voice. 😉
I’m so glad the exercise helped you both out! It’s very important to know that you yourself have a voice, and soon, you’ll start to recognize it, and use it knowingly.
Sasha –
Yes – some of it is rapid and meaningless
😆
Laurie
LOL but FUN Laurie. 😉
Your rambling makes sense to me Rhonda.
Glad my examples could help.
Hmm. I took something I wrote in the early 90s and something I’ve written in the last year. I took a long hiatus.
The list I came up with looking at both has:
rich vocabulary, sentences tend to be complex rather than short except for emphasis, tone/phrasing often reminds me of an external conversational storyteller rather than deep third POV, tendency to summarize an action rather than project an image, runs of dialogue or action and then runs of internal thoughts.
OLD: The man beside her, for Rafe hardly considered Josiah Stewart to be a gentleman, was his worst enemy. After viewing the brief unguarded look on Stewart’s face, Rafe decided he would have to tread lightly tonight if he wished to walk unscathed from his first mate’s home. Given the slightest opportunity, Stewart would try to kill him. It had been in a duel two years ago when Rafe had sliced the long gash down the left side of Stewart’s face that had healed nicely, the scar fainter now but still noticeable, an angry brand across his cheek.
NEW: Upon reaching the alcove’s comforting shadows, she huddled on the loveseat, gathering her nerves. A couple strolled past and, noticing the alcove already occupied, continued past. She studied their retreat with fascinated revulsion.
The man’s arm hung loose around the woman’s waist, his hand riding her hip. The woman laughed at whatever the man whispered in her ear and her reply purred too low and husky to decipher. His hand slid lower, caressing her hip and she lightly swatted at his hand. Marcia’s breath hitched and her chest tightened. Where was the slap he deserved?
Kaige,
I agree, the OLD one has sentences a bit too drawn out and complicated for what is needed. The new one is better, but I still think your own voice is buried beneath what you think a historical should read like.
You said yesterday that occasionally you write a short story that is contemporary. Did you take a look at that? See how they compare? Are your sentences long and complex in that?
What a great exercise! For the most part, I tend to jump right into the scene, a lot of times going straight for dialog, then adding in exposition. I do mix up sentence and paragraph structure. How much depends on the pace I want to set at the time in the story.
I only have one ms. So, here is a bit that has been critiqued.
As we moved forward on the path, the truth of our surroundings was revealed. The innocent buzzing of appeared to be fireflies became the helicopter-like drone of the firewasp. At our approach, their lights turned a sickening biohazard green. The nasty glow conveyed a visual warning of the deadly poison delivered via their sting. The swarm turned in unison and hovered just out of reach. Illuminated in their lethal hue, they followed us along on their side of the path until we were upon the next trap.
I don’t think I’m flowery or overly descriptive. Not quite sparse either. I think it helps to convey the feeling that what first appears to be beautiful turns out to be sort of creepy and deadly.
What do you think?
Great post Sasha!
Sasha, I was stuck too much in the old vs new and didn’t even think of the contemps for comparison. A bit too much “dog walking,” but still pretty complex sentences. It’s better around the dialogue, but pulled a similar couple of paragraphs for you here.
This is from a short written last fall:
The line moved slowly, but he finally reached the front and sighed with relief as a taxi arrived. Reaching for the taxi’s door handle, he turned his head toward the terminal when a shout sounded from that direction.
A static shock jolted through his body as his fingers landed on a soft feminine hand instead of cold chrome. She gasped, drawing his attention. The attractive woman from the gate stood there, glaring at him.
Excellent post, hon! 😀
This is a great post! Funny enough Raine asked me when she was critiquing Nailed (?) if my style was changing–I was using longer sentences (and like you, my style tends to be fairly sparse).
I had no definitive answer for her but now, I definitely think it is. And I can definitely see the style differences between the ER for Aphrodisia and my UF and the women’s fiction, but I think my basic voice doesn’t change.
And like Margay I typically start with dialogue and/or right in the thick of things.
Jess they’re both good–but I like the first one better. There’s something poignant about that’s child’s perspective that tugs at me. And it sounds women’s fictiony which I love :inlove:
I definitely think I knew my voice and I think I’m very lucky that I found it early and didn’t allow myself to be swayed by “public opinion”–critique partners/contests etc. But you know it was a real eye-opener for me to experiment.
I’ve found that 3rd Past can be as sharp and fun as 1st person–and that 1st present can be as lush and evocative as Deep 3rd!
I’ve found that 3rd Past can be as sharp and fun as 1st person—and that 1st present can be as lush and evocative as Deep 3rd!
To me, this can only happen for an author who truly knows their own voice. Their own strengths and weaknesses. And yes, it can happen. :jump:
Margay, I tend to jump into scenes too. And in my opinon, for the start fo the book that’s great, it’s dynamic and it draws the reader in immediately. But within the story, form scene to scene, a smoother transition is needed. I’m working on that myself still. 😳
Lisa, I love the idea of what first appeared beautiful then turns creepy!
About your writing, I agree, descriptive, but not overly flowery. There is one part where I thinkyour mind has intruded too much..where it seems you’ve worked to hard or thought too much, and it interupts the flow..
To me it’s just this sentence that is too much.
The innocent buzzing of appeared to be fireflies became the helicopter-like drone of the firewasp.
That sentense seems like you were trying to hard. Look at these ones , and see your natural, strong voice and the style. as description flows easily.
At our approach, their lights turned a sickening biohazard green. The nasty glow conveyed a visual warning of the deadly poison delivered via their sting. The swarm turned in unison and hovered just out of reach. Illuminated in their lethal hue, they followed us along on their side of the path until we were upon the next trap.
Thanks Amy.
Kaige, I see no “dog walking’ in your example. (Love that term though). All of your examples are good, and Ihopethat by looking through your things, you’ve seen some things in your own writing that you like. Strengths. and maybe a thing or two you didn’t like, but you’ll now be aware of. This knowledge will help you hone your own voice. :great:
Thanks, Raine!
Hey Ames! Like you, I definitely use a different style in my erotic romances for Aphrodisia than my even my erotics for Berkley. I think my voice stays throughout, but the style changes.
Do you think you knew /recognized your own voice before you started experimenting with different genre’s and sub genres. Or that maybe that’s when you truly found it?
You and me both girl!
Sasha –
You’re absolutely right. I complicated it. I think paring it down is all it needs.
The innocent buzzing of the fireflies became the helicopter-like drone of the firewasp.
Eeep, sorry I’m late!
Something Old: Lush green turned yellow turned brown and then littered the pavement as it had for centuries in its timely ritual. The heaven’s gentle tears fell in a soft drizzle; mourning the loss of sunny skies that would not return for some time. The sky would not be the only one to mourn on this day, of this Aveline Lecirvian was sure.
Something New: “Can’t we talk about this, love?”
Lillian took her time, making slow strides down the otherwise abandoned backstreets as she dragged the tiny man by the scruff of his neck cuffs. The bastard had already kicked her in the shins twice in her pursuit and she was sure she’d have to put an antiseptic on her hands for the bite marks later.
Next time, she’d bring the Tranqs.
“Oh Lillian, I should “˜ave run. I should “˜ave known each dress ye o’n is a loaded gun.”
Yes, definitely bring the Tranqs next time. It was bad enough he was a goddamned leprechaun, but nobody ruined Depeche Mode and got away with it.
Two very different stories with two very different tones, not sure what it says about my voice though really.
I enjoyedthis post today!