Voice Doesn’t Matter

In writing, voice is one of the most important things there is. Voice is what makes a piece of writing you, inescapably you, above all other things.

And I am right here telling you it doesn’t matter. I should be more specific, huh?

Voice does not matter, in terms of things you need to learn.

All art is made up of two things: Every piece of art the artist has ever encountered, and everything the artist is themselves.

It doesn’t matter if it is music, TV, a movie, a book, a comic, a painting, poetry, dance, or anything else – every single bit of art you have ever come across and taken the time to ingest will change your own art. Some of that you feel, and can sense the way new information excites and bends what you do, and some of it is entirely subliminal. Regardless of where, and how, it nestles into your brain, those things live on and happily adjust how you do the thing you do.

But also there’s the matter of everything you are, as a person. Every event in your life, every choice, each encounter, all that you are will color, inform, and shape what you write.

The summation of both those things create what we call voice.

Voice is a part of you. You don’t want to go hunting it when you start. When you start writing, and finding your footing, you want to focus only on getting words down, and finishing what you start.

Write anything, there’s no wrong answer. Write a short story about a pet you once had, write about a tree you like, or a dream you half remember. Write about a person you’ve never met having a dinner you’ve never seen.

Just write. Start. Finish. That’s it for quite a while.

A lot of people, and this is good, mind you, will emulate writers they enjoy. Honestly one of the best things you can do is try to write something like someone else for a while. Figure out how they would do it, then put those lessons into practice.

As you continue, learning lessons about structure and telling stories you’ll notice something begin to happen. You’ll have preferences for how sentences stack, for how paragraphs are shaped, word use and structural bits start to line up for you in ways that are more pleasing than others.

That’s voice. That’s the whole “secret.”

You don’t find your voice.

It finds you.

Your voice finds you though practice, work, and the act of writing more and more. Where you once would write in the style of someone else, suddenly that same scene will be different in strange ways both large and small. It will be yours. It will have the indelible imprint of your voice all over it.

And as you grow and learn, over a lifetime, your voice will adjust and change and loop, and do odd things you can’t explain. Good, don’t try to. Embrace your voice, and let it run roughshod over your words. Use it as a strength.

Your writing is the basic dish you are cooking. Your voice is all the seasoning.

Make something tasty.