I’d like to thank Ferrett for linking to Rachel Gardner’s article via his tweet machine.
Gardner approaches the topic from the angle of what appeals to an agent, the marriage of these three elements: story, craft and voice. Gardner believes that craft is the easiest to teach, and certainly it’s the more measurable, tangible topic. It’s what we writing teachers focus on as we get students ready for their classes. It’s measurable and prescriptive.
The other two are very hard to teach. I think they can be developed with practice, and certainly some innate talent helps writers out with these areas.
Story is a matter of talent, but it seems to me it can also be taught at the beginning stages. There are helpful blueprints that can help you develop conflict, plot, and movement in your story. Much like the five-paragraph theme, if you need a structure to hang your novel on, you can look at how other novels are put together, how television shows are put together, and so forth. There are books.
I’ll grant you that no structure can make a plot invigorating and exciting by virtue of itself, but you can begin with the blueprint, and practice can improve you. The old edict of write, write and write some more really does apply.
Now, voice. I think about this one a lot.
Gardner writes
Voice is what you develop when you practice what we talked about yesterday—writing what you know. It’s the unfettered, non-derivative, unique conglomeration of your thoughts, feelings, passions, dreams, beliefs, fears and attitudes, coming through in every word you write.
Yes, it is hard to find voice. A great place to begin with voice is writing what you know, and it’s why that advice may be given to beginning writers.
Certainly Gardner is wise to suggest that there are many things that compose voice. There are those that walk to the beat of a different drummer (I could get arrested, using a cliche in an article about voice, sure), and they may have the unique alchemy of understanding themselves and presenting themselves in a unique fashion out of the chute. You know those individuals. They’re the ones who understand the code they live by, have that core, understand those beliefs.
Even those cores are embellished over time by our choices. I want to write not only what I know (living in Iowa, teaching, making beautiful fancy clothes for the theater, etc.), but I also want to write what I like to read (literature from other time frames, mystic moments, folklore). I want it to reflect my values and my dreams. And I become more and more familiar with these things as I gain experience.
To become myself takes a lifetime. The many selves I have been and will be over my life time means my fiction has changed, and may very well keep changing. What I perhaps lacked as a younger writer was the certainty of knowing myself as well as I know myself now. What I feel now is a strength in learning who I am and what I want. What practice has brought me is the ability to stand behind who I am in writing, in spite of what the market might want.
To use your voice is to be true to the kind of writer you want to be. It may not be the kind of writer who can write what sells, but Gardner is right. The marriage of your authentic self to good craft and solid story is what really sells a book. Many books have good craft and imaginative plot. The one thing that belongs to you truly is your voice. It’s what will make your work different, and will help you make your mark.
Catherine
