Sliding into Bed
When I moved to Virginia from Florida, I bought a new bed. My old one was a mattress and box springs I had inherited from my parents, I think. It was hard as a rock and miserable. Not to mention . . . old. It was time for a new bed. I ended up getting a pillowtop one, a glorious comfortable bed that Demon Baby has to scale like a mountain to even come snuggle with me. I have never taken this bed for granted since. I can travel, I can visit other people's houses, I can sleep in other beds, but mine, frankly, rocks.
Recently, Crohn's disease has decided to make an appearance. It's not horrible. Once I got over the natural "feel sorry for myself for half a minute moment," I was mentally okay. I'm sort of housebound a bit . . . and my joints hurt. The worst of it are afternoon fevers, when I have the chills. So pretty early in the evening lately (sometimes even in the afternoon), I've been . . . sliding into bed. There is something comforting about sliding into my comfy luxurious bed and pulling the covers around me and just resting.
Which brings me . . . yet again . . . to writing. You see, recently I wrote a short-short story. It's 426 words to be precise. And it's very dark. And recently, too, Oldest Daughter unearthed some of my poetry. Some poems were published, some not. They're in an old file folder. In tone, the shorts story and the poems are much like The Roofer. It's a type of voice, and Oldest has been encouraging me to return to that voice. She even wants me to enter a chapbook competition. She likes that voice. That writer.
It's strange . . . writers all eventually, if they stick with it long enough, arrive at the place where their manuscript is solid. They show; they don't tell. No back story dumps. Following Elmore Leonard's advice on the use of adverbs. The whole nine yards. Rejections at this point will very often boil down to either something structurally or about the concept that doesn't work for an editor . . . or, I think, voice. We're told to develop a voice. But no one can tell you HOW.
In short, why is one author's detective story "derivative" and another's "powerful"? That, my friends, is voice. It's elusive. It's not something that can be taught, and if you haven't tapped into it before, you may not even know what I am talking about.
Voice is like sliding into bed. It is this place for a writer that envelops and feels beyond comfortable. It's the sweet spot. It's a lot like breathing, I think. Not to sound like a shaman or some other spiritual particular . . . but it is like a spiritual experience. It's tapping into a part of you that IS the writing. Channeling something, maybe.
Like sliding into bed . . . you know it when it happens and it feels like home.
Thoughts? Have you found your voice?
29 comments:
I think my voice for Nicholas Colt is pretty solid, but like you told me a while back I probably need to go outside of my comfort zone and develop something new. That's what I'm working on now.
Jude:
I think there's nothing wrong with having a character you feel comfortable with . . . but if it feels too derivative . . . too much like other voices out there, it's time to try something fresh . . . yet still your own. Easier said than done. :-)
E
I think I have several, depending on what I'm writing, but yes, I think I now have a voice. I definitely have a NF voice. It's different from my fiction voice. It's somewhat journalistic, perhaps, so the 3rd person has worked well for me...
But, I wrote a first-person novel, Hot Money, featuring a political consultant, Austin Davis, and his voice is different. And I love it. It's my voice, but it's also me when I'm very energetic and up with a very sarcastic and arrogant edge to it. It's not my natural voice, but it's my voice and I love it. (Might be Mark after a few too many drinks, I'm not sure).
But the more you write the more likely you are to be able to find your voice. Sometimes people just seem natural at it, but I think the key to it is just to write and write and write and eventually you'll find it.
Mark:
Wise advice. You know, I wrote a short story in college that could be considered the precursor for The Roofer. That dark voice of mine has been around since I was a teen.
E
Only Erica Orloff can start out talking about climbing into bed and end up sharing a lesson on writing. I want to see you post about taking a dump, and tie that to writing. I can't wait to see how you would address edits and revisions.
Anyway, the reason I'm here is to say I agree with oldest daughter. Having had the privilege of seeing a bit of your dark side, I think she's onto something.
Stephen:
I think I will leave . . . um . . . certain biological functions off my blog. ;-)
E
I struggled with how to say this. For me, what you wrote today is one of the most insightful things you've written. There is nothing more important than finding your voice.
I think of Sharyn McCrumb. Her ballad novels (even the lesser ones) seem authentic. They are written in a voice that expresses who she is. Her other novels (she has some woman detective-type hero) don't much interest me, though I've tried to read them.
I,too, like your Roofer voice. And I am struggling to find my authentic voice.
Finally, writing is not just about what we do. It is about who we are.
Sorry to hear about the Crohn's. I seem to be surrounded by it lately. I wish you the best with it. You can do well with it with your attitude.
Allen
Joe:
Like I wrote, I think it's difficult to describe finding your authentic voice. It's just a unique experience and until you find it . . . it can feel very elusive. I have had friends get rejection letters, "Good story, but I didn't like the voice." How do you deal with that? How do you find that authentic voice? It's not simple . . . .
E
Hi Allen:
I've had it most of my life. A reconciled how I felt about it a long time ago . . . just try to walk with grace.
E
Erica,
Bon courage with the Crohns. I know you're used to it, but it still must be hard.
FF
Erica,
There's always a possibility the editor has a tin ear.
How many times was A Wrinkle in Time rejected?
I hope this is a quick episode for you. Let me know if there's anything I can do. :-( I wish I could tweak your blog and make it better, lol.
I'm not actually sure I like my voice. That's not true; I like it, but I'm not sure it serves what I write. I'm too fond of 19th century novels, and this just exacerbates the problem. And I just want to roll in all the words, which is not a good thing.
I prefer Mark's lean style, and I like it when I write with shorter sentences and more staccato rhythms. That's so much more grabby, but I hardly ever go there. I think it's waiting for the right book. I wouldn't know which one is my "one" voice. The first slips on so easily. Even the second one does, but I just don't use it often.
FF:
Merci!
E
Joe:
I agree . . . Howevever, sometimes you just know a fresh new voice when you see it. Um . . . hear it? Read it?
E
Erica, it sucks about your Crohn's disease. I hope this appearance disappears soon.
I think I've always had my voice when I wrote, but now I've made it more solid. I've slid into it. (Love that phrase!)
I'm sliding into a voice, I think, but it really depends on what I'm writing. 3rd person is pretty solid. 1st person is very slippery for me, but when I hit it, I nail it, like in my story for Thuglit. I got a ton of compliments on that one and every single one revolved around voice. Most people want me to write novel centered on her, but I don't know that I could keep it up for that long. Maybe a novella.
Oh and feel better soon!! :)
This is a really great post. I love the analogy.
I have been thinking a lot about voice recently, primarily about developing my voice. This is a great way to think of it.
For someone so young and naive, I think I'm really good at finding a voice and sticking with it.
Piper's was easy, like talking through an older, more gothy version of my sister.
Oliver is like my yellow haired, sassy, eye brow furrowing twin brother.
Right now my best friend is reading the first ten chapters of Nocturne on my coach with my cat sitting on her head. The only words she had for me were: "Mia likey this" perhaps not the most detailed compliment, but it'll do.
Good luck with the Crohn. When I was playing around I tried on a redneck voice. Everyone in the critique group said, "that's it, you've found your voice." Thanks. I'm a redneck.
Edie:
Slide away! :-)
E
Starbucks:
I struggle with third more than first, and I have two first-person voices. One snark, the other dark.
E
Hi Lauren:
When I was in college, I took journalism, and somehow that squahed my natural voice because so much of it was about unbiased reporting. Fiction has brought it out--and now I can write NONFICTION and still have that voice.
E
JT:
Having seen your YouTube posts and your blog and your comments here . . . I think you have a wonderful, distinct voice. I can't wait to read some of your fiction one of these days.
E
Richmond:
LOL! I am sure they meant it as a compliment. You were able to "be" that in your writing.
E
I'm finally coming to terms with my voice. It's so me and yet it's not what I expected. But it is where I write best - my sweet spot.
Hope you feel better soon. (I'm a crappy patient)
Erica, I hope this episode (is that what you call them?) passes quickly, and I hope DB isn't destroying the house in the meantime.
I don't really think about voice very much, but I've been told people like mine. *shrugs* I guess that's good, but I do feel like I need to be more aware of it. While working on my short story I was struck because I recognized the patterns in my writing. I don't know if that's a good thing or not.
My first person voice is very very snarky, to the point I need to put a leash on her. I try to control it on my blog. :P
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