Supposedly, if you can understand a writer’s voice you can understand the writer. Most of the time, I’d buy that argument: especially when someone spends a lot of time, devotion, and money on a piece of literature. If writing from the heart, then your real voice should come through.
What’s my voice? I, for one, love writing about twisted things. For example, I once wrote a short story called “Life Tax”.
The premise was that, in a dark future, the U.S. took over the world (without a nuke fired). Why bother taking over the world? Because the Earth’s resources were running on “E” and there were just too many humans running around consuming them. Ergo, such a conquest was vital to mankind’s survival. Upon taking over the world, the U.S. instituted the Life Tax. Every living person had to pay ten grand to the IRS – every year – regardless of income level. If you could afford it, you lived. If you couldn’t afford to pay your taxes or make it up in labor/contraband/body parts, then the efficient, brutal, trigger-happy operatives of the IRS would happily kill you. It’s the ultimate tale of economic Darwinism: if you can’t cough up ten grand a year, you don’t deserve to live.
Guess what, folks? I probably shouldn’t write children’s books.
It’s my voice. And I love it. Sometimes, if my mood’s brighter, I can write lighter stuff with happier endings and zero body count.
And if someone you like/trust/respect urges you to write against your voice, don’t give in. Some folks just don’t understand that a person’s writing voice is something sacred and God-given (if you’re spiritual of mind) or just a product of your sheer brilliance (if you’re an atheist).
A voice might change over time. It might be as sweet as honey or as vile as vomit. But it’s your writing voice. And it should never, ever, be betrayed.
To do so would be to deny who you are.
And hey, for a huge wad of money, I could see someone abandoning their real voice for something fake. I couldn’t do it though (not even for Oprah’s book club). And if you’re true to your voice and passionate about your work, the money/fame will come.
Every writer’s voice is probably as unique as a snowflake or a strand of DNA. Funkier still is the fact that your voice’ll change with time and mood, based on whatever life throws at you. Figure yours out. Then figure out who you’re going to try to market your stuff to when you’re done. Readers have voices too, even if they don’t put them down on paper.
Find your kind of readers and you’ll find potential lifetime fans. I won’t try to sell “Life Tax” to Amish farmers. But I might have better luck with the local IRS branch office [insert evil laugh]. And frankly, if you write well enough, folks off types might read your stuff anyway . . . just because it’s that good.
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