Writing Wednesday: Voices on the Edge

I've been known to say that voice is the part of your writing that is wrong, the mistakes you make in grammar, the "faults" that take your particular story out of the norm, that your English teacher would correct. The part of your writing that your copy editor is telling you to change and that you have to have the courage to "stet."

As I've been watching American Idol this year, I've felt more and more confirmation of this theory. The contestants that sing perfectly well are the ones that are least memorable. They have the "skill" down pat. They've trained their voices to perfection. Which should be a good thing, shouldn't it? They should make it all the way because they've learned all the rules and they should just be given golden tickets because they can tick off all the little marks on a checklist.

Maybe some of those perfect singers will succeed. But if they do, I still think it is because of something other than their perfect voices, some quality that makes them stand apart, some part of their life history that is tragic or weird or quirky, that just doesn't fit the mold. "Voice," in the end, is the opposite of skill. It's what takes you to the places that skill can't get you, and it's the same in many ways in writing as it is in the music world.

I do critiques of manuscripts for people a lot and I have realized more and more than the two ends of the spectrum are both important. On the one hand, I am trying to help writers increase their set of skills. I point out where they have made mistakes, where the clarity of what is happening needs to be increased. I point out where the plot logic doesn't work, where characters do things that make no sense. These are all skill-based, problems that almost any trained writer can point out.

Then there are the "flaws" in a manuscript that should not be fixed. This is where as a critiquer I have to be really careful. You can fix too much in a manuscript, correct a writer to the point that the uniqueness is lost. Instead, I try hard to let the manuscript be what it is meant to be, to see where the writer's unique flaws should be intentional, where a voice that is rough needs to be left alone. It's tricky. You can over-edit someone else just as you can over-edit yourself.

This helps me sometimes when I think about writers who have success but do not necessarily have the same skills that other writers do. Readers connect with that flawed voice and the story it has to tell. Sometimes--often--voice trumps skill and readers will overlook plot flaws if there is enough else going on that they don't care. If they feel at home in your writing is if they feel transported brilliantly enough, they may notice flaws guiltily but shrug and keep reading.

I am not saying that as writers, you don't bother with skills, but know that there is a line, a balance that you need to find for yourself between skill and voice. And of course, each project may have a different line. You never stop learning as a writer. You don't just say, I have the skills I need, now I don't need to worry about it. But you also need to remember what it is that made your last book work, and that part of it was what you hadn't yet learned in terms of skill. It's a paradox, like a lot of things in life. Good luck with it!