What Does "Finding Your Voice" Mean Anyway?

Exploring what "voice" means for a writer and how to discover your own.

We’ve all heard that writers are encouraged to “find their voice.” But how helpful is that advice if we don’t agree on a definition of what that means? I’ve had writer friends who thought finding their voice meant being vulgar in their work. Or you hear about certain writers like Quentin Tarantino praised for having a “strong voice.” So does “voice” mean cursing and weaving pop culture references into everything you do? Maybe. But that’s just one style of voice.

To me, a writer’s voice is about how unique they sound. It’s not about showing off, or repeating certain catchphrases. It all comes down to how much to you sound like you.

OK, so how do I sound like me?

The most important factor in a writer’s voice to me is their world view. It’s how they express their point of view. Yes, this might come across in certain individual phrases or stylistic language here and there. But to me voice is bigger than that. To me, a writer’s voice is best judged by a body of work. It’s when you absorb the continued exposure to a writer’s writing that certain themes, outlooks and tonalities emerge. The sum total of these expressions all add up to equal their voice.

How many screenwriters have copped Tarantino? How many novelists have tried to emulate JK Rowling? But the results, while an interesting exercise, always ring hollow.

Generally, the writer’s who we talk about and who have developed enormous readerships have easily identifiable voices. From reading a short passage, you can tell if it was Hemingway or Shakespeare or Maya Angelou who wrote a given passage. The short cut thinking to voice, is that by mimicking or copy and pasting a writer’s style of writing, you can approximate voice. How many screenwriter’s have copped Tarantino? How many novelists have tried to emulate JK Rowling? But the results, while an interesting exercise, always ring hollow. The writer’s took the shortcut to imitate voice.

To truly find your voice, you need to pull from your own experience. You need to probe your own opinions. You need to get at the heart of what your very existence means and how you see the world. There is no short cut here. The writers that emerge with the strongest voices are the ones who wrestle with hundreds of pages of crummy journal writing and below average prose. What’s more terrifying that facing your own mediocrity? But the writers who face their demons of normalcy and cut to their very soul, end up finding something interesting and new to say. There is no greater reward. These jewels and revelations make the journey worthwhile.

Examples of strong voices are all around us. It’s not only a trait reserved for author’s whose work ends up in bookstores.

Examples of strong voices are all around us. It’s not only a trait reserved for author’s whose work ends up in bookstores. Think of the people in your life. Who has the strongest worldview? Maybe it’s your friend who drops you texts like no one else would. Or maybe it’s a storyteller uncle of yours, whose anecdotes keep the holiday gatherings belly laughing. Voice doesn’t just manifest in classic novels and award-winning films.

Voice is innate. And it should be a lot easier to locate than it is. But there is something that comes along, an inner voice, an inner critic that tries to make us deviate from our natural state of expression. In school, we are engineered to think we need to sound “intellectual” for our thoughts or writing to be worthwhile. This manifests later in grammar police trolls on social media, who get distracted and passionate about the style rather than the substance of comments. Then there is imitation. We discover Kerouac or Hunter S. Thompson and suddenly our writing veers into mimicry. Keeping us further from the source of our own truth.

It’s good to have influences and it’s important to know the presentable rules of spelling and grammar. But to really break ground and discover yourself as a writer, you have to focus on your purpose and reason for expressing. Editing can happen later. Self-critique follows inspiration. They can’t be a simultaneous act. So be mindful of when you feel yourself drifting from your core as a writer. Are the details of your syntax important when getting your raw ideas out? Or is it a roadblock? Is there a simpler way to say what you wrote? Is your voice being interrupted by faux-academia? Drop the act. Stay on course. This is something only you can judge.

Don’t be distracted by outside voices in the quest to discover your own.

Working in the creative industry for nearly two decades, I’m keenly aware of outside voices. My work has been scrutinized and criticized, both constructively and otherwise. You develop a thick skin. And you also develop an internal compass to know when the criticism is wrong. Conversely, you learn when praise is misguided. At the end of the day, you are your first reader. You should work on developing your standard that only you can judge yourself by. As you tightly tune your internal writing compass, you’ll start to notice when your work sings and when you’re missing your mark. Keep repeating this. Don’t be distracted by outside voices in the quest to discover your own.

Your voice is a lifelong pursuit in uncovering and chiseling. We never truly arrive. But with each attempt, our senses should be sharpened to realize the shape and form of our innate voice. The goal then becomes, turning that inner truth into pure expression. The more we unlock our voice, the more confident we become in repeating it. It’s the mission that drives me in everything I write. From text, to screenplay, to poem, to intro slide for a client. Every time you put words down is an exercise in defining your voice. Be rigorous and don’t waste the opportunities to find out who you truly are.