Voice Lessons
And the Periodic Table of Elements
Welcome to Shelf Life, where we are ever thinking about voice.
I have a 3.5-octave voice. To put that in perspective, I can sing “Take on Me” by A-ha. I can sing “Under the Bridge” by RHCP and then sing “Chandelier” by Sia right after. I have a passaggio at E♭5 that I train relentlessly with a special karaoke playlist I use in my car. All this is to say I know a thing or two about voice.
Please invite me to karaoke I am begging you.
I just released a mini workbook on character voice so that’s at the top of my mind today and I want to share the goods with you. I still think you should get the workbook but only if you like what you learn in here.
What Voice Is and Isn’t
Voice is not as simple as a collection of verbal tics, although tics and catchphrases are part of voice. It’s not accent, or dialect. It’s not even the way the character speaks.
Voice is the way a character cannot help speaking.
Voice is inevitable. It’s not easy to alter your own voice. That’s actually why lots of writers have difficulty mastering character voices—because crafting character voice means subduing our own narrative voice in favor of the character’s voice. And we’ve all heard that every agent and editor and publisher wants a voicey narrator right now, so, if you’ve been perfecting your narrative voice you might find character voice even harder than usual.
So as I was saying: Voice is inevitable. That’s why faking an accent requires concentration and is exhausting after a while. It’s why we get mentally and emotionally tired in situations where we have to speak in a way that’s unusual for us (like job interviews or business lunches). And it’s why excellent character voices are so hard to write.
But turn that aphorism around on its face: Voice is inevitable. If you know your characters, their voices become inevitable too.
Voice Is a Compound
Voice is not just one thing. I mean, nothing is just one thing. An atom is just one thing. Everything else is a compound. Including voices.
Theory: there are six elements of voice.
Diction. The words this character chooses and uses.
Syntax. The order they put their words in.
Rhythm and pace. The speed at which they speak. Their urgency or hesitancy.
Formality register. How formally or informally this character speaks.
Catchphrases and tics. The words, sounds, or phrases this character repeats over and over.
Emotional default. The emotional state of your character at rest.
If you thoughtfully choose those six characteristics for each of your speaking characters, and then write their voice based on what you decided, your character voices will be unique and differentiated. That’s it. You can stop reading now. That’s the whole show.
Or is it?
So how do you develop a character voice that’s authentic to your character? You let backstory guide the way you choose the six elements. Let’s look at how it works in practice.
The Alchemy of Backstory
Consider two characters that seem demographically alike on the surface. Let’s say they:
Are the same age
Go to the same school
Study the same subjects
Run in the same friend group
Belong to all the same clubs
Enjoy the same sports
One of these characters is, uh, let’s say “Harriet.” And the other one is, um, “Rob.”
They still sound totally different based on their backstories.
“Rob”
The youngest boy out of seven siblings—he’s used to being overlooked, spoken over, or pushed aside.
He’s not the “most” anything of his siblings—he’s not the smartest, or the funniest, or the bravest, or the best in school.
His family struggles financially, which he’s embarrassed about.
How does this affect his voice?
Sarcasm. “Nobody can be disappointed in me if I’m not trying.”
Speaks quickly. He’s used to trying to get his thoughts in edgewise around eight other family members.
“Blimey.” Catchphrase belies his socioeconomic status.
“Harriet”
The only child of two highly educated, gainfully employed parents.
She’s not from a magical background, so she’s anxious to prove that she’s just as knowledgeable as her peers.
She’s used to being the smartest person in the room.
How does this affect her voice?
Overexplaining. She’s used to being the one who makes things make sense for others (she does a lot of heavy narrative lifting in the story when she explains magical things the reader might not know).
Chooses complex words and uses a formal register. She’s not about to be caught out not knowing something; she’s painfully eager to sound smart.
“Honestly.” She’s perpetually exasperated that others around her haven’t already overthought whatever she’s been overthinking.
Developing Character Voice
Let’s look at how each periodic voice element maps to backstory.
Diction
The words your character chooses and uses are deeply tied to their backstory. First, consider their education level. A character with a low level of education choosing words like “loquacious” and “comely” is unexpected. If you want to go that route, there needs to be a mitigating factor—do they read a ton? Are they overcompensating?
Education isn’t the only factor, though. Imagine how the word selection might differ between:
A highly educated character who is trying desperately to fit in.
A highly educated character who is trying desperately to show off.
Syntax
Syntax, or sentence structure, is also closely tied to education level but might also be a signal of a character’s trustworthiness (or lack thereof). For instance, a character who speaks in long, complicated sentences might be:
Trying to obfuscate or hide the truth.
Trying to show off their knowledge of a subject, or hide their lack of it.
A thoughtful, dreamy character who lets their words meander alongside their thoughts.
Rhythm and Pace
The speed at which a character speaks, their urgency or hesitancy, can usually be traced back to their original wound. Are they:
Afraid to speak up or speak confidently? Someone in their past has torn down their ideas.
Rushed and hurried when they speak? They’ve already decided that no one has time for them.
Slow and careful with their words? They may have inadvertently hurt someone they care about with careless words, or been hurt themself.
Formality Register
Every character’s formality is on a sliding scale. Nobody talks to the cops the same way they talk to their best friends (don’t talk to cops). But every character has a default level of formality. For instance, we recall that Romulus Wellbeing does not have the same inherent formality as Hermeneutics Grainfed.
A character might have a more formal speaking register if:
They grew up isolated from their peers.
They’re used to translating for parents who don’t speak the local language.
Their job puts them in frequent contact with authority figures.
A character might have less formal speech if:
They had siblings or same-age friends they were close with growing up.
They’re trying hard to fit in.
They come from a privileged background and see no reason to adjust their tone to suit the people around them.
Catchphrases and Tics
Use with caution. Catchphrases and tics can help differentiate a character voice, yes, but they can also exhaust the reader if you use too many of them. A character who says “literally” in every dialogue exchange—is just me from my memoir, actually.
“Catchphrases and tics” overlaps with diction a little bit in that it can be more of a repeated word choice than a true catchphrase. For instance, a character who responds to shock with, “oh my god,” versus a character who responds to shock with an expletive.
You might ask yourself:
What deity does this person call on in moments of heightened emotion like surprise, fear, or even exasperation? An American valley girl might say “oh my gawd” while a high priestess in a fantasy series might say, “oh, stars.”
What expression does this character reach for when words fail?
Does the tic have to be an actual word? Or can it be expressed by a tendency to trail off or interrupt oneself?
Emotional Default
Finally, the most important of all these elements is the emotional default. Is the character curious by default? Or defensive? Consider how two characters, for whom all other elements are equal, might respond to something that makes them angry:
“Why would you do that?” is a curious response. The first instinct is to ask “why” even as they’re making an accusation.
“This is all your fault!” is a defensive response. Their first instinct is to make sure the blame is placed squarely on someone who isn’t them.
How does a character come by their emotional default? They grow up with it. Their history and experience shapes it. Even twins might have a widely different emotional default if there were inequities in their early experience.
The Character Voice Lab
As I mentioned earlier, I did just make an entire workbook on this topic and I’d love if you checked it out. It’s got all the theory above, plus some helpful worksheets and three case studies (the one I used here plus The Echo Wife by Gailey and This Is How You Lose the Time War by El-Mohtar and Gladstone).
If you have questions that you’d like to see answered in Shelf Life, ideas for topics that you’d like to explore, or feedback on the newsletter, please feel free to contact me. I would love to hear from you.
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