by Janice Hardy

Voice isn't what people think it is.

In my two decades of teaching, I’ve met so many writers who have struggled with creating character voice, and none of the advice or tips they tried worked for them.

And I know why.

These writers were probably looking at ways to “write character voices” as if it was something separate from the character, a trick or technique that “made voice happen.”

Normally, this is where I’d say “but voice doesn’t just happen,” but it actually kinda does.

But only if your point of view is strong enough to reveal it. Because…

Voice is what a character notices and how they feel about what they notice.

When you're writing through the perspective of the character (or narrator), their opinions come through in every line. You use words they’d use, and judge what’s seen how they would judge it.

But when your point of view is weak, the story feels detached and generic. Readers lose interest and start skimming, since there's no one on the page for them to connect with.

Sure, they can see everything that happens, but nothing feels personal, and every character sounds pretty much the same. There’s no voice because there’s no sense of character at all.

Let's look at an example.

Here's a scene from a bestselling novel, but I stripped out all the point of view:

Conscription day has the highest casualty rate of the year. The sunrise is unusually bright this morning, brighter than it has been recently.

I tighten the straps of my heavy canvas rucksack and climb the wide staircase of the stone fortress where I live. I am breathing hard and my lungs hurt by the time I reach the stone corridor leading to General Sorrengail's office. I have completed six months of intense physical training, and I am still short of breath after six flights of stairs with a thirty-pound pack.

This is a problem.

It’s not awful, but notice how little personality (hence, voice) is in this. Even though it’s first person, all you get are the details and the explanations. It’s facts, not judgments or opinions.

But compare it to this one.

Contrast this to the original, from Rebecca Yarros’ Fourth Wing:

Conscription day is always the deadliest. Maybe that’s why the sunrise is especially beautiful this morning—because I know it might be my last.

I tighten the straps of my heavy canvas rucksack and trudge up the wide staircase of the stone fortress I call home. My chest heaves with exertion, my lungs burning by the time I reach the stone corridor leading to General Sorrengail’s office. This is what six months of intense physical training has given me—the ability to barely climb six flights of stairs with a thirty-pound pack.

I’m so f***ed.

Big difference, right?

This tells you just as much about the point of view character as it does the situation she’s in, because we see this world through her eyes. It shows what’s important to her and why.

Look at the specific words and phrases used here:

• because I know it might be my last.
• trudge up the wide staircase of the stone fortress I call home
• My chest heaves with exertion, my lungs burning
• This is what six months of intense physical training has given me—the ability to barely climb six flights of stairs with a thirty-pound pack.
• I’m so f***ed.

All of these are how the point of view character feels about climbing those stairs on that day, and unlike the non-point of view version, you get a much better sense that what’s waiting at the top of those stairs is not good.

The facts are the same. It’s still conscription day, she’s still climbing six flights of stairs, and she’s still out of breath. The only thing that changed is who’s telling us about it.

That’s voice.

Which is why when your point of view is weak, your voice disappears.

The details are chosen by what you think the reader needs to know, not by what the character cares about. And that creates distance between character and readers, so they get information instead of experience.

And the tricky part?

A weak point of view isn’t always obvious. Like my stripped Fourth Wing example, it’s often technically fine. It just doesn’t feel like anyone’s living behind the words.

A few signs your point of view might be keeping your voice from showing up:

• Your descriptions are just inventories of what's in the room, not what your character notices or how they feel about it.
• Your character sees, hears, and feels a lot, with tons of filter words between the reader and the character.
• Emotions are told, not shown. "She was nervous" instead of a nervous person's thoughts and judgments.
• The language is what you’d use, not what the character would use.

If any (or all) of these sound familiar, don't panic.

Not taking advantage of your point of view is one of the most common issues I see in manuscripts.

The good news?

You can totally fix that. Just look at the scene through your character's eyes and ask:

• What would this character notice first? What would they miss or ignore?
• How do they feel about the world around them?
• What specific words would they use to describe it?
• How do their opinions color what they see?

Then edit with that character’s perspective.

And the voice you've been looking for will appear.

New Workshop

If this made a few lightbulbs flicker for you, join me for my free online workshop, “It's Not Voice, It's Point of View,” on Thursday, November 5th, from 7:00 - 8:30 pm EST.

You can register for it here.

And if you'd like more tips like this, sign up for my Narrative Nuggets list. It's story-based writing advice delivered right to your inbox, and as a thank you for subscribing, you'll get my 25 Ways to Strengthen Your Writing Right Now PDF for free.

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About Janice

Janice Hardy is the award-winning author and founder of the popular writing site Fiction University, where she helps writers improve their craft and navigate the crazy world of publishing. Not only does she write about writing, but she teaches workshops across the country, and her blog has been recognized as a Top Writing Blog by Writer’s Digest. She also spins tales of adventure for both teens and adults, and firmly believes that doing terrible things to her characters makes them more interesting (in a good way). She loves talking with writers and readers, and encourages questions of all types—even the weird ones.