Writers in the Storm

By Jenn Windrow

I was on vacation in Vegas celebrating my daughter’s 21^st birthday, and suddenly I was tagged in a post. A review popped up that I had been waiting a year for. One I had given up on. But there it was. This reviewer was known to be blunt and honest, but not brutal. My little author heart started pounding, my hands were shaking, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to click and read. But curiosity won out over anxiety, so in I went.

And this is some of what it said…

“This voice heavy urban fantasy is off to a sleazy, gloriously over-written start. Too much, even, but in a good way.”
“The colors are bold. The sleaze is very sleazy. The stink is caked on.”
“It’s melodramatic. It reads fast. It has a sense of flair.”

While I was reading, my smile grew until my face hurt. Not just because of the positive review, but because it nailed something I care about deeply as both a writer and a developmental editor.

My author voice.

My voice is probably the single most important thing to me when it comes to writing. I work hard to make sure that the words on the page reflect me as a writer. My sass, my snark, my attitude, and well, just me. And this reviewer not only saw that, but he appreciated it.

And here’s the part that mattered even more.

It showed me that being authentic to my author voice doesn’t hurt me.

What “Voice” Actually Is

You author voice is so many things. Word choice. Cadence. Rhythm. Style. But it is also the way your narrator sees the world and how they respond to it. What they notice, dismiss, judge, and believe to be true.

That’s why two writers can describe the same scene and land in completely different places. They’re not just choosing different words. They’re telling different truths. They see things differently.

My voice is quirky and sassy and sarcastic. My characters have sharp edges and even shaper tongues. And I like it that way. I don’t write in a world of black and white, I like to explore the grey areas in between.

I guess you could say your “voice” is your author signature. It’s a promise to a reader right from the start. It gives them an idea of what kind of ride they are going on. Funny, serious, quirky, gothic.

What That Review Really Said

On the surface, that review talks about style. Sleaze. Over-the-top prose. Noir turned up to eleven. Melodramatic.

Some of those words could have sent me into a tailspin of depression, I mean, who wants to hear that their writing is melodramatic? Over the top? Sleazy?

(raises their hand) ME!

Because that is how I write. I put it all on the page and leave nothing behind. And when I read the review, my brain was going check, check, check, and check.  

But it was what was underneath those words, the deeper meaning of the review that really caught my attention. That showed me that even though my voice is irreverent on the best of days, my very LOUD voice is not taking away from the story itself.

And here is the proof in a few other lines that were mixed in as well.

“It doesn’t sacrifice anything in terms of clarity or focus.”

And this one:

“We get a very good sense of our MC’s situation.”

That’s voice holding the line. That’s a narrator who knows exactly what she thinks about her situation, even when the prose is big, loud, and unapologetic. That’s control.

Strong Voice Gives You Range

When your voice is anchored, you get to make bold choices. You can push your prose. You can lean into tone. You can be dramatic, sharp, messy, or restrained.

Let’s look at modern authors known for unmistakable voice:

• Colleen Hoover leans hard into emotional immediacy. Her narrators feel everything in real time, and that intensity is the voice. Strip that out and the books stop working.
• Sarah J. Maas writes with a sweeping, immersive intensity that blends internal emotion with high-stakes fantasy. The voice is declarative, emotional, and deeply committed to the character’s experience.
• Leigh Bardugo shifts voice depending on POV, but each one is anchored in a clear worldview. Kaz Brekker doesn’t sound like anyone else because he doesn’t think like anyone else.
• Tamsyn Muir in Gideon the Ninth is chaotic, irreverent, and wildly specific. The voice is so strong it borders on polarizing, and that’s exactly why it works.
• Rebecca Yarros drives voice through urgency and emotional stakes. Her narrators are grounded in what’s at risk right now, and that perspective shapes every line.

None of these authors are playing it safe. And none of them would benefit from someone “toning down” their voice.

Why I Don’t Edit Voice

As a developmental editor, I will tear apart your structure. I will push on your pacing. I will question your character choices and motivations. I will tell you if you a messy mid-point. But I will not rewrite your voice.

Because voice isn’t a problem to solve.

It’s the part of your writing that is entirely yours. The part no one else can replicate, even if they tried. It’s what makes your writing, well…you.

And the second an editor starts smoothing that out? You don’t have a stronger manuscript. You have a safer one. And safe is forgettable. Safe is boring. Safe gets skimmed instead of sucking a reader into your world.

No one wants to be safe.

The Real Danger: Flattening Your Voice

A lot of writers try to fix their voice. They tone it down. Clean it up. Try to make it sound more professional or more polished. They try to write like other authors in the genre in order to fit in.

But in the end, they strip out the very thing that made their writing theirs.

I see this when writers chase:

• Cleaner prose
• Safer sentence structure
• “More lyrical” language

None of those are bad. But they come at the expense of you being you on the page. You’re not improving your voice. You’re diluting it.

Right now, I am working on a romantasy. A genre that is wildly different than my normal urban fantasy series. And while I understand that romantasy is less punchy, and fast moving and sarcastic, I learned switching my voice so that I wrote like other romantasy authors was hurting the book more than it was helping it. In fact, I put the book aside because there was something off about it.

Then I figured it out. It was my voice, it was gone, and my writing was flat.

I decided I would rather stand out than fit in.

I am taming my voice a touch, cutting out cuss words, smoothing out the prose, but I am leaving in the sass and snark and melodrama that makes me…me. And now that I have stopped worrying about voice, the story is flowing again and I am happy with the outcome.

If You’re Worried About Your Voice

That means you care. That you have something to say, and you know exactly how you want to say it.

Lean into it. Learn to love. And stop worrying about fitting in, and allow your words to shine.

The Takeaway

Voice is not the thing holding your manuscript back. It’s the thing that will make it stand out.

So, protect it. Develop it. Let it be bold. Let it be specific. Let it be a little too much. Because the right readers aren’t looking for safe. They’re looking for something they can’t get anywhere else.

They’re looking for the authentic you.

Which authors make you feel their voice instantly, and why?

About Jenn Windrow

Jenn Windrow once attempted to write a “normal” book—and promptly bored herself into a coma. So now she sticks to what she does best: writing snarky, kick-butt heroines, broody supernatural men, and more sexual tension than a vampire in a blood bank.

She’s the award-winning author of the Alexis Black novels and the Redeeming Cupid series, where the undead never sparkle and the drama is always delicious. Jenn moonlights as a developmental editor, helping other writers wrangle their wild plots and tangle-free prose.

When not arguing with her characters or muttering about Oxford commas, she can be found binge-watching trash TV, wrangling the slew of animals that live in her house (husband and teenagers included), or telling herself she’ll only have one more cookie.

You can find her at jennwindrow.com or lurking on social media where she pretends to be an extrovert.

Photo by Hussein Abdullah on Unsplash

by Lisa Norman

We talk a lot about "The Muse" and "The Editor," those voices that whisper in our ears and either help our creativity or edit our writing into magic. Sometimes they help. Sometimes they block our creativity. In a perfect world, they work together as a creativity duet.

But there’s a third voice in my head that I inherited along the way: the Ghost of Scarcity.

There are other creative blocks that writers carry. Ghosts of shoulds long past: writing should be profitable, writing should be effortless, I should be further along in my career, and one of my least favorite to run into: I should be able to do this. Whatever this is at the time.

And there are as many others as there are writers.

The trick for me is to recognize that some of these ghosts, these fears, are not my own. Some I inherited from family. Some I picked up along the path of my writing career.

Recognizing the Sources

There’s a common marketing tactic, known as Agitation Marketing, where you state a problem that people might have as if it is a thing they DO have. This is especially powerful if it is a common issue that many people have occasionally. Suddenly, even those who don’t have the problem think that maybe they do. People hearing or reading the pitch begin to question themselves.

The marketer has created a problem, and now they can sell us the solution.

This technique turns a fleeting problem that lots of writers have into a chronic worry that the writer (or other buyer) must pay to solve, urgently. And hey, this advertiser or teacher just happens to have the perfect solution.

I’ve run into too many writers carrying beliefs and blocks that they picked up from a cleverly crafted marketing pitch.

Recognizing the Result

Let’s look at how these creative blocks derail our talents.

I’ll use myself as an example. Scarcity is one of my ugliest creative blocks.

I’ve shared before how my mother spent her life in a constant state of scarcity. Even when she was financially stable, she believed she couldn’t "afford" to be creative. She was a powerhouse in Silicon Valley real estate, winning awards and breaking records, while her sketches were relegated to the margins of high-value contracts. It wasn't until cancer robbed her of the ability to sell real estate that she discovered she could have made a living through the art she’d suppressed. Her true scarcity wasn’t money, it was her access to creative joy. She thought money would solve all of her problems, and so she drove herself relentlessly to make more and more money.

For me, my trigger was a brief stint when I first got out of college. My autoimmune condition took me down hard and I went hungry for a while. Now only one look at me these days and you’ll know instantly what my creative soul can’t seem to grasp: I haven’t been hungry in a long time.

Being too Honest

Here’s how I start my day, every day. I check my bank account balance. I eat and make sure there’s enough food for my family for the day. If my bank account drops close to my comfort level, I start panicking. I could sit down and write, but the first person who comes along and offers me a paying gig? Writing goes right out the window. Writing. The creative passion of my life becomes impossible.

I’ll be chasing someone’s broken website instead of my writing goals and not even notice that I changed direction.

That scarcity? It’s not real. But it feels real.

I find myself measuring my worth by "real job" metrics—output, Return On Investment (ROI), and efficiency—forgetting that my creativity is a living thing, not a factory.

When "Should" is a Hand-Me-Down

Creativity wilts under the weight of "should." Most of our "shoulds" are just recycled fears from people who didn't know how to tend their own creative sparks. We tell ourselves:

• "I should write something 'marketable' instead of what I love." – Why? Why not trust that if I love something there will be readers on the planet that will love it, too?
• "I should be farther along by now." – Why? People start their creative lives at all ages. There’s no magical age for success.
• "I should justify the time I spend writing by making a profit." – Why? Many successful writers lost money before they made it. I’d hazard to say that most creatives invest time not making money before they start turning a profit.

When you live under the pressure of "should," your creativity becomes a debt you owe to yourself instead of a gift you give to others.

Here’s a question: if you carry any of those shoulds, are they actually real and true for you? Or are they something you inherited from someone in your life or a clever marketing campaign?

Reclaiming Your Fire

Breaking this cycle isn't about a grand rebellion; it’s about awareness. It’s noticing that the dread you feel when opening your manuscript might actually be a reaction to an inherited or absorbed expectation that isn’t yours.

Today, try a small act of discovery. Write one scene that has zero market value. Write something messy, weird, or "useless" just because it makes your heart lift.

The joy of creativity is about realizing that your creative presence is enough, exactly as it is. You aren't "behind" a universal timeline; you are arriving exactly when your spark is ready.

What is one creative "should" you’ve been carrying that feels more like a burden than a blessing? What happens if you set it down today?

About Lisa

Lisa Norman's passion has been writing since she could hold a pencil. While that is a cliché, she is unique in that her first novel was written on gum wrappers. As a young woman, she learned to program and discovered she has a talent for helping people and computers learn to work together and play nice. When she's not hanging out with her family, writing, or teaching, she can be found wandering the local beaches.

Lisa writes as Deleyna Marr and is the owner of No Stress Writing Academy. She also runs Heart Ally Books, LLC, an indie publishing firm.

Interested in learning more from Lisa? Sign up for her newsletter or check out her school, No Stress Writing Academy, where she teaches social media, organization, technical skills, and marketing for authors!

Her most recent book, The Work of Joy is now available here.

Top image from depositphotos.

by Susan Watts

In my previous article, we explored how powerful stories often contain both the outward movement of the Hero’s Journey and the inward transformation of the heroine’s journey. One shapes what the character must face in the world. The other shapes what the character must face within themselves.

But another question came up while I was writing about the heroine’s journey. Is it simply another name for interiority?

The short answer is no.

Interiority is a writing technique that lets readers experience what a character feels from inside the moment. The heroine’s journey is a story structure that shapes the changes a character must undergo.

A story can contain deep interiority without following the heroine’s journey at all. And a story can follow the heroine’s journey structure even if its interiority is light. The two often appear together because they strengthen each other, but they are not interchangeable.

Understanding the difference can help you recognize what kind of transformation your story may actually need.

Interiority Brings Readers Inside the Experience

Writers often hear the word interiority and assume it means describing emotions more deeply. But interiority is not about naming feelings. It is about letting readers experience a moment from inside the character. Instead of observing events from a distance, readers feel hesitation before a decision. They experience what’s happening now through the influence of something that happened before. They feel tension before action lands.

This creates emotional proximity. A decision becomes more than an action. It becomes a lived experience.

Here are examples of what interiority might look like:

Without interiority

Her hands trembled.

This shows a reaction.

With interiority

Her hands trembled. If she reached for the doorknob now, he would see it.

Now readers experience the moment with her instead of observing it from the outside.

Here’s another example:

Without interiority

He stayed quiet.

With interiority

He stayed quiet. Saying the truth now would only make things worse.

The action hasn’t changed. What changed is access to the character’s thinking inside the decision.

Interiority brings readers closer to the character’s experience. That closeness strengthens nearly every kind of story. Mysteries, fantasies, romances, and thrillers all rely on interiority to create emotional presence.

But closeness alone does not create a heroine’s journey. That requires something different.

The Heroine’s Journey Is About Reclaiming Something That Was Set Aside

The heroine’s journey centers on recognition instead of conquest. Rather than proving strength by overcoming an enemy, the character discovers they must recover something they set aside earlier in life before the story can move forward.

Sometimes that lost element is trust.

Sometimes identity.

Sometimes connection.

Sometimes permission to use their own voice.

External conflict still drives the story forward. Dragons still appear. Doors still close. Enemies still act. But the turning point comes when the character stops trying to meet expectations and starts trying to become true to who they are.

That is the structural work of the heroine’s journey.

Why Writers Sometimes Mistake Strong Interiority for a Heroine’s Journey

Modern fiction often uses deep point of view and emotional immediacy, so readers spend more time inside a character’s thoughts and reactions than ever before. That closeness can make a story feel internal, even when the character’s identity hasn’t actually changed. Because of that, writers sometimes assume their story is following a heroine’s journey when what they are really seeing is strong interiority. Or vice versa.

A character can experience fear, doubt, hesitation, and emotional conflict throughout a story without reclaiming anything essential about who they are. Those experiences deepen the reader’s connection to the character, but they do not create a heroine’s journey on their own.

Story Examples of the Heroine’s Journey vs. Interiority

Strong stories often include both movements at once. Interiority lets readers experience the transformation as it happens. The heroine’s journey gives that transformation meaning.

Examples from popular movies include:

The Hunger Games: Katniss Everdeen

Interiority

Katniss evaluates threats in the arena, counts arrows, reads other tributes’ intentions, and constantly calculates survival odds.

Readers feel:

• fear
• strategy
• protectiveness toward Rue
• anger toward the Capitol

That’s interiority. We’re inside her decision-making.

Heroine’s Journey moment

Katniss raises the berries and refuses to perform the Capitol’s script. She stops being a pawn and becomes someone who defines her own role.

The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King: Aragorn

Interiority

Aragorn hesitates repeatedly about claiming kingship.

We experience:

• self-doubt
• reluctance
• loyalty conflicts
• fear of repeating Isildur’s failure

Readers are inside his uncertainty.

Heroine’s Journey movement inside a Hero’s Journey story

Aragorn accepts that he is the rightful king. He stops avoiding identity and steps into it.

The war still must be won—but the story cannot resolve until he accepts himself.

The Devil Wears Prada: Andy Sachs

Interiority

Andy struggles to survive Miranda’s expectations.

We experience:

• her stress
• her insecurity
• her ambition conflict
• her exhaustion

That’s interiority.

Heroine’s Journey moment

Andy walks away from Miranda’s world. Not because she failed. Because she recognizes it isn’t who she wants to become.

She reclaims identity.

Why This Difference Matters During Revision

Your manuscripts may reach a stage where the structure appears sound, but something still feels unfinished.

Sometimes the missing element is stronger interiority. Readers need closer access to the character’s experience as events unfold. Other times, the story is waiting for a moment of recognition that allows the character to reclaim something they have been living without.

Those are different revisions. Knowing which one your story needs can save enormous time. The distinction becomes especially useful when a manuscript feels emotionally close to working, but still feels unfinished.

A Quick Diagnostic Question for Your Manuscript

If your story feels emotionally distant, ask:

• Do readers experience the character’s thoughts, memories, and physical reactions during important moments?

If not, the manuscript likely needs stronger interiority.

If your story feels immersive but still unresolved, ask:

• Does the character reclaim something essential about themselves before the ending?

If not, the manuscript may be missing a heroine’s journey.

One problem affects closeness.

The other effects completion.

What to Revise When One Element Is Missing

If interiority is thin:

Bring readers closer to decisions as they happen. Let them experience hesitation, memory, and meaning from inside the character rather than summarizing after the fact.

If the heroine’s journey is missing:

Look for something the character learned to silence earlier in life and ask where the story allows them to reclaim it.

Often, the strongest revision move is not adding action.

It is restoring identity.

A Question for You:
Does your story already show what your character feels—or is it still waiting for the moment when they understand who they are allowed to be? (The answer usually reveals what your next revision needs most.)

About Susan:

Under the pen name Michelle Allums, Susan Watts has authored a young adult urban fantasy titled, The Jade Amulet and is currently writing the sequel. Her short stories are also included in the anthologies Christmas Roses and Forever and Always.

Susan has dedicated over four decades to training in multiple martial arts styles and holds the impressive title of a five-time US Karate Alliance world black belt fighting grand champion. Through her karate school, she is able to impart martial arts and life skills. Susan also incorporates her martial arts knowledge into her writing.

An avid triathlete, she keeps in shape by running, biking, and swimming. She lives in the country with her husband, where they raise animals and enjoy being outdoors. Susan also has three grown children and numerous grandchildren. In addition, she is a CPA and VP of finance for a company in her hometown. 

You can connect with Susan on social media or her website.