Finding My Writing Voice (By Accident, in Dropbox)

I thought I’d whack something down about voice.

But first — something you should probably know about me before you decide whether to read on: I don’t often really believe that I’m right. I don’t know where it comes from. I’m a middle-aged man — it’s not supposed to be like this.

My actual, speaking voice is pretty soft. I’ve got a slight lisp, and I think my tongue might be too wide for my mouth. Writing voice, though? I’ve never really understood it.

I’ve got a Master’s in Creative Writing. I’ve stood up in front of eager, trusting writers — hoping, praying they don’t mention the V-word.

But then I started to organise my Dropbox, so to speak.

Old files were in there — literally docs that will turn twenty next year. I read some. And I realised (at least, I think I did). I’d been reading a fair bit of Terry Pratchett around the time, and came across this incomplete bit of a short story I’d been working on.

The Emperor was in a position to seldom be steered from his train of thought, no matter what the situation.  However, to find a furtive nugget of Shepplethwack's Old Rancid behind his left upper molar at the very moment a wooden horse heaved into parlance was not a conversational cocktail he had so far experienced.  As he began to choke, the Emperor was at least satisfied to see the noxious sliver of cheese launch from his mouth in a jet of spittle and land on the Captain's cheek.  He proceeded to finish his bout of choking daring his eyes close as he watched the etiquette struggle unfurl before him.  If the Captain wiped, he would be executed.  The rules of etiquette are so much clearer when you're Emperor.

"The wooden horse?"

"Yes sir. We've got thirty men in fifteen cubic feet, all armed to the teeth and ready to take the City in the morning."

"Fifteen feet?" The Emperor happened to know that Agadoo was one of the City Guard and could fill fifteen feet all by himself.

"It's OK, sir.  We let Toilet Duck bring his banjo."  The Emperor was beginning to regret basing his army on a Greek/Trojan template.  For every Mr. Muscle to their Ajax, there was a Sergeant Drainbuster or Corporal Toilet Duck.

Now, I’ll be honest – I did have a bit of a grin (it’s probably why I’ve copied so much across), but the way it’s written – the choice of words, the rhythm – it kind of draws attention to itself. I’m being a bit “look how clever I think I am”.

Some of the most common feedback I’ve received on the two novels I’m querying is that certain bits did exactly that - they pulled readers out of the story. They study a pun. They pause at a sentence that’s trying too hard.

Even now, as I start this blog, I’m hoping to spark a few conversations, maybe ‘meet’ some like-minded individuals, and poke at questions I still haven’t answered — even after a good quarter-century of writing. I’m trying not to overthink the words. I’m trying not to try. And yet still put something interesting down.

And I think that’s what voice is.

If you write a billion books, fast, that voice will out — the personality spilling through that makes the writing uniquely yours.

But since I don’t have time to write a billion books, I do something simpler.

Aside from dialogue, I ask myself: Would I talk like that? And if it’s something stylised - horror, say, or a character piece - I ask: Would this character talk like that?

And yep, I know that ties me in knots.

#

Because what if the character is Terry Pratchett?

Well — then you get a knock-off of the Patrician.

And you use it in a blog.

  July 2025