Voice and Fiction: Finding the Right Note

Recently, I’ve been in negotiations with authors for projects that ultimately were not a good fit. Sometimes it was the author who made that call, and sometimes I’ve had the luxury of opting out myself, not because the manuscript was a cracked bell but because I personally could not make it sing. The author and I were, as my former boss the surface scientist used to say, out of phase.

What do you know about wave physics? It’s cool stuff. Next time you’re facing down some nasty writer’s block, go and do a quick search on the dynamics of sound and light. Light, obviously, is not only a wave, it’s also made of particles, but that makes the subject even more fascinating. And I digress, but digressions on wave–particle duality are exactly what you need when you’re stuck.

Back to voice. Every artist has a closetful of those, and in the beginning most artists try on different voices to see what fits. We all try to emulate our idols for a time, and then we develop something in reaction to what we hate, and the voices we keep tend to be an amalgam of the better parts of all those we discarded.

(Could there be more metaphors in this post? I’m thinking yes.)

My point? Is two-pronged. Prong 1: Writers, play with your voice. If a story isn’t quite working for you, try it with a different accent. Don’t be afraid to take on a verbal persona that doesn’t feel like you. You’ll find a balance between overkill and underwhelm and between out of control and overly contrived. Doing that work is what separates the aspiring from the published. Push the voice a little too far in any direction to find the boundaries of what works. Recognizing the “too far” point, not to mention the critical “not far enough” point, is a valuable skill that only comes with practice.

Prong 2: Editors and collaborators, don’t be afraid to say no. Work is nice, paychecks are good, but trust your instincts no matter how dire your finances. If you don’t think you can make something work, if it’s physically painful to read, don’t waste your and the author’s time. Cut that one loose like a bad first date, and move on to the next project.

Editors have voices too; they may not be immediately audible to the reader, or they may create a subtle harmony to draw attention to the force and talent of the writer. Proper harmonics send a shiver down the spine, and that is the feeling we’re all hoping for with every new project. When you feel that resonance, you’ll know that you’ve got hold of a sound project, one that will repay all the dewing and sanding and polishing.

 

Character Building

Here’s something I’ve been noticing lately in the work that has been crossing my desktop: there’s a right way and a wrong way to create a memorable and fascinating character. Actually, there are several ways to do it wrong, but one stands out in conjunction with the right way.

To illustrate, I collated a list of great characters, culled from many other lists (type “best fictional characters of all time” into the search box and you’ll get my sources), very scientifically weighted, and also skewed heavily toward characters I care about, with one or two exceptions (I honestly can’t get excited about Batman, but he serves my purposes right now). Here it is, with the characters arranged in order of the number of other lists that featured them:

  1. Sherlock Holmes
  2. Darth Vader
  3. Humbert Humbert
  4. Buffy Summers
  5. Harry Potter
  6. Hannibal Lecter
  7. Han Solo
  8. Emma Bovary
  9. Hamlet
  10. Elizabeth Bennet
  11. Mrs. Norris
  12. The Doctor
  13. Tyler Durden
  14. Bartleby
  15. Ahab
  16. James Bond
  17. The Dude
  18. Jay Gatsby
  19. Leopold Bloom
  20. Batman

What do you notice about the list? Some are heroes, some are villains, some have a foot in both categories, but what makes them all interesting is that they are multifaceted. Even the most depraved (Lecter, Humbert, Ahab) have a complex back story and a brilliantly wicked intelligence. Mrs. Norris, in her banality and manipulation, is more terrifying than many villains who are far more bloodthirsty.

The heroes on the list, the ones who solve the crimes and save the world over and over, have dark sides. They do bad things on a regular basis, and they are surprisingly not all that tortured about it. We also have the tragic heroes, the ones who can’t even save themselves (Hamlet, Bovary, Gatsby, Bartleby); they interest us because of their flaws, the things that seal their fate, the traits that unsettle us because we might have them too.

Finally, there are the in-between characters, the narrators, the sidekicks, the unintentional heroes: Bloom, Solo, Lebowski, Bennet, Durden (he’s a fun one because he gets into some good old-fashioned Victorian doubling, just like Dr. Frankenstein and his monster). I’d add Potter to the list because, although he’s nominally a save-the-world hero, in fact he’s a dumbass, making colossal mistakes on a regular basis from which he is saved by his confederates and assorted dei ex machina.

What description fits none of these characters? What quality does not appear on the list? Perfection. Not one is entirely good or entirely bad. Not one is preserved from making mistakes or dumb decisions, from being occasionally afraid, or vain, or stubborn. No villain is 100 percent unadulterated evil, all the time, because that’s boring.

The best characters are those we learn about over time, like the best friends and lovers. They surprise us. They are unpredictable, layered, and remarkable. They leave us wondering.