Finding your literary “voice” in writing is tough, no question. So much of it is organic, visceral, from within. What does that mean? Well, basically it means that you’re not likely to “find your voice” from an MFA class or from a writing seminar or from a writing conference or from a book focusing on voice. All the above mentioned certainly can help. But to truly find your voice, if “find” is really the most accurate word (I’d say “discover”), it’s really more about your confidence, your life experience, and your sense of self as it relates to the world.
For me, I spent years and years and years learning to land on a/my voice. In my early-mid twenties, after reading Jack Kerouac’s epic autobiographical saga, On the Road, I, too, needed to transcend the mundane and ordinary and hitchhike across the country. I did this, over the course of many years, and met some of the most interesting, zany, and fascinating people in the world. Also, I gained insight into people’s lives, how they think, what they say, why they do the things they do; what makes them tick. I also had some wild experiences on the road: I met women I “fell in love with”; I made new buddies; I hiked alone in the mountains for a week at a time; I wandered the streets of New York City, Boston, Philly, Portland, Seattle, San Francisco, etc, learning the streets like they were my own backyard. And during all of this I was constantly writing in my little leather-bound journal, telling the stories I knew I’d use later: Pages and pages and pages of notes.
Eventually, when I went back to college and got my writing degree, and after joining a professional writing critique workshop, I wrote a 26-page autobiographical “story” about a time when I’d been stuck in Mexico and had gotten into a bad situation after drunkenly passing out in an alleyway when I was 23 years old. (Ah, the wild days.) I brought the story to the workshop and the other writers in the group loved it but they said I needed to keep rewriting to find that “voice” and that it was too damn long. Months later I ended up with a much more deeply felt, confidently written 13 page story which started right away with action, instead of an exposition lead-up. Also, I’d done something professional writers (as well as my writer mother and writer uncle) had been telling me for years: Get out of the way of your own writing. In other words: Stop trying to SOUND like a “writer,” and just write, to the best of your ability, what “happened.” As Hemingway said: Write what you know.
This story, TIGHTROPE (click here to buy the story online for 66 cents) ended up being the first story I ever had published by a magazine (Alfie Dog Press) and of course I was thrilled. From there I hit the ground running and never looked back.
But I return, again and again, to this notion of life experience and self awareness and confidence. People—meaning readers—will know if you’re full of crap. They can detect a false voice or a false sense of plot or story or character. Which is why you should always be honest with your readers, always “tell the truth.” Of course the great thing about fiction writing is that we routinely tell lies in order to expose a bigger truth. But my point is that you’ve got to convince your readers that your lies are really the truth. One of the ways you effectively pull this off is by having a powerful, authentic voice. Again, you can learn the “mechanics” of voice (if there are really “mechanics” of voice: Diction, syntax, language, cadence) but it will only come off the page properly and feel “right” if it’s done primarily from either real life lived experience, or, if it’s totally from your imagination (perfectly wonderful!) then it’ll come from writing and rewriting and rewriting and rewriting again. Voice is achieved through countless rewriting.
What is voice? It’s a gut feeling. It’s the narrator’s “voice” reverberating in the back of your head. It’s what the narrator sounds like to you. It’s the driver of the story. If you’ve got a killer plot and strong, 3-D characters and fantastic writing but a weak voice…you’re still doomed. Voice is three-quarters of any serious novel, of that I am convinced. Got a good voice and you can repair almost anything. Have a weak/flat voice and you’re in trouble. Readers may not know this consciously but that’s mostly what draws them into novels; the voice, pulling them along. Like Holden Caulfield’s voice in The Catcher in the Rye. Kerouac’s/Sal’s voice in On the Road. Or Jennifer Egan’s voice in A Visit from the Goon Squad. Jack Gantos in The Trouble in Me. John Green’s Looking for Alaska. (Especially with YA you need to capture that spellbinding, sticky, authentic voice.) Or for that matter Joan Didion’s voice or Toni Morrison’s or J.K. Rowling. Etc.
My advice for any aspiring or beginning writer out there trying to attain a voice is to write your ass off. Write and then rewrite, again and again, until you feel somewhat confident about what you’re writing. Also, bring a journal around with you when you travel. Write stuff down. When you get the chance, allow yourself to journal or “free-write” about said experience you’re interested in. Allow yourself to write only for you at first. Be the authority. Have agency over the material. Let yourself feel confident about what you’re slapping down on the page. Because you have actually lived the experience in real life you should be able to feel rather comfortable/confident about writing on the subject. How do you sound in real life? Try to write the voice in your mind/head. Listen to others talk, on the subway, the train, on the bus, at work, during lunch. Secretly eavesdrop. Take down surreptitious notes. Record yourself talking. Record a conversation with yourself and a friend. Listen to the recording. Get a feel for your inner voice, your inner feeling, your inner truth. This is what we want on the page. We want that inner voice to come out. We want your vulnerability, your courage, your fear, your insecurity. Writing is about turning inside out, exposing, letting go, releasing.
I believe voice is a passionate call for attention. I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY is what voice truly screams in every line. It reaches out and snags the reader’s collar, shaking them out of their stupor and forcing them to read/hear/listen. A good author will hold a reader’s attention by not only creating solid, interesting, authoritative characters, not only by including a fantastic, complex plot, but by shaking the hand of the reader in one simple way: Creating a voice which bonds the reader to the narrator and doesn’t let go. Like self confidence in life, it isn’t something someone can give you. It isn’t something you can find randomly when you aren’t looking for it. It isn’t something that happens one day out of the blue. It—voice—is a manifestation of much writing and rewriting, lived, true experience, a lot of reading of other authors’ books, and of carving out that groove in your own craft again and again and again, until you feel, and more importantly until readers’ feel, that you’ve discovered a true, authentic voice.
I wish it were easier, more clear-eyed and simple. But, in my experience, it’s not. The good news is that if you’re a serious, disciplined writer it seems to come somewhat naturally over time. The bad news is that, if you’re just getting started, it might take you a few years, or more, to really find/discover/nail that elusive, magical “voice” that all writers seek. Again, you can get that MFA. You can read those craft books on voice. (And they’re out there.) You can ask writing teachers and workshop groups. And those are all, or all can be, helpful. I am not putting any of those things down. Period. All I’m saying is: For voice, in my view, your best bet is to get that life experience, write a lot, rewrite a lot, read a lot, and, as you grow stronger as a penner of prose, you’ll begin to see that sense of authority in your writing increase. Thus, like a muscle which slowly becomes stronger, your literary voice will strengthen.
Before you know, you’ll be lifting readers to new, special heights.
Michael Mohr
*** I am a published writer, former literary agent’s assistant and freelance book editor. I work with YA and adult novels (I prefer literary/contemporary/realistic but am open to most genres, minus mystery) and memoir. If you’d like to read more of my stories, I have included a few links below. If you’d like to inquire about book editing, please email me a short letter about yourself, a bit about your book, and the first chapter (attached) to: michaelmohreditor@gmail.com. Currently the earliest I can get to a manuscript is late January, 2017. Editing would likely commence start of Feb. It usually takes me 1-2 weeks to complete a first developmental edit (focusing on plot, character, voice, tone, logic issues, etc.) depending on the length of the book. For more info on my editing see the “Book Editing Services” menu on my site.
I edited Christian Picciolini’s book, “Romantic Violence: Memoirs of an American Skinhead” (2015), the true tale of one of America’s first neo-Nazi skinheads, how he got sucked in, what it was like, how he got out, how he changed his life, and what he’s doing right this second to combat violent racism and extremism (and he’s doing a lot!).
Published Fiction:
(Tightrope): http://alfiedog.com/fiction/stories/michael-mohr/
(The Freezing Reality): http://tincture-journal.com/2014/02/28/issue-five-table-of-contents/
Published Nonfiction:
(Understanding Literary Rejection): http://www.mashstories.com/understanding-literary-rejection/
(Stories From An Agency Intern: Writers’ Digest): http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/guide-to-literary-agents/stories-from-an-agency-intern-michael-mohr-explains
(Are you a Writer or an Author?; and Conquering Mount Whitney: The Push of a Lifetime): http://aaduna.org/spring2015/non-fiction/michael-mohr/
*** Note: Please also read my new piece about coping with literary rejection at MASH (click here)
Lori’s novel will very soon be available via Audible, if listening to books is your thing.
“The Road at my Door” synopsis (according to Amazon): The Road at my Door follows protagonist Reese Cavanaugh on a dark journey to save her family without destroying herself. Set against the backdrop of the Cold War and the sexual revolution, Mohr examines cultural forces shaping family life in a decade of upheaval. Road is a perfect storm of conflicting beliefs about love of self, love of another, fast-changing attitudes about sex, and the toxicity of family secrets. Through Reese Cavanaugh, Lori Mohr explores the deep tension between appearance and reality, portraying a family in turmoil.
What David Corbett, New York Times Notable Author of “The Mercy of the Night” (2015) and “The Art of Character” (2013) says about “Road”: “Lori Windsor Mohr has created in Reese Cavanaugh a heroine with much more than a unique voice. Yes, she’s instantly likable. Yes, she has pluck and wit. But through a series of harrowing ordeals and misplaced allegiances that would break most young women her age – all in pursuit of just one person she can trust – Reese also demonstrates such an irresistible combination of spine and heart, insight and sheer humanity, that I dare you to pick up this book and not fall in love. Road at my Door is one of the most engaging novels you could ever hope to encounter.”
INTERVIEW
MM: Michael Mohr (interviewer)
LM: Lori Mohr (author)
MM: You worked on this novel for over a decade. What compelled you to keep at it, through an agent that couldn’t sell it, waning fears that you couldn’t write it, and draft after draft after draft?
LM: I knew it was a good story. I just didn't know how to tell it. Memoir? Narrative nonfiction? The agent who eventually represented my memoir couldn't sell the book because it wasn't the right book. I had yet to figure out the best form that would offer readers an emotionally satisfying experience.
What kept me going was belief in the story, and the realization that if I wanted to tell it I had more to learn about writing.
MM: The novel feels very autobiographical for the most part. Can you comment on that? How much of this is fact, how much fiction? It is in fact a “novel,” so we assume much is made up, but we know from reading the author bio that you dealt with serious depression as a teen, like the protagonist, Reese Cavanaugh. Like Hemingway said, we often, “Write what we know.”
LM: Writing what we know is one thing, writing what we want to convey is another. I didn't want to write about me. I wanted to write about the experience of depression, the destructive power of secrets. Memoir seemed an obvious choice. However, that form had limitations. It's true memoirists use a novelist’s tools to bring readers into the moment: dialogue, scene, descriptive detail, all of it, like Jeannette Walls’s The Glass Castle or Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar. But as a literary form, it didn't allow the creative freedom I needed for writing the most compelling, fluid, readable story possible. In Road I manipulated time by compressing it, I reconfigured the family, combined two characters into one, left out a marriage, all techniques for building tension, keeping the emotional focus where it needed be. The form I chose wasn't about truth versus fiction. It was about what I hoped readers would experience.
The character of Reese Cavanaugh allowed me to create the best version of me that would move the story forward, draw readers in. Reese is prettier, smarter, funnier than I ever was! And she became her own person as the story evolved. I hated saying goodbye. In fact I kept tweaking the manuscript because I didn't want the story to end. Reese Cavanaugh brought magic to the writing, taking me to that sublime gray space between truth and illusion where reality is perception, and memory a creation.
If I've written well enough, readers will be too enthralled and moved to care much whether the story comes from real life or not. They'll go where Reese Cavanaugh leads them, connect on a feeling level with their own experience. That's the emotionally satisfying experience I wanted to offer. I couldn't get there with memoir.
MM: In terms of theme, what do you feel is the biggest, most singular and important theme in “The Road at my Door?” If there were one overarching point you wanted to get across in this novel, what would that point be?
LM: Connection, belongingness. Depression and secrecy are byproducts of the loneliness we grapple with every day. Look at your Facebook posts. We share ordinary moments, a beautiful sunset, a yummy meal, political views, pride over our kids, humor in cartoons, utter dismay at mass shootings, excitement over an upcoming event. All of those things take on added meaning when we share them with someone else.
Your question about theme ties into genre, another area where I was flummoxed. I never wrote the book as YA. The whole issue of genre assignment was difficult in querying agents. In the end, the universal themes in Road led me to consider it cross-genre in the same literary vein as other books with a young protagonist: Sons and Lovers, the internal struggles of a young artist coping with family relationships, early sexual experiences; The Brothers Karamazov, exploring struggles around morality, free will, faith; suicide in For Whom the Bell Tolls. The list goes on, but these are classic forms, stories about feeling lost, alone and unloveable, themes both adults and teenagers understand. A targeted audience makes for easier branding, so the wider scope of cross-genre for both adults and teens is harder to market.
MM: Can you talk about the title, its origin and meaning for you within the story? I believe it stems from a Yeats poem?
LM: Yes, it does. Actually, the poem is about war, not at all a metaphysical reference like Frost's The Road Less Traveled. My book is not about an external choice, but a crucial internal one. It's about core character strength, the fact that every single day we face decisions that have consequences, mostly seemingly inconsequential. But those decisions, large and small, continue to shape us. Reese Cavanaugh lives in a world with no boundaries, has no grounding for making what turns out to be a life and death decision. The idea of a road seemed a fitting metaphor in examining the deep tension between love of self versus love of another, appearance versus reality, the transformative power of empathy.
MM: How did you deal with the intersection of plot and voice and character? In other words, how did you create a compelling, relatively fast-paced book but with characters we care about, a strong voice, and a “literary” versus plot-obsessed, commercial sensibility? Donald Maass, NYC literary agent and writing manual author extraordinaire, in his book, “Writing Twenty-first Century Fiction: High Impact Techniques for Exceptional Storytelling,” says that the strongest stories interweave the commerciality of plot, structure and character, with the literary sense of voice and deep meaning. You seem to have accomplished this.
LM: This question, in my opinion, is about the heart of the writing process. I had misunderstood voice. Here I was looking to genre, form. I got that I needed a good story, the right structure for telling it, and a complex character. But even with all the structural elements in place, I didn't get it. I didn't understand that these aren't separate entities, but that voice comes from content.
I went back to the choice of fiction over memoir. I didn't want readers to shake their heads at a sad story. I wanted them to feel something. The only way to do that was to get them to care about Reese Cavanaugh. That's the answer I had been resisting. If I wanted readers to care, I had to get down and dirty. I had to inhabit Reese Cavanaugh's head, had to become her. Once I made that leap, I could offer readers that emotionally satisfying experience I keep talking about, tell the story I wanted to tell.
Ten years later, The Road at my Door is that story.
***
(“The Road at my Door” has been officially endorsed by Nancie Clare, former editor-in-chief of “LA,” The Los Angeles Times Magazine, and David Corbett, New York Times Notable Author of “Done for a Dime,” “The Mercy of the Night (2015) and the well-known and respected writing manual, “The Art of Character.”)
Lori Windsor Mohr’s bio, author of the debut novel, “The Road at my Door”: As a native Californian, my novels and short stories are set in Pacific Palisades, Santa Monica, Malibu. As you’ll discover in my writing, it’s not the beauty of Southern California that draws me back to life as a middleclass kid whose family was supposedly living the American Dream, but the power of the place in shaping me into the woman I am today. Thomas Wolfe said, “You can’t go home again.” It took 20 years for me to understand that I can go back, must go back, this time looking from the outside in, untethered from its history.
Michael Windsor Mohr is Lori’s son, a former literary agent’s assistant, freelance book editor and published writer. His work can be found in MASH; Alfie Dog Press; The McGuffin; Gothic City Press; Fiction Magazines; Flash: The International Short Short Story Magazine; Milvia Street; Mountain Tales Press; and more. His nonfiction has been published as guest blogger pieces for The Kimberley Cameron & Associates [literary agency] blog; Writers’ Digest; and the San Francisco Writers’ Conference Newsletter. He has written five novels (and is halfway through a sixth) and is currently submitting a punk rock YA novel and an adult suspense novel to agents. If you are interested in paying Michael to edit your manuscript, contact him at michaelmohreditor@gmail.com.
Updated: Oct 25, 2022
I want to talk briefly about novel structure because, as a novel editor, I see all kinds of basic issues from the majority of the aspiring writer-clients I work with. There is a wealth of info out there on the web but I wanted to give you a little taste of what makes a solid novel. Because, especially if you write commercial fiction and hope to land an agent and get published, novel structure is incredibly important to pay attention to.
The basic concept of the three-act novel structure dates back to Aristotle from his “Poetics” (335 BCE) in which he studies dramatic structure in plays of the ancient Greeks. In modern times, the three-act structure has been more sharply defined and explored by Joseph Campbell, author of such classics as “The Hero’s Journey” and “The Power of Myth,” among many others.
Campbell’s three-act novel structure included Act One (the setup); Act Two (the confrontation); and Act Three (the resolution). In Act One is the “inciting” incident, the event which propels the character into the story journey. There is a climax at the end of Act One which pushes the character into Act Two. In Act Two the MC (Main Character) pushes through obstacles galore, chasing their goal. There is ascending action and there is a mid-point twist, more obstacles, a disaster, and then the climax of Act Two, which forces the MC into Act Three. In Act Three there is the climax and then descending action and the denouement (wrap up) and the end.
Setup, confrontation, and resolution.
And then there is, most recently, James Scott Bell, a master of the modern day thriller and author of such writing how-to books as “Plot and Structure,” “Revision and Self Editing,” “The Art of War for Writers,” “Conflict and Suspense,” and many more.
Bell wrote an article a few years back (CLICK HERE FOR THE LINK TO BELL’S ARTICLE) titled “The Two Pillars of Novel Structure.” I am going to give you a rough, general sketch of what that article says and also relate it to my own experience working with writers.
You can’t just “write a book” and be done with it. Not if you expect to sell. Not if you expect to write engaging, suspenseful prose and a book that readers simply cannot put down. There are Reader Expectations that writers need to know about. Readers themselves often don’t know they demand certain things from novels…but they do. And, as a writer, if you don’t know what those demands are…you’ll likely be dead in the water before you even get to page 10.
Bell talks about this idea of writing “hot” and editing/revising “cold.” The first draft is never going to be ready to go anywhere except into a drawer for a few weeks or a month until you reread it as objectively as possible then take the red pen out and revise/rewrite. So, write that first draft with passion; write hot. But when you pause and return with the sacred (and infuriating!) red pen, write cold; in other words, look at structure. Because in the first draft you were getting sucked into the world (hopefully), focusing instead on character and world-building and dialogue, etc.
Bell uses the metaphor of story structure being like a suspension bridge. The two key foundations are there holding up the bridge, the pillars. He says: “Every story has to begin, and every story has to end. And the middle has to hold the reader’s interest.” Right. The middle. The hardest and longest portion of your novel. Kind of a tall order, huh?
“The craft of structure tells you how to begin with a bang, knock readers out at the end, and keep them turning pages all the way through,” Bell continues. “When you ignore structure, your novel can begin to feel like one of those rope bridges swinging wildly in the wind over a 1,000-foot gorge. Not many readers are going to want to go across.”
THE FIRST PILLAR
Bell lets us know that the beginning of a novel should do a few things: Let us know who the protagonist is; introduce the Story Problem/Goal; set the tone/introduce the voice; and set the stakes. Getting to the first pillar is what he calls The Door of No Return. (This is like Campbell’s The Hero’s journey; descent into hell and return). Once the character passes through this door, BEFORE the 1/5th mark of your novel, they cannot return. They have walked through a one-way-only portal.
Bell mentions also that the protagonist must suffer and struggle. I tell this to clients all the time. Readers read for two main reasons: To empathize and to sympathize. They want to relate to your character and feel their pain, and yet also, at the same time, they want to think, “God, I’m sure glad I’m not them!” It’s the irony of the human condition. Bell says, “A successful novel is about high-stakes trouble. True character is revealed only in crisis.” Bell calls the opening issue the “opening disturbance.” The MC should experience this in the opening pages.
Then the first pillar thrusts the MC into Act Two. The character wants to stay in the “ordinary” world but now cannot and is instead, against their will, thrust into the “dark world” of Act Two. From now on their will be major troubles and hurdles/obstacles that the MC must push through and barely survive.
Act Two is all about “death stakes.” Bell explains the three types of death: physical, professional, psychological. Your character must face one of the three or more. Remember (and this is key): Your MC MUST change/transform through the journey. By the end of the novel they must be different than they were on page one, and we must have seen that transformation throughout the novel. Think of your overarching Story Question (also called Premise or Theme).
Bell says, “…in novels it’s best to have that first doorway appear earlier. In a fast-moving action novel like The Hunger Games, it can happen quickly. It’s in chapter 1 that Katniss hears her sister’s name chosen for the games, and in the beginning of chapter 2 volunteers to take her place.” Bell uses several examples in his article to demonstrate the passage of the first pillar. One is Clarice Starling in “The Silence of the Lambs.” Starling is thrust into a psychological game with Lecter and this might possibly be the only way she can ultimately solve the case.
THE SECOND PILLAR
The second pillar is another Doorway of No Return, only this pillar makes the final resolution necessary. This act, in the middle of the two pillars (on the “bridge”) is where all the action happens. “The second act is a series of actions where the character confronts and resists death, and is opposed by counterforces.” There are obstacles in the MC’s way and the MC must fight. No exceptions. At last the second pillar/doorway opens in the form of a major crisis or setback, clue or discovery. It forces the MC into Act Three and the final battle and resolution.
In Bell’s article he goes over these points with a fine-tooth comb. He asks simple novel-in-progress questions related to these points, to get you going in the right direction. The main thing to remember is that almost all good novels that sell (or 99 percent of them) have some type of basic novel structure. Learn it, live it, love it. If you allow the basic three act structure and the two pillar structure idea to seep into your consciousness, you are that much closer to creating a kick-ass novel that readers won’t be able to put down.
And when you’re ready come hire me for the developmental editing.
Write on.
“You said it. Let’s edit.”
Michael Mohr
*** My rates, info on what developmental and line editing are, my bio, and other info is on this website. If you have a project and are interested in the next level please email me: michaelmohreditor@gmail.com.
