Begin as You Mean to Continue

 

Years ago, I attended a conference workshop where the presenter said it was important to signal the genre in the first few pages of a novel. More frequently, I have heard speakers say that the setting (time and location) and the main character should also be introduced there. There are  exceptions, of course, but they should be carefully thought through and done for a reason that enhances the story.

Those first few pages are usually the book’s best advertisement, and they shouldn’t misrepresent it. That includes the writer’s voice. Voice has many different definitions, but for my purposes here, I’m referring to the way the writer uses words, and I’m going beyond mere style.

Lately I find myself abandoning books partway through because they aren’t what I expected. They start out innocently enough. There may be an occasional swear word, but none are hard core, and any references to sex are oblique. The story is clearly PG. Then, about a fourth of the way through, the story becomes R in the intensity of the curse words and/or the graphicness of the sexual interaction. I can handle a few swear words and gentle references to sex, but too much spoils the story for me.

Some readers are okay with R-rated content, and some are even looking for it. That’s fine, but all of us deserve to know what we are getting into when we first pick up the book.

I don’t generally buy books sight unseen. Either I look at the first few pages when I am in a bookstore, or I use the Look Inside feature on Amazon (recently rebranded as “Read sample”). So if the book starts as it means to begin, sprinkled with swear words or explicit sex, I know enough to avoid it. If it doesn’t, I find myself extremely frustrated when the book proves to be something other than advertised.

As an aside, I do look at Amazon reviews—especially especially the one- and two-star reviews since they are the ones most likely to warn about language or explicit sex. But that doesn’t always work, either, especially if I am looking for an Amazon First Reads selection which doesn’t have many reviews yet.

A good writer will respect the audience and begin as he or she means to continue.

Don't Change My Voice!

Being an effective critiquer isn’t easy, and few people do it well. The first problem is that a good critiquer can’t worry about hurting the writer’s feelings. Yes, the critiquer should be sensitive and respectful, but the point of the exercise is to help the writer improve. That means pointing out what is wrong as well as what is right.

The second problem is distinguishing between craft and voice. The line between the two is thin, but it’s also crucial. When critiquing someone else’s work, craft is fair game. Voice is not.

So what does it mean when we talk about a writer’s voice? I’ve heard many definitions, but the one I like best comes from The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language (4^th Edition), which says voice is:

The distinctive style or manner of expression of an author or of a character in a book.

As I see it, voice is a combination of tone and style and something even harder to grasp. It’s what makes it easy to distinguish Mark Twain from Jane Austin from Stephen King. Or, to modify the well-known adage, it’s what makes it possible to say “I know the writer when I see his or her work.”

A couple of weeks ago, a fellow writer mentioned that her new critique group has been telling her to use more deep POV. As far as I know, there is no rule that says a writer must use deep POV. In fact, conventions over the type of POV to use change with the times. Just look at Charles Dickens or George Elliot or most of those classic writers who used omnipresent POV with a narrator who knew everything the characters didn’t. That practice is no longer in fashion, although a few writers do still use it. Using a particular type of POV correctly is important if you want to keep your readers immersed in the story, so that’s craft. In my opinion, however, what type of POV you use and whether it is near or far is a matter of voice.

I cringe every time I read a poem by e.e. cummings. I want to go through and add capital letters to make it grammatically correct. But that would be interfering with his voice. Or there is the poet in my local critique group who writes without punctuation. I love his poetry, but it took me a long time before I stopped itching to add commas and semi-colons and periods.

One “rule” says good writers should never begin a sentence with a conjunction. Or some people think that is a rule, anyway. If it is, it’s one I often break. When I edit my work, I eliminate some of the conjunctions that begin sentences, reword other sentences so they don’t need them, or change two sentences into one with the conjunction to join them. But sometimes starting a sentence with a conjunction creates a smoother transition while giving the sentence greater emphasis. Those sentences stay in, and they have become part of my voice.

Different people have different tastes. If I don’t like someone’s voice, I won’t read that person’s work. Or if the writer is a critique group member, I try to limit my comments to craft. When a particular use of voice creates unintended confusion, I mention that because there may be a craft way for the writer to revise it without changing the voice. But I’m not perfect. The line is a thin one, and I’ve crossed it from time to time. Still, I try not to.

Because craft is fair game, but voice is not.