Have you ever noticed that writers have a tendency to waffle on about writing routines?
Firstly, let me be clear that I love waffles, especially the ones from West Coast Waffles, or, better yet, the best one I ever ate at Suite 88, a chocolatier in Montreal.
As you might imagine, waffling on is one of the most positive associations I could make with writing routines, and for good reason: a well-established writing routine is AMAZING.
Why is it amazing, you ask?
"Look, talent comes everywhere, but having something to say and a way to say it so that people listen to it, that's a whole other bag. And unless you get out and you try to do it, you'll never know. That's just the truth."
Jackson Maine, A Star is Born
A writer’s voice: hard to pin down, impossible to do without.
One of the easiest ways to describe "voice" as a concept is this: if you were given a stack of, say, fifteen books that you hadn’t read before, by five different authors, and the titles and authors’ names were invisible, you could likely still sort them by author.
Why? Because one of the hallmarks of a skilled author is a distinctive voice. It’s there in the way they form sentences, in the vocabulary they use, in the tone of the story, in the themes they depict and the subject matter they choose.
Have you ever looked back on a scene you’ve written and wondered why it feels a bit ... generic?
You’ve developed amazing characters. You’ve crafted a fascinating plot. It flows, but something is missing.
The missing ingredient might just be detail.
As writers, we’re not (just) writing monologues about the joy of a perfect pie crust. We’re also trying to convey abstract concepts - like love and hope and despair and justice - to our readers, so they can truly understand the heart of the story and feel its truth.
What is the heart of a story, though?