Who Wants to Write Like John Wayne Speaks?
In my newly released novel, Worlds Apart, I wrote it in a "voice" that corresponded with my main character's maturity. It happened quite by accident during the first writing. Then during the editing process, I noticed something strange. In the first 10 chapters, there were mostly simple sentences--short, almost Hemingway-esque (but without the genius). As the story evolved and the character matured from his experiences, there were more compound sentences, more similes, metaphors and adjectives. Hey, Pilgrim, the "voice" was maturing, too.
So when I re-wrote the book, I kept that in mind. I deleted words and description at the beginning. Since the character of Matt is only 14 years old, I needed to keep dialogue simple and true to his age. But the prose were also concise. As Matt experienced his new world in Haiti, I was conscious of the rhythm of the writing. What I mean is that the sentences grew longer, slightly more complicated, and where in the earlier chapters I used simple imagery, in the latter chapters, I used more creative, deeper imagery.
All this made me think about the voice I used and how to marry it with style, structure and story.
Does a writing style reflect only the personality of the writer? Or can it reflect the structure, plot, and characters? Is style something that organically ebbs and flows from the writer like a river or is it a conscious undertaking to develop a style, like building a dam? I wanted to believe that it is a conscious process during the writing, and that it can be very beneficial to the story.
So I looked at my current project, a novel called The Plunge.
The Plunge originally had a simple plot: an L.A. private eye gets hired to find a runaway girl, who has hitched up with a fence (a guy who sells stolen property), and he tracks her to a corrupt Mojave desert resort--a poor man's Palm Springs, you might say. But when the runaway comes up dead, the plot thickens. It more than thickened, though. I was afraid it had turned to stone.
As I was writing, with the clear idea who was behind the mysteries of the storyline, I suffered what I can only term now as revelations. Hal-lelujah! Hal-lelujah! These revelations diverted the story; losing it's "voice." The story was diverted, oh, about six times. By the time I was done, I had a complex tale with two converging story lines, drug dealers, Hell's Angels, crooked politicians, the Savings & Loan debacle (this is 1987), and so many bad guys, I had to write them all down on a cheat sheet next to my computer to keep track of them.
I liked the book, but it was long. And I thought it was too complicated for anyone to follow. So I put it in a drawer around 1999. And I didn't look at it again for 10 years. But during a break in the editing process for Worlds Apart, I re-read The Plunge and realized that the structure of the book was a polar opposite to Worlds Apart.
But I had another revelation: it was okay to be complicated. I just had to join the style and structure to the story. So I split up the two stories and allowed them to share the book--one chapter for the P.I.; one chapter for the fence--and as their stories converged on the Mojave resort town and the plot thickened, I "watered it down" with surprises. Instead of one big binge of a surprise about "who-done-it" at the end, you get a seven course meal of surprises, each one more satisfying.
I've already written five chapters of my next novel, with a working title of Cherry Road, which deals with very serious sexual issues between a young man and a teenage girl. I'm writing it in a style and structure that is more literary, very descriptive, with a slow, pastoral, intellectual tone that, I hope, will create the creepy mood I need for the characters to live in. If you read The Plunge, you would not think the same person wrote Cherry Road.
I may be taking a risk with changing my style and structure, but I can't see why I have to write every book in the same voice. That would be like watching a John Wayne movie. His costume and dialogue change, but the voice is always the same.
So when I re-wrote the book, I kept that in mind. I deleted words and description at the beginning. Since the character of Matt is only 14 years old, I needed to keep dialogue simple and true to his age. But the prose were also concise. As Matt experienced his new world in Haiti, I was conscious of the rhythm of the writing. What I mean is that the sentences grew longer, slightly more complicated, and where in the earlier chapters I used simple imagery, in the latter chapters, I used more creative, deeper imagery.
All this made me think about the voice I used and how to marry it with style, structure and story.
Does a writing style reflect only the personality of the writer? Or can it reflect the structure, plot, and characters? Is style something that organically ebbs and flows from the writer like a river or is it a conscious undertaking to develop a style, like building a dam? I wanted to believe that it is a conscious process during the writing, and that it can be very beneficial to the story.
So I looked at my current project, a novel called The Plunge.
The Plunge originally had a simple plot: an L.A. private eye gets hired to find a runaway girl, who has hitched up with a fence (a guy who sells stolen property), and he tracks her to a corrupt Mojave desert resort--a poor man's Palm Springs, you might say. But when the runaway comes up dead, the plot thickens. It more than thickened, though. I was afraid it had turned to stone.
As I was writing, with the clear idea who was behind the mysteries of the storyline, I suffered what I can only term now as revelations. Hal-lelujah! Hal-lelujah! These revelations diverted the story; losing it's "voice." The story was diverted, oh, about six times. By the time I was done, I had a complex tale with two converging story lines, drug dealers, Hell's Angels, crooked politicians, the Savings & Loan debacle (this is 1987), and so many bad guys, I had to write them all down on a cheat sheet next to my computer to keep track of them.
I liked the book, but it was long. And I thought it was too complicated for anyone to follow. So I put it in a drawer around 1999. And I didn't look at it again for 10 years. But during a break in the editing process for Worlds Apart, I re-read The Plunge and realized that the structure of the book was a polar opposite to Worlds Apart.
But I had another revelation: it was okay to be complicated. I just had to join the style and structure to the story. So I split up the two stories and allowed them to share the book--one chapter for the P.I.; one chapter for the fence--and as their stories converged on the Mojave resort town and the plot thickened, I "watered it down" with surprises. Instead of one big binge of a surprise about "who-done-it" at the end, you get a seven course meal of surprises, each one more satisfying.
I've already written five chapters of my next novel, with a working title of Cherry Road, which deals with very serious sexual issues between a young man and a teenage girl. I'm writing it in a style and structure that is more literary, very descriptive, with a slow, pastoral, intellectual tone that, I hope, will create the creepy mood I need for the characters to live in. If you read The Plunge, you would not think the same person wrote Cherry Road.
I may be taking a risk with changing my style and structure, but I can't see why I have to write every book in the same voice. That would be like watching a John Wayne movie. His costume and dialogue change, but the voice is always the same.
Though on a semi-regular basis I receive compliments on my writing, the more I read your stuff here, the more I realize my initial instinct has always been right -- on my best day I can't carry your jock.
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I don't wear one. Your check's in the mail, though.
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I enjoyed reading "Who Wants to Write Like John Wayne Speaks?" and I agree that the style should be appropriate to the subject and the voice should agree with the character of the narrator.
On the other hand, as food for thought, it seems that, regardless of subject matter, we always know when we're reading Hemingway; we can always identify Faulkner as the author of a given piece, or Fitzgerald or any number of great writers. Is it because their subject matter has certain common undercurrents, or because they have found a style, or voice, that suits them and they stick with it? I don't know. But, your piece got me thinking about it.
On a different subject, please forgive me, but I have noticed more than once now that you have used "it's" when your meaning called for "its." The former is a contraction of "it is." The possessive rule does not apply with the word "its." As your blog is about writing, I felt compelled to point this out to you.
I'm enjoying the blog, and it has made me want to read your novel, which I plan to do.
Marri
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I agree that a style voice is important. When we use our "voice" in a way that reflects the story and genre, we still can't help but have our way of speaking. Just like when we try to disguise our real voice, there's still a timbre and tone that someone familiar with our voice can identify. That's why we identify Hemingway and Faulkner.
I'm so glad you pointed out the "its" and "It's" exchange I'm doing. I certainly know the difference. I suspect that my right forefinger just gets bored and involuntarily taps the apostrophe without considering if it's really a contraction. I read, re-read, re-read, and re-read my posts before I publish to catch these kinds of things, so I'm glad you have someone out there proofing them for me. I'll watch this one more carefully.
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