You’ve heard writers speak about cadence, rhythm, syntax, and the sound of the words as they’re read in stories. I want to discuss “sound”.
Many of us crazy writers hear the voices of our characters in our heads. How they speak, the words they use, repeat, and emphasize when they talk, how their words sound to them as they’re thinking in their heads or to us as they’re speaking out loud. I know. I know. We’re all a bunch of weirdos. But, hey, these are the crazy things we do in order to write the things that are supposed to make you want to read our particular novels. It’s the voice splashed across the pages that keeps you turning them. Right? Hopefully.
The problem with “sound” is making it real. I mean, real in the sense that when it’s read, it’s believable and helps establish a piece of the character. Pulling it off is yet another potential obstacle to what we intend to accomplish. When I wrote The Famous One, which is best described as a fictional biography, I wanted the protagonist to have his own method of speaking: understated, sometimes halting, and casual—being aware that although others might think what he had to say was somehow important, he didn’t necessarily think it was most of the time. I knew the voice I wanted. I knew the sound, the tone. Did I pull it off to others’ satisfaction? Perhaps. I could read it and hear his voice, but I doubt my readers heard it as plainly as I did. As long as they heard it sufficiently to illustrate the character, that’s all I can really ask.
Some authors read their written words aloud—not just the dialogue, entire scenes. They’re testing for that certain sound. Much like a favorite melody. Or notes gone horribly wrong when the actions cause turmoil. We all have our preferences and practices when we write, the sound we want others to hear in the silence of the turning pages . . .
Father, your voice is the one I want to hear above all others. Help me to hear you always, all ways. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.