Kurt Vonnegut (via Good Tithings and SDSU — Thanks!) has a great summary of what makes good writing, as well as a good writer:
1. Find a subject you care about. “Did you ever admire an empty headed writer for his or her mastery of the language? No.”
2. Do not ramble, though.
3. Keep it simple. “Remember that two great masters of language, William Shakespeare and James Joyce, wrote sentences which were almost childlike when their subjects were most profound.”
4. Have guts to cut. “If a sentence, no matter how excellent, does not illuminate your subject in some new and useful way, scratch it out.”
5. Sound like yourself. “The writing style which is most natural for you is bound to echo the speech you heard when a child.”
6. Say what you mean. “I understand now that all those antique essays and stories with which I was to compare my own work were not magnificent for their datedness or foreignness, but for saying precisely what their authors meant them to say.”
7. Pity the readers. “Our audience requires us to be sympathetic and patient readers, ever willing to simplify and clarify — whereas we would rather soar high above the crowd, singing like nightingales.”
What a great, pithy list. No excess fat here, just hard, lean advice.
So why is it so difficult?
I’ve been a writer of some sort (student, journalist, screenwriter, diarist, flack) for most of my life, and I’ve blogged for several months now, not exactly daily but quite regularly. But I still haven’t found a voice, a particular point of view. Occasionally a topic or a writing project will resonate with me, but I have a hard time isolating whatever thread it is that is vibrating in me. It’s slippery.
I’ve always been interested in women’s issues, particularly those surrounding whatever age I happen to be or am approaching at the time. But sometimes that seems, well, narrow. Books are always good, but there are (by my informal estimate) about a million book bloggers out there who are doing a fine job without my input. What about American culture? Health? Fashion? Politics? Nah. No fire there.
A mentor of mine, a wonderful professor, years ago clearly saw the coming of the Internet technological revolution. He alerted all his students and colleagues, he was there at the station, he was ready, he was motivated — and he never figured out a way to jump on the train. He watched it as it passed him by.
I think I know how he felt. I’m watching this amazing parade go rolling on, full of color and light and sound, and I can’t seem to find a way to fully join in. I feel like I’m just paralleling the parade.
On second thought: Do men ever worry about this stuff? Is this just me, the ever-dutiful daughter, asking for permission again? I’m not going to stop writing, so maybe, hopefully, over the course of things, I’ll slip into my own personal drawl.
This is probably a question for a beginning creative writing class, but I’ll ask it anyway: How do you/did you find your voice?
