Guest Post: Michael Mammay on Reading Outside the Genre

I grew up in a time where we were taught to conform. If you want to write like the Greats, then study the Greats. Creative Writing professors often told us to choose a writer we admired and then write a poem or short story copying their style.

It accomplished what it set out to do, I suppose. We became more familiar with the writers we studied. We could pick out nuance and detail that were unfamiliar before. At the end of class, we emerged with a greater understanding of Faulkner, Frost, and Dostoevsky.

The only problem is that the woman sitting to the left of me wasn’t Faulkner. I wasn’t Frost. And the man in the front row never wanted to be Dostoevsky.

Authors have their own unique voices, and it’s a shame not to use them. Writers write because they care. They have something to say. They want to spread a message or they want to chat with their readers. They want to tell you things. Describe things. How is an author supposed to accurately express themselves when they have, in essence, learned to speak using somebody else’s voice?

Enough of that. You are YOU. The greatest thing you can bring to the literary table is yourself. Faulkner has already taken his seat. Do you know who should be sitting in the chair next to him? You. You have wonderful things to discuss.

Here are a few exercises and ideas that can help you find your own unique writing voice.

1. Write yourself a letter.

It doesn’t matter what kind of letter. What are you saying? What words do you use? Are you formal or folksy? Do you speak to yourself like a friend or is there a respectful distance there?

This exercise helps in a couple of ways. First off, it forces you to sit down and write, which is the first step. It’s also not meant to be daunting. Who cares about your literary success more than you? Nobody, that’s who. So write yourself a letter. Don’t judge yourself. This is a time to see what flows from your pen (or computer) when nobody is looking.

2. Record yourself talking about your upcoming project.

You can do it via audio or video, but the idea is similar to letter writing. What types of phrases do you use? Are you excited about the project? Now record yourself discussing a different project, preferably one that is in a dissimilar vein than your first project. Project #2 has a different ambiance, yes? Different subject matter? How do you sound while discussing it? Are your words the same?

3. Write a list of your favorite words.

Why are these your favorite? What makes them part of your vocabulary?

I had a member of my writer’s group say that he could always detect my work because I would use the words “broken” and “exquisite” quite often. And while this made me laugh, I realized that I do have choice words, and they convey exactly what I want to say. I’m not saying to use repetitive words in order to form voice, but to keep a lookout on your unique word set. These choices make you the writer you are. They’ll give you a hint on what your voice sounds like.

4.Realize that you might have more than one voice.

We discussed that one author doesn’t necessarily sound like another. And you might not necessarily sound like yourself all of the time. Perhaps that doesn’t make sense, but let’s go back to step 2, where you recorded yourself discussing two different projects. Two diverse projects might have two separate voices.

I realized that I have two distinct voices. One is a smart aleck type of voice with sarcasm and swagger, and it usually comes out while writing first person. I also have an elegant, much more ephemeral voice that uses higher and more lyrical language. This tends to come out when I’m writing in third person, and this voice is what I’m more noted for. But until I figured this out, I found it confusing. I wasn’t sure exactly why I sounded one way for one project and so different for another. I just wrote what I felt like writing, but other writers discussed the concept of “voice” so much that I became insecure and made the effort to figure mine out.

5. Write. Write a lot.

You won’t discover your literary voice in any other way. These suggestions can help, but we all know the only way to become a better, more informed writer is to read and write. But by being able to identify your literary voice, you’ll be able to more easily convey the sense of your work to others. This will help immensely when pitching your work, and will hopefully lead to even more opportunities for you.

Write on, my friends.

Bio: Mercedes M. Yardley is a dark fantastic who wears red lipstick and poisonous flowers in her hair. She is the author of Beautiful Sorrows, Apocalyptic Montessa and Nuclear Lulu: A Tale of Atomic Love, Nameless, and her latest release, Pretty Little Dead Girls: A Novel of Murder and Whimsy, from Ragnarok Publications. Mercedes lives and works in Sin City, and you can reach her at www.mercedesyardley.com.

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Fairy tales have been around in one form or another for centuries, even if they weren’t written down and compiled into collections like Grimm’s Fairy Tales. They’ve changed over the centuries as well, shifting from folk stories to morality tales to more sanitized or “Disney-fied” versions of what they once were. In the process of this sanitization, oftentimes the messages the fairy tales purported to dictate have changed. Gone is the Little Mermaid who watched her beloved marry someone else, at which point she cast herself back into the ocean and drowned, showing us that you shouldn’t change for someone you love. Instead, we get the version where the mermaid and prince live happily ever after, flipping the moral to be that you can (and should?) change in order to make someone love you.

“Original” versions of fairy tales can be a loaded term, in that most of the fairy tales we know today existed in an oral format prior to being written down. When the stories were written down, they were not always faithful to the original tellings. Charles Perrault’s versions of fairy tales were reworked so they would be popular amongst the seventeenth-century French aristocracy. In the nineteenth century, the Grimm brothers, in the first versions of their compilations of fairy tales, acted primarily as transcriptionists, interested in recording the stories as they were commonly told among the German populace. In later versions of the Grimm brothers’ collections, however, they began the sanitization process, making the tales more family friendly.

There is no denying that many of the “original” fairy tales were violent, sexist, and gruesome. They’re filled with death, abuse, self-mutilation, and more. Some of these tales were likely used by the tellers to imbue the listeners (or readers) with specific moral values or lessons or warn them against things like going into the woods alone at night or engaging in other dangerous activities. Perrault and the Grimm brothers also added to these moral lessons but shaped them to their own times and audiences. For example, stories that originally included birth mothers often were changed to instead include stepmothers, who were invariably vain, evil, and not interested in the welfare of their young charges. That the “original” stories ascribed these same motives to birth mothers is a fascinating bit of historical curiosity, but that stepmothers were so much more readily demonized might be even more intriguing as an avenue of study.

Beyond even the changes that Perrault and the Grimm brothers made to the “original” fairy tales, modern sensibilities have again shifted the telling of these stories, cleaned them up further, and completely rewritten them into things that barely resembles the “originals”. Like the Little Mermaid example above, the retelling of fairy tales as children’s movies, often animated and turned into musicals, can obliterate the original meaning, though not always for the worse. The “original” Beauty and the Beast story from seventeenth-century France was written to prepare young girls for arranged marriages, and had an emphasis on learning to love someone you didn’t know, whereas the Disney version of Beauty and the Beast involves character growth for both Belle and the Beast, who learn to love each other, rather than simply expecting the woman to do all the work. This example, in particular, also reflects the time in which it was turned into a movie, considerably different from earlier Disney films in which the female protagonists sometimes were denied the agency that Belle is permitted. Other retellings of fairy tales have stripped away the morality entirely, or occasionally taken a story that was more about avoiding dangerous activities, in a way that did not really require a moral, and added a moral in for good measure (like various versions of Little Red Riding Hood).
Though the origins of many fairy tales are lost to history, the ability to compare various versions of tales as they have been told over the centuries is a fascinating endeavor, both for what they tell us about broadly defined history and what they tell us about storytelling and writing in various times.

About the author: Dawn Vogel’s academic background is in history, so it’s not surprising that much of her fiction is set in earlier times. By day, she edits reports for historians and archaeologists. In her alleged spare time, she runs a craft business, co-edits Mad Scientist Journal, and tries to find time for writing. She is a member of Broad Universe, SFWA, and Codex Writers. She lives in Seattle with her husband, author Jeremy Zimmerman, and their herd of cats. Visit her at http://historythatneverwas.com or follow her on Twitter @historyneverwas. Dawn’s latest book is The Cask of Cranglimmering, Book One of Brass and Glass.