About narrative voice
Historical Novel Society Australasia Conference in progress at the historic Balmain Hall, Sydney. Thanks to the panel (not in this pic) - publishing consultant Irina Dunn, publisher Louise Thurtell of Allen & Unwin (she vets the Friday Pitch!), publisher Alison Green of Pantera Press, and actress and writing professional Rachel Le Rossignol, who read out the pitches, bringing them alive for us. Anyone sat in an audience and heard the opening paragraphs of their very own novel-in-progress torn to shreds by a panel of experts? I have—it’s hair raising. But it’s rewarding too.
Keen to learn what initial words attract a publisher’s attention, eight of us brave writers bared our souls before publishing industry experts and a roomful of onlookers at the recent Historical Novel Society Australasia conference in Sydney.
Five minutes is all we have—if that—to hook an agent or editor when submitting unsolicited manuscripts. So those opening words and paras are makers or breakers.
I sat through six critiques before mine came up—I was second to last.
So after hearing the no-holds-barred feedback on the other six, I kept my head down when it was my turn. Surreptitiously, and with a shaking hand, I scribbled notes while hoping no one would guess it was my baby being red-inked.
Leap off the page
After the critiques, the panel gave us a few pithy pointers. The Number One Biggie when submitting an unsolicited manuscript is a narrative voice that jumps off the page.
If we can achieve that, they may turn the first page, then the next and the next. And if we’ve also got a good storyline, then we’ve got a chance. Most other problems in a debut manuscript can be sorted at the editing stage, the panel told us.
But what about this narrative voice thing?
The way I understand it, narrative voice can be the voice of a character, in first or deep third person. Or even second person. Or it can be an identified narrator. Or a hidden, undeclared narrator with a voice so distinctive it comes across almost like a character.
Or the narrative voice could be your own unique author’s voice.
Anyway, it’s something I’ve struggled with when writing, and now revising, my two novels-in-progress.
How the experts do it
“Do it like these guys,” said the panel. And they threw out examples for us to note.
To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee. Well, of course. Next.
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austin, who begins as she means to go on with her slyly witty remarks:
“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife…”
Australian classic My Brother Jack by George Johnston. Here’s the start:
“My brother Jack does not come into the story right away. Nobody ever does, of course, because a person doesn’t begin to exist without parents and an environment and legendary tales told about ancestors and dark dusty vines growing over outhouses where remarkable insects might always drop out of hidden crevices.”
Anything by Australia’s beloved Booker short-lister Tim Winton. Here’s the beginning of Eyrie.
“So.
Here was this stain on the carpet, a wet patch big as a coffee table. He had no idea what it was or how it got there. But the sight of it put the wind right up him.”
Keepers have it
When I got home to my writing den, I flicked through the books on my shelves. These novels are my keepers. I might have read them on Kindle but I’ve loved them so much I’ve also bought the paperbacks.
I scanned the first pages. They all have a narrative voice that jumps off the page.
Here’s a keeper I’ve read perhaps five times:
On Canaan’s Side by award-winning Irish author Sebastian Barry
“Bill is gone.
What is the sound of an eighty-nine-year-old heart breaking? It might not be much more than silence, and certainly a small slight sound…”
And a ripping historical yarn by a local New Zealand author:
The Bright Side of My Condition by Charlotte Randall
“When the Captain find us stowaways and give us the choice between join the island or join the crew, all of us to a man cry island! island! So he put us ashore with a few provisions and a trypot and sail away. The ship weren’t even out of sight before our choice seem like a mistake.”
Keep on truckin’
Whew! No pressure!
But I was grateful to get a moderate-sized tick from the panel for narrative voice.
I find it helps if I meditate daily. Then, when sitting at my keyboard, I can bring my attention within to release words, thoughts, deeds that belong more to the person in my head—or chest, perhaps, or gut—than to me.
If I’m having a good day, my character will pour herself out via my fingers and keyboard. This is a form of story dreaming, I suppose. Amazing moments that are all too rare.
What do others think about narrative voice. Do you recognise it when reading? When writing, do you achieve it with ease or does it make you sweat?
Keen to learn what initial words attract a publisher’s attention, eight of us brave writers bared our souls before publishing industry experts and a roomful of onlookers at the recent Historical Novel Society Australasia conference in Sydney.
Five minutes is all we have—if that—to hook an agent or editor when submitting unsolicited manuscripts. So those opening words and paras are makers or breakers.
I sat through six critiques before mine came up—I was second to last.
So after hearing the no-holds-barred feedback on the other six, I kept my head down when it was my turn. Surreptitiously, and with a shaking hand, I scribbled notes while hoping no one would guess it was my baby being red-inked.
Leap off the page
After the critiques, the panel gave us a few pithy pointers. The Number One Biggie when submitting an unsolicited manuscript is a narrative voice that jumps off the page.
If we can achieve that, they may turn the first page, then the next and the next. And if we’ve also got a good storyline, then we’ve got a chance. Most other problems in a debut manuscript can be sorted at the editing stage, the panel told us.
But what about this narrative voice thing?
The way I understand it, narrative voice can be the voice of a character, in first or deep third person. Or even second person. Or it can be an identified narrator. Or a hidden, undeclared narrator with a voice so distinctive it comes across almost like a character.
Or the narrative voice could be your own unique author’s voice.
Anyway, it’s something I’ve struggled with when writing, and now revising, my two novels-in-progress.
How the experts do it
“Do it like these guys,” said the panel. And they threw out examples for us to note.
To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee. Well, of course. Next.
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austin, who begins as she means to go on with her slyly witty remarks:
“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife…”
Australian classic My Brother Jack by George Johnston. Here’s the start:
“My brother Jack does not come into the story right away. Nobody ever does, of course, because a person doesn’t begin to exist without parents and an environment and legendary tales told about ancestors and dark dusty vines growing over outhouses where remarkable insects might always drop out of hidden crevices.”
Anything by Australia’s beloved Booker short-lister Tim Winton. Here’s the beginning of Eyrie.
“So.
Here was this stain on the carpet, a wet patch big as a coffee table. He had no idea what it was or how it got there. But the sight of it put the wind right up him.”
Keepers have it
When I got home to my writing den, I flicked through the books on my shelves. These novels are my keepers. I might have read them on Kindle but I’ve loved them so much I’ve also bought the paperbacks.
I scanned the first pages. They all have a narrative voice that jumps off the page.
Here’s a keeper I’ve read perhaps five times:
On Canaan’s Side by award-winning Irish author Sebastian Barry
“Bill is gone.
What is the sound of an eighty-nine-year-old heart breaking? It might not be much more than silence, and certainly a small slight sound…”
And a ripping historical yarn by a local New Zealand author:
The Bright Side of My Condition by Charlotte Randall
“When the Captain find us stowaways and give us the choice between join the island or join the crew, all of us to a man cry island! island! So he put us ashore with a few provisions and a trypot and sail away. The ship weren’t even out of sight before our choice seem like a mistake.”
Keep on truckin’
Whew! No pressure!
But I was grateful to get a moderate-sized tick from the panel for narrative voice.
I find it helps if I meditate daily. Then, when sitting at my keyboard, I can bring my attention within to release words, thoughts, deeds that belong more to the person in my head—or chest, perhaps, or gut—than to me.
If I’m having a good day, my character will pour herself out via my fingers and keyboard. This is a form of story dreaming, I suppose. Amazing moments that are all too rare.
What do others think about narrative voice. Do you recognise it when reading? When writing, do you achieve it with ease or does it make you sweat?
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