Sunday Writing Challenge

What do your characters' voices sound like?

Good Sunday morning, storytellers.

Let’s talk about something you’re probably not paying enough attention to in your writing: the sound of people’s voices. Not just the words they say, or the things they mean, but the way their voices crack like downed branches on asphalt, hum like a lost bee against glass, or roll over you like a soft desert wind.

Here’s the thing. We’re supposed to use all the senses in our stories. Writers know that. You toss in the smell of rain-soaked sagebrush or the way the last light of the day slants over a mesa, and boom—you’re an artist. But when it comes to voices, most writers don’t even try. We get the lazy stuff: “He yelled” or “She had a deep voice,” or “His voice was gravelly.” Gravelly! Skip the cliches, please.

Voices matter. In real life, we know the sound of every important voice in our lives. Think about it. You can hear a loved one say your name from two rooms away, and you know instantly if they’re mad, tired, or hiding a smile. Voices change, too, over the years. People get old, they smoke too much, they laugh too little, they cry too often. All of it leaves a mark on their voices.

This week, I challenge you to write about voices—not just once, not just “she sounded tired” and then forget about it. I want you to be mindful and deliberate about it. Make us hear them.

Describe the way your character’s voice drops low then curls up at the end when they’re lying, how it edges sharp as a switchblade when she’s scared and that fear turns to cruelty. Tell me if his laugh is dissonant as broken bells, or if their whisper could make a dead cactus bloom. Use metaphors, similes, poetry. Just don’t tell me someone said something. How did they say it? Too fast? Too slow? Interrupting everyone like a jackhammer on the corner?

Here’s an example:
“Dad’s voice used to fill a room like warm coffee, slow and steady. But now it came in gasps and stutters, the sound of a pump dragging the last water from a dry well.”

Or:
“His ex had the kind of voice that felt like velvet against your skin. But then you realized it wasn’t velvet. It was sandpaper. Fine grit, sure, but it could wear you down just the same.”

Remember, also, that the way a certain character’s voice sounds—the metaphor and simile you’ll use to describe it—might change if the point of view changes. An aspiring rock star character’s delusional girlfriend might hear his voice as the next coming of Bruce Springsteen, while his insecure and competitive mother, a failed songstress, might imagine her son’s bathroom singing is what Judas sounded like in the caves of Israel. I’ll never forget in real life, back when I used to date, meeting a guy who looked great on paper, a handsome, smart, successful guy who was in fact great—until he laughed. He laughed like a small girl who did not like being tickled, and so loudly the entire bar turned to stare. There was not a second date.

See? Or, rather, hear? Voices are alive and ever-changing, just like your characters. Pay attention to them. Listen for them. Write them into the world.

Now go write. And if you’re brave, share what you come up with in the comments. Let’s make some noise.

-Alisa