Things happened quickly this month, my dying earth SF/F piece “Imperator–Terror Lizard (Part One)” appeared in The Healing Monsters, Volume One (Despumation Press), and my SF story “Miriam” was accepted for the Procyon Science Fiction Anthology 2016 (Tayen Lane Publishing). Jacob Haddon included me in a list of over 400 women writers working in Horror/SF. This makes me want to step up my game and get more subs out. I have the advantage of a day job with relative flexibility and bountiful academic resources, but I find I can sometimes lose momentum when I stray from my normally scheduled routine. Some health problems also sidelined me a bit over the last month, but I cleared that hurdle finally. Now it’s a matter of getting the routine back on track.
I read this piece over at Mythic Scribes on finding your Writer’s Voice. This was exactly something I was thinking about with the two pieces mentioned above: “Terror Lizard” and “Miriam” are both first person narratives written in past tense, and both command quite an assertive, even defiant female character presence. Both voices seemed similar in that they are tough with an air of regret, sadness. I’ve borne the sadness throughout my adolescence and adult life, but the toughness may be wish fulfillment on my part. Most people who have met me know I’m quite introverted but friendly, eager to please. I think that stems from my hardwired desire to be liked, and this often works against my own best interests. But when I channel these character voices, I go into full-on Xena mode. Wish fulfillment, sure—but it obviously sources from a legitimate spring. No author wants to sling bullshit when it comes to voice.
Another interesting thing in that article is that we can reveal a good deal about a character by what we omit, or merely imply with the use of voice. I’ve given away plenty of uncomfortable realities about myself in what I say but especially in what I don’t say. This is something I’d like to take better advantage of in my work, to thicken the complications and emotional resonance.
Heroes and heroines appeal to us as much through their faults and/or insecurities as do their victories and conquests. Strider/Aragorn/Elessar totally rips on himself after losing the Hobbits and The Fellowship at The Falls of Rauros, but he manages to regroup and make the best of it that he can.
I think what I’m trying to say is that with first-person narrative, I’d like to continue to channel that assertive, rebellious voice, but only where appropriate to the story. If there is too much commonality between stories in that wish-fulfilled muse, I could become my own banality, and that is a terrifying prospect for me—to cancel myself out just because I want to be more assertive in my own comings and goings.
Does this mean I want to channel the voice of a passive character, rather than an active one? Not necessarily. The voice of a victim is all the more compelling when she turns her situation around and at least escapes her lot (think the ultimate final girl—Sally Hardesty [Marilyn Burns] in Texas Chainsaw), but I also feel the polarizing forces, the ones that make me want to bring a character around and exact vengeance upon her antagonist[s]. But if she’s sneering with defiance all along, how can one detect a change in her character arc?
These are some things I want to try and work on as I move forward.