Yeah, voice is a good thing. Think of it in terms of music for a moment, rather than writing, connie. I don't even mean singing voice, but the whole of the song. I know Springsteen, the Stones, U2, etc., when I hear them, and not just because of the singer's voice, but because of the entity's voice as a whole--what their songs say, how they say them (the orchestration) and I like them--I like how they do their stuff.

The same is true for writers. What's that old saw about there only being so many stories in the world? If it's true (and I at least think it contains truth), then the difference lies in the telling, which comes from the teller. That's voice, or voice is at least a part of it. It's like a family knowing (and preferring) their own mother's spaghetti sauce or apple pie, or whatever. If you achieve voice, there is something about the way you're telling your stories that makes them especially yours.

Ginger, that was lovely. Can I adopt you, too?

I have a "Writing Mysteries"...should I stroke your vanity, Deb?ETA: Ironically, the real mystery is why I can't find that paragraph.

erika, which edition do you have? Mine's the 1993. Sue Grafton puts out a new one every year or so; haven't checked to see if Ruth has her usual essay on "how to capture an editor" in the recent one.

And Cindy is so right, about thinking of it musically. As is Bev. Voice? It's what keeps them coming back for more.

And, found it, or at least the photocopied section. It's from the 1993 edition. The chapter is called "The Mystery Novel From the Editor's Point of View". Ruth talks about various ways to make it effective, to set a scene, how much readers love it if you really know your subject. She ends with this, including two examples, the best part of a full page - I'm going to not type in the second one since it isn't mine and there's the whole copyright thing:

Finally, I have to go all psychic on you. An editor will leap for joy to find a writer with what we call "voice." It's what we always hope for in a manuscript; it's what we find, to a greater or lesser degree, in the better ones; occasionally, it will be present in such force as to knock us back on our heels. It's a quality in the writing that's hard to define, but when you come across it, you know. It is clear and unequivocal and unique to that writer, setting him or her apart from all others. From two different authors:

"The morning sun has ever been a provider of comfort; one of its nicest attributes is that there is always enough to go around. The same morning sun that had highlighted the bat's blood on Gad's feet, that had touched Max as he sat down to a morning meal near a British Rail station just west of London, spread itself effortlessly and settled its mantle across Sparrow House.

Julia, lying on her back...opened her eyes to it. She lay awhile with tears on her lashes, following the movement of ray and mote across the painted ceiling, registering the warmth without noticing, her mind reading back into the lost hours, trying with the futile desperation of waking to recapture the night."

The first vivid panorama is from Deborah Grabien's Plainsong.

So, there you go. An editor, on voice.

Yes, I have it. half.com has been a big help writing this book(will I ever not feel like a pompous git saying that?) I was just looking in the Style section for it. oops.

Ruth uses different authors as an example in different years. I showed up in the 1993 edition, and didn't find out it existed until about four years ago.

I find that my nonfiction voice is very consistent, and comes to me quickly -- because I get a lot of practice with it, here and on LJ and in my job. I do nonfiction all the time, and I've developed a nonfiction manner just by meeting the needs of the several daily communications of my life.

I expect the development of a fiction voice is similar -- doing it makes it develop. (Of course, were I to do Deb's meme, I'd probably pick dialogue, because I am perverse.)

Nutty, I could probably read three sentences in a row of your posts, and know it was you. Your voice is extremely distinctive.

I don't know if I have a voice, or just echo whoever's rattling around in my head. I do think this bit is kind of typical me, especially in that I never finished the essay this was going to be part of.

Often when I start to write (or start to do anything, really, but especially for writing) I find myself thinking of a song from an animated Christmas special -- one of the ones where Santa is sad, I think.

Anyhow, so I sit down to write, and this chorus of Christmas elves starts up in my brain. "Put one foot in front of another," they tell me, "And soon you'll be walking cross the floo-oo-oor. Put one foot in front of the other, and soon you'll be walking out the door."

And that is how I write: foot by foot, word by word, sentence by sentence. I don't know where I'm going: All I know is that if I keep going I'll get there.