Voice of Your Literary Soul

Photo by EBB

Eighth in my series on Ellen’s Eight Essential Elements.

For copy of all eight elements collected in a beautifully designed book in PDF format, check out my new writing guide here.

In person, we get a sense of someone in mere seconds. On the page, readers pick it up within the first few lines. Either way, one’s voice is that unique, indescribable sound that makes you distinct.

A writer’s voice is not unlike music with rhythm, beats and pauses. It can be casual, conversational or confessional. Funny, satirical or silly. Quiet, meditative or spiritual. Thoughtful, serious or curious. Formal, intellectual or academic. Seductive, charming or playful. Emotional, sensitive or as my linear-minded father-in-law once noted about my writing, “Ah. I get it now. You write emotionally. You write about feelings.”

You know a favorite writer’s voice when you read it just like you can identify a dear friend’s or a vocalist. Voice is that tulip in the garden that looks slightly different, not just in it’s color but in the position of petals, how the flower sits on the stem or in the curve of the stalk. You have to lean in to see the differences.

For example, David Sedaris has a dry wit, self-deprecating humor, staccaco pacing and unique tone. The sound of George Carlin’s voice is quickly recognizable and unique as is Richard Pryor’s, Whoopi Goldberg’s, Chris Rock’s Wanda Sykes’, Jerry Seinfeld’s, Sarah Silverman’s or Milton Berle’s. Each voice, so distinct.

It’s tempting to try to write in the voice of a writer you admire. But if you are writing personal narrative, you are doing the work a disservice. Show up in your own voice, one that a reader can immediately identify as true. Vulnerable. Authentic. That feels as if we are listening up close, across a kitchen table.

What the writer Grant Faulkner calls “the song of your literary soul.”

Coming Up

“Before I Go: Writing the Ethical Will” (online at Ritualwell.) Thursday, November 13, 2025, 1-2:30 p.m. EST