Just as there are two different ways to read, there are two different ways to write. The formal; comprised of reports, non-fiction texts, essays, news articles and so on. Or the informal; fiction, short stories, memoirs[1], novels.
FORMAL is exactly what it says. It has a strict form and style, the language is crisp and dry — the Chardonnay of writing. There is a precision to the words because its purpose is to inform, or teach.
INFORMAL, on the other hand, is akin to a pint in the pub; jostling, shouting, loud and rambunctious, or possibly a sherry at the Vicarage; proper and restrained — it all depends on your genre.
If you keep a personal journal, a practise which I highly recommend, read back your entries and compare your style to a letter of complaint that you wrote to your local council, for example. The language in each of these documents should be diametrically opposed.
One way to compare writing voices without the expense of buying books, or the inconvenience of visiting a library, is to visit blogs on varying topics. Find three or four on topics that interest you, compare their articles for length, and word usage. How do they sound? Friendly and cheery? Morose and dull?
Next compare three or four blogs on topics in which you have no interest whatsoever. Repeat the process. Remember, you are not judging content, you are judging style.
BULLETTED LIST: Did anything stand out to you during this process? How the work was composed, perhaps? Were there interesting and unusual metaphors? A particular turn of phrase? Amazing use of imagery? Did the writer manage to make you laugh? Or think? Did they do both? Write these in your own voice.
These techniques can be applied to your own work.
For example: if you are writing an historical novel, you will need to wade through many formal texts to get your significant dates, people and events. If you then just proceed to write that, all that you are doing is regurgitating what you have just learned. #blecch
If, however, you have used not only the factual texts, but also read novels from the era in question, you will have a more rounded view and be able to emulate the prosody of the period. One note of caution: run an etymology check on your words. Just as with clothes, words go in and out of vogue as well. You would not have a courtier of Charles II of England, saying “Well, I popped off to the café and downed a latte with almond milk”[2]. It would be more along the lines of “I visited the new coffeehouse, a very fine establishment, indeed.”[3]
Being able to imitate the voice of the period also helps if you are writing a contemporary work that relies on the famous ‘found papers’ (diaries, letters — usually Hidden For A Purpose to conceal all of the dark family secrets!). My advice in this case would be to write your found papers first, and then tackle the rest of the story, inserting the relevant document as needed. You circumvent the risk of mixing up your voices that way.
Reading novels from the period also helps you to establish a sense of place. Jane Austen’s heroines went on REALLY long walks, three miles one way (4.82 k’s) being commonplace for them, now try getting the average teenager to walk half a block to bring back a bottle of milk. Just. Not. Happening.
To add authentic flavor to your historical novel, reading the fiction of the period is a short cut to the housing, clothing, mannerisms, transport and psychology of the people. It will make your work ring true and help to transport your characters into the scenes. An engaged reader is a happy reader.
[1] Memoirs are colored by memory and perceptions, and are thus not a formal document. [2] Well, if you’re writing an alternative timeline story, you could, but I will expect robots. Lots of robots. [3] Queen’s Lane Coffeehouse, established in Oxford 1654, is still a working business. Don’t know if Cromwell ever dropped in for a drop of The Devil’s Brew, but the coffeehouse pre-dates the Restoration.
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