Voice Is What Is Left After You Stop Imitating
I spent the better part of my twenties being told that “voice” was some ethereal, lightning-strike moment that would descend upon a writer once they’d reached a certain level of spiritual enlightenment. It’s a lovely, expensive lie sold by writing retreats and workshops that cost more than my first three months of rent. In reality, the question of how voice develops isn’t about finding a muse in a forest; it’s about the grueling, repetitive work of stripping away the performative nonsense you think a “writer” is supposed to sound like. Most of what I see in the slush pile isn’t…