THE VOICE in Creative Writing

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Irene Cooper | February 1, 2026

What We Talk About When We Talk About Voice

The Voice—the reality competition that brought us Adam Levine, CeeLo Green, Christina Aguilera, and Blake Shelton (with his Big Gulp) in big red swivel chairs— has a straightforward agenda: to choose and coach a talented singer to victory, to be The Voice of that season. But let’s be real, a competition amongst talented people—while entertaining—is a little arbitrary. They’re all good singers. The implication is that one voice in particular stands apart from the rest.

That’s fine, maybe, for a television show (about actual singing), but we’re writers, and while we might not be in direct competition with our peers to out-voice them, we do want our work to be distinctly and recognizably ours. We want to imbue each of our characters with a unique and compelling voice. As writers, we’ve heard the concept of voice bandied about. Sometimes it refers to an author’s voice; other times it relates to the voice of a specific character. So, what are we talking about—as we will this coming class at The Forge—when we talk about voice in creative writing?

Arguably, voice is one of the more elusive and pitchy of literary qualities. You know it when you hear it (or read it). Many readers have a favorite author or two, and that preference may well be due to that author’s particular voice—think Dostoevsky, Octavia Butler, Elmore Leonard, Ottessa Moshfeh, James Baldwin, George Sauders. Arthur Conan Doyle. Larry McMurtry. Terry Pratchett. Sally Rooney. So many fabulous voices, so wide a variety of writing styles and genres.

Character Voice & Narrative Voice

Maybe it’s a character that’s unforgettable; Harper Lee didn’t write a lot of books, but she created and gave voice to Scout in To Kill A Mockingbird. Shakespeare wrote a ton, yet Hamlet is unlike any other of his characters.

I might argue that character voice is built and stands (or sings)—after its ideation, after its moment of writerly invention—on attention to craft: the linguistic, physical, psychological, and social specificities that make this character sound and act the way they do. You are in complete control over how your character presents (even if you’re not entirely sure, at all times, what they’re going to do).

Narrative voice, in its simplest definition, is point of view—first person, second person, third person omniscient, and third person close, to name several of the major players. How close your narrator is to the story affects the narrative voice—first person narration is super close-up, limited to a single (often questionably reliable) perspective. A narrator in third person omniscient can see everything, but from a distance. The former tends to be more intimate (or claustrophobic); the latter can feel cooler in tone. Narrative voice is another decision the writer has the power to make, and with which they can experiment.

Authorial Voice. That’s You.

Authorial voice can be a bit of a mystery. If you write, you’ve got one. It develops with practice. Lots of practice. George Saunders has admitted he spent many years trying to write like famous authors of the twentieth century canon, only to fail miserably. It wasn’t until he was messing around with short fragments that bloomed from his particular fascinations and diction that his personal brand of weird and wonderful was revealed to him. He then built on that revelation to produce a body of work that is singular to him.

As for competition, leave that to the reality shows. My favorite vocal artists range from the dudes who chant Gregorian hymns to Billie Holliday to Antonio Carlos Jobim to

Sinead O’Connor to Erykah Badu and many, many more—no two alike, each one unforgettable. Put in the work. Be unforgettable.

Ready to light a fire under your writing? Get in touch for a chat to see if The Forge is a fit.