“Building Writer’s Voice”
On a television show I watched once, there was a curvy girl trying out for a ballet program. She got cut almost immediately. Her ballet teacher gave her a wig and told her to audition under another name. She quickly got cut again. Her ballet teacher sent her in under a third name. Someone who was watching said, “This is madness. They saw her, and she got cut.” The ballet teacher said, “They didn’t see her. She’s auditioning with all these skinny girls and they see that she has the biggest thighs and the biggest hips and they cut her. They aren’t actually seeing her. Eventually, she’ll go in with a group of girls and someone else will have big thighs, then they will see her.”
This statement blew my mind. How many times have we been rejected from an opportunity, not based on merit but on some external bias beyond our control? And how many times have we taken that judgment to be a ruling on our talent (or lack thereof) rather than a prejudice against our being. Students fight this battle of perception on a daily basis. I have a colleague who is working in an afterschool program. There are two boys in the program who are constantly getting in trouble together. One of them, however, has a behavior plan and goals that the adults in his life are monitoring. The other boy has nothing. She asked, “Why doesn’t this boy have a plan too?” The head of the program said, “Because we don’t care about him.” He laughed when he said it, but it was true. Two troublemakers, but one was seen as redeemable and one was not. We internalize the judgments that are made on us—but we have no idea what biases may be at play when people are reacting to us. That was really all the ballet teacher in the TV show was looking for. She wasn’t pushing to have her student selected, she was pushing to have the biases stripped away so her student could be seen. Isn’t that what we are all looking for?
As humans we all need relationships in which we are authentically seen, valued and appreciated, but being seen can be a really tricky proposition. For the main character in my YA novel Tempest, being seen is dangerous. Born with the power to control the wind, Veronique grows up knowing that there are threats to her life and her freedom. To keep her safe, her grandmother insists that she hide, but a life of hiding is limiting—and safety based on hiding can quickly become a trap. Over the course of the novel, Veronique learns how to face the forces that are hunting her—and she learns how to face herself and fully embrace her power.
The dangers of being seen may not be life-threatening for all of us, but very early in our lives, we learn how closely judgment is tied to visibility. Being seen means opening ourselves to being criticized. For the entire first half of my career, being seen was an intensely uncomfortable sensation. I didn’t like sharing pictures of myself or personal information about myself. And, the idea of sharing my work—my raw, unpolished, initial drafts—was excruciating. I remember years ago when a magazine editor asked me to submit an article. I told her I didn’t know where to begin. She told me to write a draft off the top of my head and send it to her unedited. I looked at her like she was crazy. She said, “I know sharing your work at such a raw stage feels strange, but I think the first draft holds power.” It was painful for me to even consider turning over a first draft of anything. With MASSIVE reluctance, I shared my first draft with her. The process unfolded just as the editor said it would. She gave me some guidance and I completed the piece.
Fast-forward 12 years. An editor asked me for an essay. I was willing but busy. I sat down and banged out a draft in two hours. I sent it to her without reading it over even once. “I need to edit this piece,” I wrote, “but please review it and let me know if this is what you’re looking for.” I trusted that she could see the essence of the essay in the draft, she could read the bones and I could fill in the flesh later. She reviewed it and affirmed that it was exactly what she was looking for. She gave me a deadline to turn in edits. I made some tweaks and the work was done.
The difference between these two experiences was about a decade of writing. When I was less developed as a writer, I was more rigid and more controlling about my work. Now, I’m happy to hear critique and insight. I welcome new suggestions and perspectives. And I don’t mind sending out an underdeveloped draft for feedback. I believe it is because more experience = more confidence. More confidence = less need for every single thing I write to be perfect.
The biggest thing artists need as they are developing their voices, as well as when they are maturing to deeper and deeper levels of mastery, is the willingness to follow their ideas. So often, the need for perfection stops people from bringing their ideas to life. Willingness and acceptance are the biggest barriers to developing skill and identity as a writer. The only way to grow is to make mistakes, to write clumsily, and to discover the potholes of storytelling. When we are willing to be imperfect, we learn the rhythm of writing more quickly. We must also accept that all writers have both gifts and challenges. No matter how much mastery we gain, we are constantly called to both acknowledge our imperfections AND validate our writing
But how do we get there? If seasoned writing requires time and space, and for so many evolving writers, just staring at the blank page sparks vulnerability and the intense desire to hide, what do we do? Evolving writers need frequent, low-stakes practices that build fluidity and confidence into their writing. It’s a huge gift to offer people—both grown-ups and students alike—the space to play freely and explore creatively. In his excellent Free Play: Improvisation in Life and Art, Stephen Nachmanovitch draws on Buddhist philosophy to talk about the tendency of humans to compare ourselves to others. Nachmanovitch defines the “fear of ghosts” as our habit of measuring ourselves against the talents and directives of our “teachers, authorities, parents or the great masters.” That’s why writing assignments that are not graded, that are short, and that are frequent can give growing writers a little bit of breathing room.
When guiding developing writers, it’s important to remember that for so many people, writing just feels like setting themselves up to be judged. When we share our writing, negative marks can validate self-criticism and strengthen our certainty that our writing voice is faulty and our efforts are useless. If the only focus in writing is the right way to structure a sentence or a paragraph or a paper or a story, we lose our own personal relationship to writing. We rob ourselves of the ability to personally connect to the work and discover our own reasons for writing. The academic side of writing is essential, but without valuing the uniqueness of our voices, we can end up frozen and afraid to write. Finding value in our own writing style is essential— it’s not just about healthy esteem, it is literally the key to forward motion. We all need to learn about topic sentences and paragraphs, but we also need support and guidance to celebrate our authorial voice, just as it is.
Published June 24th, 2025 by Qull Tree Books
About the Book: In this lyrical and epic contemporary novel with magical fantasy elements, a girl must learn to master her powers over the wind before a sinister secret organization finds her. Perfect for fans of Legendborn, A Song Below Water, and Vespertine.
After Veronique’s parents died, her grandmother raised her on a farm in rural Louisiana. For sixteen years, it’s just been Veronique, MawMaw, and an ocean of trees. That’s because Veronique has a secret—one MawMaw has warned her she must always keep safe.
Veronique has the power to control the wind.
But when MawMaw falls ill, Veronique is forced to move to New Orleans to live with family she never knew she had. New Orleans is a far cry from her old quiet life, but Veronique finally gets her chance for a normal life—one with school, friends, and even love. But when her new life threatens her ability to control her powers, she quickly learns that the world is bigger and more dangerous than she’d ever imagined. Veronique must uncover what MawMaw was trying to protect her from before it’s too late.
About the Author: K. Ibura is a writer and visual artist from New Orleans, Louisiana. The middle child of five, she grew up in a city full of music and culture, a neighborhood full of oak trees and mosquitoes, and a home full of art and activism. She has written two short story collections for adults: Ancient, Ancient—winner of the James Tiptree Jr. Literary Award—and When the World Wounds. Her debut novel and first book for young people, When the World Turned Upside Down, was published in February 2022. Find her online at kiburabooks.com.
Thank you, K, for this thought-provoking and inspiring post!
