Photo by Gift Habeshaw on Unsplash
David Napthine writes
The writer’s creative relationship with their “inner voices” is like living with a long-term partner. It changes with circumstances, mood and desire. It can be intimate, fractious, helpful and confusing. And like any long-term relationship it’s not always, if ever, thought about. So when asking writers’ blunt questions like “What do the voices say?” I’ve felt like that gossipy, nosy neighbour who wants to know the far end of a fart about your life. And then talks about it to all and sundry.
This is what the neighbours are up to.
Some writers have no “inner voice” as we might commonly understand it. The playwright SC said
The word “voices” feels wrong to me. It’s more a feeling, an instinct that pushes me in one direction rather than another. I don’t hear a voice or voices – I have ideas – some are summoned when I’m trying to think about ideas and some arrive unbidden…..
Whilst the scriptwriter BK was much more direct
I don’t really hear voices inside me at all. I am very deeply interested in how people speak and what they say, their rhythms, insecurities – everything about them. Whether it’s coincidence or not I don’t know, but both my sister and me are very good mimics. I seem to be able to know somehow how a character would be or what they would say in a certain situation – even the most awful people, men as well. I don’t know why I can do this.
I can understand this. Like them I’m primarily a scriptwriter and playwright and I wonder if that requires a specific relationship to our “inner voices”. Our characters are given over to actors and directors who then interrogate, discuss and dissect them, changing words and actions. The rehearsal room can be a brutal place for a writer as they see their characters change, even become strangers. Of course, it can also be a delight when creative collaboration allows our characters to grow and live. But does the very existence of the rehearsal room mean that playwrights (un)consciously distance themselves from the “inner voice”.
If the inner voice is prominent is it helpful? For RC the inner voices “tell me their story and how I should write it down. When they speak, I live in a parallel world. What if? What if? A constant echo.”
“It is the voice’s story. I liken it to when sculpture’s say that they are simply freeing the statue from stone – the voices already exist, I just need to translate their story and their words from inner existence to outer reality, from my head to the page.”
There is clarity in this relationship but for others it’s not so straightforward. The poet CH:-
My inner voice tugs at me – washes up words, phrases, images and notions – sometimes when I’m focussed – at other times when I’m between sleep and waking or in a light sleep. It feels important to ‘net’ them and not let them float away.
When EP is writing poetry
“…sometimes words and lines or phrases just pop into my head, and repeat themselves, insisting they want to be heard/written down.
Now is there something in the poetic form that lends itself to this particular “vocal intrusion”? The poet searches for the right word and phrase that conforms to the chosen poetic structure. I should imagine this can be wearying so why not let that “inner voice” do the work? Maybe the “inner voice” is saying “it’s my job to do that” and enthusiastically goes ahead. Its enthusiasm is such, however, that it will insist on telling you whatever it has discovered irrespective of the time of day or what you are doing. This might explain why, when writing prose, EP has a different relationship
“…. they are characters in the novel and I’m thinking about them in a scene, I imagine where they are, what’s happened before and then I let them loose and see what they say, try and hear them talking to each other or themselves”
HG is a poet and actor. His inner voice will have a familiar ring to many
“Oh prime ‘Imposter syndrome’ territory here! “You’ll be lucky to get away with this, son” “What are you playing at, pretending you have anything worth hearing?” and worst of all “Stop showing off!” I think it’s definitely working-class linked! I lost count of the amount of times I was shut up as a kid with “Stop showing off!” or “Don’t get ideas above your station”. This stuff sticks.”
An undermining voice, one that has the potential to disrupt, even destroy, creativity, illustrates that what the inner voice/narrative says and how it speaks can be shaped by the cultural and social milieu of the individual, framing their view of themselves and limiting their expectations. Dealing with that inner voice requires persistence, even courage.