Deciding
whether or not the “voice” in a text is really the same persona as the author’s
isn’t exactly an easy task when you think about it. I didn’t know H.P. Lovecraft personally, so I
can’t automatically assume that he was the same person as the voice he projected
in his writing. I’m not as well read as
I’d like to be, so this is my first encounter with Lovecraft’s writing. Who is to say his other stories don’t have a
vastly different voice? They could be
drastically different, but then I think of my own writing. Thaisa and Wall say that voice is “simply the
way you, the writer, project yourself artistically. It’s the way you draw on yourself as you
write—your sense of humor, irony, and the way you see the people and events,
use language, and entertain” (xv). This
makes sense to me because, even when I try to adapt for a certain character who
may be nothing like me, I still find that my own sense of humor and outlook on
life affects my writing. It is pretty
much unavoidable. Maybe my character isn’t
afraid of spiders like me but is instead afraid of snakes; regardless, the way
I describe fear comes from my own experience with it. Because of this, I have reason to believe
that Lovecraft the man and Lovecraft the voice are probably one in the
same. Had Lovecraft attempted to
distance himself entirely from his writing, the voice would have been what Thaisa
and Wall describe as “false” voices. The
story wouldn’t have worked without Lovecraft’s spirit; it would have fallen
flat or felt meaningless. I don’t think
you can completely disassociate your writing from yourself. Your knowledge of life comes from the way you
experience it, so how could you completely abandon that experience and still be
able to write about life? It is easy to
believe, then, that the fear and awe the narrator of Lovecraft’s story feels
could have some origin in Lovecraft himself.
Frank, Thaisa, and Dorothy Wall.
Introduction. Finding Your Writer's Voice: A
Guide to Creative Fiction. New York: St. Martin's, 1994. N. pag. Print.
