How To Improve Your Writing Style (Without Losing Personality)

Gary Smailes | 12 December 2025

Style vs. Voice: What Changes and What Stays

Most writers worry about the wrong thing when they hear "improve your writing style." They panic that polishing their prose means sanding away everything distinctive about their work. Good news: you're not choosing between personality and professionalism.

The trick is knowing what to protect and what to perfect.

Think of style as your outfit and voice as your face. You change clothes for different occasions, but you're still recognizably you. Style covers the mechanics — sentence length, punctuation choices, how you structure paragraphs. Voice runs deeper. It's your worldview, your sense of humor, the way you see connections other people miss.

When Anne Lamott writes "perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor," that's pure voice — wry, direct, unafraid of big statements. When she chooses to follow it with a short, punchy sentence instead of a clause-heavy explanation, that's style serving voice.

Here's where writers get stuck: they treat everything as sacred. Every comma becomes a personality marker. Every run-on sentence feels like authentic expression. But not all your choices carry voice. Some are just habits.

Start by defining your voice pillars — three non-negotiable traits that make your writing unmistakably yours. Maybe you're deadpan and image-rich and a little suspicious of authority. Or warm and philosophical with a gift for finding the universal in small moments. Write them down. Post them where you'll see them during revision.

These pillars become your North Star. When an editor suggests cuts or a beta reader flags unclear passages, ask: does this change serve my pillars or threaten them?

Sarah's voice pillar was "irreverent." She wrote humor pieces where snark was the whole point. But her first drafts buried the wit under layers of qualifying phrases and throat-clearing. "I think what I'm trying to say is..." and "It seems to me that perhaps..." The irreverence was there, but drowning.

Her style needed work — tighter openings, cleaner line breaks, fewer hedges. Her voice needed protection. The sarcasm stayed. The wishy-washy setup language went.

Now create what I call a voice bank. Open a document and fill one page with your signature moves. Pull examples from your best work — the sentences that made you grin when you wrote them, the metaphors your friends quote back to you, the rhythms that feel like your natural speaking pattern.

This isn't about ego. It's insurance.

When you're deep in revision and everything starts to look wrong, this bank reminds you what right looks like. You'll see patterns: how you build to a punchline, the way you layer sensory details, your favorite sentence shapes. These patterns are your voice. Learn to spot them so you learn to preserve them.

But here's what trips up even experienced writers: they confuse personal quirks with voice. Voice isn't every weird thing you do on the page. It's the weird things that work.

Take filler words. "Just" and "really" and "sort of" sneak into everyone's drafts. Sometimes they carry meaning — a character's uncertainty, a narrator's casual tone. Most times they're just typing habits. Learn to tell the difference.

Same with sentence length. Varying your rhythm serves style and voice both. But if every sentence runs twenty-five words because that's "your style," you're not protecting voice. You're protecting laziness.

Set purpose-driven goals for your polishing. Don't edit to sound like someone else's idea of good writing. Edit to serve your intent. Want readers to laugh? Cut anything that buries the punchline. Want them to feel unsettled? Keep the jagged rhythms but fix the unclear antecedents that confuse instead of unsettle.

This is editing with intention instead of insecurity.

Maya Angelou rewrote pages dozens of times, but she wasn't trying to write like anyone else. She was hunting for the clearest path to her truth. The voice — generous, musical, unflinching — never changed. The style evolved to serve it better.

Your voice is already there. It's been there since your first journal entry or school essay. Style is the tool that helps more people hear it.

Audit Your Current Style

Before you polish, take a snapshot. Guesswork muddies your voice. Data sharpens it.

Start with a baseline. Pull 1,000 words that feel like you. Not your single best paragraph. A normal slice. A blog post, a chapter, a newsletter. Print it or open it on screen. Highlight the lines that sound like you. Mark the ones that feel flat or off.

Example:

• Sounds like me: “My coffee tasted like burnt hope, but I drank it anyway.”
• Off-key: “In this section, I will go over several points about coffee.”

Ask why. The first line holds a specific image and a shrugging tone. The second line dodges the point and hides behind throat-clearing. Keep this simple lens through the rest of the audit.

Measure what matters

You do not need a lab coat. A few numbers will tell you plenty.

• Average sentence length. Paste your sample into a readability tool such as Hemingway or ProWritingAid, or use Word’s readability stats. Note the average words per sentence. Most writers sit between 12 and 22. Long chains slow readers. A sea of short bursts tires them. Range gives rhythm.
• Passive voice percentage. Run the same tools or apply the quick test. If you can add “by zombies” to the end of a sentence and it still works, you have passive voice. “The cake was eaten” fits. “Sam ate the cake” does not. Passive has uses, but too much hides action and muddies meaning.
• Adverb density. Do a search for “ ly” with a space before it. You will catch many -ly adverbs without snagging words like “family.” Mark each one and ask if a stronger verb would do. “Walked quickly” becomes “hurried.” Keep the few that carry tone.
• Readability score. Look at the grade level from your tool of choice. It reflects sentence length and word complexity, not intelligence. A grade 7 piece often feels brisk. A grade 11 piece often feels academic. Match score to purpose and audience.

Write the numbers down. Put a date next to them. You are building a baseline for future passes.

Build a tics and filler list

Every writer has verbal habits that sneak in and water down the line. Make a personal list. Include words such as “just,” “really,” “suddenly,” “that,” “even,” and the phrase “began to.” Add your pet hedges, like “I think” and “it seems.”

Now search your sample. Each time you find one, test it.

• Does it carry tone or character? If a hedge signals a narrator’s caution, keep it once.
• Does it repeat a meaning already clear in the sentence? Cut it.
• Does it slow the beat before a punchline or reveal? Trim it, then read aloud to check the new pace.

Drop this list into a document named tics.txt. You will use it in every revision pass.

Take a syntax snapshot

You have favorite sentence openings. Everyone does. The trick is to notice the pattern, then vary it with intent.

Mark the first two or three words of each sentence in your sample. Now skim only those starts. You might see a string of subject-verb openings.

• “I walked to the door. I opened it. I looked outside.”

Or a run of clause-heavy starts.

• “When I reached the door, when I heard the noise, when the cat yowled.”

Variety helps your voice breathe. Try alternate starts in revision.

• Prepositional: “After the meeting, we ordered dumplings.”
• Participial: “Running late, I skipped the elevator.”
• Adverbial: “Later, the room felt smaller.”
• Interrogative: “What happens if you delete the apology in that sentence?”

You do not need fireworks. A few different openings, placed with intent, lift the music of the page.

Ask for feedback with focus

Beta readers often give global notes. Helpful, but vague. Give them a sharper brief.

Send the same 1,000 words. Add three questions.

• Where did my voice sound dim or generic? Mark the line or leave a timestamp.
• Where did you hear me most clearly? Mark that too.
• Where did you stumble or reread?

Ask for line numbers or comments in the margin. Ten minutes of precise feedback beats a page of polite generalities. When the notes return, compare them to your highlights. Agreement points to action. Disagreement points to an experiment. Try both versions and read aloud.

Make a style map

A style map turns this audit into a tool rather than a one-off exercise. Create a simple record you update over time.

Include:

• Date and project title.
• Average sentence length.
• Passive voice percentage.
• Adverb count and a few examples you kept on purpose.
• Readability score.
• Common openings you noticed.
• Top three tics flagged.
• Two lines readers loved. Two lines readers found dull.

Example, before:

• Avg sentence length: 21 words
• Passive: 16 percent
• -ly adverbs: 28 in 1,000 words
• Readability: Grade 10
• Openings: heavy on “I” and “When”
• Tics: “that,” “just,” “I think”
• Reader loves: the burnt coffee line, a sharp aside in paragraph 4
• Reader dull: the intro paragraph, a summary sentence near the end

After a revision focused on clarity and rhythm:

• Avg sentence length: 16 words
• Passive: 7 percent
• -ly adverbs: 9 in 1,000 words
• Readability: Grade 7
• Openings: mix of subject-verb, prepositional, and questions
• Tics: “that” trimmed by half, “I think” removed unless it signaled doubt
• Reader loves: same two lines, plus a tightened description in paragraph 2
• Reader dull: intro replaced with a concrete scene

The map shows progress without sanding off the edges that make you sound like you. It also keeps you honest. If your numbers improve while readers say the voice went flat, you know where to look. Restore cadence, not clutter.

A quick weekly ritual

Set a timer for 30 minutes.

• Pull a fresh 1,000-word slice.
• Highlight voice-strong and voice-dim lines.
• Run the stats and record them in your map.
• Search your tics list.
• Rewrite two sentences for rhythm and two for precision.
• Read the whole slice aloud.

That small cadence of attention teaches you more about your style than a shelf of advice. You learn how your sentences move. You see which fixes help your voice and which edits scrape it thin. Keep the map. Keep the habit. Your future drafts will thank you.

Clarity and Concision Without Flattening Voice

Clean writing makes your voice easier to hear. Not quieter. Cleaner.

Start with the choke points.

Cut throat-clearing

Openings like “In order to,” “It’s important to note,” “I want to say,” stall the car. You burn fuel without moving.

Before:

• In order to explain the problem, let’s discuss the process.
• It’s important to note, many people struggle with this step.

After:

• Here is the problem. Here is the process.
• Many writers struggle with this step.

Action first. Idea first. If a sentence needs a runway, give it one fast step, then take off.

Mini-exercise:

• Open an old draft. Highlight every sentence that starts with a softener phrase.
• Delete the softener. Read the sentence out loud.
• If the meaning still holds, keep the cut.

Prefer concrete verbs

Weak verb plus adverb makes mush. A precise verb snaps the line tight.

• walked quickly → hurried
• look carefully → inspect
• gave a smile → smiled
• start to cry → weep
• moved slowly → crept
• said loudly → shouted

Use the right verb once. You save words. You add force. Your tone gets sharper without growing harsh.

Try this:

• Pick a 200-word passage.
• Circle every -ly adverb.
• Replace the pair with one stronger verb, or keep one adverb that carries tone.

Trim stackers

Hedge piles blur intent. Sort of. Kind of. Maybe. A little. Often you stack three in one sentence and none earn the space.

Before:

• I was kind of, sort of, a little worried the pitch would fall flat.

After:

• I was worried the pitch would fall flat.
• Or, if the hedge is voicey: I was sort of worried the pitch would fall flat.

Keep one hedge when it signals character. Cut the rest. Your reader still hears your shrug.

One vivid detail per paragraph

You do not need a firework show. You need one anchor detail that signals voice and sets the scene.

• The meeting room smelled like dry erase dust and old oranges.
• The copy chief wore a tie the color of a legal pad.

One per paragraph is plenty. Readers remember one clean image more than five fuzzy ones. Pick a sensory hit, a sly aside, or a precise noun. Then move on.

Exercise:

• Take a bland paragraph.
• Add one specific noun, one sensory cue, or one wry aside.
• Remove any extra garnish you added out of enthusiasm.

Remove filter words in close POV

Filter words pull readers back a step. In close point of view, they waste space.

• I saw the dog sprint across the road → The dog sprinted across the road.
• She noticed the light flicker → The light flickered.
• They felt the floor tilt → The floor tilted.

You do not need to announce perception. Show what the character perceives. We stay inside their skull without the extra gate.

Tip:

• Search for see, saw, notice, felt, hear, heard, realize, begin to.
• When distance helps, keep one. When immersion helps, cut.

Preserve signature comparisons

Your offbeat comparison is a fingerprint. Keep it. Tighten around it.

Before:

• The office hummed like a beehive, which is something I often think about when the team types at once, because the sound rises and swells and goes back down.

After:

• The office hummed like a beehive. The sound rose, swelled, then sank.

The image carries personality. The revision trims the brush around the flower, not the bloom.

Guardrails:

• Fresh image tied to your world or your narrator’s world stays.
• Cliché goes. Or gets rebuilt with a new angle.

The read-aloud test

Your mouth knows when a sentence fights you. Read your paragraph aloud.

• If you run out of breath, shorten or split.
• If the rhythm clacks, swap a noun, shift a clause, or move a beat word.
• If the line sings, leave it alone. Do not sand the edges off a good cadence.

Quick script:

• Print a page.
• Mark a slash where you pause naturally.
• Where pauses cluster, try a shorter sentence.
• Where the beat feels flat, try one short punch.

Before-and-after mini clinic

Original:

• In order to make progress, I decided to really start to write more, which is something I often say, but on this particular morning I felt like I was kind of ready.

Revision:

• I wanted progress, so I wrote. I say that often. This morning, I meant it.

What changed:

• Throat-clearing removed.
• Weak pairs replaced with one strong verb.
• Stackers trimmed to one hedge for tone.
• Filter cropped.
• Cadence shaped for punch.

A five-minute clarity pass

Use this when time is tight.

• Cut any soft opener at the start of a sentence.
• Replace one weak pair with one exact verb.
• Remove one hedge stack.
• Add one concrete detail.
• Drop one filter word.
• Read aloud once.

You have now tightened the line while leaving your voice intact. Less fog. More signal. The person on the page still sounds like you, only clearer.

Rhythm, Syntax, and Pacing

Rhythm drives attention. Syntax sets order. Pacing controls pressure. Get those three working together, and readers glide where you want them.

Mix lengths with intent

Many writers live in the middle. Ten to fifteen words per sentence. Safe. Smooth. Forgettable.

Break the pattern.

• Short lines hit hard. They punch.
• Medium lines carry facts.
• Long lines gather nuance, then release.

Before:

• The launch went fine, and we collected feedback from users, and the team will meet next week to plan a second iteration of the feature.

After:

• The launch went fine. We collected feedback. Next week, the team meets to plan version two. Then we push harder.

Use one-line bursts to jolt. Follow with a longer sweep to explain. Alternate. Readers stay awake.

Quick drill:

• Take a paragraph of four similar sentences.
• Make one short. Make one long. Keep two moderate.

Vary your openings

Same opening, over and over, numbs the ear. Switch the gate you walk through.

• Subject first: The client missed the deadline.
• Prepositional opener: After two reminders, the client missed the deadline.
• Participial opener: Running on three hours of sleep, I rewrote the deck.
• Adverbial opener: Suddenly, the room went silent.
• Question: Who signed off on this budget?

Write five versions of one line, each with a different start. Pick the one that serves mood and purpose.

Use fragments sparingly

Fragments add emphasis. They speed the eye. They sound like thought.

• I told him no. Full stop.
• The fix seemed simple. Too simple.
• She walked away. Faster now.

Use fragments in clusters and readers trip. Balance them with full sentences. Clarity first.

Check yourself:

• Read a page.
• If fragments outnumber full sentences, restore some structure.

Periodic versus loose sentences

Pick the structure that matches the moment.

• Loose sentence leads with the main clause:
  • The crowd erupted, then the announcer tried to regain control while confetti drifted.
• Periodic sentence holds the main clause to the end:
  • While confetti drifted and the announcer tried to regain control, the crowd erupted.

Loose gives speed. Periodic builds tension. Use loose for clean delivery. Use periodic when you want a small coil of suspense.

Test:

• Write both versions.
• Ask which one suits the beat you want. Keep only one.

Rhetorical devices, light touch

These tools shape rhythm. Use with purpose.

• Anaphora, repetition at the start:
  • We plan for risk. We plan for failure. We plan for recovery.
  Repetition adds weight. Three beats often feels right.
• Asyndeton, no conjunctions:
  • We argued, packed, left.
  Faster. Harsher. Good for pressure.
• Polysyndeton, extra conjunctions:
  • We argued and packed and left.
  Slower. Heavier. Good for dread or stubbornness.
• Parallelism, matched structure:
  • Write with clarity, revise with care, publish with nerve.
  Balance creates flow. It also helps readers remember.

Use once per page or scene. When every line performs, none stand out.

Shape paragraphs for pace

One core idea per paragraph. No crowd scenes. Use a pivot to deepen the idea, not to wander away from it.

Example:

• First two sentences, set the claim: The meeting wasted an hour. The agenda had four items, none with owners.
• Mid pivot, shift from report to insight: The problem was not time. The problem was responsibility.
• Final line, forward motion: Next week, every item gets a name and a deadline.

Short paragraphs move fast. Dense paragraphs slow down. Place them where you want speed or gravity.

Checklist:

• Scan your page. Mark fat blocks and thin ones.
• Thin blocks near action. Fat blocks near reflection.

Dialogue as a pacing lever

White space speeds the eye. Dialogue creates white space.

Fast exchange:

• "You sent the file?"
• "Ten minutes ago."
• "To everyone?"
• "Everyone who shows up."

Add grounding beats when you need texture or tone.

• "You sent the file?"
• "Ten minutes ago." She kept typing, eyes on the clock.
• "To everyone?"
• "Everyone who shows up." A smile, quick and mean.

Cut greetings and small talk unless they reveal character. Use one line of interior thought to steer mood, then get back to the back-and-forth.

A mini rhythm clinic

Take this flat paragraph:

• The product failed because the setup steps were confusing and the support team was slow to reply and our messaging promised a quick start, which was not true for many users who wrote long emails to complain.

Tune it:

• The product failed. Setup steps confused new users. Support replied late. Our messaging promised a quick start. For many, that promise broke. Their emails were long and sharp.

What changed:

• Mixed lengths.
• Clear sequence.
• One idea per sentence.
• Pressure rises as lines shorten, then eases.

Five-minute pacing pass

• Break any chain sentence into two or three parts.
• Make one sentence punchy. Make one generous.
• Change one opening to a prepositional or participial start.
• Add one fragment for edge, then check balance.
• Try one periodic sentence where you want suspense.
• Use one device, not three.
• Split a heavy paragraph. Merge two thin ones if they fight for the same idea.
• Read aloud. Where you stumble

Word Choice that Reflects Personality

Words signal who you are on the page. Every noun, every verb, every comparison. Choose with intent, and readers hear you.

Choose a register that fits

Register is the outfit your sentences wear. Pick one that suits narrator, genre, and audience. Stay in it without slipping.

One message, three voices:

• Academic: The samples returned negative results, confirming no contamination.
• Journalist: Tests came back clean. No contamination.
• Hardboiled: Results came back clean. No dirt.

Mismatch jars readers. A noir detective saying, The results suggest the presence of anomalies, feels wrong. A research report saying, The lab says no dice, also wrong.

Quick drill:

• Write one paragraph in your natural voice.
• Rewrite for a teen diarist. Then for a legal memo. Then for a campfire storyteller.
• Notice how diction, sentence shape, and rhythm shift. Keep the version that serves your piece.

Favor specific nouns and precise verbs

Adjectives love to pile up. Precision does more work with fewer words.

Before:

• The big dog ran quickly across the yard to the back fence.

After:

• The mastiff sprinted across the yard to the back fence.

Before:

• She was very angry during the meeting.

After:

• She seethed during the meeting.

Before:

• He made a decision to start working on the plan.

After:

• He committed to the plan.

Swap furniture for sofa or stool. Swap looked for scanned, squinted, stared. Concrete terms build trust. Precise verbs set pace.

Mini test:

• Circle every adjective and adverb on one page.
• Replace half with a sharper noun or verb.
• Read aloud. Listen for strength.

Refresh figurative language

Clichés feel like autopilot. Fresh image, fresh voice.

Trade stock lines for obsession-linked images.

• Chef narrator:
  • Tired cliché: Busy as a bee.
  • Fresh: Tickets kept coming, a stack of orders taller than the salt bins.
• Long-haul driver:
  • Tired cliché: Needle in a haystack.
  • Fresh: One exit sign in a hundred miles of dark, a small green promise.
• Beekeeper:
  • Tired cliché: Cold as ice.
  • Fresh: Cold that stiffened the suits and slowed every hive until the frames hummed low.

Build from the character’s world. Tools, rituals, weather, work slang. Freshness lives in the familiar, named with care.

Exercise:

• List five objects your narrator touches weekly.
• Write three comparisons using only those objects.
• Pick one that surprises you, then prune the sentence around it.

Keep tonal consistency

Tone is temperature. Wry. Earnest. Lyrical. Choose a range and stick to it scene by scene.

Think of a slider. Set it before you draft.

• Wry: He apologized with the enthusiasm of a cat near a bathtub.
• Earnest: He apologized, voice soft, eyes steady.
• Lyrical: His apology pooled in the quiet, a slow tide inching over tile.

Sudden shifts feel like static. If a scene needs a new temperature, flag the change. A beat, a line of interior thought, a sensory shift. Ease readers into the new room.

Quick guardrail:

• Write three tone words at the top of the page.
• After each paragraph, check alignment with those words.
• Adjust sentences, not soul.

Respect POV distance

Point of view shapes diction. Close distance invites intimacy and idiom. Distant stance prefers neutral language.

Same moment, two distances:

• Close:
  • Door rattles. Heart kicks. No backup. I grip the wrench and count to three.
• Distant:
  • The door rattled. His heart rate rose. With no support, he gripped a wrench and counted to three.

Close sounds like thought. Contractions, slang, quick pivots. Distant sounds observed. Fewer idioms. Cleaner syntax. Pick one lane and stay in it unless the story signals a shift.

Test:

• Mark one page as C for close or D for distant.
• Remove phrasing that fights the label.
• Read aloud with that stance in mind.

Use leitmotifs

A leitmotif is a small recurring element. An image, a phrase, a sound. Bring it back with purpose, and your voice gains a thread.

Examples:

• A reporter narrator who keeps mentioning shoes. Newscasters’ polished loafers. Protesters’ torn sneakers. The mayor’s mud on patent leather.
• A memoir that repeats a line Grandma said. Not every chapter. Key turns only. The line matures as the narrator matures.
• A thriller that returns to water. A map stained with coffee rings. Rain in the hallway light. A glass sweating circles on a file.

Return with variations. Shift context. Change stakes. Build meaning over time.

Simple start:

• Pick one object and one phrase that matter to your narrator.
• Plant both three times across the piece.
• Each time, tweak the angle or weight.

A quick word test

When a sentence feels flat, run this:

• Noun check: trade general for specific, room for pantry, plant for rosemary, car for hatchback.
• Verb check: trade helper verbs for action, was running for ran, went for drove, did a search for searched.
• Tone check: read one line aloud with your tone words in mind.
• POV check: remove filter phrases if the scene sits in a close stance, I saw, she noticed, they felt.
• Motif check: thread one tiny echo from earlier, only if the moment earns it.

Language choices shape presence on the page. Pick a register that fits. Choose nouns and verbs with spine. Retire clichés, then replace them with images rooted in your world. Guard tone. Honor distance. Thread a few echoes. Readers will hear you, line after line.

Edit in Layers to Protect Voice

Here's the trap: you draft with soul, then edit the life out of it. Fix everything at once and you sand away what made the piece yours. The solution? Edit in stages. Protect voice by separating technical fixes from personality.

Stage your revisions

Don't try to catch structure, grammar, and voice drift in one pass. Your brain switches between different editorial gears, and each gear needs focus.

Start with the big picture:

Structure pass: Does the piece flow logically? Are paragraphs in the right order? Do transitions work? Fix the skeleton before you worry about the skin.

Line editing: Now look at sentences. Cut deadwood. Tighten loose phrases. Swap weak verbs. Check for clarity and flow within paragraphs.

Copyediting: Hunt grammar mistakes, punctuation errors, and consistency issues. Spell-check. Format headings. The technical stuff.

Proofreading: Final sweep for typos and missed errors. Read backward, sentence by sentence, to catch what your brain autocorrects.

Think of it like renovating a house. You don't install crown molding while the electrician rewires the kitchen. One job at a time, proper order, better results.

Try this:

• Print your draft.
• Take four different colored pens.
• Mark structural notes in blue, line edits in red, copyedits in green, proofreading in black.
• Work one color at a time.

Do a dedicated voice pass last

After all the technical fixes, your prose might sound cleaner but feel flat. Time for a voice restoration pass.

Read the piece aloud. Listen for places where your personality got edited out. Mark sentences that sound like anyone wrote them. These need life pumped back in.

Look for:

• Sentences that lost their rhythm during tightening
• Metaphors that got cut but carried your voice
• Dialogue that sounds too formal after grammar fixes
• Transitions that work logically but feel mechanical

Example of voice restoration:

Technical edit result:

• The meeting was difficult. Everyone disagreed about the budget.

Voice restoration:

• The meeting felt like herding cats with calculators. Everyone had opinions about the budget, and none of them matched.

The first version works. The second version sounds like a person wrote it.

Pro tip: Keep your original draft open in another window during voice pass. Sometimes the raw version had better cadence than the cleaned-up one.

Build a personal style guide

Create a cheat sheet for future you. Document the choices that reflect your voice, not just grammar rules.

Include:

• Punctuation preferences: Oxford comma or not? Em dashes or commas? Periods inside quotes?
• Spelling choices: Gray or grey? Toward or towards? Email or e-mail?
• Voice dos and don'ts: Do use fragments for emphasis. Don't use corporate speak. Do lean into specific details.
• Signature elements: Your go-to metaphors, recurring images, favorite sentence structures.

Sample style guide entries:

• Use short paragraphs for punch. Long ones for flow.
• Contractions sound natural. Use them.
• Replace "in order to" with "to."
• When stuck, ask: What would I say to a friend?

Update the guide as you learn your preferences. After six months, you'll spot patterns you missed before.

Search-and-review with purpose

Your word processor's search function becomes a precision editing tool. Hunt your specific weak spots.

Run searches for:

• Your filler words: Search for "just," "really," "very," "quite," "rather." Delete most of them.
• Passive voice markers: "was," "were," "being," "been" followed by past participles. Convert to active when it strengthens the sentence.
• Filter words: "I saw," "she noticed," "he felt," "they heard." Cut them in close POV.
• Weak starts: "There are," "there is," "it is." Rewrite for stronger openings.

Example search-and-replace session:

Search: "There are many"

Results: "There are many reasons why this approach works."

Fix: "This approach works for several reasons."

Search: "was being"

Results: "The door was being opened by the security guard."

Fix: "The security guard opened the door."

Don't auto-replace everything. Read each instance. Some passive constructions serve your voice. Some filter words add intimacy. Edit with intent, not rules.

Keep a "saved cuts" file

You'll cut sentences that you love but that don't serve the piece. Don't delete them forever. Save them.

Create a document called "Good Lines - [Project Name]." Paste in metaphors, turns of phrase, and vivid details that got trimmed. Sometimes you find a perfect spot for them later. Sometimes they inspire new work.

Example saved cut:

• Original context: Character description that slowed the pace.
• Saved line: "She collected grudges like other people collected coffee mugs, arranging them on mental shelves where she could admire them daily."
• New use: Perfect for a different character in chapter twelve.

This practice also teaches you about your voice. Read your saved cuts file after a few projects. You'll see patterns in what you naturally write when you're not self-censoring.

Use read-aloud to catch problems

Your ears catch what your eyes miss. Read your edited draft aloud, or use text-to-speech software.

Listen for:

• Rhythm problems: Sentences that trip your tongue
• Tonal shifts: Places where the voice changes temperature unexpectedly
• Flat spots: Paragraphs that drone compared to livelier sections
• Awkward word choices: Terms that sound forced when spoken

If you stumble reading a sentence, your reader will stumble too. If it sounds robotic, add human touches. If it bores you to speak it, it will bore readers to read it.

Quick test: Record yourself reading three paragraphs. Play it back. Would you want to listen to more?

Brief your beta readers about voice

Most beta readers focus on plot and character. Train them to watch your voice too.

Share your voice pillars before they read. Say: "I aim for wry, image-rich, and conversational. Tell me where I lost that or where the polish felt like sandpaper."

Ask specific questions:

• "Which paragraphs sounded generic?"
• "Where did my personality feel strongest?"
• "Did any edited sections feel over-polished compared to the rest?"
• "Mark places where you heard my voice clearly."

Give them permission to be picky about language, not just story. A reader who says "This sentence sounds like anyone wrote it" gives you gold.

Sample beta reader instruction:

"I've marked this draft heavily for clarity and flow. Please read with my voice in mind. I want to sound like [your three voice traits]. Flag any sections where I sound like a manual instead of a human."

The goal isn't perfection. The goal is prose that serves your story without erasing you from the page. Layer your edits, protect what makes you recognizable, and trust that polish should amplify personality, not replace it.

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