I gots voice, you gots voice. All God's chilluns gots voice.

Sweet, snarky, wistful, despairing. Soprano, contralto, tenor, baritone. All good voices. They all have their uses. But to come to their full potential, they have to be trained.

A decent singer with an untrained voice can carry a tune pretty well. Not much range, not much depth, but they're still on key. Not horrible to listen to, but probably fairly forgettable.

A singer with a trained voice, however, is captivating. Mesmerizing. From the glorious heights to the very depths of sound, a singer with a well trained voice is an instrument of beauty.

. I'm a straight contralto with a low break. That means that my voice breaks into a different tone, almost like a falsetto, at around middle C -- quite low for a woman. In fact, I can sing lower than a few male tenors I know. But that's not the point.

When I took voice lessons, it was amazing to notice how -- within weeks -- my voice went from merely pleasant to capable of holding an audience. Not by sheer volume, which I have in spades, but by a newly learned ability to control it. Make it do what I wanted. With training, my break was breached. I hit a solid E before breaking. And when I did, I was able to sail over the break without it being obvious. I learned to control my breathing, I learned techniques that gave my voice, well, a voice. Character, quirks, a unique tone to fit whatever I was singing.

Now let's take this metaphor and make it useful on paper.

An untrained writer with any smattering of skill can tell a story. First this happened, then this, then this. It may even be an exciting story with a clever conclusion.

But train that voice? And you've got JR Ward. Jenny Crusie. Laura Kinsale. You've got people who can move readers to tears, to laughter, to rage and to grief.

It seems, however, that training a writing voice may be more difficult than training a physical one. For one thing, we're far more stubborn on paper. While we may admit that our physical voice could do with some smoothing over, when it comes to writing we say, "No, no. We like our voice the way it is."

Once we’ve grown enough to get past that initial, "But what's wrong with the way I sound?" we can be molded. We're willing to go up the scale and finally hear that ear-shattering screech for what it really is.

Then, how do you fix it? By going back to the basics. And I mean basics. Learning how to stand, how to breathe, how to shape your mouth to get the right sounds.

In writing, this may mean spending some time with Strunk and White. A well-trained voice is never sloppy in its heart.

Once you've crossed that hurdle, it's a combination of practice, practice, practice and listen, listen, listen.

The thing is, it's not just practice, practice and listen, listen. It's a very active process.

Another word about practice. I learned from a pianist friend that it's not just "Practice makes perfect. It's "Perfect practice makes perfect."

If you spot a flaw in your writing, you can't just keep repeating the same flaw over and over. You don't learn from that. You spot the flaw, you fix it, you keep an eye open for it. Eventually, that flaw is conquered. On to the next flaw.

Once you've got the basics down and you've learned to spot the flaws, then you learn to manipulate your voice.

Jason Alexander -- yes, George Costanza from Seinfeld -- actually has an amazing voice. Not only does he do the full-up, slightly nasal, big Broadway voice for laughs, but he's able to sing a ballad that can make you cry. It's all in how he uses his voice. Smooth over the rough edges and make it pure. Billow up that flat nasality and make it full. Pull back to a whisper, then cry out to the heavens. Short. Choppy. Phrases. Or long, lyrical, vibrato passages.

As writers, we do the exact same thing. Learn to vary your voice. Make it fit the story, make it fit the character, make it hit the note you want.

And how do you learn to do that, short of having an actual teacher stand over your shoulder? You listen.

Listening for writers is reading. And learning what's crap and what isn't. We don't all have the same tastes and one person's wall-banger is another person's keeper. For instance, I don't think Kelly Clarkson can carry a tune in a bucket, but I'm a sucker for Carly Simon.

I know that when I started writing, it kind of sucked some of the fun out of reading for a while. I analyzed every single thing I read. After a while, I got most of the enjoyment back, but I've become a lot more discerning about the things I take the time to read. Things that are on my keeper shelf start looking ragged really quickly. I read them over and over and start to hear even more of the nuances behind an author’s voice.

That’s when the magic happens.

Two people can sing the same song. Both can be technically proficient. But only one will really speak to me. Why? It's how they use their instrument. Their voice.

Sing to me, sweetheart.

Author Bio

Sela Carsen is a wife, a mom, a writer and a singer. Sort of. It depends on who’s listening, doesn’t it? She writes novellas and short stories for Samhain, Forbidden and Freya’s Bower. Her next story, HEART OF THE SEA, is a paranormal romantic comedy scheduled for release this fall from Samhain.

Check out her blog for the answer to the age-old question – What Was She Thinking?

Blog: http://selacarsen.blogspot.com/

Website: http://selacarsen.com/

Email: selacarsen@hotmail.com