The Inner Voice

Renée Fleming is one of my favorite opera singers. In her book about her singing life, The Inner Voice, she describes that magical moment for the singer during performance:

For me, the singer's art is the art of expression; expressing the music, expressing the text, projecting my voice into a large space, and then using it to make that space between me and the audience grow smaller and smaller. My voice becomes a wide net, which I spread out across all of us to draw us closer together.

If everything is going right, there are moments in a performance when the audience is absolutely silent, and you know you have it in your hand. Those are the moments performers live for.

Sometimes I like to imagine my voice as something tangible, an object that I could touch, or even another person. Sometimes my voice is something more ephemeral, like a color or sensation, or simply a vessel for the composer and the poet. In my novel, my protagonist feels it this way:

Lettie began to play the simple accompaniment and sang softly; it was odd to hear her voice come out so clear and disembodied, after so many months. It was as though a silk scarf had unwound from around her neck and now floated in the air; alive, reaching out, like a dancer?s arms.

It's interesting that as writers, we also talk about our characters having a 'voice' and how important it is. What do you think about your own voice?