When the Voice Changes, So Does the Character
- Dieta Scheidecker
- May 14
- 2 min read
Updated: May 15
There’s a point in writing when a character’s voice stops sounding like something you’re crafting and starts revealing who they truly are. Not just their thoughts, but their fears, their defenses, their desires. Voice becomes the thread that ties their inner world to their outward actions—the hesitation in a half-formed sentence, the boldness in a challenge, the silence that lingers longer than it should. In The Fire and The Serpent, voice has been one of the clearest ways my characters have shown me who they are—and who they’re becoming.
Kenna didn’t arrive on the page fully formed. In the beginning, her voice was cautious—often too careful, shaped by the pressure of expectation and the weight of fear. But as the Flame within her stirred, that voice began to shift. Her thoughts became sharper, clearer. Her words cut deeper. Not louder, but bolder. More her own.
The Serpent, by contrast, has always spoken with the cadence of something ancient—measured, formal, never using contractions. It doesn’t waste words. And yet, even the Serpent’s voice has changed—subtly, in its growing attention to Kenna’s choices, in the way it begins to unravel, to lose focus.
And then there’s Kohnrad. His voice is steeped in layers. Every phrase is carefully chosen, shaped to guide, to test, to reveal, but only what he allows. There’s wisdom in it, a steady rhythm that invites the listener to slow down and consider what’s being said—and what’s being left unsaid. He rarely speaks without purpose. His words carry mystery, not for the sake of obscurity, but to make space for discovery. His voice hasn’t changed so much as it has deepened, becoming more of a map than a message.
Writing The Fire and The Serpent has reminded me that voice is one of the truest measures of transformation. It doesn’t always come in grand declarations. Sometimes it shows up in a single sentence—a word left out, a truth spoken plainly, a question asked without apology.
Characters grow. And if we’re patient—if we’re listening—their voices will tell us how.

Comentarios