Passive vs Active Voice? What Does That Even Mean?

As a newbie author, I was obsessively checking my email, anxiously awaiting my first round of editor notes on my very first manuscript. Would it be full of red strike-outs? Did I put commas in all the right spots? What would be the number one thing she wanted me to fix?

Aside from eliminating one space from the two I had inserted after each and every sentence ended (because I grew up in the 70s and 80s and that’s what we were taught to do on our typewriters, thank you very much) the number one note she had for me was to go through my manuscript and identify the passive voice and, where appropriate, replace it with active voice. She instructed me to “show, not tell.”

Huh? What in the world did she mean by that? She had marked a few sentences as passive so I had a place to start but I had no idea how to make those passages active.

Google to the rescue, I did some research and discovered the difference. Passive voice, put simply, is when the subject of the sentence is acted upon by the verb. For example, “The cheesecake was stolen by my dog.” The subject (cheesecake) was acted on using the verb (was stolen) by the object (my dog).

In active voice, the subject is performing the action. “My dog stole the cheesecake.” It is usually a more direct, stronger way to communicate. And it’s really up to the author to determine what kind of prose is needed based on what they are trying to convey, or what kind of emotion they are hoping to invoke.

Passive voice isn’t “wrong” or “bad” writing but it can be (and often is) used poorly. However, there are times when it is preferred. If the object of the sentence is not important or if you want to minimize the object, passive may work. For example, if you didn’t want to blow your dog in, you could say, “The cheesecake was stolen.” The subject is obscured, intentionally, so we don’t know who did the stealing. To make that same sentence active you would say, “Someone stole the cheesecake.”

Journalists often use passive voice very effectively and the distance it creates works for reporting the news. It doesn’t usually work as well in fiction writing, as it can create distance where you want to create connection. You will still use it some in fiction and there’s nothing wrong with it. Just don’t use it all the time.

Here are a few examples of passive and active voice.

“There were bronze sconces on either side of the fireplace.” (Passive)

“Bronze sconces framed the fireplace.” (Active)

“The mound of dirty dishes was washed by hand.” (Passive)

“I hand-washed the mound of dirty dishes.” (Active)

And now lets see how this plays out in long form:

Emily walked into the room she would call home for the winter semester. The walls were a soft yellow and the cherry floors were covered by a massive braided blue and white rug. There was a bed on the far wall with windows on either side. The bed had lots of pillows along the headboard and a throw blanket was artfully tossed at an angle on the foot of the bed. To the right there was a lit fireplace with velvet wingback chairs in front of it. She could totally see herself curling up with a good book in one of the chairs tonight.

You might not be able to pinpoint why, as a reader, the previous paragraph feels a bit awkward and clumsy. But as a writer, you should be able to immediately identify the culprit as a paragraph chock full of passive writing.

The following communicates the same basic details as the earlier paragraph, but it does so with active language that draws the reader into the moment with the character.

Emily set her weathered bag down and took in the room she would call home for the winter semester. The soft yellow walls reminded her of early morning sunshine. A massive navy and cream, braided rug warmed the cherry hardwoods and on the far wall, twin lead-paned windows framed an incredibly comfy-looking queen-sized bed, smothered in creamy linens. If she didn’t have to get back downstairs for dinner, she would happily lose herself in the mounds of pillows and throws topping the down comforter. To the right, a pair of velvety wingback chairs flanked the fireplace where the crackling fire tempted her to stay for a while, curled up with a good book. Later, she promised herself with a wistful sigh.

Can you see and feel the difference? Both described the room. But one paragraph told you what the room looked like. While the other showed you with a combination of active descriptions and emotional reactions. Which was more enjoyable to read? I’m hoping it was the second one.

Passive writing creates distance between the writer and the reader. When you are telling the reader what the character sees using passive voice, it comes across as a list of features. When you use active voice, the reader feels like they are seeing through the character’s eyes and feeling what the character feels. It’s a powerful way to connect your readers to your characters on a deeper level.

So, if you, like me, are given the advice to minimize passive voice and use more active voice, how do you figure out where your writing needs work? Passive voice uses some form of the verb “to be” (am, is, are, was, were, be, being, been). I suggest you plug all of the “to be” verbs into your “find” feature in your writing software and read the sentences aloud to see who or what is doing the acting. Often the use of “was” isn’t because it’s passive. But that word is a good indicator that you may be dealing with passive voice.

This isn’t a science, it’s an art form and as the writer, you still get to decide what stays and what goes. I simply encourage you to find some creative ways to show, not tell. With practice you’ll start to notice passive voice as you’re writing and you’ll need to fix it less and less as you naturally start using more active voice in your writing.

Oh, and remember, it’s one space after a period. Not two, boomer.

Imperfect Progress

Imperfect Progress

But I was doing so well. Hmmff. (Insert pouting face here)

I was very proud of myself. I’d started up this new blog in February and I was determined to write every week. However, let's just say that consistency has never been my strong suit. It's never actually even been in my closet or card deck or wherever that expression comes from. So telling myself I would write weekly seemed a bit of a stretch. But I set my weekly writing time and I did it. For about two months I pushed “publish” once a week and if felt fabulous. (I know, two months doesn't seem like much to all my well organized and motivated reader friends. But for me...it was practically Mt. Everest. So go ahead, take a moment and silently applaud. Aw, shucks. You're making me blush.) Anywho...then life happened, as it does.

First, I went to a writer’s conference in April—which you would think wouldn’t be something to throw off my writing, but it did. Initially, just because I was gone for five days and then had to catch up on work and life stuff so my time was limited. But also because I was suddenly filled with so many ideas that I couldn’t seem to settle down and pick one to work on.

Days after that, in an effort to focus, I joined an amazing online course called Author School, taught by my favorite literary agent, Rachelle Gardner (you may be wondering how one decides on a favorite agent but when said agent reps all your favorite authors and has an incredible, generous website chock-full of vital info for writers, it's a no-brainer). Author School is a weekly live video course plus tons of extras online and on our Facebook group. It’s truly invaluable information and you would think that would have been something that got me writing again. But just after I started the course, my grandma passed away and that took me away from home for five days but also, obviously, took up some of my emotional bandwidth. 

So then, after I got home, I was going to get back on track. No doubt. It was gonna happen.

Until it didn’t. Because a few days later,

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