Everyone has their own unique voice-- both the one inside their head and the one they project to others. When writing the voice of your character (especially from a first person perspective), consider the extent of their vocabulary, common slang and phrases, restrictions, interests, and tones (ex. sarcasm) to make the reader feel like they've really crawled inside your character's head to truly connect with them and the story at hand.
Example:
The Irvine Public Library Saga: Part 1
*warning: profanity
The rest of the day was a blur, like a scratch in a CD. I’d figured out a variety of shortcuts to minimize my travel time from place to place, but somehow the dark cloud of Kruck found me no matter where I went, pestering me with the same demand to join his band of hooligans. Tempting as it was (not), it wasn’t exactly in my best interest to become some queen of those dipshits and wear a crown made of broken glass and cigarette butts.
I ambled along the invisible borderline between the West and the East side of the city, trudging up the concrete stairs towards the slightly crooked Irvine Public Library sign stuck to the wall above my head. I would've straightened it if it was within reach, but I couldn't be that lucky.
As I pushed on the heavy door I met the gaze of Mrs. Edwards, the silver-haired librarian who wore the shiniest lipstick ever created and sat at the throne that was her desk. We didn’t talk much at work, but we took turns shelving books and using the ancient computer to log book placements and such. Some systems didn’t need the exchange of words, even if we were surrounded by them.
My first order of business was pushing the large cart of lost books and returning them to their proper place on the shelves, which was a major pain-in-the-ass considering books were numbered from one to twenty-five-thousand, with shelves from the floor to the arc of the cathedral ceiling. However, most of the time the rows stood empty, and the only sound was the squeaking wheels of the cart, partly because the gothic stone arches of the exterior could be confused with a church... those who made this mistake usually turned around when they found out it was a place to worship pages as opposed to other entities. It stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the boxy blacked-out windows of surrounding buildings.
The bell above the front door chimed, and I quickly forgot the echo of its note as I picked up a dog-eared copy of Matilda, who I’m sure would’ve been a frequent visitor. She could’ve helped me put books in their place on the top shelf so I wouldn’t have to risk my neck climbing up the rickety ladder. Her story spread open in my hand while I mentally configured a long overdue grocery list for Sunday.
“That’s one of my favourites.” An oddly familiar voice asked. It was cautious, but curious and undeniably masculine. No matter how it sounded it was still a major inconvenience.
I glanced up, having to do a double take as I nearly dropped the book. A boy stood across the cart, doe-eyed and staring right at me. I was immediately hit with his tremendously wide, winsome smile you’d usually find without fail on billboard models. “You remember me?”
I did. He used to go to my high school, as a matter of fact he was in my class when we graduated only a few months back; I never really talked to him much; one of the only sure things I knew about him was that his style hadn’t changed since the ninth grade; it generally hovered somewhere in a John Hughes film, particularly The Breakfast Club where jeans and flannels reflected a more put-together John Bender but his smaller frame and soft brown hair screamed Brian Johnson so he couldn’t get the full effect. However, being a sucker for eighties movies, he definitely wasn’t an eyesore to me-- that was why he’d earned the nickname “Pretty Boy.”
“Yeah, yeah Jake, hey.”
“How’re things going? Enjoying the well-earned freedom?”
I set my eyes down on the floor as I fought the urge to roll them. “Well it’s not exactly freedom, just, just no school.”
“I hear you. I’m taking the year off, gonna get some work experience. Are you working?”
I gestured around me. “Yeah, here,” I turned and placed the book on the shelf hoping that when I turned again he would’ve disappeared; now that would’ve been a badass superpower.
“Looks like we’ll be coworkers then.”
Since my back was to him I could roll my eyes, so I took the opportunity. Jake would be the worst person to work in a library; I was shocked Catherine had even taken his application. He could talk a mile a minute and then some, and since he already knew me I’d be a prime wall for him to talk at. I turned to face him, trying to put on a polite smile. “Oh, cool.”
In that split second of our gaze I got a closer view of his eyes. They were piercing blue without a doubt, but closer there were sparkling gold flecks springing from both pupils. It was as if I were witnessing the birth of an entire universe; pulchritude yet pandemonium. The sun shone dimly through the lancet window, and the light looked like stars reflecting in them. They were more like galaxies now, perhaps nebulas. Nonetheless they were fascinating, and gazed rather kindly... too kindly.
“I start tomorrow,” he continued, “if you’re here and you're not busy or anything maybe you could show me around?”
“Yeah, I’ll, I’ll have to see if I’m working tomorrow.” I made a mental note in red ink to be both scarce and busy when I got to work the next day. “I better get back to…”
“Of course,” he took a step back, “hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Bye.”
With that he disappeared. I took a relieved deep breath, my energy draining into the carpet and I'd only just started my shift. I'd have to pick up a cup of coffee on my way to work from now on.
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