Words are the instrument you play to the song of your ideas. According to Ze Frank, at least.
Words are the notes, the beats, hell… even the pulse of your idea-song. But they are not the instrument.
The instrument is the essence of your being.
Some writers stitch together words and suddenly they possess the rhythm of an old, tattered hand drum. Others join words in a manner that sings a soulful melody with a touch of sadness and a dash of mourning – not unlike the call of a saxophone. A writer friend of mine manages to weave words so delicately but with a spirited tone that I’d be inclined to identify her as a piccolo.
The instrument is our perspective: our individual, unmistakable imprint on those words.
It’s how we meld them together to make a story come to life. It’s how we craftily pluck from the same set of notes that every other writer has yet still manage to create a unique, one-of-a-kind impression on our audience.
Your voice is the instrument you play to the song of your ideas.
Your style is the genre.
And words are just the bountiful stock of notes and sounds we all have to choose from.