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@karamoonauthor.comSep 26, 2026, 7:04 AM

#pretendpanel this month I'd like to hype up the release of @bumblebigirl.bsky.social 's debut Dido on the Edge. If you're in Auckland, come along to the book launch (and come in costume - I will be!): events.humanitix.com/dido-on-the-...

@karamoonauthor.comSep 26, 2026, 7:00 AM

#pretendpanel , it's that time again. Thanks for joining me this month. See you again with a brand new theme in October.

September 26th: Freebie Saturday - post anything!

#WritingCommunity #Writers #Authors #WritingPrompts

#pretendpanel a daily prompt tag hosted by @karamoonauthor.com September 26th: Freebie Saturday! Post anything you want e.g. plug something, acknowledge someone, ask a question Please support your fellow #pretentpanel posters with replies, likes and reposts New #pretendpanel questions every Friday and Saturday. Hop in any time!
@zprospero.bsky.socialSep 26, 2026, 2:40 AM

#PretendPanel

Metaphor and simile mainly. I describe Lord Satan's voice as "like a fork caught in a garbage disposal" and as you can see below, Sergei has the power of "White People" voice when he's managering around.

#WriteSky #WritingCommunity

“Sergei, how badly has the new boy taken it?” Alexia approached Blake and waved her hand in front of his face. If he had been a statue, pigeons would have roosted on him. “He shouldn’t remember anything.” Sergei said, turning Blake around to face him. “Do you think you can complete your training today, or are you still feeling a little under the weather?” Sergei asked in a voice that could only put you in mind of mayonnaise on ham. Blake blinked back to consciousness.
@pjccahill.bsky.socialSep 26, 2026, 2:28 AM

From Cry Wolf, Rieka hearing Jiya speak for the first time:

"Mike, did you collect another stray?" the bartender teased. Her voice was relaxed, and was still a silky mixture of pitches that already meant Rieka would've listened to her reading a TOS agreement.

#pretendpanel

@scarletvmitchell.bsky.socialSep 26, 2026, 2:19 AM

#PretendPanel

Shoot. I don't focus a lot on sound or voices. If I do, it’s often in the form of metaphor.

But sometimes something calls for attention.

In the first snip, gargoyles are conducting a portal ritual.

The second is from a short story where I really committed to the bit🤣

to offer to those seeking refuge… Let us begin.” She said the final words quietly and the creaking increased as the priests took their places. Majestic burgundy robes fluttered in the wind, as if conscious of the drama of the moment, and a circle was formed around the edge of the platform. Then, one voice after another, began to speak. It was a language Helena had never heard before, not latin, perhaps coptic in flavor, but unfamiliar. It was not fluid, rather having a dramatic rhythm, punchy vowels, distinct breaks and percussive sounds from the throat. It was hypnotic and beautiful, ancient; a delight to listen to. Helena closed her eyes to soak it in for a moment. Then she felt something along her skin, like a rush of static, and every hair stood on end. A tingle ran up her spine, her “Hello there,” said the thing in a hollow voice that sounded like a whirlwind or the distant, anguished screams of tormented souls, “I noticed you staring.” He jumped when it spoke, shrinking further into his seat, sweat springing from his brow. “N… No, I… I…” gulp, “What… what are you?” “Do you normally go around asking people what they are?” it boomed in a slow and deliberate drawl, the anguished cries now sounding a tad more like a distant angry mob. “It’s rude.” “Yo… you’re not human!” The thing leaned back into its seat, contemplating him. “Putting aside the complex debate about my humanity or lack thereof… that wouldn’t be a problem, now, would it?” The thousand howling souls sounded both amused and slightly offended. It cocked an elbow onto the back of its seat in an attitude of conversational repose, revealing a bleached, skeletal hand, humanlike in structure but somehow distorted in size and length of phalange. He could barely speak, harrowed by the vision before him, curled defensively into his own seat as far as he could get from the thing, his suit crumpling, his hands hugging his ankles. “Are you here to kill me?” He finally managed to squeak in the barest whisper. “What? I didn’t quite catch that,” it intoned in its languid, whooshing voice of far away winds
@woodenvelt.bsky.socialSep 25, 2026, 11:04 PM

#Pretendpanel

Lots of figurative language. Love me a metaphor, a simile, hyperbole, the whole shebang.

#WritingCommunity #Writers #Authors #WritingPrompts

“Almost there,” Spencer told her in that silky rumble that made her want to rub up against him like a cat. He flung his arm up, giving Strix a boost as the bird snapped its charcoal-striped wings. Wind briefly
@evelynfenn.bsky.socialSep 25, 2026, 10:19 PM

#PretendPanel
My depictions of voice/conversations use body language and other characters' reactions as well as words and descriptions of tone.
I tend to describe ambient sound in conjunction with other environmental factors to paint a broader sensory picture.
A couple of snippets attached...

A few paragraphs of text (taken from the opening pages of How To Share A Cat And Other Life Lessons). The text says: Nikki's house pulsated with people and noise. Flashing lights and music spewed out of open windows, and the party spilled through the front door and into the garden. Everything about it was too loud, too busy, and too full of hangers-on hoping to be touched by fame. Moira excused her way through the throng on the steps and under the portico, using her elbows when words alone were not enough. Desperate to see a familiar face, she moved through the hallway and into the living room, keeping her eyes open for Nikki's distinctive turquoise mullet. Moira drew a blank. The pounding bass vibrated in her chest, making her queasy. Anywhere else, the neighbours would have called the police, but no doubt Nikki had avoided the problem by inviting the neighbours too. Nikki wasn't in the dining room, where the sound system made the floor shake, and screaming, writhing bodies danced to "Ant Music". The kitchen heaved with guests and smelled of weed, but there was no sign of Nikki there either. Moira yelled into the ear of a man holding a spliff. "You know where Nikki is?"Text taken From Friends Without Benefits, focusing on dialogue: “Santa isn’t real?” The wail came from Jeremiah and sliced through the hubbub like a cleaver through melted butter. Into the silence came Teddy’s lofty, big sister voice. “Of course Santa’s not real. Only babies believe in Santa.” This time, Jeremiah’s wail took the form of an incoherent sob. He wrenched his hand free and ran away, screaming for his parents. “Uh-oh,” said Teddy, more exhilarated than repentant. When someone mentioned Brexit, Santa’s sleigh, and custom’s controls, Clare knew the argument was running out of steam and began to lose interest. As she took a step away, she was lured back by an angry woman snapping, “You’ve been a wicked girl! How dare you tell your brother that Santa isn’t real!” Euphenia had arrived, and she’d brought reinforcements in the form of her husband. “They started it!” Teddy protested, gesturing towards the assembled adults. “You didn’t need to finish it! It’ll be coal in your stocking this Christmas, and you should consider yourself lucky to get even that!” “Mum!” Euphenia scoured the crowd with angry eyes. Her gaze came to rest on Ollie. “I should have known you would be involved!” “All I did was start the discussion. It’s not my fault so many people joined in,” said Ollie happily. “Ladies!” yelled Gerald, which earned him a scowl from Ollie. “I’m not a lady!” they snapped. “That’s for certain,” grumped Euphenia. There were a few sniggers and mutterings, and Gerald grew even angrier. “Time to break it up, everyone.” “But we were just getting started!” protested Rupert, looking mutinous. Clare caught Ollie looking at him with something akin to admiration shining in their eyes. “I said, ‘Enough’!” bellowed Gerald. Everyone stopped in their tracks. With the strains of a ballad from the 1980s playing in the background, Gerald lowered his voice and said, “You’re upsetting the kids…
@mcwrites27.bsky.socialSep 25, 2026, 9:26 PM

Voices are one of my favorite facets of a character and I love describing them. Whether it's using temperature, metaphor, or comparison, I love animating my character in my readers' minds as clearly as possible. Below is a variety of ways I describe them:
#pretendpanel #Writers #Authors #WriteSky

The Pretend Panel challenge is to find snippets that show how we as a writer describe voice. The following is an excerpt from my novel WIP Canary featuring a description of voice - Footsteps from the bridge, a sickeningly familiar sound cut through the silence. I silenced my breathing, eyes wide with absolute terror. The back of my neck prickled the same way it did when I passed through a ghost. My skin was cold and my mind's voice was screaming like a tornado. The Pretend Panel challenge is to find snippets that show how we as a writer describe voice. The following is an excerpt from my novel WIP Canary featuring a description of voice - "You don't need to be. I just want you to promise me that you'll drop it now that Bekah's home. Traumatic events can reshape the brain, even deleting memories of extreme pain or stress. A lot of studies have been done, but all of them boil down to the same things. Trauma isn't healed by treating the person as if it made them different, it's healed by treating someone as if they are a normal person with healing wounds that will get better. Because they will, eventually," she smiled, leaning towards me over her desk. Her voice was warm and maternal. The Pretend Panel challenge is to find snippets that show how we as a writer describe voice. The following is an excerpt from my novel WIP Canary featuring a description of voice - "Okay," she conceded. Her voice was smothered and small, like a hurt child. It wasn't her hurt to feel. She was ashamed her actions hurt me, not that she'd done it.
@alexfromawen.bsky.socialSep 25, 2026, 5:24 PM

#PretendPanel 9/25

Of the 5 senses, I think I describe external sounds less than the others. I just seem to forget them, unless they're intrinsically linked to actions, like in the samples below. It's something I'm working on.
As for voice, I know some people don't like them, but personally, I'm

Snippet from my superhero rom-com WIP: Void is still here, at the far end of the rooftop, and startles upright from a crouch. Turning, she takes a running leap across the alley at the back end of the building, landing with a roll on another rooftop. I’ve got her now. I’m after her again in a heartbeat.  I see the tripwire at the edge of the roof a second too late. It makes a sharp, metallic twang as I hit it. “Whaaa!” I yelp as I’m suddenly hurtling over the edge, face first. I have a split-second flashing image of me smashing down five stories in a crumpled heap, even as my training takes over, telling me to tuck into a roll and then kick off the walls to disperse the kinetic energy of the fall into a safe, harmless landing. In the end I do neither as the unexpected snare I triggered tightens around my ankle with a sharp, painful yank, and then I’m colliding with a brick wall with a gasp, hanging upside down from the wire. It hurts, and I imagine the wire would do some serious damage to my ankle if I didn’t have kevlar lining my boots and shin guards. Idly, I can make out Dorian in my ear, but the sound is distant, as if coming from far away.Snippet from Forever is a Very Long Time: “Hurry the fuck up, Boomer,” I muttered quietly. Beanie nudged me with his elbow, the big lug’s size nearly knocking me sideways, and I nodded, back on task. Shooting coconuts and not overthinking. Clenching my jaw, a countdown from three played in my head, and then I stomped on the pedal, releasing the lock and launching the catapult with a whoosh of air. I gave myself half a heartbeat for the coconut to get out over the water before drawing the pistol on my hip and squeezing the trigger. I felt the kick running up my arm more than I registered the boom-crack of the shot, but held firm, watching the tiny target explode in a shower of broken shell fragments that plinked into the waves. Another coconut down.Snippet from my sapphic political fantasy: And then fear leapt into my throat as I was suddenly gripped by the hand of an invisible giant, unseen but seemingly no less real, and I was pulled out of my chair to my tiptoes, practically hovering.  Then, fear surged into my throat as I felt myself seized by the hand of an invisible giant, unseen yet no less tangible, lifting me from my chair to my tiptoes, rendering me almost weightless. My mother stood with a forward lean, one hand extended, trembling as it manipulated my very being. Around her even the tapestries nearby seemed to move as if someone had opened a window on a breezy day.  My mother was formidable, even intimidating, a living legend in the realm of Vibrational Bending. The greatest practitioner in centuries. It was a universally acknowledged truth, and still, the notion that she was capable of exert her influence over a living being, one possessing their own life force, was unfathomable. I never would have imagined such a thing, nor would I have envisioned my mother employing such magic against her own daughter.  Quaking in my invisible confinement, I uttered, “M-Mother, forgive me!” “Silence! Not one more word! You have said quite enough!” the Queen declared at the top of her lungs, the sound echoing around the empty hall.
@maruthauthor.bsky.socialSep 25, 2026, 5:11 PM

#PretendPanel

I honestly don’t know how to answer this question. I just hear their voices in my head and type what they say.

Photo, no description
@vampireantihero.comSep 25, 2026, 4:56 PM

#PretendPanel

I tend to be very frank when it comes to voices. With sounds, it depends on the situation. I like leaning into onomatopoeia when it comes to horror, so we can experience the sound with the character.

Formatting note - bold and italics is mental speech/telepathy.

A snippet from Acanthus' POV in Aloe by Artemis Quinn. It says: "What is it, Cypress?" I asked, my voice a reedy, dead thing that had lost all of the animation and energy from the phone call. "I'm worried about you," they replied, whimpering and huffing again. "And we don't have the time to keep laying here."A snippet from Such Sweet Sorrow by Artemis Quinn. It says: "I am sorry for your loss, Miss Sinclaire. I know this must be difficult for you," Hutch's voice was kind, but only in the way that someone who had lost faith in humanity could be kind. It was a strange paradox.A snippet from Cypress' POV in Lemon Balm by Artemis Quinn and Auden Eris-Everen. It says: The second my hand settled on the antique knob, the creaking wood swung open. "Can I help you?" Their voice was neutral, but with an untrusting and cold edge just beneath the surface.A snippet from Gaps in the Mist by Artemis Quinn. It says: Then— I heard it. A soft crackle of wood under pressure. Creak, creak, creak. SNAP. My shoulders tended. Was someone walking around our campsite? It's not like we were off of the trail, but also there were no real areas to set up camp otherwise. creakcreeeeakSNAP I gasped, then covered my mouth. That was definitely something moving around outside. Quietly, I wriggled towards the side of my tent that almost touched Josiah's, trying not to alert whatever was out there. "Jojo," I whispered quietly. His back pressed against mine through the tent and he whispered, "No," sharp and urgent. creakcreak shufflestepdrag My heart began to thunder, my eyes pulsing with a dull gray in the darkness. My breaths hitched, small and panicked. Fuck.
@thebeird.bsky.socialSep 25, 2026, 4:47 PM

Sound?

Really tortured metaphors

Voice

I've taken to writing dialogue phonetically

Which will either be a stroke of brilliance to set apart my characters or will be a massive embarrassment

🤔

Nah I'll be alright

Nobody's gonna read 'em anyways

#pretendpanel

@4islesbookshop.bsky.socialSep 25, 2026, 4:44 PM

I know we've all heard someone do this before, #PretendPanel.

"As she walked through the grand doors, all eyes turned her way. Rather than hearing disgruntled whispers, Dervla heard some of the ladies sucking air between their teeth. They were writhing with jealousy."

#WritingCommunity

@chancemorgan.bsky.socialSep 25, 2026, 4:04 PM

#PretendPanel

I have a lot of fun with this, but keeping the formatting consistent can be a pain.

I usually just go ahead and put the sound effects on the page. Thinking of onomatopoeia is a lot of fun!

A recent example is trying to think of how to spell the noise a harmonica makes.

@winterandwords.socialSep 25, 2026, 3:41 PM

Throwback snippet! I had so much fun with this scene, which is the first time Ezra Shepherd appears in Bridge From Ashes (from main character Rafe's POV). Ezra is perpetually done with everyone's shit and he has A Very Loud Voice.

🏷️ #PretendPanel #QueerWriters #LGBTQWriters #WriteSky

“Turner!” he yells as if he’s not standing right in front of me. I keep staring at my screen even though there’s nothing of consequence on it, but I get a kick out of busting his head and nothing does that harder than ignoring him. He leans down, both hands planted on the opposite side of my desk. “Turner, can you hear me?” Now I look up. "Everyone in the building can hear you.”
@ewanstone.ukSep 25, 2026, 2:59 PM

Having a massive starship as one half of a romantic pairing gives a lot of opportunities for stuff like this, where the ship infrastructure is reacting to emotion like a human body. It's almost a shame Rune ends up with a 'real' body, as I need to find other ways to use sound! 😅

#pretendpanel

Yeah, wait a frac. You just said something wild. Rune? Rune, sweety?” “Yes, Therese?” came the cute voice of the ship from overhead. “Are you and Marcus a couple, you dirty girl?” Marcus opened his mouth to protest, but Therese’s palm pressed against his face kept him from speaking. And a good thing too as, very suspiciously, Rune didn’t answer right away. “I do not know.” “You don’t know?” Therese continued, placing a second hand over Marcus’ mouth when he struggled against her. “Do you like him?” “…I am fond of Marcus, yes.” “Like, romantically?” A strange sensation came over Therese. Without eyesight, she relied on touch and sound to interact with her environment. As such, she had developed something of a sense for how the ship was doing without needing visual overlays or terminals to transmit to her implant. She felt the thrumming of Rune’s heartbeat through her tentacles on the deck. And now, like a gentle breeze, she felt what she could only describe as a sigh. “It is a moot point,” said Rune, betraying no emotion. “I am not in a position to properly fill the role of romantic partner for anyone, so it is a waste of time to consider it.”
@audconnelly.bsky.socialSep 25, 2026, 12:08 PM

I tend to use sound a lot, especially in italics and all caps. It's a little corny, but I'm trying to capture how noises constantly intrude on me.🤣 I hear more small noises than my husband and simultaneously can't understand a word anyone says. #PretendPanel

He triggered the top hat and it sprang into shape with a *fwup*.Her light flickered again and she smacked it against her leg. She was still smacking it when she heard the squeal of the iron gate, followed by a BANG! as it slammed into the tunnel wall and bounced off. an electric *pop!* as the lights burst on“It’s not a joke,” he said. He had a soft voice, barely more than a rasp.