I almost gave up on a self-published fantasy novel last month. The concept was brilliant: a fallen empire, a cursed magical library, a protagonist with a secret that hummed through every page. But by chapter three, I was exhausted. The story kept me at arm’s length. Battles “were fought.” Decisions “were made.” Hearts “were broken.” I couldn’t find the pulse of the thing. Something was draining the urgency out of every scene.
Then I opened another indie book in the same genre, and within two paragraphs, I was locked in. “She slammed the book shut and ran.” “Lightning split the sky.” “He lied, and she knew it.” The difference wasn’t plot or imagination both writers had plenty. The difference was voice. Specifically, the use of active voice writing that grabbed me by the collar versus a tangle of passive voice in fiction that kept me politely seated across the room.
If you’re an indie author trying to make your prose more powerful, or a reader who’s ever wondered why one book grips you while another drifts, this guide is for you. We’re going to look at what passive and active voice really mean, why the choice matters for storytelling, and how to use both with intention rather than by accident.
What Passive and Active Voice Actually Mean (Without the Jargon Overload)
I remember sitting in school, being told that passive voice was “bad” and active voice was “good,” and that the difference involved some kind of subject-verb-object equation I instantly forgot. The rule stuck without the understanding, which made it useless.
Let’s make it simple.
In active voice, the subject of the sentence performs the action.
The assassin kicked the door open.
In passive voice, the subject receives the action. The doer might be hidden or tacked on later.
The door was kicked open by the assassin.
Or worse: The door was kicked open.
Both sentences convey the same event. But the first version hits differently. The active sentence is direct, immediate, and visceral. The passive sentence puts a layer of gauze over the action. It’s not wrong, but it’s less alive. In fiction, that aliveness matters.
Why Passive Voice in Fiction Can Drain the Life from a Scene
When every sentence is active, the prose can feel breathless or even aggressive. But when passive voice in fiction takes over, the reader stops feeling the story in their gut. The characters seem to drift rather than act. Important moments become muffled.
I see this most often in early drafts, including my own. We write “The decision was made to leave the city” instead of “They decided to flee the city.” The first version distances the reader from the choice, the fear, the quickening pulse. The second version puts them right there, on the cobblestones, with a bag half-packed.
Passive constructions often sneak in during emotional moments because they feel safer. “She was devastated by the news” is easier to type than “The news shattered her.” But the second sentence lands harder. It shows the action of the emotion, not just the state. Readers don’t want to be told that a character was sad. They want to feel the sadness slam into her ribs.
Active voice writing isn’t about being aggressive. It’s about being present. It’s the difference between watching a scene through a fogged window and standing in the middle of it.
When Passive Voice is Exactly What the Story Needs
Now I’ll contradict the grammar police. Passive voice isn’t always a villain. Sometimes, it’s the perfect tool. The trick is knowing when to use it on purpose.
Consider a scene where the protagonist is powerless. A prisoner being moved from cell to cell. A patient undergoing a medical procedure. A child caught in a natural disaster beyond her control. Passive voice can replicate that sensation. “He was dragged down the corridor” emphasises his lack of agency. “Guards dragged him down the corridor” is active, but it shifts focus to the guards. If the story wants the reader to feel his helplessness, the passive choice might be the right one.
Passive voice also works when the doer of the action is unknown or irrelevant. “The window had been left open” creates a quiet unease without pointing a finger. It can be a tool of suspense, a whisper of something wrong.
Some genres, like literary fiction, use passivity to create a contemplative, observational tone. The key is always intention. Passive voice in fiction becomes a problem only when it’s accidental, when the author didn’t notice that they’ve built a world where things happen to people rather than a world where people do things.
How Indie Authors Can Master the Balance
Because indie authors control every aspect of their craft, from draft to final proofread, they have a unique opportunity to polish voice at the sentence level. Traditionally published authors often have editors who catch passive drift. Indie authors have to build that awareness themselves or work with a trusted line editor.
Here’s how I learned to spot the balance in my own work, and how I notice it now in the indie fiction I read and love.
Read your draft aloud. Your ear catches what your eye skims. When a sentence feels weak or floaty, circle it. Often, it’s hiding a passive construction.
Hunt for “was” and “were” plus a past participle. Not every “was” is passive, but a cluster of “was decided,” “was taken,” “was broken” is a red flag. Ask yourself: who is doing this? Can I rewrite it so they’re doing it actively?
Check the emotional beats. Love, grief, rage, terror, these are active experiences. Instead of “She was filled with rage,” try “Rage surged through her.” Instead of “He was overcome with love,” try “Love caught him off guard and held him there.” The emotion becomes the actor, and the sentence gains a pulse.
Know your genre’s rhythm. Action-driven genres (thrillers, fantasy adventures, romance with strong physicality) lean heavily on active voice writing. More introspective genres (literary fiction, quiet contemporary) might weave passivity in deliberately. Read widely in your genre and notice the balance the stories you admire actually strike.
Get a beta reader who understands voice. Find someone who can say, “This paragraph lost me” and then look at it together. Often, a string of passive sentences is the culprit.
What Readers Gain from Understanding Voice
You might think, “I’m just a reader. Why should I care about active versus passive voice?” But once you notice it, you unlock a deeper level of reading. You’ll understand why a particular passage feels sluggish, why a fight scene doesn’t pump your heart, why a character seems distant. You’ll also gain immense appreciation for the sentences that crackle.
I have a shelf of indie books where the prose hums with energy. Every verb earns its place. The sentences vary in structure, some long and lyrical, others short and sharp, but they all feel intentional. That’s craft, and it deserves to be celebrated.
In our Indie Reading Community, we often talk about the books that “grab us by the throat.” More often than not, that grabbing happens at the sentence level. The author made thousands of tiny choices, and many of them were about keeping the voice active, immediate, and alive.
A Simple Test You Can Try Right Now
Pick up the nearest indie book. Open to a random page. Read a paragraph aloud, slowly.
Do you feel like you’re inside the character’s skin, moving with them? Or do you feel like you’re reading a report of what happened? Look at the verbs. Are things happening to people, or are people doing things? Neither is always wrong, but the balance will tell you a lot about why the book feels the way it does.
I still catch passive creep in my own first drafts. Just last week, I wrote, “The memory was buried deep” when I meant, “She buried the memory deep and dared herself to dig it up.” The second version isn’t just more active, it’s more human. The character has agency, even if she’s choosing to suppress something painful. That choice reveals her.
Let’s Hear Your Sentences
This is the part where the craft conversation spills beyond a single article. I want to know: have you ever read a line in an indie book that stopped you cold because the voice was so sharp, so present? Or, if you’re a writer, have you ever hunted down a passive sentence and transformed it into something that made your beta reader say, “Whoa”?
Drop your favourite active-voice line in the comments your own or one you’ve read. Let’s celebrate the sentences that work hard, the verbs that sweat, the prose that refuses to sit down. Because active voice writing isn’t just grammar. It’s the sound of a story that wants to be heard.
