When I started writing I had visions of what my voice would be like; something like the examples below.
“I have dreamt in my life, dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas; they have gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind. And this is one: I'm going to tell it - but take care not to smile at any part of it.”
― Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights
Everything about her was at once vigorous and exquisite, at once strong and fine. He had a confused sense that she must have cost a great deal to make, that a great many dull and ugly people must, in some mysterious way, have been sacrificed to produce her. He was aware that the qualities distinguishing her from the herd of her sex were chiefly external: as though a fine glaze of beauty and fastidiousness had been applied to vulgar clay. Yet the analogy left him unsatisfied, for a coarse texture will not take a high finish; and was it not possible that the material was fine, but that circumstance had fashioned it into a futile shape? - Edith Wharton, House of Mirth
Sadly, that is not my voice. My voice is short sentences, plain, simple English with very little flowery prose. Not what I wanted my voice to be so I tried to write emulating the great writers that I admired. Forcing my voice to be what it was not made writing a chore and my work hard to read.
I learned to embrace my voice, which has been compared to that of Nicholas Sparks, and am much better off for it.
I hope you have all found and embraced your voice.