Mary Melody peered into the cave opening and thought, my, what a large egg. Sensing someone behind her, she wheeled. “Jason, you scared me.”
And well, he should have, for Jason was a tall, muscular man who, looking at the tiny woman before him, wondered if she fully understood his manly appeal.
He stepped closer—the smell of tobacco caused Melody to cringe.
Bitch, he thought. I’ll smoke if I’ve a mind to. And I’ll not have you react that way. “Mind your place, woman,” Jason said.
“My place?” she said, stepping toward him. She’d be damned if she’d put up with his display of testosterone one more second…
Have you ever read a passage like this? Or worse, wrote some-thing similar? This is called head hopping and although this ex-ample is a bit extreme, I’ve read passages just as ridiculous—in the bookstore. First Melody has a thought, then she senses something—we are in her POV. Then Jason—in the very next sentence—has a thought—we switch to his POV–then Melody—back to her POV—smells the tobacco on his clothing, then Jason has a thought and then… Well, you get the drift. As confusing as a room full of ferrets all trying to find a way out.
We’ve all read books where POV (Point of View) was not a consideration. Heck, I’ve written them. And maybe when we read (or wrote) those books, we did not have a proper grasp of POV. Maybe what we read colored what we wrote, because what we read was published when publishers didn’t give a hoot about POV. Well, I’m here to tell you, they do now. In this highly competitive publishing environment, you had better learn proper technique or your tome will find a home in the circular file quicker than you can say omniscient narrator.
Simply put, POV refers to the character telling the tale.
The woods around Hyland Falls are filled with deer and skunk and raccoons, and after dark many of them start across the highways that crisscross the lush countryside and fail to make it to the other side. The highway department does its best to keep up with the carnage, but a sunrise drive reveals the amount of work that needs to be done when the crews finally hit the road.
The above passage is omniscient. The narrator knows everything. He (or She) is god-like. You, the writer, are telling the story. Whole books are still written in omniscient, but not from first time authors. And the above passage starts this particular book—but from that point forward, omniscient voice is forgotten. What the astute reader looks for—as well as agents and publishers—is a character they can identify with. A POV character. The character telling your tale. Certainly, if you’re writing a book in first person, the narrator will not change—although I have read books wherein the author switches from first to third person chapter by chapter. But again, these are established writers who know the rules first, get a name, and then create their own rules. If you’re a beginner, find a POV character or two—maybe a protagonist and an antagonist—and stick with their POV’s till the book’s end. Do not head hop—a sure sign of an amateur, and please do not wash out your main character’s strength by writing your book with seven or eight POV characters.
A good way to search whose POV works best is, of course, to write a scene from two characters POV. Say you have a woman home alone, thinking someone is trying to break in. Write it from her POV, and then from the intruder’s POV. You will discover things about your characters that you wouldn’t otherwise know, because characters come alive as you write about them. They introduce themselves and beg to take center stage (but more about that some other time).
First person, second person (please avoid), third person limited are the main points of view to consider. There are more—essayist narrator for one—that are also used, but again, if you’re new to the craft, stick with the above, first or third person, and preferably third. Why third? Because new writers should always consider the setting, and when we write in first person, the setting sometimes becomes secondary to the thoughts of your first person narrator. And one thing you should always be mindful of is the setting.
I admit, this is only a cursory look at POV, and perhaps in a future installment, I’ll tackle this novel element more fully. Just remember—a proper third person limited POV is only what he or she can see, taste, touch, smell or hear. Nothing more. Review the scene from their eyes and relate only that. Try it, you’ll like it.
T. Lucien Wright has published five novels, short stories and nonfiction and he has taught the craft of writing to people of all ages for the last thirteen years. Until recently, he was the Director of Adult Education at Writers & Books, a not for profit literary organization in Rochester and he has lectured at all levels – grade school, high school and college. He’s working on a novel about Vietnam, simply entiled, ‘Nam. He lives in Rochester with his wife of 35 years, two aged dogs, and four cantankerous cats.
