Using Multiple Points of View

I recently finished reading Bloomability by Sharon Creech. In it, one of her characters tells the story of two prisoners sharing a cell that has a small window. One prisoner looks out the window and says, “What a lot of dirt,” while the other looks out the same window and says, “What a lot of sky.”

As the story illustrates, everyone is different. My murder mystery has two point-of-view characters—a female detective and the victim’s daughter. Each needs her own distinctive character and voice. So how do I accomplish that?

The two POV characters have different educational and family backgrounds, and that plays into it. So do their individual interests and personalities and the way they react to stress. But even more important is to give them different speech patterns and dialogue quirks.

For example, the victim’s daughter is a college student whose mother was a lawyer, while the detective and her parents all have high school educations. Since the daughter is better educated and grew up with an eloquent mother, her dialogue and thoughts contain higher-level language. She uses metaphors and a more advanced vocabulary than the detective, who tends to use simple, direct sentences. But their adherence to grammar rules are not what you might expect. Since the daughter is comfortable with her use of language and status in life, she doesn’t feel bound to the traditional grammar rules. Instead, she uses some sentence fragments and often starts sentences with “and” and “but.” The detective, on the other hand, is very conscious of her lower class and wants to appear as educated as possible, so she follows traditional grammar rules unless strong emotion takes over.

The ultimate goal is to create characters so distinct that a reader can open the book in the middle of a chapter and, without any context clues, know whose POV it is in.

But making sure I get there is hard work.

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I took the photo in February on one of the Iles du Salut in French Guiana, which was the site of a famous French prison opened in 1852.

Can You See It? Creating a Movie with Words

When I read a good book, I see the characters and the setting and the action in my mind, playing much the way a movie does. But notice the adjective. Only a good book does that.

Today’s blog post discusses those elements that make a good book play a movie in the reader’s mind. As general categories, they cover “show, don’t tell,” action, and description.

Show, Don’t Tell

Objective: To keep the reader interested by showing those aspects of the story that are most important to plot and characterization and telling the rest.

Given that objective, the category may be misnamed. It would be more accurate to say “when to show and when to tell,” or simply “show versus tell.” However, the concept is usually described as “show, don’t tell,” so I’ll stick with that.

I’ve read many different definitions of “showing.” Some limit themselves to action, while others include descriptions of persons, places, and things that include enough detail to visualize the subject. Some definitions embrace entire passages that mix action with simple statements of fact, while others parse out the two. We won’t get into that debate here. For our purposes, if it helps you visualize the scene, it is showing. The best way to describe the difference is with examples.

TELLING: Brian kissed Karen angrily.

SHOWING: Brian grabbed Karen’s arms and gripped them as he smashed his lips into hers.

The writer should show only those aspects of the story that are significant elements of plot and characterization. Showing takes more space than telling does, and if a writer shows everything, the book will be massive. Massive and boring.

It’s impossible to do justice to this concept in the limited space I have here. You can learn more about it in the blog posts linked below.

For purposes of the rubric, the proper use of showing versus telling is worth 10% of the score.

Action

Objective: To use strong verbs and limit actions to those that either develop a character or move the story along.

There is a lot of overlap between this element and the previous one. Action is the strongest way to show. However, it deserves its own category.

There are two points here. First, a good writer will use strong verbs to convey the action at hand. Rather than walking slowly, a character could amble or shuffle along. Or instead of just blowing, the wind might gust or wail. This eliminates those pesky adverbs, too.

Second, we don’t want to hear every detail of the protagonist’s morning routine. If the fact that he had cereal for breakfast becomes important later, then tell us he had cereal for breakfast (a perfect example of when telling works best), but don’t show him pouring it into the bowl, adding milk, and taking a bite. Not unless those actions help develop his character or move the story along, that is. And if nothing about breakfast is important to the story, leave it out. You can find a more extensive discussion of this issue in a post I wrote for the Indiana Writers’ Consortium blog (linked below).

For purposes of the rubric, action is worth 5% of the score.

Description

Objective: To use strong nouns and limit description to that which is a natural part of the story.

The first part of the objective concentrates on using strong nouns. “House” doesn’t say much. “Shanty” and “mansion” do. This is also a good way to eliminate adjectives and tighten your writing.

Then there is the question of how much detail to provide, which may vary with the audience. Some people like to be spoon-fed with a complete physical description of every major player and location. When I was younger, I liked that too. Now I want just enough detail to give me the flavor or atmosphere and let me use my imagination to fill in the rest.

Of course, there are usually some items that are important to the story and need to be described. I’m currently working on a book that takes place during the Civil War siege of Vicksburg. The residents lived in caves, and the setting is crucial. If I left the cave description to the reader’s imagination, the reader would probably imagine something from his or her own experience, which would probably be wrong. So I described the cave and its furnishings, right down to the fact that there were quilts on the sleeping platforms instead of mattresses. But I didn’t describe the quilts, because that isn’t necessary.

Point of view is important here, though. If I had a POV character who loved quilts and examined every detail, then I’d bring the reader along as she did it. For example, “Charlotte ran her fingers over the outline of the log cabin pattern. The blue and green pieces brightened up the dark space, but how long could the quilt survive in the cave before the fabric became dingy and stained?” My character doesn’t think about those things, however, so I didn’t describe them for my readers.

Point of view also affects how the protagonist is described. A person doesn’t normally see himself unless he is looking in a mirror, and even then he might be paying more attention to shaving his face than to admiring it. Furthermore, the mirror trick is often a lazy writer’s tool that doesn’t sound natural. That doesn’t mean you can’t describe your protagonist, but you have to be creative.

For purposes of the rubric, description is worth 5% of the score, giving the movie aspects a total of 20%.

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TO LEARN MORE:

If you want more of my advice on these issues, here is a list of earlier blog posts.

Show, Don’t Tell:

·       The Greatest Show on Earth (March 9, 2015)

·       Writing Lessons from A Christmas Carol: Show Me, Too (December 14, 2015)

·       Flavor-Added Telling (October 2, 2017)

Action:

·       Brushing Teeth and Cleaning House (IWC Blog, September 18, 2013) ]

Description:

·       How Much Description is Enough? (IWC Blog, May 4, 2016) ]

·       Describing Characters (February 20, 2017)

Whose Story is It? Using Point of View Properly

Point of view errors can confuse readers and jolt them out of the story. That’s why the proper use of POV is an important element in evaluating fiction.

As a reader, POV errors drive me crazy, so you had better have a good story if you want me to finish the book. As a writer, using point of view correctly often spurs creativity, which, for me, is the most enjoyable part of the process.

The choice of a point of view character has a significant effect on the story being told. Imagine how Wuthering Heights would have changed if written from Heathcliff’s point of view and how different Gone with the Wind would have been in Melanie’s POV. However, that’s a creative choice and isn’t appropriate for evaluation.

The type of POV the writer uses is also a creative choice not appropriate for evaluation, but the way it is used is. Using POV properly involves two objectives, both included in this rubric.

Objective 1: To make it easy for the reader to identify the POV character and style.

If point of view is done right, readers may not even think about it. They just accept it as part of the story. But if it is done wrong, some readers can’t stop thinking about it, and not in a good way.

The most common types of POV are first person, third person, multiple third person, and omniscient. Each has its own limits and challenges.

When using first person and third person, the reader can only see, hear, and know what the POV character sees, hears, and knows. So the biggest challenge, and the one that gets my creative juices flowing, is figuring out how to bring in facts that occur outside the POV character’s experience. If she is standing in the library staring into the fire, she can’t see what is happening in the dining room, so your reader can’t see it, either. But maybe there is an argument in the dining room, and she hears it even though she doesn’t see it. Or somebody who was there reports it to her after the fact. Or maybe you are using multiple third person POV and a different POV character is in the dining room at the time. When using this last approach, however, you must be careful how you weave those scenes together. (More about that under Objective 2.)

This doesn’t mean the reader has to draw the same conclusions that the POV character does, however. As long as they are viewing the same events, they are free to interpret them differently.

Some people use omniscient POV (a narrator who sees and knows everything, including each character’s thoughts) to get around the limitations of first and third person. But omniscient POV has its own challenges, and I personally think it is harder to do right. And if it isn’t done right, it sounds like a sloppy third person POV.

I did a series of blog posts in 2015 discussing the different types of POV with their advantages and challenges. You can find those links below.

Objective 2: To use POV consistently and without awkward jumps.

Most writers know better than to mix first person and third person, but less-skilled ones often mix third person and a faux omniscient. This confuses the reader and may annoy her as well.

Readers also get confused and annoyed when the writer is in one person’s head and suddenly jumps to another person’s head within the same scene. In it’s worst form, it even occurs within the same paragraph. These POV jumps are awkward and can jolt the reader out of the story. Multiple POV can be a good choice, but only if each POV character has his or her own scenes.

But what about experimental fiction where a writer intentionally combines various types of POVs? There may have been a few successful attempts, but I’m not aware of them. And they certainly would be rare. Most of us are better off sticking with conventional POV forms and finding creative ways to deal with their limitations.

For purposes of the rubric, each objective is worth 5% of the score, giving POV a total of 10%.

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TO LEARN MORE:

If you want more information on point of view, here are links to my 2015 series.

·       POV Matters (July 6, 2015)

·       He, She, or They (July 13, 2015)

·       Playing God (July 20, 2015) ]

·       Near or Far? (July 27, 2015)