Breaking PoV Rules

One of the things that gets drummed into writers very early (usually through critique groups) is the need to keep point of view (PoV) tightly controlled. This helps to build the link between the writer and the reader and allows the reader to get 'into the skin' of the characters.

I am a big advocate of this. However after years of mercilessly going through my manuscripts looking for PoV quibbles, it is interesting to see how very experienced writers sometimes break the rules with PoV.

There is a real temptation to do this. It is certainly a lot easier to simply write from a character's PoV then to stylishly convey the same thoughts or reactions from another characters PoV.

There is also the issue of economy. Sometimes breaking PoV - in a brief aside - helps to keep the pace and maintain the flow. The trick is flagging to the reader that this is coming so they do not get 'jolted'. One of the easiest ways to do this is to simply insert a break between the paragraphs with a '#' or something similar so that the reader knows that this is a new scene. The other thing that I have seen work very effectively is to switch the PoV at natural points in the narrative where the pace changes - for example at the end of the chapter. The main PoV character may leave the scene before the end of the action, so the last few paragraphs can be from another character's PoV.

There still needs to be some sort of signal. If not after a deliberate break, then the first line should clearly signal the change i.e. 'Darius watched Kelly walk away, his eyes narrowing. The cut on his forearm burned as though he had been splashed with acid.'

I have noticed that many of the older genre classics almost tend toward omniscient, describing the action as though from a distance and only dropping the occaisional paragraph that is clearly from one characters PoV. I recently read 'Duke Elric' by Moorcock. It was hard to say at any given time whose PoV I was really in. I was clearly following Elric's actions, but it was almost as though I was listening through a intermediate narrator (no problems drawing me through the story though:)).

Do you ever break the PoV 'rule'? If so when?

True confessions

My name is Sarah A. Hoyt and I’m a first person pov writer.

For many years, I’ve been driven by society to hide what I am and not to be true to my own self. You’ve heard the hateful lies, as well as I have: first person is an amateurish way to write; first person sounds contrived; first person means you’re just writing yourself; first person limits your scope.

For years I forced myself to write third person and hid my light under a bushel. But since my last two series forced themselves on me as first person, and since both Darkship Thieves and the Daring Finds mysteries are doing better than anything else I wrote, it is time to admit... I’m sorry. I simply write first person better than I do third. It’s easier for me.

Now, I know it’s not easier for everyone, and I’m not going to advocate doing it for everyone. I read and enjoy a lot of third person, just like I read and enjoy a lot of first person. It seems to be only third person writers who are determined to make sure that no one writes in a pov other than third – but perhaps that’s my perspective.

Most classical SF was written in first person. I grew up with Heinlein and Simak, both of them doing the bulk of their work in first person. Most UF is first person. A lot of legendary mystery – some Christie, most Rex Stout – is written in first person. Very few of these sound like the first person is a reflection of the writer.

There are some things you can only do in first person, such as bring the character’s personality across full force. Oh, sure, you can have some of this with third person in dialogue or direct thoughts. But if you pause a third person narrative to convey such interesting insights as Athena’s “A girl’s best friend is a high powered weapon,” say, you’re as likely as not to annoy the reader. While because a first person story reads as “narrated” there is space for some explanation done in a quirky fashion.

Now, mind you, narrated is not the same thing as told. How do I explain this? If you tell your friend what happened to you today, you’ll condense, ellipse and make it shorter and higher-level so you don’t tell him a story that lasts three days. Your concern is not so much with making him FEEL what’s happening as with getting done with it and moving. But when you’re selling a book with a story, you’re selling the experience.

Consider one of my free stories, here: http://cornerbooth.sarahahoyt.com/Download1.html Neptune’s orphans.

If you’re telling that story to a friend you’d say “Dude, we were asleep in our dorm, and these guys came in and started killing everyone.”

If you’re showing the story to a reader, you ARE there, you immerse yourself, you narrate each event, action, reaction, as if it were happening to you at that moment, so the reader can feel it too: Before the first burner singed the air, I had jumped. * I didn’t know why. Perhaps I wasn’t truly asleep and heard strange steps in the hallway. Or perhaps a voice whispering what was planned for us. I don’t know.
Whatever warning there was fell into my sleeping mind and made my body react.* I woke up half way through my jump-and-dive, dragging with me my brother Pol, who slept in the next bed. We thudded together into a too-narrow space between his bed and the wall.
It saved our lives, because the blinding flash of the burner swung in an arc which sliced my bed in two, setting it on fire. Still half asleep, dazzled by the brilliance of the light, the acrid smoke in my nostrils, I pushed Pol further back and down, shoving him right next to the wall and pressing close to him, close, my heart beating a deafening rhythm.
“Cas, what–?” he said, his voice barely audible, because in addition to the sizzling sounds of the burners there were now screams and gurgles, moans and cries for mercy. *I recognized the voices of my dormitory mates, and I didn’t want to recognize them. I’d never heard them sound like that.*

Note the bits between asterisks are “narration” or what I’d call explanation sentences. They’re essential for you to get the narration, and they can be used – if your character is mouthy like Athena – to convey the personality of the character.

There are first person weaknesses: Like... describing your character; or showing something your character doesn't know; or having your character lie. Do you have any questions about how to overcome first person weaknesses? I’ve worked at all of them and might be able to answer. Or we might be able to figure it out together.

The Locked Box Trick

This feeds in to Kate’s post to an extent.

For the first time in several years I have a face to face/internet (mixed) writers group meeting semi-regularly. This has brought me in touch – for the first time in several years – with at least one writer who is not aware of how "things work" in the industry.

So there will be, say, these long, lovely lead ins to a short story. Which is all very well, of course, and we all can quote several of our favorites that start with long, swelling lead ins. But when you’re a beginner and dropping head first into the bottomless slush pile, long lovely lead ins – unless you find a punchy way to begin – will not get you out of it. Reality of life.

Which is why I – myself enamored of laying in ground work before plunging into a shocking sequence – spent years developing the art of the punchy first line. Hook them with the first line and they’ll sit tight for half a page or so, particularly if you are carefully ringing alarm bells behind the lovely prose. Is this how I’d normally go about it? Well... no. But I needed to get off slush and get read by editors, and this worked.

(On the same vein I’ll add that until you have a well established name, you need to hook a reader in the same way when he opens the book. Particularly in a novel. Otherwise, even if an editor buys you and you end up on the shelf [both big ifs with long lead ins] you’ll find yourself unbought and unread.)

There are other "gatekeeper" issues. We all remember, I’m sure, when every book started with a prologue. Nowadays we hear that a prologue is enough to get you throw out. I don’t know if this is true. I know that I personally abhor prologues that are dry summations and/or listings of dramatis personae. If you can’t skillfully introduce me to each character in a memorable way in each book in the series, I’m probably not going to read you. (Of course, there are exceptions.

Some writers put that in at the insistence of an editor or other.)

I have already addressed another "gatekeeper" issue. In certain houses, in certain genres or subgenres, a first person pov will throw you out. In the same way in other subgenres a third person pov might get you thrown out. (Urban fantasy comes to mind.)

Yet another issue is, say, romance from a male perspective, or romance that stays strictly in one head.

Another issue is the excessive use of adjectives and adverbs. Everyone tells you to avoid them and that they will get you rejected. Except of course, what they’re really talking about are vague, UNEEDED advjectives and adverbs.

Anyway, there are a dozen other rules, regulations, though shalt not cross tapes, and other similar barriers. There are stops and boxes all over. And I’ve often met writers – particularly beginners – who are FAR too aware of these, to the point that like Houdini, they’re doing their work up in a locked box, filled with water, fighting like mad to get out before their prose dies.

I’ve not met one who was the opposite in years, until recently.

So, what’s my verdict? Both are right, and both terribly wrong. The "I’ll do as I please and not acknowledge gatekeepers" is as much of a box as the opposite, because you’re locking the rest of your writing away from editors and – even if you get past that – from potential readers. If your objective is to be read, you’re failing.

On the other hand those who hem themselves in with all sorts of restrictions, are forgetting that some of the most successful forms of fiction break most if not all of the "rules."
There is a trick to it, of course, if you’re going to break the "rules" or even the fashionable opinions of what is good writing. One of them I’ve already discussed above. You can have a long lead in to action if you start with a punchy enough line/scene, then keep the tension up with an "underscore" of ominous notes in your soothing piece. There are tricks for everything else I’ve mentioned as well. But you have to know HOW to break the rule in a way that won’t cause the gatekeeper to toss you out, or what’s the point of the whole exercise.

You see, it’s all a trick, like "magic" is a trick. And you have to work fast so the hand deceives the eye. If you’re good enough, you’ll manage to get out of that box only slightly wet, and be standing on the pavement, receiving the ovation of the crowd. If not... your prose dies before being read.

Today exceptionally and in penalty for being ridiculously late in posting*, if you ask me how to get around your personal conundrum of this kind, I’ll do my best to tell you how I would solve the problem. Which might not be the way you do it, of course. The beauty of the locked box trick is that every bind is a little different and every set of handcuffs has a different amount of "give" and that the way you get out is what makes your writing special. However, my solution might give you some ideas. Or it might help you understand how your favorite author did it.

So, throw me some problems!

* Sorry about the lateness, but I'm trying to finish a novel -- for those of you in the know "Sexicle" -- this week. This already muddles me. But, as every time I'm doing a final push on anything, life has gone insane, (some writers believe there are supernatural reasons behind these occurrences. I think it has more to do with us trying to focus so hard we resent everything else) requiring long trips, doctors' appointments and other fun, fun, fun diversions. So I went to bed late last night, got up early and somehow completely spaced the fact that it was Wednesday.

Use of Tenses

(Chris is traveling today and asked me to post this for him...Enjoy!)

My natural style tends to be third person, although I have written the odd piece in first person and I have been reasonably happy with the outcome. All of these first-person experiments have been short stories. I'm not quite sure I could sustain first person for an entire novel.

Like many writers I tend to be fairly instinctive with tense and grammar, so I can be a little loose with theses, but things generally works out OK for me in the end.

In terms of what I enjoy reading, Its usually third person. Although first person is very personal and can really hook me into a character. Small first person sections can be really effective as breaks, dream sequences, or flashbacks and give an opportunity to really change the flavor of the prose.

I have read a few books that alternate first person and third person - one of Kim Wilkins' books comes to mind - where the main action (i.e. protagonist) was in third person and the 'bad guy' was written in through his first person diary entries. Not sure if this really added too much for me. I think the action would have been more seamless with the same tense throughout, like I was reading two separate books. I'm sure an author can strike the right balance, but it's probably a hard ask.

One tense I find really hard to read is preset tense second person. 'She sits in the sun. Now the seagull pecks on the glass. He squawks in frustration. The two-headed alien grunts in glee.' As you can see from the photo, Godzilla shares my frustration.

I could be opening up a total can of worms here - like offering to give mechanical tips when I don't even open the bonnet of my car - but I am really curious.

What tenses do people prefer to work in? What have people experimented with? What is the weirdest combination you have experimented with?