I would like,
before we begin, to remind you of one simple rule: Rules exist as guidelines.
At least one talented author managed to successfully shatter every “rule” I
shall share in this post (or any other post).
However, master
the “rules” before you break them. You must understand gravity before you build
a rocket.
I want to discuss
viewpoint in today’s post (and a few of the posts that shall follow). Note, I
didn’t say “points of view,” (first, second, and third person points of view) which
you already ought to understand.
Okay. I shall,
lest you never heard of points of view (what, if anything, do they teach you in
school, these days?), explain them very briefly.
You write, in
first person point of view, as if you, the writer, exist in your story.
You would write, “I knocked on the door, realized it stood
unlocked. I squeaked it open a few
inches wider, peered through the crack, witnessed only darkness and smelled
only the unmistakable rot of dead meat.”
You write, in
second person point of view, as if the reader exists in your story.
You would write, “You knocked on the door, realized it
stood unlocked. You squeaked it open
a few inches wider, peered through the crack, witnessed only darkness and
smelled only the unmistakable rot of dead meat.”
In third person
point of view (the most common), you write from the point of view of a
character (or omnipresent narrator) in your story.
You would write, “He knocked on the door, realized it
stood unlocked. He squeaked it open a
few inches wider, peered through the crack, witnessed only darkness and smelled
only the unmistakable rot of dead meat.”
Let’s look at some
of the “rules” of viewpoint. Many people will insist that you must tell your
story from the viewpoint of only one character. I actually disagree with this.
Completely.
I do consider it
vital that your reader understand through whose eyes she witnesses your story.
You can switch points of view, but you must make the switch obvious.
I, in my own
novels, signify a switch with the following paragraph break:
* * *
I remain consistent
with this gimmick, so my readers learn that whenever they see such a paragraph
break, I might’ve switched viewpoint characters (though I might’ve broken the
paragraph for another reason entirely).
The reader ought
to know, within a few sentences at most, through whose eyes (which character’s)
she now reads the story (unless I possess a very sneaky and rare reason to withhold this information).
Consider the
following example:
Joan slowly
approached Teddy from behind. She walked lightly, felt the knot in her stomach
tighten. She wanted more than anything in the world to run away, but Teddy needed to know the truth.
* * *
He spun around,
spotted Joan. He felt his eyes narrow with suspicion. “What do you want?”
She just stood
there, eyes wide, probably up to no good.
His foot tapped.
“Spit it out already!”
You can tell that I
wrote the first paragraph from Joan’s point of view. We feel the knot in her
stomach. We know what she wants (to tell Teddy the truth) and why (because he
needs to know).
You notice that
the second paragraph comes to us through Teddy’s point of view, even though I
never gave you his name.
He turns around to
notice Joan, who, we know from the previous paragraph, approached Teddy from
behind.
Once we enter
Teddy’s point of view, we cease to feel what Joan feels, know what she knows.
We now only see and feel what Teddy sees and feels (and thinks).
When you write a
story with multiple viewpoints, keep track of which characters know what
information. You can’t allow one of them to think something based on
information she shouldn’t yet possess.
Names fall into
this concern.
If no one
introduced Ron to Debra, then Debra shouldn’t know Ron’s name (not without a
good reason). If you switch to Debra’s viewpoint, you can’t call Ron by his
name until someone sorts this information out for Debra.
We’ll discuss
viewpoint further over the next few posts. See you then.
