Sablesword
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Point of View (aka “Perspective”)
I’m finally writing an essay on point of view (POV, sometimes also known as “perspective”), and hope that it will help knock loose some ideas and help people improve their stories. I’m using common sense and terms I’ve heard elsewhere to name the different types of point of view in stories, since there isn’t a standard classification system.
First Person
This is the point of view where one of the characters is narrating the story: “I walked into the room to find...” It has been used in great literature, in really bad stories, and great literature that is really bad. It is common in tickle stories, but I consider it a trap for new writers: It looks like an easy way to write a story, but it isn’t really. So my recommendation is to use it only when the story calls for it, after you’ve considered and rejected writing the story in third person instead. Don’t use first person as a shortcut.
In tickle stories, the first-person narrator is usually either the ‘ler or the ‘lee:
Or
However, it is also possible for the first person narrator to be a third party - e.g. a would-be heroine secretly watching for a chance to rescue the ‘lee, or a bodyguard of the ‘ler who is supposed to watching out for rescuers, but who is distracted by the goings on.
The first person narration is most often a running account as the events happen, but they can take the form of the narrator telling the story afterwards. One advantage of this is that the narrator can put in things that weren’t known at the time, but only found out later:
Other that this, the narrator is limited to what he can see (or otherwise sense), what he knows, and his own thoughts. This limitation can trip up a writer. For one thing, you may find yourself wanting to make the first-person narrator both notice some subtle things and overlook other obvious ones, for the sake of the story. The problem is that this leads to a badly-written, inconsistent character. For example, if the plot has the ‘lee being the victim of vengeance because he was clueless about how angry the ‘ler was, then it’s bad form to have the ‘lee suddenly become hyperaware of the little signs of anger, glee, etc. in the ‘ler, just because he’s now locked in the stocks and that awareness has become helpful to telling the story.
Another potential pitfall of first person is that the POV character has to be interesting enough to listen to for the full length of the story, but not so “interesting” as to be off-putting when he talks about himself. This is why first person stories in Famous Literature often have a bystander or sidekick as the narrator: Dr. Watson or Ishmael, rather than Sherlock Holmes or Captain Ahab. A well-done POV character gives first person a zing that third person lacks, but one that isn’t so well done can cause a first person story to fail badly. As an additional wrinkle, a POV character can be interesting and not-off-putting to the writer, but not so much to the reader - leaving the writer wondering why no one else likes his story.
Second Person
This is the point of view where the reader is the character to whom things happen: “You walk into a room...” It is a stupid literary stunt, and I strongly recommend against using it unless you want to perform a stupid literary stunt with malice aforethought.
Third Person
This is the point of view where all the characters present are described in third person: “She walked into the room...” Thus the name. Third person is perhaps the most common point of view, and the one with the most variations.
“Tight third” person, in its tightest form, it just first person with the pronouns changed and some names added:
Note that like first person, tight third can describe the hidden thoughts and feelings of the POV character.
Tight third doesn’t have the extra zing that first person gives with a well-written POV character, but it has a number of advantages to compensate. It is more broadly appealing, and more forgiving if the POV character is on the boring or annoying side. In fact, tight third can be used to show a scene from the villain’s POV, with the readers loving to hate the villain as he schemes or squirms. Showing this sort of thing with the villain narrating in first person can be awkward or icky.
Another advantage of tight third is that it can be loosened slightly to slip in things that the POV character isn’t aware of. This can even shade over into a form of “omniscient” third that’s focused on the character.
“Movie camera third” person, or “fly on the wall” is just what the name implies. This point of view can see and hear everything in the room (or at least everything that the writer wants to reveal), but it isn’t focused on any particular character, and doesn’t get into the inner thoughts of any of the characters (unless at least one of the characters is a telepath, in which case the fly on the wall gets to be telepathic too). On the other hand, a fly on the wall might be able to see or hear things that none of the characters are aware of, like that gas grenade planted by the villain, and the timer that will set it off 72 seconds after the characters enter the room.
“Omniscient” third person has a narrator that’s a sort of story-teller spirit; one who isn’t one of the characters present (unlike first person), one who knows lots of things that the characters don’t (thus “omniscient”), and one who may sometimes make editorial comments to the reader. Often the narrator will focus on one character, creating a sliding scale between omniscient third and tight third. Other times the sliding scale will be between omniscient third and movie-camera third. And on yet other occasions, omniscient third can slip into being a form of first person, with the narrator making lots of first-person editorial comments as he tells the story. (“I don’t know if you’ve ever had peppermint oil rubbed on your feet before, but let me tell you, Tim’s reaction was entirely understandable.”)
One important limitation on an omniscient third-person narrator (and on all the various points of view) is that the inner thoughts and feelings of only one character can be shown. The only exception is when the characters know each others inner thoughts and feelings - either because they have psionic powers of some sort, or simply because they know each other well enough that they can tell when they are angry, happy, depressed, etc. For the latter, subtle-but-visible physical signs will often be noted as the excuse for this knowledge of one character’s inner feelings by another: “Tim held his breath. He knew that particular blank look on Mistress Valery’s face - the one that concealed great rage.”
When the characters don’t know each others inner thought and feelings, in-story, then it’s considered Bad Form to “head-hop,” to change focus from one character and his inner thoughts to those of a second character. Its only OK when treated as a new, different point of view, as described next.
Mixing Points of View
Changing to a new point of view should only take place when the scene changes, although sometimes the “new scene” can be the same time & place as the old one, with only the three stars to indicate a new change of scene.
Now I will continue to explain mixed points of view, but using first person rather than third. The first chapter of my novel Tickle Witch has some fairly quick changes of POV between Guy Herbert and Susanna, with each change marked as a short scene. Note that I didn’t describe the thought or feelings of any of the secondary characters in the chapter. More importantly, I didn’t describe what Susanna was feeling when writing from Guy’s POV, or what Guy was thinking when writing from Susanna’s POV. When I wanted to switch to a different head, to focus on a different character, I always started a new scene.
I also like to use Fred Saberhagen’s The Holmes-Dracula File as an example of mixing points of view. The even chapters are first-person from Dr. Watson’s POV, with a note at the start of chapter 2 indicating this. I firmly believe that when mixed POV includes first-person, that a very strong marker is needed, going beyond just a scene break, and apparently Saberhagen agrees.
The odd chapters I find even more interesting: They start off in omniscient third person focused on an unnamed old man. Then, a few chapters in the narrator makes an editorial comment that he was the “old man” and switches to first person: “Well fed, I say, I...”
So I have no problem with switching and mixing points of view, as long as the different points of view used are all well marked. When switching POV within tight third person, from one person to another, I find it enough to mark the new POV with a scene change. But when it comes to fancier tricks with mixing points of view, I want to see stronger markings to make it clear that the story is continuing from a new POV - that the “I” who is telling this part of the tale is Tim, rather than Valery; or Valery, rather than Tim; or whatever the case happens to be.
I’m finally writing an essay on point of view (POV, sometimes also known as “perspective”), and hope that it will help knock loose some ideas and help people improve their stories. I’m using common sense and terms I’ve heard elsewhere to name the different types of point of view in stories, since there isn’t a standard classification system.
First Person
This is the point of view where one of the characters is narrating the story: “I walked into the room to find...” It has been used in great literature, in really bad stories, and great literature that is really bad. It is common in tickle stories, but I consider it a trap for new writers: It looks like an easy way to write a story, but it isn’t really. So my recommendation is to use it only when the story calls for it, after you’ve considered and rejected writing the story in third person instead. Don’t use first person as a shortcut.
In tickle stories, the first-person narrator is usually either the ‘ler or the ‘lee:
I walked into the room to find Tim already locked in the stocks, the soles of his bare feet helpless and inviting. Gathering my skirts, I perched myself on the wooden stool before looking over my implements. The sight of the plastic comb filled me with an inner glee, so that was the one I selected. - (First person from ‘ler’s POV)
Or
I was trapped in the stocks, the leather padding snug around my ankles. Mistress Valery swept her skirts aside, perching herself on the stool before my bare and helpless feet. She considered the implements soberly, and then smiled as she selected one. I cringed inside, knowing what that smile meant for my soles. - (First person from the ‘lee’s POV)
However, it is also possible for the first person narrator to be a third party - e.g. a would-be heroine secretly watching for a chance to rescue the ‘lee, or a bodyguard of the ‘ler who is supposed to watching out for rescuers, but who is distracted by the goings on.
The first person narration is most often a running account as the events happen, but they can take the form of the narrator telling the story afterwards. One advantage of this is that the narrator can put in things that weren’t known at the time, but only found out later:
I was not aware at the time that peppermint oil had such a strong effect on Tim’s sensitivity, and attributed the violence of his struggles to my own skill.
Other that this, the narrator is limited to what he can see (or otherwise sense), what he knows, and his own thoughts. This limitation can trip up a writer. For one thing, you may find yourself wanting to make the first-person narrator both notice some subtle things and overlook other obvious ones, for the sake of the story. The problem is that this leads to a badly-written, inconsistent character. For example, if the plot has the ‘lee being the victim of vengeance because he was clueless about how angry the ‘ler was, then it’s bad form to have the ‘lee suddenly become hyperaware of the little signs of anger, glee, etc. in the ‘ler, just because he’s now locked in the stocks and that awareness has become helpful to telling the story.
Another potential pitfall of first person is that the POV character has to be interesting enough to listen to for the full length of the story, but not so “interesting” as to be off-putting when he talks about himself. This is why first person stories in Famous Literature often have a bystander or sidekick as the narrator: Dr. Watson or Ishmael, rather than Sherlock Holmes or Captain Ahab. A well-done POV character gives first person a zing that third person lacks, but one that isn’t so well done can cause a first person story to fail badly. As an additional wrinkle, a POV character can be interesting and not-off-putting to the writer, but not so much to the reader - leaving the writer wondering why no one else likes his story.
Second Person
This is the point of view where the reader is the character to whom things happen: “You walk into a room...” It is a stupid literary stunt, and I strongly recommend against using it unless you want to perform a stupid literary stunt with malice aforethought.
Third Person
This is the point of view where all the characters present are described in third person: “She walked into the room...” Thus the name. Third person is perhaps the most common point of view, and the one with the most variations.
“Tight third” person, in its tightest form, it just first person with the pronouns changed and some names added:
Valery walked into the room to find Tim already locked in the stocks, the soles of his bare feet helpless and inviting. Gathering her skirts, she perched myself on the wooden stool before looking over her implements. The sight of the plastic comb filled her with an inner glee, so that was the one she selected.
Note that like first person, tight third can describe the hidden thoughts and feelings of the POV character.
Tight third doesn’t have the extra zing that first person gives with a well-written POV character, but it has a number of advantages to compensate. It is more broadly appealing, and more forgiving if the POV character is on the boring or annoying side. In fact, tight third can be used to show a scene from the villain’s POV, with the readers loving to hate the villain as he schemes or squirms. Showing this sort of thing with the villain narrating in first person can be awkward or icky.
Another advantage of tight third is that it can be loosened slightly to slip in things that the POV character isn’t aware of. This can even shade over into a form of “omniscient” third that’s focused on the character.
“Movie camera third” person, or “fly on the wall” is just what the name implies. This point of view can see and hear everything in the room (or at least everything that the writer wants to reveal), but it isn’t focused on any particular character, and doesn’t get into the inner thoughts of any of the characters (unless at least one of the characters is a telepath, in which case the fly on the wall gets to be telepathic too). On the other hand, a fly on the wall might be able to see or hear things that none of the characters are aware of, like that gas grenade planted by the villain, and the timer that will set it off 72 seconds after the characters enter the room.
“Omniscient” third person has a narrator that’s a sort of story-teller spirit; one who isn’t one of the characters present (unlike first person), one who knows lots of things that the characters don’t (thus “omniscient”), and one who may sometimes make editorial comments to the reader. Often the narrator will focus on one character, creating a sliding scale between omniscient third and tight third. Other times the sliding scale will be between omniscient third and movie-camera third. And on yet other occasions, omniscient third can slip into being a form of first person, with the narrator making lots of first-person editorial comments as he tells the story. (“I don’t know if you’ve ever had peppermint oil rubbed on your feet before, but let me tell you, Tim’s reaction was entirely understandable.”)
One important limitation on an omniscient third-person narrator (and on all the various points of view) is that the inner thoughts and feelings of only one character can be shown. The only exception is when the characters know each others inner thoughts and feelings - either because they have psionic powers of some sort, or simply because they know each other well enough that they can tell when they are angry, happy, depressed, etc. For the latter, subtle-but-visible physical signs will often be noted as the excuse for this knowledge of one character’s inner feelings by another: “Tim held his breath. He knew that particular blank look on Mistress Valery’s face - the one that concealed great rage.”
When the characters don’t know each others inner thought and feelings, in-story, then it’s considered Bad Form to “head-hop,” to change focus from one character and his inner thoughts to those of a second character. Its only OK when treated as a new, different point of view, as described next.
Mixing Points of View
Changing to a new point of view should only take place when the scene changes, although sometimes the “new scene” can be the same time & place as the old one, with only the three stars to indicate a new change of scene.
***
Now I will continue to explain mixed points of view, but using first person rather than third. The first chapter of my novel Tickle Witch has some fairly quick changes of POV between Guy Herbert and Susanna, with each change marked as a short scene. Note that I didn’t describe the thought or feelings of any of the secondary characters in the chapter. More importantly, I didn’t describe what Susanna was feeling when writing from Guy’s POV, or what Guy was thinking when writing from Susanna’s POV. When I wanted to switch to a different head, to focus on a different character, I always started a new scene.
I also like to use Fred Saberhagen’s The Holmes-Dracula File as an example of mixing points of view. The even chapters are first-person from Dr. Watson’s POV, with a note at the start of chapter 2 indicating this. I firmly believe that when mixed POV includes first-person, that a very strong marker is needed, going beyond just a scene break, and apparently Saberhagen agrees.
The odd chapters I find even more interesting: They start off in omniscient third person focused on an unnamed old man. Then, a few chapters in the narrator makes an editorial comment that he was the “old man” and switches to first person: “Well fed, I say, I...”
So I have no problem with switching and mixing points of view, as long as the different points of view used are all well marked. When switching POV within tight third person, from one person to another, I find it enough to mark the new POV with a scene change. But when it comes to fancier tricks with mixing points of view, I want to see stronger markings to make it clear that the story is continuing from a new POV - that the “I” who is telling this part of the tale is Tim, rather than Valery; or Valery, rather than Tim; or whatever the case happens to be.
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