The Point of "Point of View"

I Avoid Defining My Terms

I would like to talk about the idea of "point of view," which is usually discussed in terms of storytelling mechanics, as in "who is telling the story to the reader." There are traditionally about four possible points of view: First-person, second-person, third-person (limited) and third-person (omniscient). It's also possible to have both singular and plural POVs, as in first-person plural ("we"). The verb tense of the telling is also considered to be part of the point of view, as in second-person singular past tense ("you were doing") or third-person present tense ("she is doing"). All of these are ways of showing the story to the reader through characters (and yes, I consider the narrator in third-person to be a character in the novel). All of these points of view have advantages and limitations, and there is no general "best" point of view, nor (I think) a "best" point of view for any particular story; there are only different choices and the results of those choices.

Anyway, this post isn't about comparing POVs. What I want to talk about today is the idea that point of view is a decision writers will make once for the duration of the story, and that the established framework of this point of view will remain constant for the length of the tale. That is, a story "written in" first-person singular past tense, for example, will (and should) remain in that point of view from beginning to end. This is a widely-held idea. But in actual fact, this is rarely the case in good writing and point of view will shift, however subtly, throughout the story.

We are told that point of view is a system for establishing a stable narrative framework for the story, of determining through which character's experience the story will be told, and controlling how much of that character's internal reality will be part of the storytelling mechanism. This way of talking about point of view sometimes treats the experience of the so-called "point of view character" as the most important experience of the story. This is incorrect.

Whose point of view matters?

The most important experience of the story is that of the reader. The reader is always present, as is the writer. The reader and the writer are the only real people involved in the telling of this story; everything else is artifice. Point of view is therefore a matter of distance between the reader and the writer (or between the reader and the story, if you like) and the writer uses character and voice to manage that distance. What the writer is doing with point of view is, in a way, determining from moment to moment how involved in the action--how deep into the story itself--the reader is allowed to be. Think of point of view as something like a zoom lens through which you show the story to your reader. You're able to zoom in or out on not only what is visible, but on what is invisible as well (memory, emotions, thoughts and attitudes).

You have to keep in mind that your reader is, in a very important sense, a character in your story. With point of view--more than any other tool in your writerly toolkit--you are able to effectively place the reader however you like in relationship to the story and its characters, actions and emotions.

What Can You Do With Point of View?

Shifting point of view within the story has been done for a long time. Homer's "Iliad" is about 3,000 years old, and is written in third-person omniscient, so you can see the thoughts/emotions of any character Homer wants you to. But there are also shifts into first-person where you know the narrator is talking directly to the reader. The first line of the poem is Homer speaking to his muse: "Sing, O goddess, the wrath of Achilles son of Peleus, that brought countless ills upon the Achaeans." Homer is not just addressing his muse, but also the audience, telling us what story he's about to tell. The narrator reappears later, at the beginning of Book XII, when he steps outside of the "story present" and discusses, in a brilliant digression, what happens long in the future, when the fortifications built by the Greeks on the Trojan beach erode and rot away.

What Homer is doing here, by skipping in and out of the action of the narrative, is to show the reader the place of the story within history, and to show the reader his own place within history; to demonstrate in a subtle manner that although history is made by real people who experience the drama of the real historical moment, time will pass them by and some day they will be part of the past, for there is not only a historical past and a historical present, there is also a historical future. So Homer is playing around with time and tense in his epic poem, focusing the attention of the reader alternately on past, present and future.

Just as you can direct the reader's attention to different levels of time in a novel, you can direct their attention to different levels of emotion. I think of this as the story's "emotional distance." This emotional distance is usually a fixed distance in work of beginning writers, but by manipulating the point of view, you can change this distance at will.

Herman Melville in "Moby Dick" is allegedly using a first-person narrator named Ishmael to tell the tale. "Ishmael" is of course not the narrator's real name (we never learn what it is), and is given as a symbol; the first line of the book is beginning a process of reference to things hidden, buried, submerged as it were. But that's the least of it, when we consider the levels of viewpoint Melville uses. There's Ishmael, telling about his voyage on the Pequod under the command of Ahab, and once the voyage gets underway Melville--not Ishmael--elbows his way over and over into the narrative and brushes his narrator aside to put us directly into the minds of Ahab and Starbuck (not to mention a host of minor characters). There's also a fun moment in a later chapter when Melville is clearly addressing the reader directly to discuss his difficulty as a writer in describing certain behaviors of whales. The reader is thus pulled to and fro in the narrative, suddenly inside Ahab's head, suddenly sitting next to Ishmael (a bright but inconsequential character), suddenly standing outside the story with Melville. All of it works, too. There is disorientation in the reader (but that's quite deliberate, I'm sure) as the landscape shifts beneath his feet and Melville takes the reader's hand and points at the story, saying "Look here! Now here! And here!"

You can also remain within the "story present" and do more subtle things, like increase the reader's emotional involvement here and there, or pull the reader back emotionally, sort of like playing with the lens of a camera or, maybe, like turning the heat up and down in the shower or under a boiling pot. For example, consider this passage:

"The woman looked the three travelers over. They seemed respectably dressed though the Irishman had some dark stains on his coat and breeches. That one and the handsome one had spoken to each other mostly in half sentences and single words. Irish had all but ignored the lady, who’d doted on Handsome all through the meal."

We begin at some distance, as observers outside the scene, and then we get the woman's opinion ("respectably dressed"), and then we are seeing slightly from her point of view ("that one and the handsome one"), and finally we are inside her head ("Irish had all but ignored the lady..."). The emotional distance has moved, in four sentences, from neutral to intimate and personal. You can draw into your characters this way for private thoughts and observations which can tell us about the people in our story. The woman in the passage above is making observations about three travelers that the travelers themselves wouldn't make. When you "drill down" from third-person to first-person like this, you are in effect allowing characters to speak directly to the reader, person-to-person. Which is cool; don't tell me it's not.

Just for Davin, I'll also mention that Tolstoy was a master of point of view. "War and Peace" is written from maybe fifty characters' points of view, including, at one critical point, the viewpoint of a dog. None of this shifting of POV is done mechanically or as a matter of course as scenes and characters change. Tolstoy (like all good writers) has considered what the effect on the reader will be, and how close to the emotion of the story the reader should be in each scene (or part of the scene) and has chosen his POVs accordingly. Good writing isn't done by rote or on autopilot.

So, by shifting POVs around, either in a subtle or direct manner, we can:

Change the (emotional) distance between the reader and various characters. We can see characters as they see themselves, so that we see what they themselves hold important (about themselves and other characters).

We can also use this technique to introduce irony. Story knowledge is given to the reader by one character but that knowledge is not given to other characters in the story.

Point of view is a tool that you can use for more than one thing. It's a complex subject (or it can be, and I don't think I've really done it justice in this post) and, as usual, the best way to learn more about it is to read well-written books and pay attention to what the writer is doing. I know that some writers can't (or don't bother to) control the point of view in their stories. When done sloppily, it ends up being something called "head-hopping" (where the POV changes so rapidly that you can't really be sure whose POV it is; note that sometimes this is done deliberately for effect and can be powerful and dramatic) or "point of view slippage" (a phrase which never ceases to amuse me and refers to writers not realizing that the POV of the story has changed--usually just for short passages--because the writer wasn't paying attention).

But just because it can be done badly (and often is by writers who are just starting out), that doesn't mean it can't be done well. I suggest that you think about point of view as less a set of imaginary cameras through which the story is viewed, and more as a system for communicating the fictional experience with the reader. Follow the emotional line of the story through your characters, in and out of the hearts/minds/souls of those characters, and take your readers with you.

His or Her Story? Using Multiple Main Characters and Story Lines

illustration by Conny Jude

The Literary Lab is here for you! We know you have questions, and we'd like to help where we can. So ask away by clicking over in the Just Ask section in the right hand column. Thanks to Christopher Goodwine who recently asked:

The more I research and explore the blogosphere, the more I notice an implicit sense that there is one sole main character in stories: "My MC," "the MC," "your MC's emotional development," "the crisis your MC must face," etc..

What if a story incorporates several characters' stories interwoven to achieve its ends? I mean beyond minor and supporting characters. Would a novel be acceptable if it gives equal importance and wordage to two characters or more? Or is it essential for today's readership that there is one particular character for whom the story is ultimately about?

This is a great question, Christopher! First of all, I don't think it's essential for today's readership that there is one particular character for whom a story is ultimately about. This is the conventional way to tell a story, and seems to be the most popular. I personally prefer it, but perhaps that is because I have not read or seen many stories that effectively use multiple main characters, and because I tried to do this in both the novels I have written - and failed.

I asked Davin if he had any good examples of novels that effectively use multiple main characters and story lines. He brought up Everything Is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer and The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan. I'll take Davin's word and state that both novels use three to four main characters to tell the story. Now why does this work? And how? I'll try and shed some light using my own experience.


How Are You Holding Your Story Together?
Bear with me here as I talk about my first novel. I rarely do this publicly, so consider it a rare treat.

My first novel failed. It has failed even in the sixth draft. I had this "brilliant" idea to write two story lines - the story of a girl who is reluctantly kidnapped, and the story of her selfish mother, Karen, who doesn't care that her only daughter is missing. Both story lines, completely separate for most of the book, bore the same weight for me. Both characters were The Main Character. And both had their own chapters in the book.

Chapter One - Naomi
Chapter Two - Karen
Chapter Three - Naomi
Chapter Four - Karen

You get the idea. That should work, right? Both characters are well written and compelling. Both story lines have tension and growth. Both tie together at the end. It should work. Right? Well, I thought so until I put the book aside for 10 months. I had plenty of feedback from earlier on, but decided to let two friends read it a few weeks ago. Why is Karen in here? they asked. I get to her chapters and I groan. I want Naomi's story! This is HER story! And there's plenty of it to go around without her mother interfering.

Since I wasn't as close to the novel anymore, I took a good hard look at the characters. I love them both, but I've ultimately decided that my friends are right. I could go both ways with this book - get rid of Karen's point of view and only tell Naomi's story (which I'm most likely to do) or tell both stories, but shift the themes of my novel to something bigger than character-related subjects. Let me explain. (Thanks to Davin, I can begin to wrap my head around this)

The Way It Is Now - A Character Framework
The themes in my book revolve around creating your own happiness, not relying on others to hand it to you. Great theme. It works. There's more to it than that, but that's the gist. Both Karen and Naomi take this journey, and they help each other reach the same conclusions. But in the end, nothing would have happened without Naomi's story, without her character. She is the framework that holds the story together, the one my readers root for and genuinely care about.

The Way It Could Be - An Overarching Framework
If I made the point of the novel something bigger that held the story together, I could get away with more than one story line. For instance, when I asked Davin what the point of The Joy Luck Club is, he said: "Ancestry. It was about the generational gap, between people born and raised in China and their daughters, born and raised in the U.S."

That's a pretty big idea, and if that's the point of the story, I can see how four separate story lines could easily work. So for my book I might use a larger framework to hold everything together - how partner abuse affects relationships, or how Stockholm Syndrome works. Already I can see that if I made this the framework of my story, Karen's point of view would add more depth and meaning to what I'm trying to get across. So unless Karen enters Naomi's world and fights the same antagonists as Naomi (which she never does), her story is simply getting in the way of Naomi's voice and journey.

It's up to me which way I want to go. Going with the overarching framework would mean I'd probably have to rewrite the book. Not sure I want to do that!


Multiple Points Of View Doesn't Mean Multiple Main Characters
I think there might be a misconception out there that if a story (not told omnisciently) has multiple points of view that each point of view character bears the same weight. That's rarely true, that I have seen. In my second novel I have three Point of View Characters. At first I thought I'd try what I had done in my first novel (since I thought it worked at the time), but as I neared the middle I quickly saw that the story obviously belongs to one character. The other Point Of View Characters are secondary; they add depth and texture to the Main Character that I couldn't do any other way. I'm still in the beginning drafts of this novel. Who knows what I'll decide later down the road. I'm still new to all of this!

So how do you figure out who your story is really about? How do you know if you've got an overarching framework or a character framework? It's oftentimes very hard to pinpoint these things in a first draft, especially if you don't plan everything out and begin with what framework you want to use. Many new writers sit down and say, "I want to write this idea, but I'll use this character and this character and this character to tell it all. Yeah, that'll be cool." Sometimes we do begin with things planned out, and the story takes us in a different direction! But no matter what happens, when you finish that first draft you can sit down and figure out whose story you're telling. I have different methods of doing this. One method is to ask:

Which character is struggling the most against the antagonist?

If your story doesn't have what you like to call the "antagonist" then which character is struggling most against the set of rules governing the story? Fighting against a storm, or a group of terrorists or zombies, a generational gap like in Joy Luck Club, an evil government, or whatever. That's usually your Main Character. There are exceptions, but I won't get into those in this post.

If there's more than one character struggling against the antagonist, and they seem to all be equal in their fight, you might have a problem with identifying your Main Character. If you have a problem with that, you can bet your reader will too. It's absolutely essential to know your focus. If you're using an overarching framework, you'd better know what it is and make it clear what you're doing.

As for me, I'm still trying to figure all this novel-writing stuff out. These are just my thoughts, so if you agree or have more to add, or even if you disagree, voice your thoughts in the comments. I'd love to learn from you!


~MDA (aka Glam)

Know the Complexity of Your Villain

I'll admit it. For me, creating villains is one of the most rewarding things about writing. I noticed yesterday as I wrote a scene that all my great villains are complex. This is one of the reasons I'm rewriting my book instead of revising it. The first version had all simple villains. And too many of them. This new version has one main complex villain - and he's the kind of guy I'm starting to root for. Why? Because he used to be a good guy, and I feel bad for him.


Simple Villains
They are just that: simple. If you had to sit down and write their backstory, it would probably be boring, if not completely nonexistent. They were pretty much born evil. They want evil to rule for the sake of evil. They might even have that mwhahahaha laugh in some scenes. These characters exist in melodramatic works, and are oftentimes comical. But if handled well, a simple villain can work in genres other than comedy.

I have one simple main villain in my novel. I never show him. He's just there in the background running things with his evil, malicious hand. He might have a backstory. He might be sympathetic, but I don't explore that. His right hand man, however - the one my hero interacts with - is where all the fun lies. Because his motivations are complex.

An interesting blog post, A True Hero Makes The Movie, speaks about a story's strength building directly from the strength of the villain. The more evil a villain, the stronger the hero must be to conquer him. Thus a stronger story. I'm not sure I agree with that completely, but it's an interesting concept. This would mean that it doesn't matter much if your villain is simple or complex. Maybe it doesn't, but we can leave that for another post.


Complex Villains
I like complexity. Some of the most exciting moments in fiction for me are when the story dives into the reasons why a villain is evil. Sometimes this is the story. Sometimes that complexity exists simply to deepen a character. There are, of course, varying degrees of complexity. My friend Natalie let me read one of her novels, and it blew me away that her villain almost made me cry. She tells part of the story from his point of view, and by the end of the book I realized he was never evil to begin with - at least now that I understood him. The misunderstood villain is perhaps the most tragic character of all.

I stole my picture today from an excellent post, How To Write A Complex Villain. Melissa Donovan gives a writing exercise on where to get ideas for your villain's complexity. Seeing the villain in everyone around you is quite fun! Although maybe a little dangerous.

But one of my favorite exercises to discover the complexity of my villains is to write from their point of view, as in a journal entry, a letter, etc. Like my friend's book, some novels use the villain's point of view in the actual story. I have yet to do that, so it's important for me to completely understand my villain before writing too far in. Melissa Donovan has another exercise for this in her post, Become Your Nemesis.


Ask Yourself
Maybe all of this is old hat to most of you, but the reason I've decided to touch on this today is because at one point I though my villains in my current novel were complex. But when I sat down to write out their story I realized I didn't know what really made them tick. It was weakening my plot, my hero, and my writing. Like I said before, I do have one simple main villain. If I made him complex, the story would get too messy.

So lay out your villains and ask yourself what you really need to know about them in order to strengthen your story. Do they need to be more simple or more complex? Does your reader need to know all the backstory? Remember that sometimes you do, even if your reader doesn't.


~MDA (aka Glam)

Third Person Point Of View

Like first person point of view, third person point of view permits both a close, intimate relationship with characters or a distant, reflective relationship. Whereas the first person point of view recounts the actions in the story using the subject "I", in third person characters are referred to as he, she, or it. Third person point of view also requires some other decisions regarding the narrative voice and the limitations of knowledge of the characters.

In a first person story, the narrative voice is the voice of the character referring to himself, herself, or itself as "I". In the third person point of view, the narrator is less defined. It often implies an invisible observer of the story, sometimes attributed falsely to the writer. While the writer is, of course, writing the story, the narrator of the story can have a completely different voice and personality. For example, a normally funny person can write a third person story using a serious voice, or vice versa. A happy person can write in a dark voice ,and vice versa. When choosing to write in third person, it's important to decide on a voice you are going to use in order to provide consistency and to help define the language of your piece.

The other consideration when using third person is whether or not the narrator will have insight into the characters' thoughts. In a limited point of view, the narrator may only be allowed -- this allowance set upon by the writer -- to observe external actions of the characters. For example, "With a trembling hand, he lifted the megaphone to his mouth and spoke to the crowd." Here, the thoughts of the character must be inferred by observing the character's actions. This point of view can be effective in a more active story, and it forces readers to engage more with the writing if they want to understand a character's motivations.

Alternatively, the author may have access to one or a few character's thoughts in the strangely termed limited omniscience. "With a trembling hand, he lifted the megaphone to his mouth and spoke to the crowd. He hoped he would not make the same embarrassing mistake he made the last time he tried to lead the group." Here, readers are allowed to see what the character is thinking, something the other characters of the story may not know. It allows for a lot of irony to be used and also brings the reader closer to the happenings of the story because, in many ways, this point of view is similar to the first person point of view.

And, finally, in the omniscient point of view, the narrator has access to any and every part of the story. Nothing is out of reach. "With a trembling hand, he lifted the megaphone to his mouth and spoke to the crowd. He hoped he would not make the same embarrassing mistake he made the last time he tried to lead the group. The crowd members were anxious. Some of them whispered behind their hands, recalling the incident last week when his blunder had resulted in an arena full of laughter. Though he would never hear of it directly, they had all started calling him 'Flubbermouth'. Sitting in the front row with her hands folded in her lap, Christine Adell pitied him." The omniscient point of view has been less fashionable in a lot of contemporary literature, but its power can still be seen in the classics. My hero, Leo Tolstoy, for example, was such a supreme master of omniscience that he not only went inside the minds of characters in a hunting scene section of Anna Karenina, but he also went into the minds of the dogs.

First Person Point Of View

First person point of view involves using "I" as the narrator of the story. This morning, my alarm went off, I hit the snooze, and I went back to sleep. This is a popular point of view for much of contemporary storytelling, and has been at least partially responsible for creating some of the most memorable characters in history (think Catcher in the Rye or Moby Dick among others.) First person point of view is a fast way to establish a major character in the book, at least usually, and its traditional rules can keep writers adhered to a clear voice and realm of consciousness.

But, even with the first point of view, there are subtle variations within it that writers should be aware of. Consider the differences between these three passages:

A. When the doctor gave me the news, I fell to the ground and clutched my knees. He continued to speak, but I just shook my head and said, "No, this can't be happening." An hour later, I realized I was sitting in the cafeteria, eating a salad covered with beets and kidney beans, two foods I usually tend to avoid.

B. The doctor gave me the news, but his words got lost by the sound of my blood pulsing in my ears. I felt cold and weightless. My muscles lost their strength, and I fell to the ground and clutched my knees -- all I had to rely on now was myself. I lost my awareness of my surroundings for awhile. I vaguely remember hands helping me up and guiding me down a brightly lit hall. My full awareness didn't return until I was in the cafeteria eating a salad covered with beets and kidney beans, two foods I tend to avoid.

C. I realize how ridiculous I must have looked. I was in shock when the doctor gave me the news, and I fell to the ground and clutched my knees like a child. I lost awareness of my surroundings, but a pair of nurses helped me up and led me to the cafeteria. Even though my mind was distracted, my body moved on its own through the food line and to a table. I had fixed a salad for myself, one covered with beets and kidney beans, two foods I tended to avoid. I wasn't conscious of this at the time, but now I realize that I was learning how to take care of myself.

All of them are told from the first person point of view, but other choices give you different versions of the same story. In A. the first person point of view stays right with the character externally and in the present tense. We experience the scene step by step, almost objectively and don't get distracted by internal thoughts that are often vague and difficult to relate to. It brings an immediacy to the story and keeps the pace moving quickly. In B. we are given insights into the character's reactions through internal thoughts. This version sinks into the character's head and gives us more of an emotional perception. In C. some time has passed. This narrator has had the chance to reflect on the hospital experience and provide more intellectual reasoning for the character's behavior. This point of view implies that the speaker has gained some wisdon that wasn't there before.

So, even after you have decided to write a story from the first person point of view, be conscious of the closeness of that point of view to the character and to the action. Do we experience everything from the outside? Do we delve into immediate thoughts and emotions? Do we experience that story after years of reflection? All of these styles are equally valid and can be used to tell equally compelling stories, but the same story can vary greatly depending on the nuances of the first person point of view.