Last week we talked about choosing a narrator and the narrative voice, usually either first-person or third-person limited.
Today, we shift to a closely related topic: Point-of-view.
Today’s discussion topics include:
What is point-of-view (POV) in fiction?
Narrator POV
Main character POV
Secondary character POV
Multiple POVs
Head-hopping
Unreliable narrator
Point-of-view: Through whose eyes do we see the story or scene?
First, there was the choice of narrator, then the voice (first- or third-person), and now point-of-view (POV). Some use these terms interchangeably, but I see them as tightly woven but separate elements that have to fit together to create the camera lens for your story.
Point-of-view is simply “through whose eyes do we see the story in any given scene.” Or, “whose head are readers in at this moment.” That includes seeing the surrounding setting, action, and other characters. It also includes whose thoughts and emotions do we experience as we read.
And yes, this can shift from one scene to the next in third-person limited with two or more POV characters.
Narrator
At some points in the story, the reader will hear directly from the narrator.
This might be a third-person narrator, the disembodied voice that describes the setting, the events, or tells what a character is doing or thinking from a distance.
The narrator might be describing the weather or the setting, narrating the action, or providing backstory—the wide-angle perspective.
Other times, the third-person narrator shifts from this external, wide-angle POV to the close-up view from within a character in the moment.
Or it might be a first-person narrator who is narrating her story as it happens, including description, exposition, backstory, actions, and internal thoughts and emotions.
Main character
Most stories, whether in first- or third-person, are told from the point-of-view of the main character. In third-person, the narrative can move from the wide-angle lens looking at the story from the outside to the internal view through the eyes and inside the head of the main character.
Third-person example:
She put on her best business outfit and fixed her auburn hair perfectly. Not too much makeup, just enough (external third-person POV). On the drive to the meeting, she rehearsed in her mind what she would say, worried she might come across too aggressive (shifts to her internal point-of-view).
First-person example:
I put on my best business suit and fixed my hair. Good thing I’d touched up the auburn color last week to cover the roots (slightly distant but still internal narration). On the drive to the meeting, I rehearsed in my mind what I would say. Would I come across too aggressive? (shifts to in the moment, inside the character’s head).
Secondary character(s)
Many stories, especially if told in third-person, bounce around to different characters’ points-of-view. This can round out a story, provide information that the main character isn’t aware of, or more fully develop important secondary characters.
Think of a crime novel. The main character might be the detective trying to catch a serial killer. But some scenes might shift to the point-of-view of the killer planning for his next victim, but the detective doesn’t know who the killer is yet. The next scene might shift to the intended victim, walking home alone from an evening out with friends, completely unaware our antagonist is stalking her.
Multiple points-of-view
For many stories, the story may focus on a single character’s point-of-view, whether told in first-person or third.
For many other stories, usually told in third-person, the point-of-view will shift between the main character and an important secondary character or two (possibly more).
Question: How many third-person POV characters can I have?
For most stories, I normally recommend no more than three, with the majority of the book in the main character’s point-of-view, but there are great books that have done many more, of course.
Question: Can I use more than one first-person POV?
If there are two key characters, for example, a man and a woman in a romance, the writer might choose to write both in first-person, alternating between the two.
Are the two characters given equal billing as main characters? Both protagonists, or is one the protagonist and one the antagonist (detective and criminal, for example)? Or is one the main character, but the POV occasionally shifts to the secondary character, both in first-person?
This has to be handled with skill to ensure that readers are immediately clued in when the first-person voice and point-of-view changes from one character to the other, or it can become very confusing.
It also risks creating a situation where readers don’t fully connect with either character, so pay extra attention to character development (a later article in this series).
Question: Can I mix first and third to shift POV?
You “can” do anything. It can, however, be jarring or awkward, or even confusing to readers. The questions to ask are:
Should you do it?
Is it necessary to the story you want to tell?
Do you know how to do it in a way that keeps readers engaged?
Again, it has to be done in a way that readers can follow and don’t get confused. You’re changing both the voice and the POV when you make a switch like this. That can jolt a reader right out of the story.
One disadvantage to keep in mind, besides confusing readers, is that the first-person point-of-view brings a reader in closely to connect with the character; the shift to third-person can disrupt that connection, weakening the bond between reader and main character.
Head-hopping
Head-hopping is when the point-of-view switches from one character to another in the middle of a scene.
I’ve seen point-of-view shift in the middle of a paragraph, or dual points-of-view appearing in a single sentence (which is fine if your name is Jane Austen).
This disrupts the reader from being firmly planted in the point-of-view of the central character in a scene. It can become confusing (“Who just thought that? How is she seeing her own facial expression?”).
This slips from third-person limited to third-person omniscient, and not in a good way.
Here’s an example of head-hopping:
Fred stood on the corner, waiting for Bob to pick him up. One last job. Then he’d get out of this business. Too dangerous. Bob didn’t want to arrive late, but he didn’t want to get pulled over for speeding. He hoped Fred was outside waiting for him. He needed the money. They had to get to the bank at precisely 10:42am to take advantage of the security guard shift change. And he didn’t want to give Fred any excuse to bail on him. Fred didn’t want to go to prison. He needed his partner to pull this one off.
In this example, the point-of-view head-hops from Fred’s internal thoughts to Bob’s internal thoughts and back again. The final sentence (He needed his partner) might be unclear if “he” refers to Fred or Bob.
Stick to one point-of-view per scene.
Use a chapter break or scene break to shift point-of-view.
A scene break within a chapter is usually indicated by three asterisks or some other icon (***) at the end of one scene and before the next begins, alerting the reader that there is a break here and the scene and/or point-of-view may shift.
But you can’t just rely on the scene break icon. Clearly indicate when the point-of-view changes in the opening words of the next scene so readers are instantly and seamlessly clued into whose point-of-view they are in for the new scene.
For example, here is the head-hopping scene above with Fred and Bob, edited to indicate a scene change and a point-of-view change. Note the point-of-view shift that is clearly indicated in the last sentence of one scene and the first sentence of the next scene:
Fred stood on the corner, waiting for Bob to pick him up. One last job. Then he’d get out of this business. Too dangerous. Fred didn’t want to go to prison.
***
Bob didn’t want to arrive late, but he didn’t want to get pulled over for speeding. He hoped Fred was outside waiting for him. They had to get to the bank at precisely 10:42am to take advantage of the security guard shift change. And he didn’t want to give Fred any excuse to bail on him. He needed his partner to pull this one off. He needed the money.
You don’t want readers to get a page or two into the next scene, then become confused before they gradually figure out the point-of-view has changed.
Head-hopping can occur in first-person voice as well, if the narrator/character momentarily dips into the internal thoughts or emotions of another character rather than externally viewing the actions and reactions of the other character.
Example:
I told him I was leaving him, and he felt sad as he thought back on happier times.
How does she know how he felt and what he was thinking? She can’t unless she’s psychic.
Instead:
I told him I was leaving him, and his face fell as tears welled in his eyes. “After all the happy times we’ve had,” he said, “how did we get to this?”
Here, the first-person narrator is seeing and hearing his actions, reactions, and spoken words rather than reading his mind to narrate his thoughts and emotions. Showing, not telling.
The unreliable narrator
The unreliable narrator is the narrator of the story who might be lying, or might not understand or comprehend what’s going on, or not privy to important information that could be revealed to readers. But what the narrator tells the reader, what the main character is perceiving, might not be the truth.
Gradually, the reader might be clued into this and know things (or suspect things) the narrator herself doesn’t know. Or it might be a big surprise ending when it’s revealed that the narrator of the story was wrong.
I try not to use my own work as examples very often, but I will here anyway. Carrie Destin in Carry Me Away is an unreliable narrator. She perceives things that might not be true; she doesn’t always correctly interpret what other characters say to her, but readers might pick up on the clues that Carrie isn’t hearing what was actually said. Her mindset was formed early on, and when things change, she doesn’t recognize or accept it.
The first-person narrator from Hannah’s Voice is unreliable because she’s six years old in the first third of the story. Readers see what’s really going on, but Hannah interprets everything through a child’s understanding.
And the main character in my novel Slade may or may not be unreliable. It’s intentionally vague.
Apparently, I like unreliable narrators.
More famous examples of unreliable narrators include Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk (wait, those two guys are the same guy?), Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn (wait, she’s mentally ill?), and the movie Sixth Sense (wait, he’s been dead this whole time?).
Things to think about and discuss
What point-of-view(s) are you using in your current work? Why?
Are you using first- or third-person voice to present that POV?
What issues are you finding with this combination of narrative voice and point-of-view? How are you overcoming those issues?
Feel free to answer any of these questions in the comments, if you’d like. Or ask any questions of me and the group.
Next up
This time next week, we’ll talk about the third element of the camera lens: perspective. Wide-angle or zoom lens? As it happens or looking back on prior events?
This is great info, Robb. I like the term "Head-Hopping", perfectly descriptive and something to be avoided. I am most intrigued by the concept of the "Unreliable Narrator"' and would love to develop a story using this POV/Voice.