POV, part 4: Third Basics

Start of This Series

 

In the last post we discussed the drawbacks of the omniscient POV and explained why third-person is usually the best POV for fiction. Now we will look at some tips and tricks for using it effectively.

1. Establish the POV as early as possible. Generally the simplest and least confusing way to do this is to have the POV character named as the subject of the first sentence (“Harold Neederlunder watched Miss Gelderblount’s nostrils flare as she lectured him on the importance of participial phrases.”). You can also open with inner monologue (“Look at those nostrils flare. I think I can see into Miss Gelderblount’s brain.”) or observation (“Miss Gelderblount’s nostrils flared as she lectured on the importance of participial phrases.”) and reveal the POV character in the second paragraph (“Harold Neederlunder ignored the hairy caverns and tried to concentrate.”). Now, how does your reader know that Miss Gelderblount isn’t the POV character? Read on.
2. Don’t reveal anything your POV character cannot see, hear, or sense. This might seem obvious, yet it is probably the rule most often violated by beginning writers. To understand why, see the mirror discussion.) When we introduce a new character, we feel an immediate need to fill in the reader on vital details like hair and eye color. When that character is the POV character, you’re revealing things he or she cannot see without a mirror. Likewise when we’re looking straight into Miss Gelderblount’s cavernous nostrils—a view unavailable to Gelderblount herself—we know it’s not her POV.
3. To enhance character development, narrate with language your POV character would use (within reason). You want to remain grammatically correct, of course, even if your character isn’t. But within those confines you still have considerable freedom to put the reader inside the character’s head. Consider the following examples:
   • Harold joined his buddies at their usual lunch table.
   • Harold joined his crew at their usual lunch table.
   • Harold joined his cronies at their usual lunch table.
   • Harold joined his brain trust at their usual lunch table.
   • Harold joined his entourage at their usual lunch table.

See how the choice of a single word changes your perception of Harold and how he relates to the world?

One final rule:

Refer to other characters as the POV character would. So when Harold Neederlunder gets home, the woman who greets him is not Mrs. Diana Neederlunder but Mom. His friend’s dad is Mr. Messersmith, the ice cream man is Frosty Al, Mom’s special friend is Uncle Fabio, and so on. Once again, it’s about seeing the world through your POV character’s eyes. A special corollary to this rule: Don’t change the way you refer to a character within a scene. Yes, you should try to vary your sentence structure and word choice. But alternately using monikers like, “Miss Gelderblount,” “the teacher,” and “the monster-nostril woman” for the same person might mislead the reader into thinking they are three different people. And it’s fine for Harold to start calling his mom Mother at some point, but he shouldn’t switch between Mom and Mother in the same scene.

With these rules in mind, let’s take another stab at that scenelet from the last post.

 

[1]        Auburn hair tinged brunette in the dim cellar light, Eve sat on the futon sofa against the cinder block wall and scanned Steve’s temporary living quarters. “For a basement apartment, it’s not bad.”

[4]        Thankful he’d remembered to hide the velvet Elvis, Steve sat next to her, his thigh unintentionally close. “Thanks. I’m no interior decorator, but I do my best.”

            The darkened ground-level windows momentarily flickered solid white with lightning. Moments later, a peal of thunder rattled the pipes overhead.

 [8]       Eve snuggled up against Steve. “Some storm.”

            Steve placed his arm around her. “You might call it a perfect storm.” He’d blundered into her zone of safety and received a welcome. He was almost there. If only God would cooperate.

[11]      Steve tried to convey the word please through his sweaty touch. Just as he dared to pull Eve closer, footsteps creaked down the basement stairs. Both sat upright on the futon.

            Clad in bathrobe and slippers on the shadowy landing, Genevieve eyed them. “Steve? I didn’t know you brought home company.”

[15]      Aw, she’s going to ruin everything.

            Genevieve switched on the fluorescent light. “If you’d called ahead, sweetness, I could have made those snickerdoodles you love so much.”

            Eve gave Steve a twisted look. “You live with your mother?”

[19]      Indignant, Steve stood. “I pay rent.”

            Note the changes:

• Because we’re in Steve’s POV, the word please (line 11) can’t radiate from his eyes . . . and we don’t see their color.
• Steve does not refer to his “temporary living quarters” in Mom’s basement as a “bachelor pad” (line 2).
• The descriptions of the lightning (line 6) and Genevieve’s entrance (line 12) are hampered because we can’t leave the basement.
• We have more clarification on the “zone of safety” (line 10).

Finally, note what doesn’t change: Steve’s mother is still Genevieve. Fine if Steve actually calls his mother by her first name, whether to assert adulthood, independence, or a firm belief that somebody screwed up in the maternity ward twenty-seven years ago.

If it’s just a gimmick to prolong the mystery of who is this other woman interloping on the snuggling couple, though, we might want to consider Eve’s POV. She doesn’t know Genevieve is Steve’s mother until he tells her—or declines to deny it.

A problem, though: Eve doesn’t even know Genevieve is Genevieve. How do you handle a character who is unknown in the current POV? We’ll cover that in the next post.