It’s all in your point of view…

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I believe that point of view (POV) can make or break a story. Well, maybe not break it, necessarily, but a different point of view can radically change a story.

A couple of other writers have blogged recently about POV, so I must do them credit by providing links to their posts. One of my favorite bloggers Ava Jae posted an insightful blog about POV, and editor Beth Hill wrote an exhaustive and very educational three-part post about point of view and character perspective.

To begin with, POV is one of three things: first person, second person, or third person. Each one has their pros and cons.

First person: I tells the story. The reader can immediately get into the main character’s head—the reader sees, hears, and feels everything that the character does.

For an example, I’ll use Daphne Du Maurier’s classic Rebecca. The story begins with an intense first line that puts the reader right away into the mind of the unnamed narrator:

          Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again.

A disadvantage (or perhaps advantage, depending on how you use it) is that first person POV can be limiting. If important events occur that the narrator does not witness, the information must be revealed in some other way or at some other point in the story.

As I said, this could be either good or not so good. In the case of Rebecca, for those of you who’ve read it, just think how different the story would have been if Max de Winter had been the one telling the story. Without giving away everything to people who haven’t read it, let’s just say that there would have been a whole lot less suspense and intrigue if the reader knew everything that Max de Winter knew.

I wrote a sci-fi story a few years ago (it’s been temporarily shelved, but I haven’t given up on it) that was written in the first person from the perspective of an alien. The plot involved the alien on her way to visit Earth for the first time, and her first encounter with a human.

I enjoyed being able to create and tell about the alien culture basically from the inside out. The interesting challenge to this, however, was describing humans and their culture from the point of view of someone who didn’t know what hair or tear ducts were, had never seen a yellow sun in the sky, and didn’t even have the words to describe the food that humans ate.

Second person: You tells the story. This POV is almost never used, and is rather awkward. Really the only example (good or bad) that I can think of that’s written in second person are the Choose Your Own Adventure books. Anybody remember reading those as a kid? Those were cool because you were actually in the story. But as for reading, say, an actual novel, you as the narrator makes for a difficult read.

Third person: He or she (or it or they) tells the story. This POV form has the most options, which, like most anything, could be either good or bad.

The story can be told from the perspective of just one character, making it similar to first person in that the reader has a limited view of the story but very intimate knowledge of the character, their thoughts and feelings, everything that they do and why.

Multiple characters can tell the story, giving the reader not only knowledge of simultaneous events, but sometimes different perspectives on the same event or character. This format works best, in my opinion, for long complicated stories like epic fantasy (and other genres too, of course) that involve a large cast of characters and multiple plot threads.

The book I’m working on falls into this category. While I have two characters who would be the absolute main main characters, I have a cast of five characters who share the job of telling the story.

I keep the scenes separate as far as character perspective goes, however. I don’t know if this is what might be called a “rule” of narration and POV, but keeping the narrating characters separate within a scene is usually advisable. The best multiple-perspective third person POV stories I’ve read have separate scenes, or even separate chapters, for each character’s viewpoint. Switching mid-scene (or worse, mid-paragraph) from one character’s head to another can often be jarring or confusing for the reader.

For an example of third person, I’ll use an excerpt of a scene from my current book. This scenes that involves two of my main characters (Mađen and Teija), but it’s told from the perspective of Mađen.

          The sun was rising as they neared Sodankylä. Mađen paused at the top of a hill for a moment to admire the view. The snow was just mere flurries now and the clouds were thin, and a red-gold glow was blazing on the horizon. Wild sweeping hills stretched in every direction, dotted with little pockets of trees and rapidly freezing lakes. Towers of rock, softened only slightly by the fresh dusting of snow, rose up from the tundra. Everything glowed a muted orange in the veiled sunrise.

          “It’s beautiful,” Teija said.

          “Sápmi. It’s always been the most beautiful thing to me.”

          “Sápmi?”

         “The land of the Sami children. You call it Lapland, or sometimes Samiland. But our ancestors called it home.”

         Home—a land of ice and reindeer, rich traditions and dying languages. And because of his stupidity, he’d almost let that life slide through his fingers and be lost to him—again. He belonged in the north with his reindeer and his family. Ávgos and their animals would be brought back safely, if it was the last thing he did. He gunned the engine and sped down the hill.

          He stopped briefly in Sodankylä for food and fuel. Teija was uncomplaining, though she did purchase a thicker scarf before they left the village. Mađen saw no evidence of pursuit of any sort, either in Sodankylä village or out on the tundra. During another pause in the late afternoon to stretch and relieve themselves, Mađen noticed Teija examining her phone.

          “You’re not calling anyone, are you?” he asked.

          She looked up at him. “How could I? There’s zero signal out here. My mom called me earlier and my friend texted me, but I can’t reply to either one.”

         “Are you planning to tell them where you are?”

         “Johanna knows where I am—basically. Well, she knows I’ve gone to Lapland. Why? You seem really concerned about me communicating with anyone.”

         Mađen pursed his lips and tried to think of a good way to answer that. “I just don’t want anyone to think I’ve kidnapped you.”

Along similar lines in the third person POV is the omniscient narrator, which is basically just the author telling the story. Scenes and characters are all treated equally, and if the thoughts of any characters are discussed, the reader is informed of them by the author rather than having the characters themselves share.

A good example of this is in Beatrix Potter’s stories; the author is the narrator, and in The Tailor of Gloucester, for example, this omniscient narrator tells us what is going on with the characters of the tailor, Simpkin the cat, and the mice. These stories are of course children’s books, and this omniscient narrator form is more common in children’s stories (it was also the most common POV form used about 100 years ago, when Beatrix Potter began writing).

It’s rare, though not impossible, of course, for a story to mix POV forms. One book that accomplishes this mixing quite well is The Dreaming: Walks through Mist by Kim Murphy. There are three main characters who tell the story—two of them tell it in third person, and one in first person. Each POV and perspective is given its own chapter, with a heading featuring the name of the character. This is a great way to prepare the reader for not only the change in perspective, as the third person narration switches between Shae and Lee, but also for the dramatic shift when the first person I narrator Phoebe tells her part of the story.

Regardless of the point of view, or the viewpoint character(s) used, the reader can only know what the author chooses to tell. That’s why I mentioned at the beginning that POV and character perspective can radically alter a story.

For writers out there, do you have a favorite POV that you write in, or do you let the story and characters determine the narrative perspective? For readers, who do you like to have telling the story: first or third person, omniscient narrator or just one or two characters? Please share your thoughts!

So What About Maps in Novels?

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I like maps. To me, a map adds a level of realism to a place, cementing it in my mind in a unique way—even if it’s a map of a place that I already know well.

I don’t often drive with a GPS. Usually (but not always), if I can study a map of the route ahead of time, and maybe have written down a couple of landmarks like a noteworthy building or an exit number, I’m good to go. And once I’ve driven or walked a route two or three times, I pretty much have a map of it in my head.

For me, maps in books serve the same function. The map adds a dimension to the places in the book, and helps to frame the characters as they interact within that space. I’ve read a few blog posts about maps in novels (if I could remember which blogs, I’d link to them). There seems to be a bit of a divide as to whether people like maps in their novels or think them unnecessary fluff. Apparently, there are some literary critics who consider a map to be a “crutch” of sorts, useful only to writers who can’t convey setting properly or to readers with no imagination.

Personally, I’ve never encountered anyone who thought that way. But if you are of that opinion of maps in books, then I do apologize if I offended. No offense is meant towards anyone—this blog is, quite obviously, my own opinion; feel free to stop reading at this point, if you so desire.

For those who have kept on reading, I will continue to express my opinion and my love of maps. Yes, I’m partial to maps in books because I’m a lover of fantasy stories—and fantasy, more so than most other genres, lends itself to needing maps because the location is a place that absolutely no one (besides the author) is already familiar with.

If you’ve read any of Tolkien’s stuff, you were probably glad to have a map so that you could track Frodo’s journey across Middle-Earth, and find out where Minas Tirith and Minas Morgul actually were in relation to each other.

Or, take the Bone series by Jeff Smith (yes, I know this is technically a graphic novel—more on that in another post). A map, as drawn by one of the characters, is a very important plot point, in addition to the map helping the reader to understand the importance of the fact that Barrelhaven is nowhere near The Dragon’s Stair.

Maps don’t have to be relegated to fantasy, certainly. Most any story that involves traveling in some fashion, or that takes place in a distant or little-known place can at least be enhanced by a map. In Andrea Barrett’s The Voyage of the Narwhal, there is a detailed map of the west coast of Greenland and all of the nearby islands in the Canadian arctic. The book is a historical fiction tale about a sailing ship that travels through the dangerous waters of the high arctic; not the most well-known part of the world, especially when the 19th century names for places are used, so a map helps.

And so, since I’ve been singing the praises of maps this whole time, it seems only fair that I should provide one of my own maps. I’m not an artist, or a cartographer, and so I may have to engage the help of some skilled person for the final version—but here is a rough map of the land of Pohjola. The characters actually spend a good portion of the book traveling, so I quickly realized that some of my readers might appreciate a map. And even though I had the map of their journey all vivid in my head, it helped me to have it drawn out.

I’d love to hear your thoughts! Any other map lovers out there? Map-haters?

Comments, tweets, and Facebook posts are welcome. 🙂

The Land of Familiar

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I was at a leadership conference recently, and one of the speakers was talking about stepping out of the land of familiar.

The land of familiar is a great place—it’s different for each person, but it’s comfortable, it’s home. There’s nothing wrong with familiar. It’s a place that gives us stability in our lives, that shapes our world-view. Loved ones are there.

But just like how a baby had to leave the comfortable, familiar arms of mommy and daddy and takes steps on its own in order to walk, we have to leave the land of familiar if we are going to accomplish something new in life.

It doesn’t have to be something grandiose. But as the saying goes, if nothing changes, then nothing changes. And while the land of familiar is a great place to be, it kind of gets to be the same after a while. Familiar.

I’m not trying to give life lessons or success principles here (even though I kind of am, I guess). But as I was learning from this speaker about how to succeed in life, I realized that it applies to writing, too. Writing is, after all, a form and extension of life, isn’t it?

If you want to try a writing exercise, maybe try stepping out of the land of familiar, even just for a little while. Are you a fiction writer? Try cranking out a poem. Do you have a well-polished piece that you’ve never let anyone read? Let a trusted friend give you some feedback. Do you always write in the first person? The third person perspective might give you some new insights into a character.

For me, this blog is a big giant step out of the land of familiar. I’ve never shared any of my writings with more than a few people close to me, and now my words are floating across cyberspace, available for several billion people to stumble across and read. And I’m also putting writing tips and advice into some of my blogs—being in a teacher/instructor sort of role, even via a blog, is a bit out of my realm of comfort.

I’d love to hear your thoughts! Have you stepped out of the land of familiar today?

Music to write by

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I never listen to music while I write. Songs with words are way too distracting when I’m trying to come up with words of my own. Even instrumental music can be a distraction for me, unless it’s so in the background that I can ignore it, like blending with voices and other noises at a coffee shop.

That being said, when I’m not writing, I love listening to music. I’ll often just sit with my eyes closed, doing nothing but listening to a piece of music. I also listen to music while I’m driving (not with my eyes closed). It’s during these times of contemplative listening that I either get ideas for a story, or am able to delve deeper into the world of what I’m currently writing.

For the fantasy story I’m working on right now, I have several pieces of music that are my go-to tracks to get me into the right mind-set. Many of these tracks are by a band called Angelit, formerly called Angelin Tytöt. The band is from a tiny place called Angeli, in northern Finland. (Angelin Tytöt means “The Girls of Angeli,” and Angelit translates as something close to “The Angelis”).

Angelit’s music instantly takes me far away, both to real places I’ve never been, and imaginary places where I have been. If I’m brainstorming about a fast-paced scene I need to write, like a battle or some other adventure, I’ll listen to a song like “Garkit.” The loud beat and almost soundtrack-like quality conjures up the images I need, and I’m ready to go.

A more relaxing, mesmerizing song like “Gidda Beaivvas” lets my mind wander more slowly through my world. Sometimes images put to the music helps, sometimes all I have to do is listen.

 

The underlying theme in all of Angelit’s music is the Sami yoik and traditional music sounds. The band members belong to the Sami people (also known as Lapps)–the indigenous people who live in the high arctic of northern Scandinavia. Angelit usually sings in their native Sami dialect, rather than Finnish, and they incorporate variations of the Sami traditional “yoik” singing into their music.

This cultural backdrop is another reason why Angelit’s music serves as my muse for my story. The story is set in Lapland in northern Finland (yes, I promise it’s a fantasy story), and some of my characters are Sami. I realize that some cultural inaccuracies will occur, since I’m not a Sami and haven’t been there, but give me a little leeway–it really is a fantasy story, and the majority of it does not take place in Lapland. But whether I’m writing a scene that’s set in a real place or set in a place of my own making, the songs of Angelit always get my creativity going.

I’d love to hear some feedback! Any other writers out there who have a go-to song or two to get your creative juices flowing?

The First Sentence

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Today’s blog subject I’m totally stealing from one of my favorite blogs that I read. Ava Jae wrote a great post on her Writability blog about great first lines of books.

So to continue on that thread, I decided to write about my take on the first sentence of a story.  What makes a good beginning to a novel or story anyway?

1. The first line should be attention-getting. It’s “the hook,” as folks in the writing world like to call it. A good example of an attention-getting first line can be found in the novel The Third Witch by Rebecca Reisert:

                “’Tis time to rob the dead.”

First of all, it’s a line of dialogue, so it puts the reader right into the middle of something happening. For me, I want to read on to find out who is talking, who they are talking to, and why.

Secondly, it’s a bit shocking. Grave-robbing is not generally something that’s done or even talked about in polite society. Immediately the reader is jolted awake (just in case they’d dozed off somewhere between the cover and the first page).  Not every first sentence needs to be this startling and grisly, but a hook of some sort is a good way to begin a novel.

2. The first line should involve the main character. The MC doesn’t have to be in the first sentence, or even the second or third sentence, but it’s a good idea if the beginning lines point to the MC somehow. As a reader, I, for one, want a story that’s about a character, not just a retelling of a Wikipedia entry.

Here’s a first line that introduces one of the main characters. It’s from C.S. Lewis’ The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, my favorite book from the Chronicles of Narnia.

                There was a boy called Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and he almost deserved it.

What a humorous—and attention-getting—intro to the book and the character! Right away, Lewis incites both dislike and pity for Eustace, as well as piquing curiosity as to the specifics of why he deserved such a name.

3. The first line shouldn’t be about the weather. I know I’ve read this tip in multiple places, and if I could find the blogs or remember who might have tweeted it, I’d include them here.

Weather (or descriptions of the setting or environment) is certainly important, but so easily it could become the Wikipedia entry that I mentioned earlier. Some sense of setting is good, but we all remember the classic no-no of beginning a story with “It was a dark and stormy night.”

The Voyage of the Narwhal by Andrea Barrett (oddly, I’m using two books about sea-going boats in my examples) has a good first line that involves a mention of the setting and weather, but also has the main character and a hook.

                He was standing on the wharf, peering down at the Delaware River while the sun beat on his shoulders.

So we know it’s a sunny day by a river. But more importantly, it involves the main character, and it leads the reader to wonder why he’s on the wharf and why it’s the Delaware River specifically, and thus read on.

And now, for a final example of a first sentence, here is the first line of the fantasy novel that I’m currently working on:

                It was barely dawn when Lyylia Niiranen hauled her suitcase out of the trunk of the taxi cab.

I’m not claiming that this is the best first line ever, especially according to the criteria I just laid out, and the other examples. But I would be interested in some feedback. Does my first line grab your attention at all? Does it make you want to give the next sentence a chance, or are you already underwhelmed? What are some of your favorite first lines?

Comments are welcome!