Point of View Decisions
Why choose first, second, third, deep third POV; links to articles and to examples of each
Hi Friends!
I know—it’s not Sunday! I need to post early this week because on Saturday I’ll be presenting at Mt. SAC’s Culturama on point-of-view. I need this information available to the attendees, so I need a URL/QR code to print out now 😁. If you are a writer making POV decisions, I think you’ll find it useful. If you’re a reader, there are links to some great stories in each POV. One of those stories, “Silver,” is one I wrote in the second-person POV. It was published in print and online by Alaska Quarterly Review (AQR).
This post does not lend itself to an audio version (it’s not an essay, but rather a ‘handout’ of resources). I’ll be back to recording next week (Sunday, Nov. 3–back to the usual schedule).
Point of View Decisions
Choose the Story Perspective: Direct Versus Indirect POV
This is an essay by editor Tiffany Yates Martin, published on Jane Friedman’s blog. In it, she offers examples of each. Here are her definitions:
First-person (“I/me”) and deep third (he/she/they or him/her/their) are more direct perspectives. The narrative voice is that of a character in the story, usually (but not always) the protagonist. Readers live the story directly through their firsthand, immediate perspective, and the narrative is written in the POV character’s voice.
Omniscient and limited third can be characterized as indirect perspectives, where there is a separate narrative voice that is not that of the character, but has varying degrees of narrative distance from them.
A possible problem with indirect POVs: the plot can take precedence over character development.
A reason for choosing an indirect POV: The perspective is broader and information unknown to the characters can be known to the reader (e.g., the killer is in the closet).
Choose a POV
Kindlepreneur has good examples of Writing Point of View: 1st, 2nd, 3rd & 4th POV. Here’s their brief overview:
Point of view in writing is the perspective from which a story is told. The common points of view from which an author can narrate a story are:
1st person POV uses the pronouns “I” and “we.”
2nd person POV uses the pronoun “you.”
3rd person POV uses the pronouns “she,” “he,” “they,” and “it.”
3rd person limited is when the narrator only knows the thoughts of one person. (Victoria’s note: I would say one person at a time.)
3rd person omniscient is when the narrator knows more than the thoughts of just one person.
4th person POV uses indefinite pronouns like “one,” “oneself,” “someone,” “anyone.” (Victoria’s note: we won’t be discussing the 4th-person POV.)
First-Person POV
Writer Meghan O’Rourke outlines the advantages of using first-person POV in a Substack post.
One of the fundamental ways that writers create intimacy/interest (whether they are conscious of this or not) is by letting the reader shadow the memoirist/narrator/speaker in the act of perceiving as they move through the world. Intimacy doesn’t arrive from exposition in which you tell the reader something about yourself, but in the places where you enact a mind reflecting and processing on the page and allow reader to live within it.
Second-Person POV
By addressing the reader as ‘you,’ the narrator makes a close connection with the reader. The reader becomes the main character/the protagonist. It’s used infrequently because it’s hard to develop the other characters around the reader.
Third-Person POV
Direct third-person POV is termed deep third-person POV. Again, editor Tiffany Yates Martin has many great examples on Jane Friedman’s blog. Here’s her definition:
Deep third-person POV is a strange little hybrid. A mix of limited third and first person, it plunges readers directly into the lived experience of the point-of-view character, using the third-person he/she pronouns while writing with the immediacy and intimacy of first person.
Choosing the Number of POVs in the Story
Here’s a discussion on the number of characters’ POVs in a story from George Saunders on Story Club. One of the stories discussed is Saunders’ “The Falls.” While it’s still in copyright, you can listen to it for free on the New Yorker Fiction Podcast here. And the podcast has a transcript, so—there’s the story! 😊
Choosing the right POV for each part of the story
Jeanne Kisacky writes for Writer Unboxed about whose mind we should be in based on what the scene needs. She dives into two questions to determine which character provides the best POV for a scene. One question is about the emotional impact of the scene; the other is about the information needed to understand the scene.
Some Highly Accomplished Examples of POV
Please note: Many of the examples are older works, not because older is better, but because they are out of copyright and you can access them freely. Since I’m recommending that you join
, I’ve pulled a few from it. Two—“The Cask of Amontillado” and “A Pair of Silk Stockings”—I used when I taught American literature. One—“Silver”—I wrote. (Figured I should put myself out there, cross my fingers.)Authorial Narration or Omniscient POV
The authorial/omniscient narrator tells a story involving other people. They see the story from an outsider's position, often a position of absolute authority that allows them to know everything about the story's world and its characters, including their private thoughts and even their unconscious motives.
Claire Keegan’s Small Things Like These discussed by David Corbett
An example of superb use of authorial narration (in a novel) is Claire Keegan’s Small Things Like These, discussed by David Corbett in Writer Unboxed. (His discussion is on “Menace without Violence.” The novel just happens to have a great POV. When you have a chance, read Corbett’s entire post. It gives a much deeper look at the novel. And you might subscribe to Writer Unboxed as well.) The action here takes place at a convent in Ireland that has a home for pregnant girls and a for-profit laundry service.
Before daylight on the Sunday before Christmas, Furlong is delivering another load of fuel to the convent:
When he let down the tail board and went to open the coal house door, the bolt was stiff with frost … As soon as he forced this bolt, he sensed something within but many a dog he’d found in a coal shed with no decent place to lie. He couldn’t properly see and was obliged to go back to the lorry, for the torch. When he shone it on what was there, he judged, by what was on the floor [excrement], that the girl within had been there for longer than the night. ‘Christ,’ he said. The only thing he thought to do was to take his coat off. When he did, and went to put it round her, she cowered.
He helps the girl to his truck where she warms herself against the hood. … He finally is able to ease her away and take her to the convent’s front door:
Before long, the door opened and a young nun looked out. ‘Oh!’ She let a little cry, and quickly shut it. The girl at his side said nothing but stood staring at the door, as though she might burn a hole through it with her eyes.
They’re standing in the cold for a good long while, and he tells himself he could take her to the priest’s house or even home, “but she was such a small, shut-down thing, and once more the ordinary part of him simply wanted to be rid of this and get on home.”
‘Won’t you ask them about my baby? He must be hungry,’ she said. ‘And who is there to feed him now? … He’s fourteen weeks old. They’ve taken him from me now, but they might let me feed him again, if he’s here. I don’t know where he is.’
When the door reopens, it’s the Mother Superior standing there, “a tall woman [Furlong] recognised from the chapel but had seldom dealt with.” After greeting Furlong and taking note of his being there so early on a Sunday, she remarks:
‘I’m just sorry you’ve had to encounter this,’ she said, before turning on the girl. ‘Where were you?’ she changed. ‘We’re not long after finding you weren’t in your bed. We were about to call the Gardaí.”
Furlong knows this is a lie, You, reader, know this is a lie. Furlong:
‘The girl was locked in your shed all night… Whatever had her there.’
Mother Superior:
‘God love you, child. Come in and get yourself upstairs and into a hot bath. You’ll catch your end. This poor girl can’t tell night from day sometimes. Whatever way we are going to mind her, I don’t know.’
The girl stood in a type of trance, and had begun to shake.
The stark contrast between how Furlong found the girl, what he suspects happened given her statement about her baby, and the Mother Superior’s deceit and her expressions of concern set up the key tension of what follows: What is the truth of what’s happening? Will it come out? What will happen to the girl—or him—given his discovery of her locked away in the coal shed?
Lots happens in a conversation between Mother Superior and Furlong before the girl reappears. She’s wearing a blouse, cardigan, and pleated skirt with shoes on her feet and her hair still damp from being washed and badly combed out. Furlong asks how she is but the Mother Superior cuts her off, telling her to sit and have tea and cake, which the girl accepts nervously.
The Mother Superior chats idly about the news and more unimportant things, then turns to the girl and asks her how she came to be in the coal shed.
‘All you need do is tell us. You’re not in any trouble.’
The girl froze in her chair.
‘Who put you in there?’
The girl’s frightened gaze went all around, touched Furlong’s briefly before falling back to the table and the crumbs on her plate.
‘They hid me, Mother.’
‘Hid you how?’
“Weren’t we only playing.’
‘Playing? Playing what, would you like to tell us.’
‘Just playing, Mother.’
‘Hide and seek, I dare say. And at your age. Did they not to think to tell you when the game was over?’
The girl looked away and let out an unearthly type of sob.
‘What ails you now, child? Wasn’t it all just a big mistake? Wasn’t it all just a big nothing?’
‘Yes, Mother.’
‘What was it?’
‘It was a big nothing, Mother.’
‘You’ve had a fright, is all. What you need now is a breakfast and a good long sleep.’
LOOT by Tania James discussed by Matt Bell on
An excellent example of an authorial/omniscient POV with shifting narrative distance is in (National Book Award long-listed book) A Close Reading of the Surprising Omniscient POV in LOOT by Tania James
“Boule de Suife” by Guy de Maupassant
This is an example of a famous/well-regarded omniscient story freely available on the Internet Archive.
Third-Person POV
“A Pair of Silk Stockings” by Kate Chopin
A good example of indirect third person is Kate Chopin’s “A Pair of Silk Stockings.” Note that the last sentence brings us into the mind of the protagonist, adding the type of interiority we see often in contemporary stories.
“The Falls” by George Saunders
I mention this story again because it’s a good example of two deep third-person POVs and because it’s a 21st century story that you can access online.
Second-Person POV
“Silver” by Victoria Waddle
I have an example from my own work!
First-Person POV
“The Yellow Wallpaper” by Charlotte Perkins Gilman from the Gutenberg Project
“The Cask of Amontillado” by Edgar Allen Poe from the Gutenberg Project
Other things to think about when creating a character’s POV
Writing the Antagonist from Writers Helping Writers: Pitfalls to Avoid
I discuss writing an antagonist who isn’t a villain:
Writing the Other from Writer Unboxed: Toni Morrison, Flannery O’Connor, and the Other (Includes links; an in-depth look at who’s allowed to write what and how that is changing)
No Human Is An Island: On Fiction As a Way of Connecting Across Difference
John Larison Considers the Importance and Responsibility of Writing “the Other” from Literary Hub
General Advice
If you’re having a hard time structuring the story, have a look at Freytag’s Pyramid. While this is a common way to structure a story, keep in mind that many excellent writers do otherwise.
The story is not there to fulfill your life’s purpose. If it doesn’t work out, that’s okay. It’s just you opening yourself to something that doesn’t exist—yet.
Think of protagonists and antagonists. Don’t allow anyone to become a villain unless you really need a one-dimensional sociopath.
Keep escalating the action. This doesn’t necessarily mean car crashes. It means your characters do things that can get them in trouble or create conflict or create humor. (Sly humor in an otherwise serious story is a great idea.)
As soon as you are done with Culturama for the day, join George Saunders’ Story Club on Substack. I’m not kidding, do it right away. The Q/A free advice on Thursdays is very helpful on all sorts of story problems. The paid portion on Sundays (about $50-60 per year) examines stories by major writers and helps us understand why they are great.