Jane Friedman's Blog: Jane Friedman, page 9

New AI fiction translation service: GlobeScribe

GlobeScribe is an AI-powered service that translates fiction from English into multiple languages for a flat rate of $100 per language.

This premium article is available to paid subscribers of Jane's newsletter. Here's what subscribers get:

Access to more than 3,000 premium articles on this site, all searchableIndustry news that includes Jane’s reporting and analysis, sent via email once a wekAccess to Jane’s private resource guides, continually updated Subscribe today.

Or login below if you're already a subscriber.

Wondering why some content isn't free? Did something change? Here's an explanation.

Links of Interest: July 9, 2025

The latest in trends, bookselling, audio, AI, and libraries.

This premium article is available to paid subscribers of Jane's newsletter. Here's what subscribers get:

Access to more than 3,000 premium articles on this site, all searchableIndustry news that includes Jane’s reporting and analysis, sent via email once a wekAccess to Jane’s private resource guides, continually updated Subscribe today.

Or login below if you're already a subscriber.

Wondering why some content isn't free? Did something change? Here's an explanation.

Username or E-mail Password * function mepr_base64_decode(encodedData) { var decodeUTF8string = function(str) { // Going backwards: from bytestream, to percent-encoding, to original string. return decodeURIComponent(str.split('').map(function(c) { return '%' + ('00' + c.charCodeAt(0).toString(16)).slice(-2) }).join('')) } if (typeof window !== 'undefined') { if (typeof window.atob !== 'undefined') { return decodeUTF8string(window.atob(encodedData)) } } else { return new Buffer(encodedData, 'base64').toString('utf-8') } var b64 = 'ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz0123456789+/=' var o1 var o2 var o3 var h1 var h2 var h3 var h4 var bits var i = 0 var ac = 0 var dec = '' var tmpArr = [] if (!encodedData) { return encodedData } encodedData += '' do { // unpack four hexets into three octets using index points in b64 h1 = b64.indexOf(encodedData.charAt(i++)) h2 = b64.indexOf(encodedData.charAt(i++)) h3 = b64.indexOf(encodedData.charAt(i++)) h4 = b64.indexOf(encodedData.charAt(i++)) bits = h1 << 18 | h2 << 12 | h3 << 6 | h4 o1 = bits >> 16 & 0xff o2 = bits >> 8 & 0xff o3 = bits & 0xff if (h3 === 64) { tmpArr[ac++] = String.fromCharCode(o1) } else if (h4 === 64) { tmpArr[ac++] = String.fromCharCode(o1, o2) } else { tmpArr[ac++] = String.fromCharCode(o1, o2, o3) } } while (i < encodedData.length) dec = tmpArr.join('') return decodeUTF8string(dec.replace(/\0+$/, '')) } jQuery(document).ready(function() { document.getElementById("meprmath_captcha-686f6910dae13").innerHTML=mepr_base64_decode("MTEgKyAzIGVxdWFscz8="); }); Remember Me     Forgot Password

After My Second Book Died on Submission, I Took These 4 Crucial Steps

Photo by Aaron Burden

Today’s post is by author Eva Langston.

Well, to be honest, the first thing I did, after my second manuscript didn’t sell, was spend a week wallowing in despair. But I’ll get to that.

First, let me set the scene. I have been trying to become a published novelist for nearly twenty years. First, I got my MFA and wrote several terrible drawer novels. Then, in 2014, I signed with an agent but, after working with him on revisions for nine months, we parted ways and I went back to the query trenches. When I couldn’t find another agent, I wrote more books. I queried for many years with multiple projects. Eventually, I found a new agent. We worked on revisions to my YA suspense novel and I thought: This is it. Finally, I would have a published book to my name.

But the book didn’t sell. It was rejected by every editor who read it. No worries, I told myself. While on submission, I’d been writing and revising another YA novel, so my agent sent that one out to editors. When, a year later, that second YA novel died on submission, it felt like a little piece of me died, too.

I had written another manuscript while the second book was on sub, and it needed major revisions, but I struggled to find the motivation to do them. Give another year of my life and another chunk of my soul working on yet another novel that wouldn’t sell? I felt more depressed than I’d ever felt in my life.

So here’s what I did.

1. I tended to my mental health.

I was really down. For a few days I felt like I’d been flattened by a steamroller. I barely ate, and I felt physically incapable of smiling. I let myself feel my feelings, but I knew I needed to do something to get out of this funk. So I talked to my therapist, and I scheduled phone calls with my friends. I scrounged up the energy to take brisk walks. I spent time with my family. I made a list titled “ways to feel better” and started checking off items on the list.

2. I filled my creative well.

Since trying to work on revisions to my newest manuscript was fueling my feelings of fear, anxiety, and failure, I read books instead. I forced myself out of the house on artist dates: a sculpture garden, a museum, a long hike. In fact, on the drive home from the sculpture garden, I had an idea for a new novel, but we’ll get to that in a minute.

3. I started a project that was 100% in my control.

You can’t control whether or not an agent signs you, or a publisher offers you a contract, or a reader buys your book, or your book wins an award. In this business, one of the only things you can control is the writing itself.

But I was feeling discouraged with writing. I was feeling depressed that all my manuscripts were likely going to sit in the depths of my computer, unread and unappreciated, for the rest of time.

So I decided to do something I’d been wanting to do for a long time: start my own podcast. It was something I could create and put out into the world totally on my own. I didn’t need anyone to tell me yes. I could just do it. And having that control felt really good.

I started working on my new podcast The Long Road to Publishing with Eva Langston. I interviewed guests who had traveled a long and bumpy road to publishing their books. I talked to authors who had spent years in the query trenches, weathered hundreds of rejections, had manuscripts die on submission. In fact, a lot of the authors I’ve talked to so far have had at least one book die on submission; it’s way more common than people realize. And, honestly, that makes me feel a lot better.

I’m so happy I’ve created this podcast. These interviews have not only been fascinating, they’ve been healing. I’m not the only one struggling. Pretty much everyone who finds success in this business has traveled a difficult road to get where they are. The people who make it are the ones who put in the work and don’t give up.

Of course, starting a podcast was my dream project. For others it might be making a quilt, taking dance classes, playing music, or creating an author website. The point is to do something that’s in your control, and maybe involves putting a piece of yourself out into the world.

4. I channeled my feelings into a new low-stakes novel.

Writing is such a big part of who I am, and I knew I’d feel better if I was working on something creative. But for the sake of my mental health, it needed to be low stakes. Instead of trying to revise the manuscript I’d written, I decided to write something new, just for fun. No word count goals, and I’d keep my expectations low. Just sit down five times a week and write for an hour, I told myself. Find joy in the creative process: the words, the experimentation, the discovery.

Remember that idea I’d had while driving back from the sculpture garden? It was for an adult thriller, and I decided to pursue it. I created a character who was struggling with her career and falling into a pit of despair. I poured all my feelings of anxiety and anger and dejection into this character. And because it’s fiction (and a thriller), I dialed everything up to eleven and made her behave in ways I never would.

It was very cathartic.

And this low-stakes novel that I told myself to simply have fun with I finished it in three months! My agent absolutely loved it, and she’ll be sending it out to editors soon. I think this is my best novel yet, and I never would have been able to write it if my first two books hadn’t died on submission.

Getting traditionally published is incredibly hard at pretty much every step of the process: writing the book, revising it, finding an agent, getting a book deal. You have to hit the right agent/editor at the right time with the right project. And, from what I hear, it doesn’t get much easier after that. The publishing road is full of potholes and detours, even after you get a book deal. That’s why it’s so important to find joy in the writing itself.

Note from Jane: You can listen to Eva’s conversations with guests such as New York Times bestseller Julia Bartz, YA and MG author Kern Carter, and novelist Courtney Maum on The Long Road to Publishing. It can be found on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, YouTube, or wherever you get your podcasts.

What Isn’t Said Still Screams: Writing Subtext in Horror Fiction

Photo by Aimee Vogelsang on Unsplash

Today’s post is by professor, author, and short-film director Lindy Ryan.

In horror, silence often speaks the loudest. Whether it’s a glance across a dinner table, a hesitation before a door is opened, or a line of dialogue that means the opposite of what it says, subtext is the quiet engine beneath your scene. It’s the difference between a story that moves and one that lingers.

Emerging writers often focus on plot and action—which are essential!—but the true pulse of horror comes from what festers just beneath the surface. Subtext transforms the mundane into the menacing. It’s what makes readers lean in closer, even when they want to look away.

Let’s dig into what subtext is and why it matters to make it work like a whispered warning in your fiction.

What is subtext, and why does it matter?

Subtext is the layer of meaning beneath a character’s words, actions, or silence. It’s what’s really going on in a scene—even (or especially) when no one’s saying it out loud.

In horror and thrillers, what isn’t said often carries more weight than what is. Think of the chilling tension in The Haunting of Hill House or the strained pleasantries of Get Out. On the surface, the scenes are polite, even mundane. Underneath, danger pulses like a second heartbeat.

Subtext creates:

Tension: what’s hidden might be harmfulCharacter depth: people rarely say exactly what they feelRe-read value: a line means one thing now … and something else laterPsychological unease: the essence of horror and thrillers

Shirley Jackson once said, “I delight in what I fear.” Subtext is how you deliver that delight in doses. It lets your reader feel what your character won’t admit—even to themselves.

5 ways to create horror-fying subtext in your scenes1. Let your dialogue lie.

It’s true in life and in fiction: People rarely say exactly what they mean. They dodge, they deflect, they downplay. So should your characters.

Instead of: I’m scared to go in there.

Consider: It’s just a basement—what’s the big deal?

By having a character pretend they’re not afraid, you reveal their fear more powerfully. The reader senses the gap between what’s said and what’s felt, and that’s subtext.

Tip: Write the conversation as if the characters are trying to hide what they’re really feeling. Then go back and tweak the lines so that the real emotion flickers inside what’s unsaid.

2. Use setting to reflect emotion.

Your environment can do heavy emotional lifting without saying a word.

Instead of saying: She felt trapped.

Let the setting imply it: The ceiling fan spun lazily overhead, blades slicing the stale air. The windows had been painted shut years ago.

Now, the room mirrors her internal state. The space becomes claustrophobic. The emotion rises not through direct narration, but through imagery and senses. Consider the Overlook Hotel in Stephen King’s The Shining: the building itself becomes an emotional mirror to reflect Jack’s breakdown in chilling echoes.

3. Action > explanation.

We all know the adage “show don’t tell.” This is applicable for subtext, too. When in doubt, let your characters do something that reveals what they’re trying to say.

Instead of: He was jealous.

Consider: He refilled his drink without asking if she wanted more. His laugh came a half-beat late when she said her coworker’s name.

Readers love to decode behavior, especially in genres like horror and thriller. Show them what matters through subtle action. A clenched fist on a table. A gaze that lingers a second too long. A locked door that was never locked before.

Tip: In a highly emotional scene, remove the interior monologue and let body language do the talking.

4. Contradict the mood.

One of the most effective tools in crafting horror and thrillers is to set the wrong emotional tone, intentionally.

Example: Your character just buried a body in the woods. Instead of giving us panic or guilt, they admire the trees or talk about dinner plans. This emotional dissonance unsettles your reader. Why aren’t they reacting the way they should? What aren’t they telling us?

Gillian Flynn masters this technique in Gone Girl, where calm, composed narration often stands in eerie contrast to deeply disturbing events. Ultimately, subtext thrives in that contradiction. It tells us something is very wrong here.

5. Leave gaps for the reader.

You don’t have to tie every ribbon into a neat little bow. Trust your reader to follow shadows.

This might mean:

Ending a chapter on a gesture, not a resolutionLetting a conversation trail off mid-thoughtShowing a reaction without the cause—until later

Cormac McCarthy once said, “There is no such thing as life without bloodshed. The notion that the species can be improved in some way … that is a really dangerous idea.” His writing is sparse, cold, and deeply disturbing—“recording angel” as per his Blood Meridian: brutal, inescapable, non-intervening, observation—precisely because of what it refuses to say.

At its core, subtext is a gesture of trust between writer and reader. You’re saying: You’re smart enough to notice the silence. You’re brave enough to step into the dark.

Don’t overexplain. 

Don’t force the emotion.

Subtext invites your reader to become part of the horror. To guess. To fill in the blank. Let it bloom and, perhaps, your reader’s imagination will go to even darker places than yours ever could.

Aspiring novelist competition in the UK

The competition is a partnership between Good Housekeeping and the Rachel Mills Literary Agency.

This premium article is available to paid subscribers of Jane's newsletter. Here's what subscribers get:

Access to more than 3,000 premium articles on this site, all searchableIndustry news that includes Jane’s reporting and analysis, sent via email once a wekAccess to Jane’s private resource guides, continually updated Subscribe today.

Or login below if you're already a subscriber.

Wondering why some content isn't free? Did something change? Here's an explanation.

A new imprint from Farrar, Straus and Giroux

North Point Press is returning to life under FSG, which acquired its assets in 1992 but later stopped releasing new books under the imprint.

This premium article is available to paid subscribers of Jane's newsletter. Here's what subscribers get:

Access to more than 3,000 premium articles on this site, all searchableIndustry news that includes Jane’s reporting and analysis, sent via email once a wekAccess to Jane’s private resource guides, continually updated Subscribe today.

Or login below if you're already a subscriber.

Wondering why some content isn't free? Did something change? Here's an explanation.

New comics imprints at Time Bomb

UK comics publisher Time Bomb has launched two new imprints, WestWords and Comic Scene.

This premium article is available to paid subscribers of Jane's newsletter. Here's what subscribers get:

Access to more than 3,000 premium articles on this site, all searchableIndustry news that includes Jane’s reporting and analysis, sent via email once a wekAccess to Jane’s private resource guides, continually updated Subscribe today.

Or login below if you're already a subscriber.

Wondering why some content isn't free? Did something change? Here's an explanation.

New UK publisher: Firefinch

The new independent publisher will begin releasing titles in summer 2026. The effort is led by former executives from Bonnier Books UK.

This premium article is available to paid subscribers of Jane's newsletter. Here's what subscribers get:

Access to more than 3,000 premium articles on this site, all searchableIndustry news that includes Jane’s reporting and analysis, sent via email once a wekAccess to Jane’s private resource guides, continually updated Subscribe today.

Or login below if you're already a subscriber.

Wondering why some content isn't free? Did something change? Here's an explanation.

Links of Interest: July 2, 2025

The latest in traditional publishing, bookselling, culture & politics, fiction reading & literary fiction, and AI.

This premium article is available to paid subscribers of Jane's newsletter. Here's what subscribers get:

Access to more than 3,000 premium articles on this site, all searchableIndustry news that includes Jane’s reporting and analysis, sent via email once a wekAccess to Jane’s private resource guides, continually updated Subscribe today.

Or login below if you're already a subscriber.

Wondering why some content isn't free? Did something change? Here's an explanation.

Username or E-mail Password * function mepr_base64_decode(encodedData) { var decodeUTF8string = function(str) { // Going backwards: from bytestream, to percent-encoding, to original string. return decodeURIComponent(str.split('').map(function(c) { return '%' + ('00' + c.charCodeAt(0).toString(16)).slice(-2) }).join('')) } if (typeof window !== 'undefined') { if (typeof window.atob !== 'undefined') { return decodeUTF8string(window.atob(encodedData)) } } else { return new Buffer(encodedData, 'base64').toString('utf-8') } var b64 = 'ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz0123456789+/=' var o1 var o2 var o3 var h1 var h2 var h3 var h4 var bits var i = 0 var ac = 0 var dec = '' var tmpArr = [] if (!encodedData) { return encodedData } encodedData += '' do { // unpack four hexets into three octets using index points in b64 h1 = b64.indexOf(encodedData.charAt(i++)) h2 = b64.indexOf(encodedData.charAt(i++)) h3 = b64.indexOf(encodedData.charAt(i++)) h4 = b64.indexOf(encodedData.charAt(i++)) bits = h1 << 18 | h2 << 12 | h3 << 6 | h4 o1 = bits >> 16 & 0xff o2 = bits >> 8 & 0xff o3 = bits & 0xff if (h3 === 64) { tmpArr[ac++] = String.fromCharCode(o1) } else if (h4 === 64) { tmpArr[ac++] = String.fromCharCode(o1, o2) } else { tmpArr[ac++] = String.fromCharCode(o1, o2, o3) } } while (i < encodedData.length) dec = tmpArr.join('') return decodeUTF8string(dec.replace(/\0+$/, '')) } jQuery(document).ready(function() { document.getElementById("meprmath_captcha-68662e269a121").innerHTML=mepr_base64_decode("MTAgKyAzIGVxdWFscz8="); }); Remember Me     Forgot Password

How POV Affects Character Inner Life

Photo by Mart Production

Today’s post is by editor Tiffany Yates Martin. Join her on Wednesday, July 9, for the online class Mastering Character Inner Life.

Much of the available advice for conveying inner life in story involves allowing readers more deeply and intimately into what’s going on inside your characters: Eliminate “filter words” like thought or decided or saw; immerse the reader in the character’s perspective; express the character’s thoughts in their voice.

That’s helpful when you’re writing in one of the direct POVs: first-person, deep third, or even the relatively uncommon second person. But what if you’re not?

When using indirect POVs—limited third and omniscient (also objective, though it’s rarely used in modern fiction)—the challenge is often exploring interiority while not breaking the boundaries of these narrative perspectives.

Knowing how to effectively give readers insight into your characters requires being aware of these differences and how to adapt the techniques for conveying inner life no matter your story’s POV.

What is inner life?

Before we explore it, let’s define it: Too often “letting readers in” to the characters’ inner landscape can result in stilted reams of italicized direct thought, a thesaurus’s worth of emotional labels, or a series of physical and physiological reactions that rival any DSM list of symptoms.

Inner life—or interiority, as some refer to it—is simply refracting the events of the story through the lens of the characters experiencing them: their emotions and thoughts, yes, and how they react to what’s happening, but also what they make of those events, filtered through their own background and biases and traits; how the characters process what’s happening; how they are affected by it in a way that then influences their subsequent actions, behavior, and attitudes.

Inner life isn’t simply window dressing or stage business thrown in to break up the action. And it’s not only for “feely” stories like romance or women’s fiction. It’s essential to creating effective, compelling, impactful stories in every genre.

Inner life gives readers insight into the characters as they navigate their journey.

Inner life and POV

How does the type of POV you choose affect the way you give readers access to your characters’ inner lives?

With direct POVs, for example, filter words are often extraneous because the entire narrative is understood to be in the perspective of the point-of-view character. Everything we see is by default their thoughts, decisions, viewpoint, etc., so using filter words adds an unnecessary layer of remove between character and reader.

Indirect points of view presume a narrative voice that’s separate from the character voice, so the “filter words” may be needed for clarity; otherwise readers may feel disoriented or unsure of the narrative perspective.

Direct POVs have firsthand access to characters’ inner lives: As readers we experience their thoughts, emotions, and reactions, as if they are our own.

But in indirect POVs the narrative perspective can only eavesdrop and report on characters’ inner world, not directly experience it. (That way lies the dreaded head-hopping—looking squarely at you, Kevin Kwan.) But used ineffectively, that restriction can create in readers an unintentional impression of distance or opacity. [Read more: Choosing Story Perspective: Direct versus Indirect POV]

Let’s take a single example and compare the differences and limitations between both categories of POV.

Direct POV

The sleazy lieutenant drilled her with wolf eyes that shot ice through her gut. Dammit, who tipped him to Dad’s secret new will? Panic sucked the air from her lungs—could he hear her heart trying to tear out of her chest? Stop it. Chill. Maybe it wasn’t too late to pull her own ass out of the wringer. The calm smile she managed to push onto her face was harder than childbirth.

This passage is immediate and intimate, clearly conveying the character’s inner life in the subjective, firsthand perspective of deep third, which it’s written in.

The detective’s sleaziness and wolf eyes are the POV character’s own view and interpretation. The direct frame of reference is indicated in her referencing “Dad” (rather than “her father,” as in a removed POV). We’re privy firsthand to how she’s affected by the action—her breathlessness and racing heart—and to her direct thoughts (Stop it. Chill.). The figurative language reflects her own background and biases, likening her forced smile to the remembered effort of childbirth. Even the vernacular reflects her personality and way of communicating (“pull her own ass out of the wringer”).

In direct POVs like deep third, essentially readers are directly inside the character’s head, behind their eyes, inside their skin, experiencing everything they do right along with them.

Indirect POV

But let’s look at how those techniques are affected in an indirect POV, which adds a layer of narrative separation from the character’s direct perspective. 

The author must clarify that the biases and thoughts are the character’s, not the narrator’s.Her reactions must be filtered through the perspective of being reported rather than directly experienced.All without drawing attention to the narrative voice, so that the scene feels seamless and organic, yet still immediate.

Readers still need to understand what’s going on inside the character and how she’s affected by the action, but in indirect POVs we lose the ability to experience it right along with her. The author has to find a way to convey her inner life without that firsthand intimacy:

The lieutenant watched her with the cold, hungry eyes of a predator, his gaze sharp enough to pierce through pretense. She felt the chill of it deep in her gut. It was obvious he knew something—someone must have let slip the secret of her father’s new will. The realization drew the air from her in a silent gasp and her heart thundered in her chest, loud enough that she was certain he could hear it. Stop it, she berated herself. Chill. She’d always found a way out of trouble. Slowly, deliberately, she shaped a smile—strained, practiced, and far from genuine.

Notice that this version—in limited third—conveys many of the same intentions and ideas of the last one relative to the character’s reactions, thoughts, feelings, etc., but it does so from the perspective of an invisible narrator closely observing the character and sharing that insight with readers. In this case some filter words may be necessary: “she felt,” “she berated herself,” etc.

The descriptions and observations are more objective as well, from the perspective of a detached narrator witnessing the scene, rather than as if readers are living it directly through the character.

Notice, too, that these two passages have a very different feel from each other: The first is more personal and casual and has a strong, specific voice—that of the character. The second has a slight formality by contrast and a separate, more neutral voice, as is often the case with indirect POVs. Direct POVs offer authors the ability to plunge readers into a character’s subjective perspective, but indirect POVs offer the chance for objective commentary or insight or interpretation of events that the characters may not have.

Take into consideration those differences in choosing the right POV for your story, as well as your comfort level with different POVs and the effect you want to achieve on the reader. [Read more: “Picking a Point of View for Your Story]

Inner life and other characters’ POVs

Just as POV affects how the narrative perspective affects the inner life of the main or POV character, it also impacts the way the author conveys other characters’ inner life as well, another key component in bringing your stories and characters more vividly to life and drawing readers in.

Besides the characters’ own reactions, readers want to be privy to the character interactions: meaning how one character’s actions, behaviors, and reactions affect the other character(s) (and vice versa).

In the second example above, in the indirect POV of limited third, we see the scene filtered through the woman’s perspective. In limited third person the narrative is removed from the character’s direct perspective, but still confined to it; readers can’t know anything that’s happening beyond the POV character’s radius and purview.

But in this passage readers have insight into the detective’s inner life as well—the non-POV character—through the POV character’s eyes and interpretations. We see how his reactions impact hers, which adds texture and depth to the scene and brings their exchange more vividly to life.

In omniscient POV, by contrast, the author has godlike access to what’s going on inside all the characters—but from that same indirect perspective where the narrative can observe and report on it, but not directly experience it. [Read more: Understanding Third-person POV: Limited, Omniscient, and Deep]

Compare these two “omniscient” versions of the passage.

Version 1

The lieutenant’s gaze cut across the room—cool and probing. He had seen too many liars to miss the signs: the stiff shoulders, the too-smooth smile. Someone had told her father’s secret, and she was wearing guilt like a second skin.

She, too, felt the balance shifting. The stare told her more than words could: he suspected, maybe even knew. Panic stirred behind her ribs, but she masked it with practiced ease. The smile she forced looked convincing enough, but it cost her more than pride.

The lieutenant saw it all. Not just the smile, but the strain behind it—the effort, the fear. It confirmed what he already believed. She was hiding something, and time would show exactly what.

Version 2

The lieutenant drilled her with wolf eyes, calm and unblinking. He’d seen this look before—just before the truth cracked open. Jonny D had come through again, told him about the will.

Ice shot through her gut. Dammit. Who tipped him? Her lungs tightened, chest rising too fast. That stare—he could probably hear her heart trying to punch its way out.

He watched the panic ripple under her skin. She was trying to bury it, but he could see the math happening behind her eyes.

Stop it. Chill. She forced a smile, tight, brittle, all performance. Harder than childbirth.

He clocked it. Too polished. Too late. He didn’t smile back. He didn’t need to.

Both versions reveal both characters’ inner lives, but if the second version felt a little herky-jerky or confusing to you, it’s because it’s breaching the parameters of indirect POV by delving directly into the characters’ immediate, direct perspective. (This is where Kevin Kwan often gets into trouble.)

The effect on readers is of leaping frenetically from inside one character’s head to another (which is why it’s called head-hopping), rather than as if the objective external “camera” of the narrative perspective is smoothly panning between them, guiding the reader’s experience of the story.

Parting thoughts

Opening the window to your characters’ inner landscape for readers heightens the story impact, draws readers more deeply into your characters and story, and lends fluidity and cohesion to showing characters moving along their arc as a direct result of the action of the story.

But make sure you’re doing it in a manner consistent with whichever POV you choose to keep readers firmly grounded and oriented to the story, and avoid making them conscious of the author’s hand.

Note from Jane: If you enjoyed this post, join us on Wednesday, July 9, for the online class Mastering Character Inner Life.