Lost in Translation: First to Third and Back Again

Lots of commenters on the previous post said, "Write it in third and then change it back to first." That doesn't work for me (I've tried), which doesn't mean it won't work for you. But for me, it's two different languages. It's like saying, "Write it in English, and then translate it into German, and then translate that back into English." If you're talking about a page full of dialogue, it doesn't matter much, but for anything else, I lose a lot in the translation both ways.

Here's a piece from Maybe This Time:

Andie looked around the room and saw ancient heavy furniture and a bed covered with old blankets in various shades of drab. The only interesting things in the whole room were the stacks of comic books, papers, and pencils on the bedside tables that said Carter did something besides glare and eat, and the carpet at the end of the bed that was riddled with scorch marks. Pyro, she thought, and was grateful the house was mostly stone. She looked up to see Carter watching her, his face stolid, so she nodded and began to close the door only to stop when she took a second look at his bedside table.

That's third person limited, in Andie's point of view; it's deep in her head, but even so there's some distance there. Now here it is put into first person by changing only the pronouns:

I looked around the room and saw ancient heavy furniture and a bed covered with old blankets in various shades of drab. The only interesting things in the whole room were the stacks of comic books, papers, and pencils on the bedside tables that said Carter did something besides glare and eat, and the carpet at the end of the bed that was riddled with scorch marks. Pyro, I thought, and was grateful the house was mostly stone. I looked up to see Carter watching me, his face stolid, so I nodded and began to close the door only to stop when I took a second look at his bedside table.

Andie comes across cold here, just reporting what she sees, with a couple of snarky references. If somebody is actually telling you things, there has to be more personality there, more immediate emotional response, unless the character is one of those just-the-facts-ma'am guys:

I looked around the room and saw heavy furniture that was older than God and a bed covered with blankets that were older than Mrs. Crumb. But there were stacks of comic books, papers, and pencils on the bedside tables, so Carter did something besides glare and eat, which was cheering. Then I noticed that the carpet at the end of the bed was full of blackened holes. So the kid really was a pyro. Fabulous. Thank God the house was mostly stone. I looked up to see Carter watching me, no expression on his face at all, so I nodded, trying to look cheerful and supportive, and began to close the door only to stop when I saw what else was on his bedside table.

If you're in first person, you're not in narrator voice, telling what's going on deep inside Andie's head, you're Andie, giving a running impression of what she's seeing and feeling. The voice, the outlook is completely different.

So why not write it that way in third person? Take the first person and put it back into third:

She looked around the room and saw heavy furniture that was older than God and a bed covered with blankets that were older than Mrs. Crumb. But there were stacks of comic books, papers, and pencils on the bedside tables, so Carter did something besides glare and eat, which was cheering. Then she noticed that the carpet at the end of the bed was full of blackened holes. So the kid really is a pyro, she thought. Fabulous. Thank God the house is mostly stone. She looked up to see Carter watching her, no expression on his face at all, so she nodded, trying to look cheerful and supportive, and began to close the door only to stop when she saw what else was on his bedside table.

The change from first back to third works better than the others, but it's too frenetic. If you're writing an entire book in third person, that intense, colloquial voice gets tiring because you never get any distance. Plus, there's just too much stuff in that paragraph, seventeen more words than the original third person paragraph that did exactly the same thing. First person needs more words because of all the stuff that people think; third person can elide right through that.

So let's go the other way. Here's a first person piece from Lavender's Blue:

I saw the Welcome to Burney sign around two o'clock one bright April afternoon when the air was crisp with the scent of rain that might turn to snow (spring in Ohio is iffy). You only have to stay for an hour or two, I promised myself, but right before the turn-off to my mother's street, I felt that old clutch in my stomach that said, Get out of here. My mother's a lovely woman—well, okay, no, she's not, but she's not a beast, that's my aunt ML—but life had been nothing but bad for me in Burney and nothing but good since I'd left, and Terri Clark was singing "Bigger Windows" from my iPod speakers egging me to keep on going to Chicago, so I floored the Camry, running from my home town like the rat I was. The old car coughed a little because it does not like being floored, but it was hurtling along like a champ when I heard the siren. I looked in the rear view mirror, decided that of course the cop had to be after me, and pulled over onto the muddy edge of the two-lane highway.

And here it is again, in third with just the pronouns changed:

Liz saw the Welcome to Burney sign around two o'clock one bright April afternoon when the air was crisp with the scent of rain that might turn to snow (spring in Ohio is iffy). You only have to stay for an hour or two, she promised herself, but right before the turn-off to her mother's street, she felt that old clutch in her stomach that said, Get out of here. Her mother was a lovely woman—well, okay, no, she wasn't, but she wasn't a beast, that's was Liz's aunt ML—but life had been nothing but bad for Liz in Burney and nothing but good since she'd left, and Terri Clark was singing "Bigger Windows" from her iPod speakers egging her to keep on going to Chicago, so she floored the Camry, running from her home town like the rat she was. The old car coughed a little because it did not like being floored, but it was hurtling along like a champ when she heard the siren. She looked in the rear view mirror, decided that of course the cop had to be after her, and pulled over onto the muddy edge of the two-lane highway.

That paragraph doesn't even make sense in third person as it's written. Who's making comments about Ohio weather and Liz's mom? That becomes authorial intrusion and moves the third limited POV close to third omniscient which is fine if you want a narrator's voice to dominate (see anything by Terry Pratchett for an excellent example of this), but if you want the voice to be Liz, then it has to belong to Liz, it has to be put into thoughts–My mother's a lovely woman, Liz thought, well, okay, no, she's not, but she's not a beast, that's my aunt ML—and they don't fit in the immediacy of that situation. She would not think that then. So you cut out everything that's not authorial intrusion and you get this:

Liz saw the Welcome to Burney sign around two o'clock one April afternoon. You only have to stay for an hour or two, she promised herself, but right before the turn-off to her mother's street, she felt that old clutch in her stomach that said, Get out of here, so she floored the Camry and raced past the turn-off. The old car coughed a little because it did not like being floored, but it was hurtling along like a champ when she heard the siren. She looked in the rear view mirror, decided that of course the cop had to be after her, and pulled over onto the muddy edge of the two-lane highway.

That's perfectly good third person, but you lose all of Liz's commentary. For me that's always been a good trade-off–I'd rather have short and clean than long and chatty–but not for this book. This book is about Liz going home and revising everything she thought she knew, so it's felt right to do it in first person all along. I really do like third better, I think it's sharper and cleaner and easier to read and gives the reader a lot more white space to collaborate in, plus shorter: the original first person paragraph was 195 words; the last third person version was 115. It took me eighty more words to write that in Liz's first person POV; for me that's the writing equivalent of eating a dozen Krispy Kremes: I'm a little sick afterwards and feel the need to get rid of some of it.

Then try to put that back into first person:

I saw the Welcome to Burney sign around two o'clock one April afternoon. You only have to stay for an hour or two, I promised myself, but right before the turn-off to her mother's street, I felt that old clutch in her stomach that said, Get out of here, so I floored the Camry and raced past the turn-off. The old car coughed a little because it did not like being floored, but it was hurtling along like a champ when I heard the siren. I looked in the rear view mirror, decided that of course the cop had to be after her, and pulled over onto the muddy edge of the two-lane highway.

Again, first to third works, it's clean, but it's flat. If Liz is that just-the-facts heroine, it's fine, but if she has a lively inner voice and an opinion on things, she's just not on the page.

Which brings us to the non-sex scene I put up. It's basically that last paragraph: flat impersonal summary. Putting it into third person won't help fix it because I wrote it in third person with first person pronouns, subconsciously trying to get that distance back. What I have to do is junk that entirely, stop being a wuss, and write it in first person this time. Point of view is not pronouns alone, it's voice and distance and worldview. I always knew that, but knowing something in the abstract and remembering it when you write are two different things. So I owe you all for making me think about this. Argh People to the rescue once again. Thank you.