Writing Deep Viewpoint

by Kathy Tyers

Inventing characters that readers love and believe in is also an art. Art also often means striking a balance between following a writing “rule” and ignoring it to make a scene more effective.

Our writing goal is to communicate story … and truth … so that it leaves a writer’s mind to live in someone else’s.

omniscient viewpoint has its strengths. The narrator is more “present” and can—as I just showed you—talk directly to the readers. Still, even readers of strong faith often won’t sit still for much sermonizing in a novel. When they open a novel, they want story.

Don’t confuse your readers, the other writing “rule” that matters most in 3PL is this: Use just one viewpoint per scene.

There’s no need to limit yourself to just one character’s viewpoint per book,

Sometimes, using a different viewpoint will give the readers information they need in order to understand what’s really going on.

This is especially useful when you want to reveal things that the main character can’t know yet (because it would ruin the dramatic tension, or wreck some other aspect of the tale you’re telling).

A scene is a unit of plot, by the way. In each scene, a character is trying to accomplish something vital to the plot, and something’s getting in his or her way. A scene doesn’t simply move a character from one place to another. If nothing plot-driving happens, it’s not a scene.

Establish viewpoint as early as possible in each scene. In deep viewpoint, we aim for a strong sense of being the character who’s living the story, so it’s vital to make your readers instantly comfortable in the new chapter or scene. Every microsecond that passes before they settle in creates confusion. So the first word in the new scene is none too early to establish viewpoint. HOW

Confirm your readers’ decision that they’ve figured out who they are.

Stay there. Keep your readers firmly anchored in that viewpoint. Don’t give them access to any other character’s thoughts or sensory experiences, not even for the space of a single word, for as long as the scene lasts.

keep your readers convinced that they are the POV character.

vital rule: Don’t confuse the reader. A corollary to that rule would be Don’t frustrate the reader.

The ideal prologue is a first-rate, reader-hooking thrill ride,

err on the side of trusting your target reader

Edit out every hint of the omniscient narrator, who wants so badly to explain things.

TELLING BY USING PASSIVE VERBS The day was warm and sunny. (Showing: Tessa dashed for the oak tree’s cool shade.) Professor Clark was plainly impatient. (Showing: Professor Clark stood at the front of the classroom, tapping a foot and frowning.) When she saw him standing there, she was alarmed. (Showing: There he stood. Her hands went cold.)

I love any teacher who gives examples to illustrate a point and help us understand in application.

Bob went down the street. (Showing: Bob walked down the street. Bob skidded down the street. Bob hustled down the street. Bob staggered down the street.) Kurt moved to the other room. (Showing: Kurt slunk to the other room. Kurt marched to the other room. Kurt retreated to the other room. Kurt skipped to the other room.)

Verbs are the workhorses of our sentences. When I was first learning the writing craft, I had to take the time to revisit every page of my novel and circle every verb, then decide whether that verb was the best possible choice for that situation. Since good fiction writing uses no unnecessary words, choosing the right verb for each sentence is one of the most vital decisions you make.

Note this for editing

TELLING BY USING UNNECESSARY HELPING VERBS Bob went striding down the street. (Showing: Bob strode down the street.) Bob was flying down the street. (Showing: Bob flew down the street.) Bob used to hustle down the street. (Showing: Today, Bob dawdled down the street.) It’s easy to get “writerly,” adding unnecessary words that slow down the readers’ experience of being the character. Writerly extra words draw attention to themselves.

Any time they notice your sentences, or the flowery beauty of your writing style, they’re distracted from the story.

Occasionally, “started” and “began” are necessary to show process or for clarity. Save them for those moments. Try deleting them from any sentence you’re questioning. If the action is clear without them, banish them.

delete phrases such as “she saw,” “she heard,” “she felt,” and even “she thought”

Don’t waste words telling the readers something you can simply show them.

Whispered, muttered, mumbled, and shouted can show the speaker’s tone of voice.

Ingrid rifled the depths of her purse. “I know it’s in here somewhere!”

So here it is, rewritten with a deeper sense of being Ingrid. Ingrid plunged her hand into her purse and wriggled her fingers past the smooth checkbook. “I know it’s in here somewhere!” No one else in that scene could feel that checkbook’s texture as Ingrid digs into her purse. Now we have a sensory-experience confirmation of POV.

you don’t want them noticing your words on the first read. You want them gripped by the story.

Overwriting is often the mark of a beginning writer. Eventually, we learn to edit out our viewpoint violations, extra words, sensory filters, and other excess verbiage. Don’t demand perfect writing of your rough draft, but be ready to self-edit until it’s strong and clean.

Weaknesses also hint to the readers that the character could fail in the test. That chance of possible failure keeps readers turning pages.

Being accused of weakness can create plot-driving inner conflict.

Once the character’s weakness has been revealed, then how he acts—having been confronted with that weakness—shows the readers how it feels to strive against the weakness.

An interesting antagonist has hopes and dreams. She has character strengths that make her an effective opponent: courage, persistence, talents, and a desire to serve the cause that she perceives as worthy.

We don’t like being confronted by the darkness inside us, and this is one way that fiction can show truth.

show your readers that logic and virtue can be perverted, then you can create a more complex tale. Or he might be another genuinely good person, competing with your protagonist for something they can’t both possess.

A character chart is always a work in progress, subject to change as the story unfolds.

setting isn’t a place or a time period as much as it’s the feeling of that place or time period. In other words, how the character experiences the setting—there’s deep viewpoint again—is a powerful way to show your settings to your readers, grounding them in a sense of place so strong that they feel they have really been there.

She wanted to climb up on a chair and nudge a chandelier, just to see if anyone noticed it swinging.

The delicately sweet, spicy, fresh fragrance of the lilac hedge wafted through the chill morning air to caress Hilda’s nostrils. We call that purple prose. It draws attention to itself and away from deep involvement with the viewpoint character.

Simply mention evocative details, like a campfire—popcorn—or a boys’ locker room, and your readers’ memories will provide sounds and scents.

Use your beats to show what the viewpoint character notices,

Sooka stepped through the arch of her father’s grand inn, where wooden tables groaned under the weight of tonight’s dinner. Men and dwarves, halflings and elves, lined the tables. A welcoming fire burned on the hearth, and the inn smelled of stew, ale, and travelers’ sweat. There’s plenty of sensory detail in that paragraph, but there’s no story. No character in conflict. Let’s try again. Sooka stepped through the arch and looked around, frowning. Her father’s inn smelled of stew, ale, and travelers’ sweat. Most of the tables were occupied with halflings, elves and men, even the chilly one in the corner farthest from the fire. Her father ought to be standing near the kitchen arch, shouting at Cilly or arguing with a dwarf. Ought to be. Beyond the arch, the kitchen fire blazed. But where was Father?

Readers are likelier to assume that a minor character will be plot-important if he has a name. They’ll often make an effort to remember that name. On the other hand, if you refer to a walk-on character as “the waitress” or “the quarterback,” you make it fairly clear that this character doesn’t need to be remembered.

consider creating a checklist to use on your first editing pass. That way, you can perform multiple surgeries on the same draft, and your next pass can feel less daunting.