Authors: Jerry Cleaver
The facts aren't always so clear in first person, because with first person the
"I"
character has control over
what
is presented and
how
it's presented. The
"I"
is both participant
and
narrator—coach and player.
That's point of view as it concerns person
(I, you, he/she).
The next consideration is
character point of view.
That means which character we inhabit. Whose eyes and mind are we experiencing the story through? In first person, we're in the mind of the narrator. In third person, we can be in the minds of a number of different characters. Almost always, the point of view is set in
the character with the biggest problem, the character with the most to lose,
because that's where
the biggest experience
is—the most intense, most exciting, most moving experience. We want to be there, on the spot, in his or her mind and flesh, experiencing it firsthand. If someone is setting out to climb Mount Everest, would you rather stay with the guy who observes from the ground and talks to the climber on the radio, or go with the guy who makes the climb? We automatically gravitate to
the person with the biggest problem,
because we know that will give us the
biggest experience.
But what about telling a story from the
point of view of a minor character?
It can be done, but there are trade-offs—problems to be overcome, as always.
Moby-Dick
and
The Great Gatsby
are both told from the point of view of minor characters. When that method is used, the minor character must have an investment in the outcome of the story, and he must be struggling with problems of his own that he brings into the mix. Plus, he must be present, on the spot, for all the big scenes/struggles of the major character. Often his fate is closely linked to that of the main character. In
Moby-Dick,
Ishmael's (the narrator's) fate is linked directly to that of Ahab and the outcome of the whale hunt. In
The Great Gatsby,
the narrator, Nick, is having a meaningful, painful, and disillusioning experience.
Since we're in Nick's point of view, we don't get into Gatsby's mind. That means the author, Fitzgerald, had to find a way to get what's inside Gatsby's mind and heart out into the open. Fitzgerald does it in two ways:
First,
by making Gatsby a mysterious character who has a lot of notoriety and who is the subject of much gossip— gossip that Nick overhears and reports.
Second,
Gatsby feels compelled to tell Nick all about himself, his origins, his past with Daisy, his deep feelings for her, etc. Remember that neither of those two things (the rumors and Gatsby's confiding) just happened. They feel totally natural because the writing is so strong. But nothing happens in fiction unless
the author makes it happen.
Fitzgerald had to invent those devices to reveal Gatsby; otherwise, the reader would have no idea what was going on inside of him. In the case of
Moby-Dick,
Ahab is spouting off all over the place, so we know what's going on inside him.
Why choose a minor-character point of view? It's often chosen when the major character dies in the end and the author wants the story to go on after the death, as in both
Moby-Dick
and
The Great Gatsby.
Sometimes you may not feel up to tackling a wild character like Ahab and feel more comfortable portraying him from the outside as someone close to him would see him. Just remember, no matter what point of view you choose, you still must give us (reveal) enough of the main character to make him real.
You might be wondering about switching around from one character's point of view (mind) to another. That's called
multiple points of view.
A single point of view tends to be the strongest and most intense since we only have one point of view, one mind, in life. We settle into a single character and stay there without expecting to jump around into anyone else's head. If the writer does jump around, and the points of view are not handled skillfully, it's jarring and distracting.
But many great books have been written with multiple points of view. Flawless examples are
Streets of Laredo
and
Lonesome Dove,
both by Larry McMurtry. The point of view moves from character to character so naturally that you often don't notice. That's because of two things:
first,
you stay in a single character's point of view for a fair amount of time, and
second,
you switch from a
dramatic state of mind
in one character to an
equally dramatic
state of mind in another. Often the two different states of mind (characters) are wrestling with the same issue from a different angle. For example, you might have something like this:
The wind lifted the little man's hat off his head, and he raced after it as it tumbled down the road. He wished to God he'd never come to this desolate place, leaving his wife home in New York City, doing heaven only knows what in his absence. He'd never trusted her, and now he had to come miles away or lose his job, to come to this hellhole to try and get this little bowlegged cowboy to help them catch the bandits.
Then in the next paragraph:
The marshal stood on the porch, watching the man chase his hat, wondering what kind of a damn fool didn't have the good sense to hang onto his hat and if this was the kind of person he
wanted to do business with. He couldn't handle his own hat.
What else was he going to lose track of and at what cost?
The one thing you don't want to do is to jump around for no reason. For example, if your main character gives his keys to a valet to park his car, you wouldn't go into the valet's mind while he thinks, "This guy sure looks like a hotshot. I wonder how much dough he pulls down a year," and then never use that character again. Also, you would never use another character to do your job; for example, you would never portray one character's nervousness by jumping into a bystander's mind and having him think, "That guy sure looks nervous. Wonder what's eating him."
The best approach is to learn to tell a strong story while staying in a
single point of view
in order to master the kind of skill you need in order to be able to switch points of view effectively. If you can't do a single point of view well, you can't do multiple points of view well either.
This switching of point of view is often called
omniscient point of view
or
omniscient narrator.
Here "omniscient" refers to knowing what's in everybody's mind. I like to distinguish between simple
multiple viewpoints
(switching point of view, but not expressing a knowledge beyond what's happening at the moment) and an
omniscient narrator
who comments, in a separate voice, on what's going on and anything else he or she wants to bring in (philosophy, interpretation, nudging the reader, etc.). The omniscient narrator knows everything about what's happening and what's going to happen and how it relates to the greater scheme of things, and he lets us know it by addressing us directly and telling us about it.
A modern example is
The French Lieutenant's Woman
by John Fowles. An early example is
Tom Jones
by Henry Fielding (one of the first great novels in the English language). Scott Fitzgerald's works provide other good examples. He often makes comments to the reader in otherwise third-person objective stories and novels. When done badly, this approach is called
author intrusion.
When done well, it's called
omniscient narrator.
If it appeals to you, do it. It takes a lot of practice to do well. Your comments have to be so clever, astute, penetrating that they do not distract the reader from the illusion you must create to make your story believable. Fitzgerald often made sparkling little comments that were nuggets of insight and well worth taking time out for.
An example of a more broadly omniscient narrator could be the following statement (paraphrased from
The French Lieutenant's Woman),
inserted after a man has just shown a great attachment to his mother. "Now, remember, this was fifty years before Sigmund Freud. It was a time when a man could show deep devoted and obsessive love for his mother and no one would question it." Here the narrator is not only addressing the reader but also referring to events that won't take place for fifty years and that will never even be a part of this story. That takes guts. But he pulls it off with great charm that adds another dimension to the novel. It's a tricky game. As always, the question you must ask is, Are you gaining more than you're losing when you do it?
A
nonparticipating narrator
is one who rarely carries his weight and is often in the way. He's part of the story but is used as nothing more than the teller of the story. He's an observer, and that's all—a bystander with nothing to gain or lose. This approach used to be fashionable, and some great stories have been told this way, but these narrators often seem heavy-handed and artificial—characters whose shoulders you have to peek over to see the story.
Another issue is
tense.
Present tense is being used more and more. "When she opens the package, she finds a strange little statue." Some people feel present tense makes the experience more immediate, more present. The only thing that makes your story and your character present and immediate is story craft—your skill. Tense cannot make up for weak storytelling, nor can it hurt strong storytelling. If the story and characters are alive, the reader quickly becomes oblivious to tense. The tense fades to the background as the characters come forward and take over. Present tense is being used a lot today, so it's your choice.
So, we have person point of view, character point of view, narrator point of view, and tense. It's not so important how we label any of these. What's important is that you have an idea how these devices work and realize that you do not have to use any of them exclusively. You might find ways of mixing and blending. If it feels right, do it. If it wants to happen, let it.
EXERCISES
A child wanting her rejecting, abusive mother to love her. "If you loved me," the mother tells the little girl/boy, "I would be happy. I'm not happy, so you don't love me." The child does everything that she or he can think of to please the mother—gets good grades, cleans the house, takes care of the mother—but it never works. The child feels that if she loved the mother enough, her mother would treat her better. The child and the father have a good relationship, and the mother is envious and tries to wreck it.
A man (or woman) goes to the doctor for a physical and gets a clean bill of health. He begins wondering what would've happened if he had terminal cancer. The character goes home and tells his family that he's going to die soon. He wants to see how upset his family will be and how important he is. He may not be totally conscious of his reasons when he does it. He will find out painful things about his family and himself.
A character discovering one of his or her parents is gay.
[12]
The Ticking Clock
FITTING IT IN
Someday you're going to write. Someday? Which day? When you're suddenly faced with a few free hours on a weekend, when the work levels off on your job, when you get promoted and have less pressure, when you go on vacation, when you retire? How much free time do you need before you start? How long should you wait? Will you know when the time is right, and will you know what to do when it comes? Well, I can tell you, do not wait until your life opens up and you're faced with starting cold with no discipline or writing skills. The longer you wait, the harder it's going to be to start, and the less chance you'll have of succeeding if you do start.
So, you should (and
can)
start now. The promise of this course is that I can show you how to write a novel, screenplay, or stage play without disrupting your lifestyle or sacrificing your sanity—and that it will be possible and
relatively
painless.
In this chapter the techniques are tailored to helping you overcome the particular difficulties you face in making writing a part of your daily life. If you're serious about writing, you can (and
should
) start now. If you do, when your life opens up (if it ever does), you'll be ready
and able. But what if it never opens up? Well, you don't need to wait around for such an opportunity. This system makes it possible for you to do it now.