POV Shifts and 100 Queries

POV Shifts. We're encouraged to avoid them like the plague. Head-hopping is one of those things (and I totally subscribe to this notion) that gives the general reader a sense of disquiet. They're not sure why, but they really don't like this particular book.

But there are transitions that, artfully implemented, can make the shift flawless.

I think the first instruction I've seen for this notion was from Vicki Hinze, and I couldn't tell you what she said. I just want to give her credit for pushing me to consider an alternative.

Tonight I read a downloaded sample of award-winning author Louise Penny's Bury Your Dead. It's received flattering comments on DorothyL and 4MA (two online groups of mystery lovers), and I decided to check it out.

Ms. Penny's POV shift threw me at first because of my training. When I went back to see what happened, I saw a master at work. I described it to my critique partners as taking her POV character and walking around a corner, where the next one takes over flawlessly. If you can download a sample of her book, I highly recommend it as a study piece.

How long does it take? I just read a guest post on agent Nathan Bransford's blog about two siblings having a contest as to who could get 100 rejections first. This from agents, not publishers. Can I just say . . . ugh?

I've re-begun the query process for a complete my critique partners tell me is worthy. I think I have about six rejections so far, and at some level, I've felt every one of them. The little girl in me who wants to please everyone is having a difficult time making room for the big girl in me who is determined to carve out a path in this jungle. There are poisonous plants all around, teeth-baring tigers, and vines so thick I have to hack my way through. But still. This is where my heart is.



CR: The Queen of Patpong by Timothy Hallinan in hardback.

It's all better with friends.

Boiling POVs

The book I'm reading is an enthralling story.

There is one thing I wish I would've figured out sooner, though. And that one thing points out a reading flaw I have.

If you've followed this blog at all, you know I read prologues, epilogues, acknowledgements, even the page that has the ISBN number on it.

I know, from memories lodged in my brain, that I have in fact read the little beginnings of chapters that show different locales, or character names to indicate POV. (I also remember that chapter titles can bug me if there isn't an immediate or strong tie-in, but that's another topic.)

What I wasn't following very well with The Seige by Stephen White was the little chapter beginnings that said Friday morning, Saturday mid-afternoon, Saturday late afternoon. Until they started bouncing around a bit, I just assumed we were going in chronological order. Imagine my consternation until I figured it out. A bolder, in-your-face font might have gotten my attention. Maybe. Just something to think about should I use this technique down the road.

But that's not the main thing to learn from this book.

Have you read it?

The main thing—the most striking thing—is White's use of first-person, third-person past and third-person present. And a couple of quick POV shifts for a sentence or two mid-scene. And most of it works. Even though I'm aware of it happening. Normally, I would be kicking up with a bit of a tantrum. A Cranky-Writer-Rule-Speak pout. But in general, White pulls it off. (Except maybe not the very short omniscient bits. Sheesh.)

The reason I think that it works (aside from his skill) is that he assigns first-person to the primary character. First-person present also belongs just to one character. Everyone else is third-person past. The reader gets used to the "tone" at the beginning of each chapter.

I've decided its effectiveness lies in the fact that it's like a boiling pot of water. All of that heat and action and bubbling.

If you want to get a look at how this author is doing this, get hold of this book. Plus, it's an incredibly interesting story. I'd love to see more of Sam Purdy.



You know what I'm reading.

It's all better with friends.

Rules vs. Artistic Style

I'm reading a novel now that seems like it's a good story, even though there are craft issues that are leaving me a bit perplexed. Even maybe a little headachey.

John Sandford is a favorite of mine, even though it's been awhile since I've read something of his. Could it be that he's always written this way and I just didn't notice?

I don't think so.

The novel is Dark of the Moon. Here was my first clue that there might be something different ahead. Inside the covers of the book there is an acknowledgment page that reads "This book was written in cooperation with my friend Larry Millet . . . "

There are odd POV shifts (even though they're generally done well), and strange scene breaks that really aren't scene breaks at all (those are the headachey things).

I'm not talking about "breaking the rules." I think, rather, this is an attempt to do something different. To take artistic liberty. But I'm not sure I like it.

Does that make me a curmudgeon?

And I guess the one thing I really don't like is the fact that it sort of looks like this book had a co-author. A co-author whose name does not appear on the cover.

What about you? Is there anything that gives you reader angst?

You know what I'm reading. I have another Sandford in my TBR pile, so that'll be interesting.

It's all better with friends.

Cliff Hangers

I'm so excited. I just left my male protag hanging on a cliff. Literally. In the middle of a storm.

Ya gotta love it.

What I'm floundering with right now is how to pick up the simultaneous scene at the key moment—and well, what is that key moment. One of the best pieces of advice any author can follow is to come into a scene late and leave early. It keeps the action taut and the pace strong. Obviously this is a key to a suspense novelist.

I'm tempted to just go ahead and write the thing, and then go on a word-whacking expedition. But I'd really rather not. I've whacked enough lately. I believe that if I put enough thought into it (with my internal editor whacking away) I can come upon the most amazing entry spot. Better than tears. Better than anger.

I'm thinking fear. Gut-wrenching and visceral. The core.

Then the question is . . . whose point of view? The rule of thumb is that the POV belongs to the person who, for that scene, has the most to lose. My nature is to test "rules of thumb" so my mental Olympics have popped into high gear. And the medal goes to . . . the Rule of Thumb. It means initiating yet another POV, but it will create such an intensity that the scene will practically write itself.

Leave the scene early (Chase is in trouble).

Come into a scene late (Angela isn't wondering if she's being stalked . . . she knows it).

Who has the most to lose? (While Bond, as the mother, could be justified as the POV character, it is, after all, Angela's life that's being threatened—so Angela it is.)



Currently reading: The Faith of Barack Obama by Stephen Mansfield.

It's all better with friends.