Writing Deep Point of View

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If you’ve listened to Season 2 Episode 17 of Writes4Women featuring Lisa Hall-Wilson chatting about Deep Point of View you’ll know it’s a style I write in myself, and one I’m continually looking to perfect.

 

I first became interested in writing in this point of view quite a few years ago when I found myself really enjoying stories where the reader is deeply immersed in the protagonist’s point of view, seeing and experiencing everything in the story world from his or her perspective (because I write from the female perspective for the rest of this post I’ll use her as the pronoun). This was a style I’d been working towards myself but it wasn’t until I happened upon Lisa’s facebook posts and subsequently enrolled in some of her classes that I really understood what that entailed.

With each book I write I aim to have a new ‘thing’ to learn and when I was working on my 2019 book, Cross My Heart, my goal was to write in as deep a point of view as possible. I’ve always loved the quote from Atticus Finch in To Kill A Mockingbird:

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And this is what I set out to do in writing the main character of the novel, Tessa De Santis. I soon found out it was about more than removing dialogue tags and filter words but that was a great starting point. Every time you include ‘’she said’ you’re reminding the reader that someone else (an outside narrator) is telling the story to the reader ABOUT the character when what you want is for all the events of the story to be filtered through the character’s consciousness. Consequently, there are no dialogue tags in Cross My Heart. They’re replaced by action beats.

You want the reader to not only see what the protagonist sees but to experience all the settings and events through that character’s senses. Writing in this point of view, you really are trying to climb into that character’s skin as completely as you can. When she walks into a room what does she see? What does she hear, small, tase and touch (where appropriate)? What angles is she noticing? What objects or people in the setting attract her attention? All the sensory description comes through her perceptions.

The next thing is the way she interprets what she’s seeing. Taking the reader into the character’s thoughts is crucial and avoiding filtering words and phrases like she thought, she wondered, reflected, remembered etc is essential. These phrases creat distance between the character and the reader, just like the dialogue tags and when you’re writing in deep point of view they’re redundant. We’re already in the character’s head so give the thought, memory, reflection, judgement (etc) directly. In other words, take out the middle-man!

Writing in deep point of view dictates the scenes you will include as you can only include scenes in which your protagonist is present and active. So that does help narrow down your plot options.

The trickiest thing I found was getting across the visceral/physical reactions a character was experiencing. If for example your character finds herself in a situation where she becomes anxious and her body reacts in certain ways – a racing pulse, sweating or clammy palms ­­­­– these are visceral reactions she might not initially be aware of, so in those instances the narrator needs to step in and provide the reader with those pieces of information. Naming emotions is a no-no in deep point of view (she was angry for example, creates narrative distance), these physical reactions are important clues about how the character is feeling and allow the reader to subconsciously empathise with what the character is experiencing.

Many of the show-don’t-tell rules apply to writing in deep point of view and I found that consciously trying to go as deep as I could strengthened all aspects of my writing. I like to think of point of view as a spectrum. At one end there’s the completely outside narrator very obviously telling the story about the character to the reader and at the other end the reader is completely embedded in the character’s skin and experiences only what she experiences. There may be times when you choose to pull back a little on the spectrum, For instance, if the character is going through a highly traumatic experience and is almost ‘watching herself’ as certain events take place, you might create more distance. Lisa has written great posts about this on her blog which I highly recommend reading.

After writing Cross My Heart in this style I used the same principles in revising my second published novel Essie’s Way (2013) which I re-published (2021) as All We Dream

Here’s the opening scene from both Essie’s Way and All We Dream showing the sort of changes I made.


The Original: Essie’s Way

Miranda stared at the woman in the wedding gown. She watched as she ran her fingers over the scalloped edge of the neckline, tracing the pattern on the lace: small sprays of roses joined by delicate vines that curled around one bunch and looped to the next. The silk lining swished deliciously beneath the ivory satin waistband as the woman turned one way and then the other in front of the full-length mirror. She reached up and unpinned her hair from its bun, letting it fall loosely across her shoulders. A faint smile skimmed her lips and then vanished. Her gaze flickered briefly to the floor, as if she was uncertain of something, but then, squaring her shoulders, she lifted her chin and peered straight into the eyes of her reflection.

‘Beautiful, so beautiful.’ The dressmaker hovered, hands clasped across her chest. ‘Let me see from the front,’ she said, making a circling motion with her hands.

Miranda spun around as instructed.

‘So tall and slim, so lucky,’ the dressmaker clucked, patting her own portly stomach. She was small and round with a thick accent and a permanent grin that reminded Miranda of one of those Russian dolls that fit snugly inside each other. ‘You like?’

‘Yes, Hilde, it’s perfect.’

You could sound a little more convincing, that annoying voice in Miranda’s head suggested.

‘You don’t seem so sure.’

‘No, I love it. Really.’ She turned back to the mirror. The dress was everything she’d dreamt of and more. Not genuine antique lace but as close as she was going to get. She waited for the anticipated euphoria to kick in but instead a wave of nausea rippled through her stomach. Probably just nerves, seeing herself for the first time in her wedding dress. She swallowed and forced a smile.

‘I think we need to take in a little bit here, yes?’ The seamstress pinched a fold of material on either side of Miranda’s hips.

‘Yes, I think so. It doesn’t make my bum look too big, though, does it?’

‘Your bottom.’ Hilde peered over the top of her rectangular glasses and frowned. ‘No, absolutely not. Gives you more shape. Stand still now.’

Miranda nodded and glanced towards the door. It would’ve been nice to have a second opinion, but despite her mother’s promise to join her for the fitting, she hadn’t shown. As if she’d read her mind, the woman removed a pin from between her pursed lips and asked, ‘Your mama not coming with you today?’

‘No, she couldn’t make it.’ Just like she couldn’t make the last two fittings, or the visits to the reception lounge or the meeting with the priest. A flush of heat flooded Miranda’s cheeks.

‘Such a shame. I’m sure she’ll be here next time.’

I don’t think so!

That damned voice, butting in again. Something must have happened to hold her mother up – she’d probably arrive any minute now. She might not have been completely reliable in the past, but surely she’d want to be part of the wedding preparations for her only daughter?

Don’t bet on it.

Miranda blinked away the tears that were lurking. What did it matter? As long as her mother was there at the actual wedding, that was the main thing.


The Revised Version: All We Dream

A strange tingling rippled beneath her skin as she watched the woman in the wedding dress. Her vision blurred. She squeezed her eyes shut then opened them again, focusing all her attention on the movements of the soon-to-be bride. The way her fingers traced the scalloped edge of the neckline, following the pattern on the lace: small sprays of roses joined by delicate vines curling around one bunch and looping to the next. The silk lining swished deliciously beneath the ivory satin waistband as the woman turned one way and then the other in front of the full-length mirror. She reached up and unpinned her hair from its bun, letting it fall loosely across her shoulders. A faint smile skimmed her lips, then vanished. Her gaze flickered briefly to the floor, but then, squaring her shoulders, she lifted her chin and stared straight back.

‘Beautiful, so beautiful, Miranda.’ The dressmaker clapped her hands and made a circling motion. ‘Let me see from the front.’

She turned from her reflection and spun around as instructed.

‘So tall and slim, so lucky,’ the dressmaker clucked, patting her own generously sized waistline. She was small and round with a thick accent and a pouty grin, like one of those Russian Matryoshka dolls that fit snugly inside each other. And consistently called her by the wrong name. ‘You like?’

‘Yes, it’s perfect.’

You could sound a little more convincing.

Right on cue, that annoying voice in her head handing out unsolicited advice.

Hilde cupped her chin in both hands. ‘You don’t seem so sure.’

‘No, I love it. Really I do.’ She turned back to the mirror. The dress was everything she could have wanted. Not genuine antique lace but close enough. Old fashioned, with a repeated rose pattern. She glanced back at the mirror, saw the tell-tale vein popping above her temple. Probably just nerves, seeing herself for the first time in her bridal gown. She swallowed and forced a smile.

‘I think we need to take in a little bit here, yes?’ The seamstress pinched a fold of material on either side of her hips.

‘Yes, I think so. It doesn’t make my bum look too big, though, does it?’

‘Your bottom.’ Hilde peered over the top of her rectangular glasses and frowned. ‘No, absolutely not. Gives you more shape. Now stand still.’

She nodded and held her breath.

Hilde removed a pin from between her pursed lips. ‘Your mama not coming with you today?’

A flush of heat flooded Miranda’s cheeks. Despite her mother’s promise to be there for the fitting, she hadn’t shown. ‘No, she couldn’t make it.’ Just like she couldn’t make the last two fittings, or the visits to the reception lounge or the meeting with the priest.

‘Such a shame. She’ll be here next time.’

Like hell she will.

Miranda shook her head, silencing the second opinion. There was probably a perfectly good reason for her mother’s absence. Something must have happened to hold her up – she’d arrive any minute now. She might not have been completely reliable in the past, but surely she’d want to be part of the wedding preparations for her only daughter?

A familiar lump swelled inside her throat.

‘There. All done.’ Hilde took a step back, clearly pleased with her handiwork. ‘You will make such a beautiful bride.’

What did it matter? As long as her mother was there at the actual wedding, that was the main thing.


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Click here to buy All We Dream kindle format on sale now at Amazon.com.au for only AUD $1.49

Click here to buy a signed copy of All We Dream from my website.


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Click here to read the first three chapters of Cross My Heart.

Click here to buy a copy of Cross My Heart in ebook or print formats


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I’d love to hear your thoughts on any of the above so please drop them in the comments section below along with any questions you might have about writing in deep point of view.


And check out my chat with Lisa Hall Wilson on the Writes4Women Podcasts page and the writes 4women YouTube channel.

Pamela CookComment