P is for Why Point of View Matters in Your Novel

This post is part of my ABC's of Writing Well series. We're skipping O for now and heading directly to P because Point of View is on my mind and I want to talk about it! Ha!

Point of view, when it's targeted correctly, when the author is truly immersed in the voice and character on the page, can create vivid, emotional pictures like this:

The Quorum chamber is low ceilinged and windowless, like a tomb. Candles flicker from sconces set in dusty mortar between gray stones. A squat oak table fills the center, surrounded by red cushions. The air is thick with unyielding silence, and I feel as though the ghosts of weighty decisions and secret councils press in around me, telling me to hush.

Rae Carson, in The Crown of Embers, pulls on her main character's skin to conjure up this slice of perspective on a room in the palace. The room feels oppressive, suffocating, not because it actually IS that way, but because of the perspective and the emotional baggage that the main character carries with her when she crosses the threshold. You can feel her dread and at the same time her need to prove herself, to break free of those who want to use her insecurity to control her.

You'll notice that Carson is writing in first person, a popular method of storytelling in YA fantasy and dystopia these days. First person perspective highlights the advantages of effective point of view in narrative. Using a first person perspective limits your options. You really can't slip into a minor character's perspective or cheat and give the reader details that your main character would never know, wouldn't care about, or wouldn't notice. You ARE your main character. You see what she sees. You tell us what she feels in the moment, and the effect is that the reader is drawn deeply into the scene and into a relationship with the main character.

The thing that's REALLY hard to wrap your head around is that, in order to truly find your story's voice, you have to do those things no matter which POV you choose. Even in third person you can (and should) put on your character's skin and dip into her emotions, using her past and present experiences to illuminate the scene before you. That is what makes inspired writing.

And now for the obligatory example from the pages of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix:

Harry dropped his gaze to the chair in the center of the room, the arms of which were covered in chains. He had seen those chains spring to life and bind whoever sat between them. His footsteps echoed loudly as he walked across the stone floor. When he sat gingerly on the edge of the chair the chains clinked rather threateningly but did not bind him. Feeling rather sick he looked up at the people seated at the bench above.

J.K. Rowling taps into Harry's memories and emotions to paint a picture of the witness stand in the Wizengamot that chills the bravest, most defiant spirit. You can feel Harry's anxiety, his powerlessness in the moment. He is at the mercy of people and powers that are at best disinterested, and at worst invested in his destruction. She doesn't have to tell us these things for us to figure them out. We read it in what Harry notices, what he remembers, and how he reacts to his environment and to the other characters in the scene.

The third person POV advantage is that you can occasionally slip into other characters' heads and write from their perspective as well. But you have to be choosy. Really examine why you need that character's perspective to paint your picture. If you can't come up with a compelling reason for using a character's perspective, stick to your main character. Otherwise you risk diluting the narrative and losing your reader in the process.

If you're having trouble with this, if you find that you keep straying from your main character's point of view into other character's heads, maybe it's time to re-evaluate the story, up the stakes to refocus your narrative and your main character's goals, or decide if your main character is really your main character. It's possible that the story belongs to someone you thought was in the background. Stranger things have happened.

Written Magic: My Grimoire

Michael Quinion of World Wide Words highlighted the word Grimoire in issue 872 of his newsletter this way:

2. Grimoire
A grimoire is a book of magic that may contain spells, conjurations, instructions for divination and the construction of amulets, and other secret knowledge of a supernatural kind. The examples include such famous works as the Sixth and Seventh Books of Moses, The Book of St Cyprian, The Key of Solomon and The Sacred Magic of Abramelin the Mage.
The word is French, in the same sense. It began to appear in French-English dictionaries early in the nineteenth century but became more widely known in the 1850s. In French, it was a medieval modification of grammaire, a book of grammar, by which was meant Latin grammar, since at the time there was no other kind. It derives from the Latin grammatica, the study of literature in general, which by the Middle Ages had come to mean knowledge of Latin.
The shift from book of grammar to book of magic isn’t as weird as it might seem. Few among the ordinary people in those times could read or write. For superstitious minds books were troubling objects. Who knew what awful information was locked up in them? For many people grammar meant the same thing as learning, and everybody knew that learning included astrology and other occult arts.

I love the idea of grammar as magic... and not just because I'm a freelance editor and prone to hours of reading. Words are powerful, conjuring images and ideas that can help those who read them change the world, or at least change their perception of the world. Perspective is a crucial part of our ability to survive and thrive. Words can build up and liberate or they can trap and enslave. They must be used wisely.

Quinion's post got me thinking, Do I have my own grimoire for the craft of writing? As it turns out, I do. My grimoire, a notebook I keep while reading books on the craft of writing, is full of "spells, conjurations, instructions for [writing]... and other secret knowledge of a supernatural kind," or helpful hints and encouraging quotes that I find as I go along through such books as Stephen King's On Writing: 10th Anniversary Edition: A Memoir of the Craft  or Betsy Lerner's The Forest for the Trees (Revised and Updated): An Editor's Advice to Writers . The words in my notebook are powerful, they're the key to unlocking creative energy in myself and in my editing clients. They're secrets and experience passed down by generations of practitioners of the craft of writing.

The cover of my Grimoire. "The Lightgatherers"
an original painting by Montserrat Bennett

We endow all sorts of people, objects and rituals with power over our writing, from our favorite authors to the reliability of our computers' operating systems. Why not do something intentional and positive to add power to your writing? Start your own grimoire of your craft and fill it with powerful incantations from people who inspire you to be a weaver of words.