First, a basic overview, just in case people are unfamiliar:
POV stands for Point of View. This is the perspective from which the story/scene is told.
Omniscient POV is told from the perspective of an all-seeing, all-knowing narrator. As a result, a lot of information can be shared, and sometimes, the narrator can become a character with a distinct voice, who is giving observations about the story as a whole.
First person POV is told from the point of view of one character, in that character’s voice, as if they were telling you in person. It’s recognizable in its use of “I” in exposition. For example:
I was walking down the street, minding my own business, when this hulking man stepped out of the shadows. “Get down,” he said, before pulling out a revolver.
Third person POV is told from the point of view from one character, as well. However, it is told more indirectly, with the scene’s main character’s perspective being told as if narrated by the use of gender pronouns as opposed to “I”. So he/she/they/ze, etc.
For example:
He was walking down the street, minding his own business, humming to himself. Suddenly, a hulking man stepped out of the shadows. “Get down,” the giant said, before pulling out a revolver.
[Note: given its limited usage in commercial fiction, I will not detail Second person POV here.]
That doesn’t mean one character per story.
You can have any number of point of view characters per book. Hell, a lot of books, like high fantasy, have what feels like a cast of thousands.
But ideally, each scene only has one POV character. And each scene tends to stick to one type of POV.
If you have, say, two or three characters, you can weave between each: Character A, Character B, Character C.
You can interweave even if they’re all in first person, although I strongly recommend you use some sort of marker at the beginning of the chapter or scene to let us know who’s POV we’re in, as well as making sure the “voice” of each character (in both dialogue and exposition) are unique.
You can also, if you really want, shift between types of POV between characters. Character A in first person, Characters B and C in third.
(I don’t necessarily recommend bouncing between tenses unless you’ve got a good reason, but that’s another newsletter entirely!)
Different POVs have different reader experiences.
Choosing a POV for your book, even each scene, depends on a number of things, because each of the above POVs bring to the table a different experience.
Omniscient can be fun or funny, but it’s also removed. The reader knows they’re being told a story, probably after the fact, and the high-level ability to know all details makes them unable to really immerse in any of them. (Generally speaking. I get the sense that several newsletter subscribers are going to shoot me an email on that one!) I still stand by the opinion that omniscient is the least immersive.
First person, on the other hand, is the most immersive. Yes, it’s still someone telling you a story. Unlike omniscient, they are giving you the blow-by-blow as if you were really there, and they’re sharing with you what they’re doing, and how they’re feeling. When done well, first person can make you feel as though you are sinking into the character’s experience.
Third person splits the difference, although that’s a gross generalization. It gives you more distance than first person, but you’re still limited to only the knowledge that particular character would possess, or the feelings they are feeling as they go through the actions they are taking.
What is deep 3rd person?
You may here agents/editors/readers say that they want “deep” third person, or that a POV wasn’t “deep” enough. What does that mean, and how can you achieve it?
Basically, it’s writing in 3rd person, but as immersive as possible. Yes, you’re describing the scene with gender pronouns, but you’re adding in plenty of exposition, possibly some internal monologue. The way you’re writing the actions and dialogue are active and dynamic, not passive and observational.
Here’s an example of what I’ll call “shallow” 3rd person:
Sheila heard a knock at the door. Startled, she walked to it, opening it slowly. There was a broken vase on the doorstep,
She looked up and down the street, then at Ripley who sat at her kitchen table. “Did you see this when you came in?” she asked him.
Ripley shook his head. She was puzzled. She got a dustpan and brush, cleaning it up. It was probably nothing, but she still felt afraid. Her hand shook as she locked the door.
Now, essentially same details, in “deep” 3rd person:
Sheila startled when she heard a knock at the door. “What now,” she muttered as she walked to it. It was probably UPS or something, or the neighbor with a wrong package. Still, her heart beat a little nervously.
Opening the door revealed no one, but a quick glance down showed a broken vase. When had that happened? It wasn’t even one of hers.
Now her heart was pounding harder as she looked up and down the street, but saw no one. She shot a glance over her shoulder at Ripley, who lounged at her kitchen table, drinking his coffee and looking bored. “Did you see this when you came in?”
“See what?” he drawled, not even looking up.
She huffed impatiently. “Never mind.” She grabbed the dustpan and brush, cleaning up the mess.
It’s nothing. She threw out the fragments and locked the door, her hand shaking a little. Probably.
So it’s just added details?
Yes, sort of. The kind of details are what matter, though.
In the first example, there are details, but the delivery is wooden. We still see, in essence, the same details: a knock at the door, a broken vase at the doorstep, Ripley not knowing it was there. Our narrator cleaning it up and locking the door. She is obviously nervous.
These are more like a police report, though. We’re being told these details. We’re not feeling them. There are some descriptions of emotion in exposition (she was startled, she was puzzled, she felt afraid) but it’s not carried over into the action or, really, the dialogue. If you read some of the sentences without context, you would have no sense of Sheila or the situation at all.
In the second example, there are added details.
Dialogue gives us some insight into the characters: the protagonist Sheila is obviously nervous and irritated. Ripley is bored and unengaged (and, let’s face it, unsupportive and probably useless.)
Her actions and reactions also contribute to this immersion: her startling when she hears the knock, her heart pounding as she looks up and down the street, her impatience at Ripley’s response and her grabbing the dustpan and brush (as opposed to just getting them, as in the first example) all communicate that Sheila is on edge.
Finally, there is internal monologue, her thoughts, in italics: It’s nothing. Probably.
All of those immerse the reader into the story without going fully into the “I, I, I” experience of first person. And for the most part, every sentence has hints of the POV character, the situation, the vibe.
What about “head hopping” or changing POV character mid scene?
“Head hopping” only exists in 3rd person POV. It’s when you jump from one character’s perspective — their knowledge, their emotions — and then bounce to another character who is in scene, then even bounce back.
Using the above example, it would be if you jumped from Sheila’s POV to Ripley, like so:
Now her heart was pounding harder as she looked up and down the street, but saw no one. She shot a glance over her shoulder at Ripley, who lounged at her kitchen table, drinking his coffee and looking bored. “Did you see this when you came in?”
“See what?” he drawled, not even looking up. What the hell was her problem, anyway? She was skittish as a cat, and she’d only offered him instant when he came in. He should’ve brought his coffee over. He hated her store brand swill.
She huffed impatiently, but he ignored it. “Never mind.” She grabbed the dustpan and brush, cleaning up the mess.
It’s nothing. She threw out the fragments and locked the door, her hand shaking a little. Probably.
I underlined where we shift from Sheila’s POV to Ripley’s. There is no way that Sheila would know that he was irritated with her, that he’d observed she was skittish, that he didn’t like her coffee.
The problem is, we don’t know immediately that those are his thoughts. We’ve been “in Sheila’s head” so as a reader, we’re shifting gears: Wait, who’s thinking this? Oh, it’s Ripley. Then we get the internal monologue: It’s nothing. The reader’s thrown yet again. Is this Ripley thinking it, or Sheila?
Again, this isn’t impossible to do if you’re careful. but I’ve found it does dilute the resonance and impact of a scene.
Also, the Rock Your Plot method also has very specific reasons to choose only one POV per scene. It ties into plot momentum and character arcs. So ask yourself why you want to head hop, and if it’s worth it.
Ask yourself what you want, and why you want it. (Yes, I say this all the time. See the personal GMC newsletter!)
Then realistically set the writing goals, with plenty of buffer. If you can finish early, great. You’ll get better at forecasting as you track and the longer you’re in the business. But anticipate that stuff is going to happen, and make space for it.
Also, make space for self-care! That’s just as crucial, and it’s going to make all the other things you want to do — writing, marketing, etc. — that much easier.