I've been puzzling for the last week or so about what to write for this blog. We've covered so many great topics here at Not Your Usual Suspects, it can be difficult to try to come up with something witty and interesting to blog about. Certainly not my life, that's for sure. (Big evil grin.) Dull and boring, the daily grind recently has left its mark on my creativity. Long hours of working, day in and day out, has drain any desire to sit in front of the computer and let the words flow.
Earlier today, though, I read a blog post by one of my DARA chapter-mates about why she writes in first person. That got me thinking. What makes our creative brains pick one point of view (POV) over another?
I think some stories cry out for first person point of view. Urban fantasy, paranormal, chick lit and even some young adult scream for the story to be told from only thee main character's point of view. The writer can literally become the eyes and ears of the main character, using their point of view as the camera that sees everything and imparts it to the reader. First person point of view can sometimes seem to delve deeper into the main characters feelings, hopes, and dreams; but, we can't forget all the other players in the story either. As authors, we have to make sure their emotions are portrayed realistically and can be interpreted by the main POV character.
Me, I tend to write just about everything in third person. I like being able to immerse myself and the reader into the thoughts and emotions of more than one character throughout the story. When I'm writing a scene, I try to decide who gets the most impact from that particular scene and write it from their perspective. Does the heroine have more to lose? Then I'm inside her head, spilling her emotions on the page for the reader to see. Will the scene cause the hero moments of torture or agony? Let's spread his POV across the pages. Even at times, when it's appropriate, let's hop into the villain's head and take the reader on a roller coaster ride through what he thinks, what he feels.
Since I write in third person, I'm including a small excerpt from Desperate Choices, available now from Carina Press, as an example. Hopefully you can see that we're in Max (the hero's) point of view, seeing what he sees, feeling the emotions that he feels.
Behind the wheel of the car, Max angled his head and watched Theresa. She sat silent and unmoving, just as she had since they’d left her shop. His gaze slid slowly along the length of her, and he definitely liked what he saw. He never paid much attention to her when she and Remy first began hanging out together. She’d been way too young. He’d rarely been home then, staying in Shreveport while attending LSU.
Max didn’t really understand Theresa and Remy’s friendship. They were so diametrically different, yet their friendship endured all these years.
Theresa had spent a lot of time at their house, all the holidays, birthdays, even family reunions. She was practically a member of the family, at least to everybody but him. He’d never had the remotest familial thought about her. When he looked at her, she set him aflame.
Every damn time there was a get-together, she’d been included. Until about a year ago. Things started to change then. He stopped seeing her as Remy’s best friend. Instead he saw a sexy, vibrant, eye-catching woman. A woman he wanted in a primitive, gut-wrenching and wholly masculine way. His body ached with wanting her. He’d been avoiding her like the plague ever since. A relationship was a complication he couldn’t afford in his life right now.
“Pull over here.” Her voice drew his attention back to the road. He angled the car over to the side of the pavement. Coasting to a stop, he swiveled to face the passenger side, watching Theresa closely.
“Why here?” he asked in a deceptively quiet voice, careful to betray nothing. An amazing coincidence. She’d told him to stop at the exact location the police discovered Tommy’s cellphone. Just a lucky guess. Doesn’t mean a damn thing.
Opening the passenger door, Theresa stepped from the car. Max got out and walked around the front to join her where she stood. He watched her take several steps forward and then backtrack. Her eyelids were shuttered, as if by closing them, she could obscure her surroundings.
For a few tense moments, he watched and waited. In a whispered tone, she finally spoke. “Give me the cellphone.”
Quiet resolve and determination filled her face. Reaching through the passenger-side window, he plucked the manila envelope from the front seat and handed it to her. Then he stood back and watched.
Omniscient POV isn't used as much these days. I'm not even sure I could try to do it justice in describing it. All those you can, you might, you should . . . so mostly its first person POV or third person POV.
I'm curious. In writing romantic suspense, suspense, and/or mysteries, which do you prefer to write in? Better yet, which do you prefer to read? Tell me all about it . . .