What’s the Point?

Unplanned narrators, atypical POVs, and other problems

A funny thing happened recently. If you’ve been following my Substack, you know that I am using an “outline” for the first time (quotes because my outline is less of an actual outline than a list of plot points that may happen). 

My plan was to have three POV characters, each in close third-person. I love close third because it allows total access to your main character’s mind, while also being objective. Tom Ripley is a perfect example. With close third, you know what the character is really thinking, and you know that they are not lying to you or manipulating you, even if they are lying and manipulating–and murdering–others. (I’ve read so-called unreliable narrators in the third person, and when the lies come out, usually at the end, it’s so disappointing. I consider it cheating.) 

But, as I was inching closer to the inciting incident in my work in progress, a first person narrative broke in. 

She took me by surprise, and I liked her immediately. But she wasn’t part of my outline. To keep her, I’d have to re-think the entire structure of my manuscript. I wasn’t sure I wanted to do that—or if I even knew how.

I deleted her. Then I put her back in. Then I deleted her again. Several times I did this, going back and forth, chasing my tail, until I finally admitted that I was stuck. I was unable to move forward with my story until I made a decision. 

I reached out to my two writing partners, who both agreed to read the first 50 pages and give me advice.

They were split: one liked my unplanned narrator, the other did not.

Paul Klee, The Man of Confusion, 1939.

Alas, this is not the first time I’ve had an issue with point of view. 

I was already well into my querying journey when I heard Bianca Marais say something on

The Shit No One Tells You About Writing

that made me pause. (nb: I just spent several hours listening to old episodes of the podcast on 2x speed while also skimming transcripts, trying to find the exact quote, IN VAIN, so I will paraphrase. Please don’t hold it against me if it’s wrong.) Bianca said something along the lines of, certain thrillers work best in first person because the writer has more control over the reveals.

I was at that moment working to add in reveals and twists—you know, the things that are non-negotiable in a thriller and that I was in denial about—and her words clicked in my mind. A little revelation.

Just a chapter, I told myself, immediately cracking open my computer. I will just re-write one chapter in first person and see what happens. 

The book changed. I was able to tap into my main character in a way that I hadn’t before. The prose felt more visceral, more immediate, even though the narrator is speaking from the future and looking back. I dropped in new lines that only made sense in the first person, cut things that didn’t make sense. The prose was leaner, more specific.

It was better.

Changing the POV was a tedious process, as mind-numbing as data entry, but I kept going. I went through all 328 pages, changing hers and shes to mes and Is. It took six and a half days to get to the end.

That time. 

Because later, when CeCe and I were doing edits, we had both just read Ashley Audrain’s book THE PUSH, which is in the 2nd person hybrid (a first person narrator speaking to another person—a “you”). In her very first edit letter to me, CeCe floated the idea of using 2nd person hybrid in my manuscript. Her suggestion resonated with me for two main reasons: 1) my main character is so obsessed with her best friend that it only seems natural that she would be talking to her even after she is gone; and 2) everything in the book is extreme and unsettling, and I wanted to push that feeling into the narrative voice itself.

I decided to try it. The first line went from Jenny’s mess was everywhere to Your mess was everywhere, and I actually got chills. We were onto something good.

I kept going, changing the entire POV a second time. I worked quickly, practiced now, shes and hers becoming yous and ours. I loved the way it sounded, but I was terrified. Doubtful. Was it too gimmicky? Too much like THE PUSH? Would people like it?

I kept hearing my college writing professor chiding our class: never, ever write in the second person unless you are writing a goddamn poem.

Fast forward a few months. TELL THEM YOU LIED was out on sub. At least one pass explicitly told us that they were bothered by the 2nd person. Fine, I thought, let them pass. Someone will understand.

And eventually, someone did. 

Photo by Ben Robbins on Unsplash

Now, back to my current work in progress. My unexpected first person narrator. My divided writing partners.

I’ve made a decision, but before I tell you, I want to know what you would do.