Part Two of a two part blog on the POV issue for writers

Part Two of a two part blog on the POV issue for writers.

The good writers of today have broken free of many if not most of the literary bindings of yesteryear, when one could not begin a sentence with a conjunction, could not end one with a preposition, could never use a sentence fragment—the list goes on. So why do we remain mired in the dictates of yesteryear’s POV? 

Well, you say, you risk confusing the reader. Of course you do. You take that risk with every sentence, paragraph, chapter, and book. I invite you to go back to the last two sample sentences (at the risk of grown men fainting and mature women grimacing). Did you understand it? Did it pass the acid test of clarity? 

We all owe a debt to Lady Clarity. Left unpaid, any author’s work will be consigned to the slush pile of history. If you are going to change POV, do it intentionally, never inadvertently. A writer must be a constant bedfellow with his/her POV. She must know every inch of his being, every soft, subtle pulse . . . uh, that is, well, you take my point. 

No, I am not of the wild-eyed radical set, those willing to treat their work with an all but chaotic POV approach. Here are two more examples of text from an early novella of mine about combat air operations by the mighty 8th Army Air Force. We visit a B-17 called Aces Over Jacks as it bores its way through a stream of Luftwaffe fighters en route to its target, deep inside Germany. In example one, hear the voices of the eleven crew members. . . .

Example One.

“Pilot to crew. We are about fifteen minutes to bomb run. Call out any fighters but keep it short.”
“Left waist gunner. Four ME-109s at nine o’ clock high. They’re into their break, over.
“Tail gunner. I got a thousand of the bastards at six o’clock high but I think they’re waiting for our fighter escort to drop off.”
“Bombardier. Flack ahead about five miles. One seventeen out of control. I see two chutes. Common, guys, jump. Get out. Jesus, get out!”
“Pilot to crew. No unnecessary chatter.”

Example Two.

“Pilot to crew. We are about fifteen minutes to bomb run. Call out any fighters but keep it short.” I don’t like the looks of that fuel gauge. Shouldn’t be that low. Got to be a leak somewhere. We get hit by one incendiary, and we go up like a Roman candle.
“Left waist gunner. Four ME-109s at nine o’clock high. They’re into their break, over.” Dear God, get me home. Julie’s pregnant. She won’t get a dime if I don’t marry her before. . . .

Example two is considered head-hopping because we are given the internal thought of each member of the crew along with his spoken dialogue. The risk of this becoming confusing is too high. If the author wants internal thought, settle for one character’s thinking. After a scene break, you may switch to another crew member’s internal thought.

POV is subject to interpretation and debate. I wish you could have heard the critique group debate around this sentence: Blunt [a dog] danced around his master in joyful anticipation of his romp in the forest. I had, in the middle of a scene, jumped into the POV of a dog! Yawning before us was the San Andreas Fault between Clarity and rigid adherence to the letter of the POV law.

The day is upon us when, on some future dark and stormy night, all writers will be free to take the ultimate risk: to create a POV change where no man has POV’d before. 

But please do it with the utmost Clarity.

(And not in the streets. . . .)