In article <3B009DE0.A961F...@analog.com>, "David J. Starr"

The following is the shortened-up-for-online-posting version of the viewpoint
handout I use in my writing classes.   It is copyright 1998 by Patricia C.
Wrede, and may not be reposted or reproduced elsewhere without asking me first.
--------
The types of viewpoint correlate roughly with the pronouns used in conjugating
verbs:  I did, you do, he does.  There are, however, a number of variations on
the most common types of viewpoint.

First person:  "I did."

First person viewpoint is narrated by the central viewpoint figure, who can
describe his own actions, thoughts, and reactions, but can only tell what he
thinks other people are thinking.  Because the narrator is presumed to be
telling the story after-the-fact, and because the whole story is his voice and
his narration, he can judge other characters and give his opinions more freely
than is possible in most of the third person viewpoints.
Example:
                                                       #
     I hate the prince's birthday.  I've always hated it.  Prince Conrad is a
brat; he changes his mind twenty times and always has a batch of last-minute
"requests" that make things hell for servants like me.
     At least that year all he wanted was cream cakes.  The year before it had
been fresh peaches -- in the middle of winter! -- and the year before that it
was some delicacy from the Far East that he'd read about in a book.  Turned out
to be a special kind of raw fish, and after all the trouble we went to to get
hold of it, he took one bite and decided he didn't like it and pitched a
tantrum.  Brat is the only word for it.
     Cook had the cream cakes waiting on the big silver tray.  Normally it
takes two people to carry that tray, but we were short handed, what with Roger
being sick, so I took it in myself.  That was my first mistake; my second was
stopping right in front of the door to steady the thing.  And then Duke Gregory
cannoned into me from behind.  Cream cakes all over everything, and him cursing
and glaring and trying to pretend it hadn't been his fault.
    "Damn it, watch where you're going!" he shouted.  I, of course, was
properly dignified despite the green icing in my hair, as a good footman should
be -- though I confess that the Duke made it hard to keep my temper.  But
"Sorry, sir," and "Very good, my lord," was all I replied.  It's professional
touches like that that are important when you work in a palace.
     The butler told me later that that was when she got in, that Jililt woman
who made all the trouble.  I think I even remember seeing her on the far side
of the hall -- tall and blonde and not half amused, if you know what I mean.  I
can't say for certain that it was her I noticed, though, because I was too busy
mopping up cream cakes.
                                                         #
Comments:  In a good first-person viewpoint, every sentence is in the "voice"
of the narrator -- you want to use his particular turns of phrase in the
narration, as well as the dialog, because he's the one telling the story.
Everything comes through his personal filter; if he dislikes dogs intensely,
for instance, you can't ever describe a toy poodle as "cute," because your
narrator wouldn't ever do that -- the most he'd ever do is concede that maybe
this little dog isn't quite as bad as most of them.  The author can't provide
information the viewpoint character doesn't know or show scenes the viewpoint
character doesn't experience.

First person has a couple of minor variations, including epistolary novels (the
book is presented as a collection of letters written by one or more characters)
and journals or diary entries.  Both of these can be very natural-feeling forms
for some authors who are having a hard time getting "into character," but they
don't suit everybody.

Second person:  "You did."

Second person also assumes a single central narrator, but the narrator is being
described by someone else, as "you."  The author is still stuck with what the
viewpoint character sees, hears, knows, and feels.
Example:

     You enter the kitchen.  Everything is laid out ready for the prince's
birthday.  The cook hands you a heavy tray of iced cream cakes, and you stagger
out into the main room.
     As you pause outside the kitchen door to get a better grip on the tray,
someone bumps into you from behind, hard.  You stagger, trying desperately to
keep control of the tray, but it is no use.  Cream cakes fly everywhere,
smearing you and the bystanders and the floor with sticky green icing.  You
turn and see Duke Gregory wiping frosting from his face.
     "Damn it, man, watch where you're going!" shouts the Duke.

Comments:  Second-person fiction is uncommon and somewhat "gimmicky."  It is
difficult to pull off, because it requires the reader to identify closely with
the viewpoint "you" character, and unless the reader does identify very
strongly, there is a good chance that at some point the author will say "You
swallow your anger..." and the reader will respond internally, "The hell I do!
I pick up a cream cake and shove it in the jerk's face!" and close the book in
disgust. Second-person viewpoint is nearly always told in present tense.

Third person:  "He/she/it did."

Third person, taken as a whole is probably the most commonly used viewpoint.
There are a number of different ways of writing a third person viewpoint,
including:

Intimate third-person:

Also known as "tight third person," "limited third person," "close-up third
person," and "third person subjective."  Like first and second person,
third-person-intimate sticks to a single viewpoint character and tells the
story as he/she would experience it.  The narrative doesn't have to be in the
character's "voice" the way it should be for a first-person viewpoint, but it
often is.

Example:

     *Gods, but I hate the prince's birthday,* Jon thought as he hurried toward
the kitchen.  *If the little twerp isn't adding forty more people to the guest
list at the last minute, he's demanding fresh peaches out of season.  I wonder
what it is this year?*
     "Cream cakes," the cook informed him when he arrived.  "This year, he
wants cream cakes.  They're all ready, on the tray by the door.  Careful, it's
heavy."
"Right."  Even forewarned, lifting the tray was more of an effort than he
expected.  "I hope he eats himself sick."
     The cook's laugh followed him out into the hall.  He paused for a moment,
getting the tray balanced just so, and someone bumped him heavily from behind.
     Desperately, Jon tried to recover, but despite his efforts the tray
teetered, showering cream cakes in all directions.  There was an angry roar
behind him, and he turned to find the portly Duke Gregory brushing green icing
from his cloak and glaring daggers at him.
     "Damn it, man!  Look where you're going," the Duke said.
     The injustice of it held Jon speechless just long enough for him to
remember his duties.  *Pompous braggart!* he thought angrily.  *It was your
fault, not mine!*  But all he said aloud was, "Sorry, my lord."  Then, as he
began to clean up the mess, he noticed that the Duke was avoiding his eyes.  He
knows, Jon realized, but he can't admit it without looking foolish.  Jon's
stomach clenched, and he felt his lips twist in a bitter smile.  When a Duke
didn't want to look foolish, it usually meant that a servant got fired.  It
wasn't fair, but that was how things worked.
     As he straightened, he saw an unfamiliar blonde woman on the far side of
the room watching them.  Their eyes met, and her lip curled disdainfully before
she turned away.  Wonderful.  Everyone in the kingdom is going to think I'm a
klutz.

Comments:  Intimate third person sticks, obviously, with the inside of one
person's head and nobody else's.  Other people's reactions must be given as
observations or intuitions of the viewpoint character, some of which may be
correct ("He knows ...but he can't admit it without looking foolish...") and
some of which may not be ("Everyone...is going to think I'm a klutz.")
Background has to be filled in through dialog or action, for the most part.
You can't give information the viewpoint character doesn't know or show a scene
where he's not present.  Advantages are that it gives the reader an immediate
strong identification, and allows the author to get deeply into the thoughts
and feelings of the viewpoint character.  Third-person-intimate is the most
common form of the third-person viewpoints.  You can give the character's
direct thoughts either as italics ("Pompous braggart!"), as normal text with a
"speech tag" labeling it as a thought ("He knows, Jon realized..."), or as
plain text that isn't labeled, but that is clearly the thoughts of the
viewpoint character ("It wasn't fair, but that was how things worked.").  You
can also give the viewpoint character's internal physical sensations ("Jon's
stomach clenched"), but it's harder to show external cues ("he felt his lips
twist...").

Multiple viewpoint

Third-person-intimate is usually the viewpoint that is used for individual
scenes in a multiple-viewpoint story or novel, though sometimes authors will
use first-person, or alternate between first and third.  In a
multiple-viewpoint book, each scene or each chapter is from a single viewpoint,
but the viewpoint character and viewpoint type can change from scene to scene
or chapter to chapter.  Again, terminology is not standard; if a writer is
mixing viewpoint types (i.e., some scenes are tight-third, some are camera eye,
and some are omniscient), this is sometimes referred to as a "mixed format"
book.

Example:

     Gods, but I hate the prince's birthday, Jon thought as he hurried toward
the kitchen.  If the little twerp isn't adding forty more people to the guest
list at the last minute, he's demanding fresh peaches out of season.  I wonder
what it is this year?
    "Cream cakes," the cook informed him when he arrived.  "This year, he wants
cream cakes.  They're all ready, on the tray by the door.  Careful, it's
heavy."
     "Right."  Even forewarned, lifting the tray was more of an effort than he
expected.  "I hope he eats himself sick."
     The cook's laugh followed him out into the hall.  He paused for a moment,
getting the tray balanced just so, and someone bumped him heavily from behind.

     Duke Gregory saw Lady Dorington before she saw him.  Instantly, he ducked
behind a pillar.  The last thing he wanted was to spend half an hour hearing
about the woman's latest imaginary illness.  Of all the bores at court, she's
the greatest.  Cautiously, he peered around the pillar to see where she was
now.
     She was coming in his direction.  The Duke backed away, keeping his eyes
on her, and bumped into someone.  He turned to apologize, and found himself
facing a wide silver tray half full of little cakes with green frosting.
Looking down, he realized what had happened to the other half of the cakes; his
ermine cloak was streaked with green frosting, and when he took an involuntary
step backward, something squished unpleasantly under his boot.
     The apology died on his lips.  "Damn it, man!  Look where you're going,"
he burst out, knowing even as he spoke that it was unjust.  The accident had
been his fault, not the servant's, but it was too late to admit it now.
    The footman who had been carrying the tray looked at the Duke and his lips
thinned, but all he said was, "Yes,  your grace."
     The servant's reaction made the Duke feel even guiltier about his
unfortunate outburst.  He'd have to see that the man got some compensation
later; in fact, he'd speak to the steward at once...well, right after he got
someone to take his cloak away to be cleaned.

Comments:  The first half of the scene is third-person-intimate from Jon's
viewpoint; the second is third-person-intimate from the Duke's viewpoint.
Normally, one would not switch viewpoints quite so quickly (the scenes would be
longer) and the viewpoint characters would be central to the story being told.
If this were the opening of a story about the development of an unlikely
friendship between the Duke and the footman, both viewpoints would be very
appropriate; if it were the opening of a story about the Duke's dealings with
the prince, in which Jon plays no part, I would cut or rewrite the section
that's told from Jon's viewpoint; if it were about a servants-eye view of
palace intrigue, I would probably rewrite or cut the Duke's viewpoint.

Multiple viewpoint is sometimes confused with omniscient viewpoint, because in
the course of the story the reader sees into the thoughts and feelings of a
number of different viewpoint characters.  In both multiple viewpoint and
omniscient viewpoint, the reader knows more about what is going on than any of
the individual characters do.  The difference is that in omniscient viewpoint,
there is a single invisible narrator who knows what everyone is thinking and
feeling, while in multiple viewpoint, there are a number of different
narrators, each of whom knows only what he himself is thinking and feeling.
Again, it is perfectly possible to use multiple first-person viewpoints, or to
use first person in some scenes and third in others, so long as it is not
confusing for the reader and so long as each type of viewpoint is maintained
consistently within its scene.  This is, however, not terribly easy to pull
off.

Camera eye:

Also known as "third person objective," "fly-on-the-wall," or
"observer-in-the-corner."  Everything is told from outside the characters'
heads; only their actions and appearance may be reported, not their thoughts or
feelings.
Example:

     "Got the cream cakes ready yet, Mrs. Fuster?" Jon asked.  "Prince Conrad
has been asking."
     "I bet he has, the little pest," Mrs. Fuster said, her arm moving
constantly as she stirred the contents of a large iron pot that hung over the
kitchen fire.  "It's a wonder he hasn't changed his mind again about what he
wants for his birthday party.  Watch that roast!" she called to a kitchen maid.
 "You'll have it burned in another minute, and you know what the prince will
say about that!  Yes, Jon, they're on the tray by the door."
     Jon looked, and groaned.  "Why that one?  It weighs twenty pounds if it
weighs an ounce, even without anything on it!"
     "It's all we had left.  Get on with you."
     Picking up the tray, Jon staggered out into the great hall.  He was barely
two steps in when a large, portly man in an ermine cloak backed into him.  The
tray teetered, sending cream cakes showering over the ermine cloak and skidding
across the floor.  "Duke Gregory!" Jon gasped.
     "Damn it, man, watch where you're going!" Duke Gregory said.  He brushed
ineffectually at the green icing covering his cloak, his eyes carefully
avoiding Jon's.
Jon's lips tightened to a thin line.  After the briefest of hesitations, he
said in a wooden tone, "Sorry, sir," and began cleaning up the mess.
     Around them, the courtiers snickered and went back to their conversations.
 On the far side of the hall, a tall blonde woman eyed them a moment longer.
Then her lip curled slightly and she turned away, scanning the crowd as if in
search of something...or someone.

Comments:  Because it's camera eye third person (i.e. we don't get to know
anyone's thoughts or see or hear about anything that isn't actually happening
in the scene) the backfill about the party being "hell on servants" has to be
done by implication through a new dialog section at the beginning.  No thoughts
are shown, just actions and dialog, and no interpretations or judgments are
given, only action, physical description, and dialog.  In a longer piece,
"physical description" could easily include more description of the place (the
hall, the kitchen), including sensory details like the smell of the stew (OK,
so it's a spiffy futuristic camera that does more than sight-and-sound, all
right?)  Camera eye is more distancing than intimate-third, because you don't
get to see individual characters' thoughts and feelings, but in compensation,
the scope is greater -- the author can show anything that is happening in the
area, whether the main character notices it or not, and can point out that the
main character isn't noticing it (like the details of the blonde woman's
reaction on the far side of the hall).  The invisible camera can be placed
anywhere:  on a particular character's shoulder, in a fixed spot in the corner
or ceiling, on an imaginary moving boom or camera-man.  It's still camera eye.

Omniscient:

In omniscient, the narrator is an invisible character who knows everything that
is happening and everything that anyone is thinking and feeling, and who can
report any of this as seems appropriate.
Example:

     Every year, the castle servants spent weeks preparing for Prince Conrad's
birthday party.  They cleaned, they decorated, and they prepared hundreds of
special treats -- only to have the prince change his mind at the last minute
(sometimes three or four times) and call for some new and different delicacy.
The sushi he'd demanded three years earlier had been a particularly memorable
disaster, and the tale was still used by the senior servants to terrify
newcomers to the palace staff.
     This year, the last-minute addition to the menu was a tray of cream cakes
with fluffy green frosting that had taken the cook two hours to get just right.
  Jon, the footman, took the heavy tray with a combination of appreciation and
irritation, then staggered directly out to the great hall.  Unfortunately, he
didn't see Duke Gregory backing away from Lady Dorington.  The Duke didn't
notice Jon, either; he was too busy trying to avoid hearing about Lady
Dorington's latest illnesses, and in his haste and inattention, he collided
with the overburdened footman.
     Cream cakes slid and squashed, leaving green trails of icing behind them
as they glided down the Duke's ermine cloak to the floor.  "Damn it, man, look
where you're going!" the Duke roared, trying to cover his embarrassment with a
show of anger -- he knew the accident had been his fault, but how could he
admit it to a servant, and in front of so many other nobles?  Jon, though
internally seething with annoyance and frustration, responded with the bland,
self-effacing control of the perfect servant, and set about cleaning up the
mess at once.
     The minor accident had one further effect:  while the crowd watched the
two principles with varying degrees of amusement, a tall blonde woman slipped
unnoticed into the hall.  The woman, Jililt, glanced briefly at the disorder
and turned away in disdain to pursue her own dark purposes.

Comments:  Omniscient viewpoint doesn't always give the reader a clear
character to identify with.  It is thus more distancing than
intimate-third-person or camera eye third, and partly for these reasons is
uncommon in modern fiction. Omniscient allows even more details (like the blond
woman's name) than camera-eye, and allows everybody's thoughts and feelings
(Jon's annoyance, the Duke's guilt, Jililt's disdain) to be given.  Omniscient
viewpoint is, generally speaking, the easiest viewpoint to do badly and the
most difficult to do well for most authors.  It's easy to do badly because it's
easy to do accidentally -- the minute a sentence like "Meanwhile, back at the
ranch..." or "If he had only known..." or "She didn't realize that her sister
was a crook..." goes into a third-person-intimate or camera-eye scene, the
viewpoint becomes omniscient.  

What Not to do:  Really Bad Omniscient:

     Prince Conrad's birthday is always hell on servants, Jon thought as he
hefted a tray of cream-cakes.  Of course, Jon had never liked being a servant.
If he had had more resolution, he would have been a revolutionary, but he
didn't.  He was a footman.  Mrs. Fuster agreed with him, though of course
neither of them said anything aloud.  They were right, though.  The prince was
a real brat.  He always demanded something special at the last minute.  This
year, it was the very tray of cream-cakes that Jon was staggering through the
crowd with.  If Jon had only realized that, he'd have been more careful, though
it still wouldn't have helped.  Duke Gregory would have cannoned into him just
the same, but Jon would have felt better about it afterward.  The Duke was
avoiding Lady Dorington, the biggest bore at court, and he didn't notice Jon
until he had upset the cream-cakes all over both of them.
     "Damn it!" the Duke roared as cream cakes slid from the polished silver
and smeared green icing softly across the back of his ermine cape.  Everyone
nearby laughed at him.  They thought he was a pompous windbag and deserved to
be covered in green icing.  Jon thought so, too.  "Watch where you're going!"
Damned careless servants these days, not like when I was a boy.  He should have
avoided me.  It was his fault, not mine!  Jon had never liked the Duke.  What a
stuck up, pompous braggart.
     "Sorry sir," he said aloud, brushing ineffectively at the Duke's cloak.
Buffoons, the pair of them.  Jililt glided through the doorway on the other
side of the room.  This may be easier than I thought.  She was disgusted with
the whole business.  Had she only known it, the little accident and the
widening circles of attention it had attracted were the sole reason she had
been able to slip into the hall unnoticed.

Problems with the above:   The section starts off looking as if it's
third-person intimate, then turns into omniscient in the second sentence.
Narrator makes judgments about characters' actions and reactions ("They were
right." "If Jon had realized...he'd have been more careful.") which has the
effect of trying to force the reader's reaction.  Narrator also makes judgments
about characters ("The prince was a real brat"), which has the same effect
(forcing reader's interpretation).  The narrator makes obtrusive predictions
("it still wouldn't have helped...he'd have felt better about it afterward.")
and inserts irrelevant information ("Everybody thought he was a pompous
windbag...").   Jumping from head to head so abruptly makes things choppy and
awkward; sometimes it is confusing as well (does Mrs. Fuster agree with Jon's
revolutionary views, or with his opinion of the prince's birthday? Who is
thinking/saying what in that second paragraph?  Is it Jililt or Jon who thinks
"Buffoons"?).  The reader has to keep switching between an intimate and a
distant viewpoint with very little transition, or between different intimate
viewpoints ditto ditto.  And the "Had he/she only known..." construction and
its variations are clumsy and dated.  Omniscient also makes it much easier to
"tell" what people are feeling ("she was disgusted") instead of "showing" it
("Her lip curled in disgust.")

Any suggestions as to how to make the above Really Bad Omniscient sample *even
worse* will be appreciated...but it can't be more than a sentence or two longer
than it already is.  Consider it an exercise in reverse editing....

Patricia C. Wrede