Mary Rosenblum, LR Web Editor and instructor, has published 7 novels in both mystery and SF.  Her novel Horizons will be available from Tor Books in late 2006, and The Drylands, from Fairwood Press in early 2007.  In addition, she has published more than 60 short stories and teaches writing workshops. 

 

 

Head Talk

Internal POV  

 

By Mary Rosenblum

 

            Fiction is a blend of dialogue and action.  Characters speak, or they act.  When we watch people at the workplace or in the street, we make assumptions about what they are doing based on their speech and their actions.  If a woman bends down to pet a dog, we assume she’s a dog lover.  If a man snaps ‘punk’ at a kid on a skateboard, we assume he doesn’t think much of teens skateboarding downtown.  If we notice the fear tightening his eyes, we realize that he’s not entirely hostile, he’s also afraid of that kid with the dreadlocks and the dark skin.

            Of course we think about what we’re seeing and hearing.  We might think that the man scowling after the kid is probably prejudiced and we know that kid personally, and while he might wear dreadlocks, he also volunteers at the homeless shelter and works with street kids. 

            That mental ‘amplification’ of what we see and hear adds to the ‘value’ of that image or those words.  Our knowledge of the skateboarders origins add depth and backstory to a dark skinned, dreadlocked 19 year old on a skateboard. 

 

Open Up The Window

            The POV character in fiction is the reader’s ‘portal’ into the world of your story.  That character can offer the same layers of depth to action and dialogue as you do in your world.  Without that character insight, the story becomes very cinematic, nothing more than action and dialogue.  And while skillfully manipulated action and dialogue can indeed tell a powerful story, it is difficult to do well.  The POV character’s internal asides or reactions can add a lot of depth with very few words. 

            Of course writing is forever a tightrope walk between too much and too little.  A character’s thoughts or asides can add interest and insight to actions and dialogue, but they do slow the pace of the story.  The more dramatic the scene, the less internal narrative you want to include.  Who thinks long, philosophical thoughts about life as the pack of feral dogs snarls and foams at your heels?  More likely you’re frantically looking for a tree you can climb. 

            But judiciously used, internal POV can deepen characterization immensely as we meet and evaluate your character.  Consider the following scene. 

 

            Candy limped down the street, tired after a long day scrubbing motel rooms.  She slowed as Sandra Macalister pushed through the glass doors of the Market Basket with a plastic shopping bag in each hand.  Candy slowed, the skin on the back of her neck prickling with anger.  Sandra never even noticed her as she set the bags down beside the silver grey Mercedes.  Candy marched right up to her and planted her feet, her fists on her hips.  “You got me canned at the plant.” 

            Sandra’s head jerked up and her gray eyes widened.  “Excuse me.”  She unlocked the car door.  “I’m in a hurry.”

            “Yeah, I bet you are.”  Candy planted her hip against the door and leaned on it.  “I think you’re gonna listen to me.” 

We don’t know why Candy is angry at Sandra Macalister, but clearly she is.  That’s pretty evident and maybe we know because we found out earlier in the story.  Or maybe not.  We can let Candy give us a clue.   

 

Candy limped  down the street, tired after a long day scrubbing motel rooms. Her feet hurt and if those slobs did that at home, she thought grimly, their mamas would use a stick on ‘em.   She slowed as Sandra Macalister pushed through the glass doors of the Market Basket with a plastic shopping bag in each hand.  Slumming?  Candy slowed, the skin on the back of her neck prickling.  The old witch  never even noticed her as she set the bags down beside her fancy car. She didn’t look at common folk.  Didn’t matter what Mr. Carlson said, he’d fired her because Miz Queen of the Town  didn’t like it that her son had hung out with her at the rodeo dance. And stuck his hand up her skirt, for that matter.  Before she slapped his face for him.  Candy marched up and planted her fists on her hips.  “You got me canned at the plant.” 

            Sandra’s head jerked up and her gray eyes widened.  “Excuse me.”  She unlocked the car door.  “I’m in a hurry.”

            “Yeah, I bet you are.”  Candy planted her hip against the door and leaned on it, thinking she was probably gonna get arrested for this.  “I think you’re gonna listen to me.”

This scene is longer, but we find out the reason that Candy is mad at Ms. Macalister.  We also find out what Candy thinks of the woman, and that Candy thinks the woman sees herself above others in the town.   We’ve learned that Candy didn’t put up with the Macalister son putting his hand under her skirt and that the people in the motel leave a messy room for her to clean up most of the time. 

            We’ve learned more about Candy’s character, and we have some insight into the job she does, as well as her emotional tone right now.  She’s angry, feels that she was fired wrongly, and is not thrilled with her new job. 

            As Candy tries to speak to Ms. Macalister, as the woman perhaps threatens her and drives away, Candy might think about how she had first met the son at the store, and how she’d thought he was perhaps a nice kid, but he was drunk at the dance, and probably just like the rest of the snooty, stuck up family. The dialogue and action of the exchange between the two women and Ms. Macalister’s escape in the car will propel the scene forward, and Candy’s thoughts about the son and how she met him, how she now thinks he’s like all the rest of his family, will give us valuable insights into her reaction toward him when they meet later.  Then, when she snaps at him and brushes past him, leaving him bewildered, we’ll understand.  Even if he does not. 

           

Better Them Than You

            Many novice writers replace that internal POV with author narrative.  The author simply breaks in and tells us what is going on.

Candy limped down the street, tired after a long day scrubbing motel rooms.  She slowed as Sandra Macalister pushed through the glass doors of the Market Basket with a plastic shopping bag in each hand.  Candy slowed, the skin on the back of her neck prickling with anger. She thought Mrs. Macalister and her family were stuck up snobs and she was sure that Sandra Macalister had gotten her fired at the plastics plant.  She had seen Candy with her son, Roland, at the rodeo dance and the look on her face had made it plane that she was not happy.   Sandra  Macalister  never even noticed her as she set the bags down beside the silver grey Mercedes.  Candy marched right up to her and planted her feet, her fists on her hips.  “You got me canned at the plant.” 

            Sandra’s head jerked up and her gray eyes widened.  “Excuse me.”  She unlocked the car door.  “I’m in a hurry.”

            “Yeah, I bet you are.”  Candy planted her hip against the door and leaned on it.  “I think you’re gonna listen to me.” 

   This scene includes exactly the same information about the son as the in previous scene, but here, the author simply includes it as narrative – what is called an expository lump.  That’s the author speaking, not Candy and thus, it doesn’t add to our sense of Candy as a person here. 

            So let your characters give the readers insight into what is going on.  That way, you’ll increase the characterization and enrich the backstory and yet you won’t need to break in and whisper in the readers’ ears.  That just doesn’t happen in the real world.  Don’t do it in your story.