Today I thought I’d share a few questions you can ask yourself in order to select the best POV for your story. This way, when you’re faced with choosing a point of view for your work, you can weigh the pros and cons and land on the best option. Here are five things to consider when selecting POV.

(1) Whose thoughts do you need to be able to access?

Ultimately, all POV considerations boil down to one thing: information access. Depending on which type of narration you choose, you will have access to different types of information.

For example, if you’re using a single first person POV, you will have access to all of the narrating character’s thoughts and emotions. Anything that goes through that character’s head is fair game and you can use all of it. The downside is that you won’t be able to do this with anybody else’s thoughts and feelings and your character will have to make inferences based on other characters’ body language, dialogue, and demeanor to deduce what they might be thinking or feeling.

The easy way around this limitation is to use a multiple first person POV, where you alternate between the first person perspectives of a handful of key characters. The advantage of this choice is that you have access to more than one person’s thoughts and emotions. The downside is that it can sprawl a little out of control and it can be hard for the reader to get a good sense of whose story this is.

The same considerations also come into play with the third person POV. On one hand, you  have a single limited third person, where the narration follows one character closely and gives you access only to that one character’s mind. You can also use the multiple third person, where the POV consists of a limited third person approach but alternates between different focal characters. We see the multiple third person a lot in epic stories with broad, sweeping worlds, where the reader needs to be able to follow what’s going on with different characters in different locations.

Both the first person and limited third person POVs have similar limitations in that you can only access one character’s thoughts and feelings at a time. The multiple POV options allow the author to be in multiple different characters’ heads, but it can present challenges. For example, the shifts from one character’s POV to another might be jarring if not executed well. Plus, you can’t “head hop” from one character’s mind to another in the same scene.

The place where multiple POV gets interesting is when we see the same scene from more than one character’s perspective. The TV show The Affair explored this contrast by showing the same segment in time from two different characters’ points of view. In one key scene, we see  the events unfold from the female lead’s perspective. She’s catering a party where the male lead is a guest. She is wearing a simple dress shirt and slacks and keeping a professional distance from her counterpart. When we’re in the male lead’s perspective, on the other hand, the female lead is wearing a short, slinky black dress and is acting very flirtatious. By showing the same scene from the different points of view, we get a sense for each character’s state of mind when they first meet.

(2) How sympathetic (or unsympathetic) is the main character?

Another consideration, when it comes to POV, is how sympathetic (or unsympathetic) the main character of the story might be. Often, when the protagonist is unsympathetic or hard to relate to, it helps to use another character as a go-between via the peripheral first person POV. We see this especially when the main character is larger-than-life, making it hard for the reader to relate to that character.

In DIY MFA terms, there are two types of main characters (not counting antiheroes, who are a special category all their own). These main characters can either be relatable (i.e. a regular person caught in extraordinary circumstances) or aspirational (i.e. a larger-than-life heroic character). Think of “relatable” and “aspirational” as opposite ends of the same spectrum and the author’s goal is to try and nudge that main character a little bit toward the opposite end of that spectrum. In other words, if a character is relatable, we need to show their heroic side, whereas if a character is aspirational, we need to show their softer side. This does not mean making your character go “out of character” but rather is about showing their potential for growth.

What does this have to do with POV? Sometimes when characters are so much larger-than-life, it’s hard for readers to connect to them. This is where the peripheral POV can be useful. For the peripheral first person POV, we have the story narrated through the first person perspective of a supporting character (not the main character). This supporting character is often more relatable than the protagonist, giving the reader a way in to connect with that main character. Examples of peripheral first person POV are The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald and the Sherlock Holmes series by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

(3) Does the reader need to follow multiple story threads at once?

This is perhaps the most important consideration when thinking about a single versus multiple point of view. If you have a broad, sweeping world with lots of different things happening at the same time in different places, then the only way to capture all of those scenes is to use a multiple POV. A great example of this is the Prydain Chronicles (The Book of Three, The Black Cauldron, etc.). The first four books of this series are in a limited (single) third person POV following the character of Taran. Then the author flips the script.

In the final book, The High King, we see the epic battles across the kingdom from various different characters’ perspectives. I remember when I first read it and I came to a passage told through the POV of a raven flying in the sky, high above a battlefield. At first, I thought the author had made a mistake. But as I read the rest of the story, I realized that the author could not have done it any other way. There are different battles scattered throughout the kingdom, with scenes following each of the characters in each battle. If we had stayed only in Taran’s POV, we would have missed out on a huge part of the story.

For this reason, it’s important to consider the pragmatics of the POV you choose. Do you need to be in different places at the same time? If so, a multiple POV might be your best bet. Also, do you need to access more than one character’s thoughts and emotions? Again, you might want to go with a multiple POV option. The two key things to consider with a multiple POV are: (1) connection to the protagonist, and (2) transitions between different POVs.

In terms of connection to the protagonist, remember that when you have multiple perspectives, it becomes trickier for the reader to identify one character as the protagonist. Sometimes, the author does this on purpose because they want the reader to “latch on” to the character of their choosing. Other times, the author has multiple perspectives, but one character still rises to the top as the protagonist. Just be aware that when you play with multiple POVs, the reader may not know exactly who they should root for. That can be a good thing if you’re going for ambiguity, but it can also create confusion for the reader.

When it comes to transitions between different POVs, it’s important that the reader knows exactly which character they’re following and when. Some authors solve this problem by putting the POV character’s name in the chapter heading. Other authors don’t use headers in this way and instead, simply make it clear from the text which character’s POV we’re in. Whatever option you choose, it’s important to include a section break or chapter break when the POV changes so the reader is prepared for the shift. It doesn’t have to whap the reader over the head, but it should be clear who the POV character is. Some authors might even get extra creative by using different icons at the start of a chapter to symbolize each POV character. Or they might add additional information in the chapter heading, like date and time or location coordinates. This way, what can feel a little heavy-handed in using chapter headings to signify POV shifts, can actually become an opportunity for extra creativity.

(4) How realistic do you want the story to feel?

Realism is relative and different POVs capture realism in different ways. I once sat in on a lecture by David Morrell (the author of First Blood, featuring the character Rambo) where he talked about how point of view and realism are intertwined. He gave a historical overview of different point of view options, explaining when and why they came into play. As it turns out, depending on the type of POV option you choose, you can create a sense of realism in different ways.

The earliest novels are written in traditional (single) first person, which gives the story a feeling of being “straight from the horse’s mouth,” like we are hearing an unvarnished account from someone who experienced the events of the story first hand. The first person also lends that feeling of it being confessional, like you’re being told about the events directly from the person who was there. Of course, the limitations of the traditional first person are what we have already discussed—that it does not allow for access into anyone else’s mind or perspective. It also means that in order for the reader to experience a given scene, the first person narrator must be in that scene.

A variation on the traditional first person is the epistolary form, which makes it feel like the reader is spying on someone’s private correspondence. It has a voyeuristic quality to it, making it feel like we’re reading actual letters. Another, similar form is the use of diary entries to tell the story. Diary form has the same voyeuristic essence to it, but instead of the correspondence being between two people, it is more of a one-sided conversation with only one person’s perspective appearing in the diary. The primary limitation of this form is that certain things (like dialogue) don’t make sense in a letter or a diary entry. It can also be tempting to fall into the “tell, don’t show” trap, because both letters and diary entries lend themselves to exposition more than scene.

While authors began experimenting with traditional first person and epistolary form, not long thereafter they also began using the omniscient third person. This is the “eye in the sky” narrator who knows all and sees all. It gives the story a sense of objectivity because it feels like it’s just the facts. We see a lot of nineteenth century authors—like Charles Dickens and Jane Austen—using the omniscient third person POV. The key to making the omniscient POV work is to have a firm grasp on who the protagonist is. Yes, you can hop from one character’s head to another in the same scene, but make sure the reader doesn’t lose sight of the main character.

(5) How reliable do you want your narrator to seem?

Finally, we get to the question of reliability (or unreliability, as the case may be). I once heard an author say that all first person narrators were by definition unreliable. This is because the character acts as a lens and we see the whole story through that narrator’s perspective. If the narrator is opinionated, or overly naïve, or insane, those factors will influence how the character perceives the events of the story.

A great example of an unreliable narrator is The Tell-Tale Heart by Edgar Allan Poe. This short story uses what we call a “deep first person” POV because we are so deeply inside that character’s mind that we are immersed in his interpretation of events. His attitude toward the old man and his “vulture eye,” his insistence that he is not mad and is being perfectly reasonable, we take all of these things for granted because we are so fully absorbed by his perspective. Of course, we know that the protagonist is not sane and that his opinions and actions are far from reasonable, but we can’t help but get swept away by the events of the story because of this deep first person point of view.

Conclusion

There you have it, five questions to ask about point of view to help you pick the right choice for your story. Of course, if you choose one option and it doesn’t seem to be working, you can always experiment with something different. Make sure if you switch POV you don’t just go in and do something like swap out the “I” pronoun for he/she/they. That’s the paint-by-numbers approach to point of view and it will squash your voice and make your writing feel stilted. Instead, choose a scene to try in a different POV, read it through, then rewrite the whole thing from memory. Trust that your brain will hang onto the good stuff and that whatever doesn’t make it into the rewritten version was not all that important anyway. I call this process rebooting a scene and the reason it works is because it allows you to capture that energy and drive you get from writing something fresh, but do it with the direction of knowing where the scene needs to go. When editing for voice and point of view, the reboot approach is hands-down your best bet.

Until next time, keep writing and keep being awesome!

P.S. For more info on Gabriela Pereira, the founder and instigator of DIY MFA, check out her profile page.

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Interestingly, the more and more I read of the submissions, the more similarities I found between creative nonfiction and fiction. Many of the most successful nonfiction pieces utilized certain elements from fiction, which made for more compelling narratives and, ultimately, were the pieces that I flagged with a “Yes.”

So, what makes a creative nonfiction piece stand out in the slush pile? Simple: the same elements that make a fiction piece stand out.

When I read fiction, I want a strong sense of conflict (plot) and a cohesive theme throughout the piece (i.e. what am I supposed to take away from this story?). Of course, those aren’t the only elements that make for a fantastic story, but they’re the ones that I find most lacking in a lot of submissions.

Plot: Conflict and Tension

I know what you’re thinking: real life is messy; it doesn’t have a plot! And you’re right. 99.9% of the time, our daily routines are not fraught with riveting conflict (unless I count the time I got pulled over on my way to work one morning). However, the moments you choose to write about in your creative nonfiction typically have had a profound impact on you and/or the people around you. Those are the moments that can be filled with conflict and tension.

Much like fiction writers are encouraged to come up with an “inciting incident” for their characters, the inciting incident in your creative nonfiction is the moment that forces you personally to take some kind of action and, as a result, changes you in some way. Without conflict and tension, this change can’t really occur.

For a good example of conflict and tension in a nonfiction piece, check out Jaclyn Gilbert’s “Core Being,” which was published by Tin House. In her essay, Gilbert discusses the way her body and her relationship with her father slowly deteriorated during her time in college. These dual conflicts push the narrative forward in a way that is heartbreaking, but ultimately hopeful. Gilbert’s essay spans years, however, the memories she chooses to include each serve a purpose: they show how certain moments in her life forced her to take action and change, for better or worse.

So, as you draft your creative nonfiction piece, keep this idea of plot in mind. While it’s true that many of our life experiences don’t have clear cut plots (like in fiction), there are still moments that are ripe with conflict and tension. And, in my opinion, it’s those moments that make for compelling stories—fiction or not.

Theme: The Takeaway

When you’re writing fiction, it’s always a good idea to keep a theme (or multiple themes) in mind; this can create a sense of cohesion throughout the piece. Ideally, a strong theme doesn’t leave your readers confused by the end of the story; instead, they should have a clear takeaway (for example: “This story was about love.” or “This story was about grief.”).

Theme is equally as important in creative nonfiction. There could be several moments from your life that have had a profound impact on you, however, if they are not linked in some way, they can seem disjointed or disorganized on paper. One way to fix this issue is by asking yourself: What is the main thing I want readers to take away from my experiences? Your answer should give you a good idea of the theme of your work, or at least point you in the right direction.

As I mentioned above, Gilbert’s Tin House essay spans years, yet it still feels cohesive. I think this is largely due to her focus on one or two major themes. Relationships played a big role in her past—with her father, with exercise, with her body—and it’s a theme that is present throughout the entire piece. Gilbert doesn’t just haphazardly hop from one memory to another; rather, each memory hearkens back to that one specific theme and they each lead up to a satisfying conclusion.

Over To You, Writers!

If you’re a writer of creative nonfiction, I would love to hear from you in the comments. How do you craft compelling essays? Do you use any techniques from fiction writing? Let me know!

Manuela Williams is a Las Vegas-based writer and editor. She is the author of Ghost In Girl Costume, which won the 2017 Hard To Swallow Chapbook Contest. Her second poetry chapbook, Witch, is forthcoming from Dancing Girl Press. When she’s not writing, Manuela is busy drinking coffee and spending time with her blind Pomeranian, Redford. You can connect with her on LinkedIn and Pinterest.

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