Third person close/intimate/limited—written from the perspective of a character and in that character’s voice but using the pronoun ‘he’ or ‘she’ to refer to him or her. The language used is what that character would use if they were telling the story, so the reader sees the action through the character’s eyes. This is used when an author wants to be able to show more than one perspective on the story, but wants the reader to identify more deeply with a character than is possible in omniscient. For this reason, it usually involves changing from one intimate point of view to another, and this is where the writing can fall into head-hopping.
Which approach you take is entirely up to you. The important thing is to make any POV changes clear to the reader.
Head-hopping
Many readers don’t notice head-hopping unless it’s really chronic, but writing is better without it, and it’s a common trap for new writers. Some writers maintain that whether or not you head-hop is a personal preference rather than an indication of quality, but head-hopping definitely does weaken the writing.
People aren’t always clear about what head-hopping means, so it’s important that we clarify that. Let us start with what head-hopping isn’t.
The term head-hopping does NOT refer to point of view changes that occur:
Chapter by chapter, i.e. one chapter in one POV and another chapter in a different POV;
Scene by scene changes in POV where it is obvious that the scene has changed;
As one clearly delineated additional POV within a scene, i.e. a switch from the POV of the main character to a secondary character—and back again if necessary. This is common in romance novels where it is important for the reader to understand the different perspectives of the man and the woman. Clearly delineated means that the change is obvious, and there is no confusion. Sometimes it’s marked by a blank line or it’s simply written like a smooth baton change. However, if the switch is only for one sentence, or involves several different characters, then no matter how well it’s done, the writing would be better off without it;
A narrator telling the reader what a character is thinking in omniscient point of view is not head-hopping so long as the writing remains in the omniscient narrator’s voice and it is clear whose perspective the narrator is relating. In true omniscient POV there is only one voice, that of the narrator. Although this all-knowing voice of the narrator knows what everyone is thinking, s/he tells the story from a perspective that is external to them and in his/her voice, not in the character’s voice or from their perspective.
The term head-hopping specifically refers to:
Non-delineated changes of POV within a scene that move quickly between characters (i.e. one sentence or a short paragraph, then back again, or to another character), especially if it’s between more than two characters, happens often, or uses the POV of minor characters who have limited POV throughout the rest of the story. Valid changes of POV are limited to main characters and are clearly delineated.
How to achieve a Smooth Baton Change between POVS
The first POV character turns their attention to the second character in some way, either through thoughts, gaze or action. Alternatively, the first POV character could leave the scene.
The first sentence of the new POV also mentions the new POV character’s name and their thoughts or feelings about something. They should be distinctly related to the new character so there is no possible chance that these thoughts could be attributed to the previous character.
A paragraph or more of omniscient POV is also a way to create a break between different third person close POVs.
What's Wrong with Head-hopping?
Head-hopping weakens the writing. It can result in readers having to reread passages to work out whose point of view they are currently following. This drags them out of the story, and they lose engagement.
Reading many people’s viewpoints of one scene can make the writing less immediate and engaging by:
Slowing down the action;
Taking the reader away from the main point, thus watering down the impact of the scene;
Creating a barrier between the reader and the story. It’s as if you’re always dodging around the action instead of meeting it head on;
Using the thoughts of a variety of characters as a way to tell the reader things instead of showing them through the eyes of the main character. It’s another form of ‘lazy’ writing;
Giving the reader a general sense of confusion or lack of clarity about the scene;
Giving the reader more info than they need. This bloats the scene and leaves little to the reader’s imagination, which dulls the writing.
Usually the scene and all the characters’ feelings can be effectively described or at least sufficiently hinted at through the point of view of the person the reader followed into the scene. If a change of POV is needed to give insight into a secondary character, then it should be only one other character in any one scene and there should be a clear delineation between the views. Either with or without the blank line, the first sentence must make it very clear that the point of view has changed. Even when the change flows smoothly, it is preferable that it happens only once in a scene (i.e. change to secondary character and back again). Basically, the more you change POV, the greater the chance for confusion.
Examples.
An example of head-hopping:
‘It’s raining outside,’ George said. So much for getting the washing dry today.
‘It’s not too heavy, though.’ Sally stared into the dusk. Would George stay and get pizza with her? She turned and fixed her eyes on his, hoping.
‘I need to go. I have washing on the line.’ George stood, uncomfortable under her intense gaze. Didn’t she realise how needy she appeared?
‘It’s too late now. It’ll be soaked.’ Please don’t go; don’t go. I need you. She reached for his hand. ‘Let’s have pizza.’
He shook his head, suddenly desperate to leave.
One way to write the same scene without the head-hopping.
This is now all described from George’s point of view. The same points come across without the head-hopping, so nothing is gained by the head-hopping.
‘It’s raining outside,’ George said. So much for getting the washing dry today.
‘It’s not too heavy, though.’ Sally stared into the dusk, then turned and fixed her eyes on his.
‘I need to go. I have washing on the line.’ George stood, uncomfortable under her intense gaze. Didn’t she realise how needy she appeared?
‘It’s too late now. It’ll be soaked.’ She reached for his hand. ‘Please, stay. We can have pizza.’
He shook his head, suddenly desperate to leave.
An example of a successful change of point of view.
This excerpt from my book Lethal Inheritance introduces the secondary character—the love interest—for the first time. My first attempts at writing this—it was my first book—had me head-hopping all over the place giving the reader whiplash as I tried to show both characters’ feelings and reactions to their initial contact. I solved the problem by having the first paragraph in Nick’s point of view talk about the reaction he’d just had.
Just before the change, Ariel turns the reader’s attention onto Nick by wondering what he felt. The change is made by beginning the next sentence with Nick’s name and him answering the question Ariel asked herself. The gap between, though not strictly necessary, gives the reader a clear indication that some change has occurred.
The man, tall and—Ariel noted appreciatively—athletically built, pushed off the tree with a smile that softened the sharp angles of his square jaw and straight nose. He looked older than her by several years—twentyish, she decided.
‘Hi, I’m Nick,’ he said in a pleasant voice.
Ariel met his gaze and a blast of energy shot from his eyes into hers. It raced into the centre of her chest and exploded, knocking her breathless. She wrenched her eyes from his and staggered backwards.
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‘What the hell?’ She felt as if he’d bludgeoned her with a blunt instrument. ‘What was that?’
‘What was what?’ He sounded completely innocent, and his expression, though a little tense, was carefully neutral, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes.
Had he really not felt anything?
Nick wondered how she’d managed to wrench open a door in his chest and unleash a burst of that unspeakable power. It’d raced up his spine and out his eyes, and after he’d torn his gaze from hers, it’d taken all his concentration to shut the door and keep the rest safely locked up. The girl was dangerous.
‘Nothing,’ she muttered and hurried past him, breaking his self-absorption and reminding him that he had a job to do.
‘Wait, I’m going that way too.’ He raced after her. ‘Can I walk with you?’
‘No.’ She sounded pissed off.
Part of him wanted to ask if he’d hurt her, but the wise part told him to shut the hell up. He didn’t want to have to deal with it now. Actually, not ever. ‘I’m not going to hurt you.’
‘Really? So far you don’t inspire me with confidence.’
‘I’m sorry, okay.’ He wanted to say it wouldn’t happen again, but he couldn’t guarantee it.
She stopped and looked at him. ‘So you did do something.’
He avoided her gaze. ‘I didn’t do anything.’
‘Fine. Whatever.’ She walked on. ‘Just leave me alone, all right.’
Well, that worked out well, he thought sarcastically, and followed her in uneasy silence.
Tense
The tense of a verb tells us when an action has taken place. I’m not going to go into the grammatical side of tenses—your copy editor will pick up any inconsistencies—the important thing in terms of the big picture that we’re looking at here is choosing the tense in which to write your book.
Novels can be written in:
Present tense: He jumps. (Action happens as the sentence is spoken.)
Past tense: He jumped. (Action happened before the sentence was spoken.)
The other basic tense is simple future tense: He will jump. (Action expected to occur after the sentence is spoken). This tense is used as part of normal story-telling in books written in either of the above tenses. A character or narrator can talk about what he or she expects to happen in the future, just as they can use past tense when talking about the past. But in terms of the overall tense of the story, the general advice is to stick to whatever you’ve chosen. So don’t use present tense in one sentence or paragraph and past tense in the next.
But story-telling is changing, and in stories with different story threads and viewpoints there may be reasons for having a different tense for a different chapter or character. If you choose to do this, you need to be very clear about why you’ve done it and what the effect is. It’s too easy to make a confusing mess.
Present tense has become more popular in the last few years. I expect it’s because of the immediacy it gives to the story, but be careful. It’s not easy to do a good job of using present tense, and some readers find it very annoying or get tired of it easily. So ask yourself why you’ve chosen this tense, and whether it is a good reason.
Present tense also lends itself to having some sections in past tense. This is still a little radical, but a break from present tense can be refreshing, and it can underscore time differences and make distinctions. For instance, if you choose to insert reports or letters and so on into your story, they won’t be in present tense.
I chose present tense for the base story in my Prunella Smith series, but one of the stories within the primary story is told in past tense. This is because it’s a novel that Prunella (Ella) is editing. I needed to differentiate the novel she was working on from what was happening in Ella’s life, so I chose two different tenses. Each story thread, however, sticks to its own tense.
I also used past tense when Ella wanted to distance herself from an event, so a dream could be written in present tense if I wanted the reader to experience it as she experienced it, but if she remembered it after she woke up, I’d write it in past tense.
Another valid use of changing tenses in a story written primarily in present tense is if you have a story thread that takes place in the past. The part of the story set now can be in present tense and the part that took place in 1976 could be in past tense.
But be careful, apart from there needing to be a valid reason for different tense usage, each change should be in a separate section and that section and story thread should stick to the same tense throughout. It’s a bit like head-hopping in that too many changes in quick succession give a reader whiplash.
I said earlier that writing in present tense is not easy, and I advise new writers not to attempt it. Why? Basically because it’s all too easy to overuse variations of the verb ‘to be’ (the reasons for why that’s not a good thing come later in this book) and because it can easily come out choppy and sounding like something a child might write. If you want choppy and childish, that’s fine, but you can do both in past tense in a more sophisticated way and without having to be stuck in it for the whole book.
Present tense works okay in first person because you’re asking the reader to experience the central character’s story as it happens; you want the reader to be very aware that it is happening now, in this timeframe, and you want them to be right in the story and fully identified with the character. Those seem like valid reasons for choosing this tense. Novels can be written in third person present, of course, but I think third person generally works better in past tense.
So if you’re an inexperienced author and you’ve chosen present tense, it might be a good exercise to try rewriting a passage in past tense. If the prose flows better, consider writing the whole book in past tense. Don’t use present tense just because you think it’s fashionable!
Tension
Tension is what keeps a reader reading. Without tension a novel will be somewhat dull and easy to put down. Some say that there should be tension on every page; I’m not sure that’s completely necessary unless you’re writing a thriller, but the statement does make you realise just how important tension is. There should be tension in every chapter, though. And the book as a whole should have tension as the driving force.
A strong plot with clear goals and an antagonist will provide the overall tension to hold a work of fiction together and keep the reader turning pages, and though every chapter can also have the same kind of aim, thwarting of aim and question as to whether the protagonist will be successful in achieving their aim or not, there are other ways to create tension. I became familiar with these during my time in theatre and particularly when I taught drama, because we’re talking about dramatic tension here.
Dramatic tension is created through the following:
Conflict (as in basic plot structure)—the question is: who will win?
Tension of the task—the protagonist has a task to complete and the question is: will they complete the task?
Tension of relationships—this is the kind of tension we have in romances. Relationships have problems and challenges. The question is: will they solve their problems and get back together?
Mystery—something is unexplained, and it’s important to the protagonist that they solve the mystery. The question is: who did it? Or, what is s/he hiding? And other such questions.
Humour—humour keeps us reading, particularly when it occurs through the unexpected.
Surprise—surprises and plot twists keep the reader intrigued. The question here is: what will happen next? Surprises at the end of chapters work well, and a surprise at the end of a short story can transform an otherwise ordinary story.
If your chapters have one or more of these kinds of dramatic tension, your readers will keep reading. Though a particular kind of book may focus on one of these, a good book will use several of them, perhaps all of them. Every one you use will increase the tension in the pages and will make your book harder to put down.
/> A book doesn’t need to have a fast pace to be something one can’t put down, it simply needs to have tension. So when you look over what you’ve written, ask yourself: what creates tension in this chapter or scene? If you don’t find anything, ask yourself why that section is there. The reason should give you an angle on what kind of tension should be in the chapter or scene. If you find no reason for it, then it’s not needed and you should delete it. The other way to work here is to simply ask yourself how you could angle the chapter to create some more tension.
The general rule for adding tension is to make things more difficult for your characters. Be mean to them. Add stumbling blocks. Don’t make everything too easy. Life isn’t like that, and good fiction reflects life.
Transitions
Stories are made up from a series of scenes, and how we move the reader from one scene to another is important. In general, we want the story to flow smoothly and the reader to be clear on who they’re following, and where they are in time and place.
Even if you aim for a disjointed feel, you don’t want to confuse your reader. You have to give them something to hang onto, some way to piece the scenes together. Otherwise the book will come across as a mess. Our brains look for meaning. When they don’t find it, things don’t make sense, and readers generally like their books to make sense.
The Elements of Active Prose Page 3