#35: Creative Writing Techniques - First Person Point of View

​Today’s show explores the use of first person narrative, with examples from Anna Tizard’s upcoming collection of short stories.
 
After some technical insights, have fun with some fresh rounds of Exquisite Corpse word play for some seriously weird story ideas!

Hello imaginative people! I’m Anna Tizard and this is episode 35 of Brainstoryum.

Last time I talked about the benefits of writing from third person point of view, which is probably now my favourite narrative perspective in which to write, but it’s not always been that way. And I do still write in first person sometimes because there are specific effects I want to achieve which I know I can do better in first. So I thought, why not follow up with an episode on first person narrative? Today I’m going to do just that, with practical tips you can use in your own writing, drawing from examples from a short story I’ve been working on recently for my upcoming collection.
 
But before I do, I must share some amazing feedback I got from a new listener to the show, Robin Gillett, who hit the comment button on the Brainstoryum page. Robin says:
 
“I only recently discovered your podcasts and am absolutely enthralled! The idea of just taking random words and formulating them into a story sends me into a creative frenzy! And I love all the insightful info you give on the creative process. This is undoubtedly one of the most inspiring web sites!”

Thank you, Robin! I’m thrilled to have thrilled you! It’s wonderful to hear that I’ve inspired someone and that Brainstoryum is doing what it’s supposed to do! That is, inspire people and get you into the creative mood.

And as the audience size for Brainstoryum slowly but surely grows, I’m hopeful that others feel the same way. I hope you feel the same way. So – if you’re listening and enjoying this, please tell a friend! Maybe say something on social media. It really helps me on my author journey; we’re all on a journey, so let’s see if we can support each other along the way. And do get in touch with me if you have any comments or even if you publish a story that was inspired by one of the ideas on the show.

Now, without further ado, let’s get on with some more writing insights.

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As a discovery writer, in the early stages of drafting, I write to find out what a story is about, and also to find and then capture its unique flavour - because each story has its own particular atmosphere or feeling. I feel this as a reader, so I must pursue this as a writer, and to find the best way to welcome readers into the world of my story.
 
While I originally started out writing mostly in first person, it was only when I switched to third for quite some time and really got into third person, got comfortable with it, that I then came back to first person and was able to see so much more clearly what it does, and what the potential pitfalls can be.
It’s contrast and change that gives us wisdom, I feel.
 
Now, I’ll be honest with you. Some first drafts come out pretty well, and I’ve even read some of them on this show! But others are a complete mess; usually the ones that want to be a bit longer.
 
One particular mess I’ve written is called The Alchemist’s Breakthrough. I’m thinking, yeah, this is definitely one for the new collection – I remembered it as a fairly mature draft that probably needs a bit of tweaking – but oh dear. It was a bit of a patchwork mess.
 
But despite the mess, I fell in love with the main character, Professor (I haven’t come up with a name yet). He’s just so odd. A venerable alchemist, about to retire, and in my mind’s eye I sense his sweet nature and I see his knobbly knees under his cloak. His sense of decorum, propriety, but also a kind of playfulness that isn’t quite done yet. He hasn’t entirely squashed his silly humour with all the decades of teaching at the Alchemists’ Guild. And while he’s in a hurry to finish his packing and retire to a tropical island where he can lounge on a beach and do nothing, perhaps write his memoirs, there’s a darkness gathering around his beloved Guild. The military are gradually moving in; and our Professor suspects they’re interested in a new compound metal that’s been discovered, aptly named ‘Withstand’. With an energy crisis looming and political tensions building, a war seems likely. But if the world of alchemy is being roped into it, it seems he’s retiring just in time.
 
Or is he? He has an itch to perform one last experiment which will end up changing everything, and will set the military on his heels.
 
I say no more about the plot – no spoilers! I’ve packed a lot into this one.
 
Now, while you can write ‘intimately’ in third person, and feel close to what the protagonist is feeling and thinking, there is nothing quite so close as first person.
 
The most extreme versions are a diary or a monologue, where the character is talking directly to you, telling you their thoughts as they occur. This also gives it a sense of immediacy, even if you’re writing in past tense: you’re there with them.
 
But interestingly – I’ve used the word “telling” (telling you their thoughts); and if you’ve dipped in to creative writing guides or workshops at all, you’ll be familiar with the phrase “show don’t tell”, which is fraught with apparent contradictions, I find, and many different opinions. I’m not sure anyone ever gets it completely right according to the experts, and I’ve read incredible, bestselling and classic authors who “tell” all over the place. I would argue that sometimes we must tell. I won’t go into this too much because “show don’t tell” is a massive topic, difficult to navigate, but when you summarise something, you’re generally telling. So “she was shocked by the news” is telling. “Her hands trembled at the news” is showing. You can visualise it more clearly, you feel her shock instead of being told about it.
 
But first person is all about voice. Your protagonist might think or “tell” us that they, or someone else, is shocked, because that is what they observe. They might say, “Well, I was shocked to hear that.” As you do that, you are telling, but in a way, you’re sort of showing as well because you’re giving us a sense of the character’s voice, with the way they tell us, the style in which they tell us.
 
You may even use words that would usually seem cluttered in third person narrative.
 
Examples are words like “quite” and “sort of”, then there are adverbs like “suddenly”, “noisily”. There’s so much in creative writing guides that warns us away from adverbs, but what if you’re writing in first person and your character thinks in this way?
 
If that’s the case, and IF these cluttered ways of thinking and speaking paint a picture, if they show us the tension inside that character, or a tension between them and their situation, or with other characters, this can really work to enhance your story’s flavour.
 
Let me give you an example from my story in progress, The Alchemist’s Breakthrough (version two, although trust me, it needs another once-over before I dare even contact Heather my editor):
 
“I surveyed my lopsided packing, a miniature cardboard city in near-apocalyptic collapse, and sighed. My hands itched to get it done, but I needed breakfast, another strong cup of tea, yet the sunshine through the window called to me. Perhaps I was returning to my youth, getting wistful and poetic in my old age, but even as I set down my mug I remained torn. It fascinates me that the body has its own wants despite the desires of the mind, and while sleepiness tugged me one way, towards the kettle, my skin longed for a touch of that sunshine. Mooching up the concrete steps to the patio, blearily, I wondered whether it would be possible to separate these desires into individual strands, perhaps even extract them. Tiredness, versus the urge to go outside. But something made me freeze on the steps.

A song. A woman’s voice, carried on the breeze.”
 
So here, I’m using all sorts of words and phrases I would never use in third person narrative, or even in conversation in real life. Phrases like “returning to my youth” – I wouldn’t say that. But the professor would. The story is carried on his voice; we experience it all through his perspective. And when he freezes on the steps, we are on the steps with him. We feel his surprise. The change in his mood is a change in the language, the tone. As he becomes more tense, he doesn’t have the time, the mind-space, to come up with decorative language, it becomes more terse.
 
I’ll give you another example of his language – not mine: bear in mind our professor has lived and worked in a very male-oriented environment, so when he’s faced with a woman who seems to know a bit about alchemy, I could use the line, “Her utter audacity rendered me mute.”
 
Imagine writing this in third person, as the exact equivalent, as “he”: “Her utter audacity rendered him mute.” What? It just sounds wrong. “Rendered him mute” – I would never write that, I would never say that, it sounds almost archaic. But my funny little professor is a bit archaic; and to say “utter audacity”: we’re getting his opinion, first hand, his summary of a woman who shocks him. This is what so-called “telling” is for: a reaction in short-hand. And it prepares us for a twist; the professor’s opinion about this so-called audacious woman will be proved wrong. His perspective on a lot of things will be challenged, and that’s part of the fun, and the tension and conflict of this particular story.
 
I don’t think I could do that in third person. Not like this.
 
This brings me on to another technique that works really well in first person: the unreliable narrator.
 
Your protagonist may have false assumptions about the world, about other characters, or the situation unfolding around them; and this is quite a fun thing to do, because you’re making the reader feel a bit clever, being a little bit ahead of that character. It can also build suspense, when you can see a threat that the protagonist cannot, because of their prejudices or assumptions. “Don’t get into the car with him!” you’re thinking. “He’s got a gun!” just as the protagonist climbs in, thinking, “Oh he’s so friendly, so good-looking…” But a word of warning: don’t take it too far. If the reader is going, “Oh for goodness’ sake, can’t you see what’s going on?” it might glue them to the page, to watch the debacle unfold. But if you frustrate the reader too much – if the protagonist isn’t engaging or likeable enough, or if the tension isn’t quite there, then the reader might not bother sticking around to watch.
 
There are other, deeper examples of manipulating the reader’s perception, as we only see things through that character’s eyes in first person – when they are either completely wrong or lying to us. A big example (which I haven’t actually read yet) is Gone Girl, where it’s written from the point of view of an untrustworthy narrator – someone with a hidden agenda. Possibly the biggest twist you can achieve is if a first person narrator has led the reader up the garden path.
 
There are other effects you can achieve through first person: the protagonist could do something truly awful, like kill someone, but seeing it from their point of view makes us more open to understanding why they did it. It seems less cold-blooded than if we saw them do it from the outside, from someone else’s point of view, not knowing what was going through their heads.
 
And so we move on to the potential drawbacks of first person.
 
It restricts us as authors from seeing things that are going on which aren’t happening directly to the protagonist.
 
It’s immersive, being in the head of one character. It can become claustrophobic.
 
As authors, we can get sucked in to the character’s thoughts, like a monologue. But no-one wants to read a ream of internal dialogue where nothing much is happening. We must keep the action moving; focus on what’s happening, what’s changing in their world, not just in their head, and their interactions with other characters.
 
A distinctive voice, like the professor of alchemy, can add a layer of entertainment if they’re intriguing or likeable, or obviously wrong about something, but it is a risk doing this. If a reader doesn’t like the personality and if it’s too strong a flavour, they might lose interest and stop reading.
 
But I’m hoping the professor is odd enough, likeable enough, and experiences enough surprises throughout my story that you would enjoy reading it even if you’ve never met anyone like him before.
 
Each story is a funny creature of its own with its own unique demands, so it’s important to ‘listen’ to the atmosphere of a story as it begins to flow through your pen or through your fingertips onto your keyboard. Should you use third or first person? Go with your instincts, but don’t be afraid to dabble. You can ‘test’ first person through dialogue or by imagining the protagonist writing down what’s happened to them, in an email or a letter. Then switch to another character’s point of view, or just pretend you’re watching the scene unfold from a hiding place where none of the characters can see you. Which way ignites your imagination the most? Which one seems easiest, and most flexible for what you want to portray?
 
It’s really one of those things that comes down to experience and experimenting, which is why I’m always going on about the benefits of writing short stories, because they are our playground to test these things out and discover the huge range of effects we can achieve through the magic of writing.
 
Now, I feel it is time for us to see what new story ideas await us in the socks of destiny…

Listen to the podcast recording above to hear the story brainstorms - actual magic is sadly not transposable!