Creating Conflict With Backstory

We have learned how to avoid backstory plot holes and discussed how to use backstory as plot devices. This week, we look at how to use backstory to create conflict.

1. It is tempting to cheat by inserting letters, news articles, and pages from a book or diary to impart information. There may be instances where it works, but rarely. These shortcuts are generally boring in nature. Even worse, they are often placed in italics. If you insist on this, keep it short and simple. Pages of italics strain the eyes.

Backstory in the form of letters or journal entries tests a reader's patience. They draw the reader out of real time. A few readers adore them. Most don't. I scan read them. If they are too long, I skip over them. They rarely contain conflict and are a lazy way of delivering information.

If the contents can be summarized quickly through internal dialogue or dialogue, do that instead. We don't need to see a long news article about a body being found. Dick can read the article and comment on it to Sally, offering her the juicy parts. Most of us do this when we read something to someone across the kitchen table or office desk. We don't read the whole article. We react emotionally to the contents. We skip over the blah, blah, blah parts and read the good stuff.

"Reading Mom's diary is so surreal. I had no idea she was such a free spirit, a freethinker, and a party girl."

Jane reached for the book. "When did that change? She was so prim and proper." 

Sally dodged her and kept reading. "Oh my lord, she slept with Phyllis's husband before they got married."

Jane attempted to grab the journal a second time. "Are you certain that's what she meant?"

Sally turned the page. "Last night was so romantic. We walked to the back of the garden and stood under the weeping willow, my favorite hiding spot. We kissed. He slowly undressed me. The night air was cold, but his skin was so warm."

"She never! That can't be our mom, can it?"

This type of delivery keeps the reader in real time and in the presence of characters they care about.

2. Short snippets of backstory can be revealed through inner dialogue and thoughts. What a character thinks reveals character. A conversation or situation can bring back pleasant or unhappy memories. Memories can differ. This is part of interiority. Dick can think:

Sally thinks she knows everything. Even when we were in kindergarten, she thought she knew everything. No one in this town ever changes.

This reveals that he has a history with the town, he has known Sally since kindergarten, and he isn't too pleased with her. In this example, he keeps the negative opinion to himself. The same information could be related as dialogue.

In the next example, Dick shares the same information and antagonizes Sally in the process.

"You thought you knew everything back in kindergarten, too. Nothing ever changes in this town."

3. Short summary can propel the story. Jane might drive past her old house, the one she shared with her ex-husband, and think:

I pulled up to the curb and left the engine idling. God, I missed the cottage. I loved the symmetry of it, the gables, and the white picket fence. I loved the rosebushes and the neighborhood cat that used to sun itself on the steps. I should have been sitting on the front porch swing, drinking tea, and reading a good book instead of driving past it like a lovesick teenager. It wasn't the affair or the divorce that gutted me. Dick wasn't worth a single tear. It was knowing that he had taken the cottage from me out of spite and moved in that lanky-skank ho. Killing him wouldn't make a difference. It would still belong to her. I'd have to figure out a way to drive them out.

This reveals that Jane used to live in the house, her aesthetic preferences, she likes tea and reading books, and she loved the house more than her ex. It gives us the story goal. You could have spent pages telling us about Jane's past and setting up her motivation. Instead, it was summarized in a few short, bittersweet sentences.

4. Backstory can be revealed though dialogue. Avoid horrible "As you know, Sally" information dumps. Make sure your characters would utter the words in a real conversation.

"As you know, Sally, our great-grandpa started this tea business in 1893 when he came over from old England. He built the place from the ground up."

 Of course Sally knows. It's her grandfather. Let's slip this in with a little character conflict.

Dick ran a hand over the smooth wooden chest, tracing the Sinclair name and the year 1793. "I wish grandpa Mac had lived to see this."

Sally didn't look up from her phone. "He'd be 200 years old."

"Not the point." Dick lifted the lid, inhaling the sweet smell of peppermint. "He left England with a small tin of tea and a dream and look at us: international distribution, thirty varieties, new hybrids."

"And disgruntled employees, greedy investors, irrational vendors."

"Forget it. Let me buy you out. You'll never love the place the way I do."

"I'll never love anything the way you do. You're obsessed. You should leave this cave occasionally. Go on date. Get laid."

"Get stuffed."

Sally slipped her phone into her pocket. "Every chance I get. I'm hungry. Let's do lunch before I pass out."

"I'm serious. I want to buy you out."

"I'll think about it on a full stomach."

A character's hot buttons, prejudices, and conceits can rear their ugly heads during heated conversations. Backstory is best revealed through a verbal sparring match, not a lazy trot down memory lane. You add conflict when the characters block what needs to be said, reveal painful secrets, point out a person's flaws, or expose old wounds along the way.

5. Differing memories can cause conflict. Memory is fallible. If you ask three children about their formative years, each has a different rendition based on how they perceived their experience. 

"You were always their favorite," Dick said.

Sally snorted. "Me? You were the golden boy, the heir. I was the spare and an afterthought."

"They let you get away with murder. I had to be perfect. I had all the pressure of their expectations. You were free to do whatever you wanted."

"You got all the attention. They didn't know I existed. I could have paraded around the mansion naked and they wouldn't have noticed."

"Oh, they noticed. They had massive arguments about you."

"On how to get rid of me."

Dick looked at the side by side caskets. "I guess it sucked for both of us."

"Now we can't even confront them over it." Sally walked away from the grave site.

Dick followed. "Don't be a stranger, okay?"

Sally opened her car door. "That's what we are, strangers. Maybe we should officially meet some day."

Masterful use of backstory elevates you from beginner to master craftsman.

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Backstory As Plot Devices

Last time, we discussed how to avoid backstory plot holes. This week, we offer ideas for using backstory as plot devices.

1. You can reveal your protagonist's critical flaw by explaining something that happened in the past. The critical flaw is revealed near the beginning to explain why Dick is drawn into the story problem and trips him up along the way. The flaw, his kryptonite, can stem from a traumatic episode from the past.

2. The secret weapon is revealed early on to explain why Dick, and only Dick, can solve the overall story problem. It can be a talent, strength of character, belief, or an actual object. You can show him using his secret weapon, or refusing to use it, in the past before he is called upon to use it in the present.

3. Whatever skills or failings Dick has, don't whip them out at the last minute by saying, "Oh, yeah, back in school I used to (fill in the blank)." That is backfilling and it is a no-no.

4. Backstory can raise questions rather than answer them. You can show Dick doing or saying something in the past, but not explain why until later. Mystery keeps the reader invested.

5. Backstory can be revealed in layers, like peeling an onion. Each reveal adds a slightly different twist to the reader's understanding of what happened. Write the backstory then select the bits you want to reveal and order them in the most effective sequence. Slip them in when needed.

6. If Dick did something in the past, he can repeat the action or find himself in the same dilemma in the present day, only there is an obstacle this time. His old method no longer works. He knows better now and this time it's uncomfortable. Perhaps he has the skills or experience to do things differently.

7. Backstory can create conflict for Dick by presenting him with difficult choices. In the past, the decision might have been easy. The current situation, or new knowledge, makes the same choice more difficult. Maybe he used to easily run toward danger, but he has new responsibilities and has to seriously consider the wisdom of his past actions.

8. Backstory can reveal change. If Dick is afraid of spiders because he was bitten by one as a child, he may have to take on the giant spiders that invaded Earth at the climax. If Dick was a coward in the past, he can be brave in the present. If Dick denied his feelings in the past, he can embrace them in the present.

Stay tuned for our wrap-up on how to use backstory effectively.

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Backstory Basics

Backstory, when used properly, enriches a plot. Used poorly, backstory creates a plot hole your reader is forced to skip over or sludge through. Most readers skip the boring bits.

The problem with backstory is often two-fold: too much too soon or way too much information at once.

Backstory can be related through dialogue, flashback, internal dialogue, thoughts, and narrative. Over the next few posts, we'll explore the finer points of using backstory with mastery.

1. Don't begin your novel with backstory. Invest your readers in the current situation before trying to explain the character's history. Otherwise, why should they care?

If the action has already passed, we know the characters lived to tell about it. It may have bearing on the plot, but the characters survived and have moved onto what is happening now. The reader may feel there is no need to read a long passage detailing what happened in the past if the characters are clearly functioning in the present.

2. Backstory is best presented in short bursts not long-winded information dumps. The delicate balancing act is giving the reader enough backstory to help explain the current situation, but not so much that she is derailed from the forward momentum of the story.

3. If you feel a section of backstory requires a full scene with its own beginning, middle, and end, it should contain tension and a scene goal. A chapter or two of backstory loses the reader. She pages forward until she gets to the part that matters. That is not the kind of page turning to aim for.

4. Bits of backstory can be related through narrative, but keep it short and simple. Transition in and out and don't offset it. A paragraph or two should suffice. Resist the urge to insert large sections of italicized words. You should be able to transition into and out of backstory without resorting to special fonts or italics.

5. Backstory is not the same as weaving separate story threads together. A subplot set in the past has its own story arc and every scene should contain conflict. You should order the past versus present scenes in a way that has the most impact. Badly braided scenes can ruin an otherwise riveting tale.

6. Backstory should not cram in the character's past all at once. People don't tell each other everything about themselves and their lives the first time they meet. If they do, their psychological boundaries are fuzzy. They make people nervous by offering too much information. You don't need to tell your readers everything up front either. If you do, your structure is fuzzy. Once the reader has formed a relationship with your character, their past has more resonance.

7. Backstory works well in internal conflict scenes when your protagonist struggles with his personal dilemma which can be rooted in his past. It could be the partner he didn't save, the girl he didn't get, or the friend he failed. The backstory makes the current situation more poignant and should be relevant to the overall story. Resist the urge for a long memory scene. It is more powerful if the character is remembering while doing something to progress the current plot.

8. Backstory must, above all, be relevant. Don't spend paragraphs telling us about Dick's botany hobby unless he uses botany to solve the overall story problem. It bores your readers. They don't need to know about every Civil War battle, every lover the protagonist ever had, or the life stories of everyone who sank with the Titanic. Backstory that has no relationship to the current story is irritating. Readers flip past it or skim read it. If it happens often enough, they put the book down and walk away.

Stay tuned for more discussion on how to layer backstory to create conflict.

As always if you find this information helpful, share it, like it. If you want more free information, sign up to follow the blog on blogger or the Story Building Blocks Facebook Page. Free tips and tools are also available on my site https://dianahurwitz.com/.

Recognizing Narrator Intrusion

The biggest problem with any point of view, other than omniscient, is narrator or narrative intrusion. The author interrupts the story to deliver his commentary, thoughts, opinions, or information. They create speed bumps that disrupt the reader's total immersion in the story. This is especially a problem when you use first person and third person close up.

Let's learn how to search for it.

1. Ideally, comments, thoughts, opinions, and information should be filtered through the characters, not the writer.

Omniscient narrators are able to be in everyone’s head at all times. You lose a certain number of readers with this method. But the omniscient verbal camera can go anywhere and take in anything. 

With other points of view, narrator intrusion removes the verbal camera from the shoulder or the eyes of the viewpoint character to take in action on the stage the character isn’t aware of. The speed bumps can be low or high depending on the severity of the intrusion.

Example: What Nora didn't see was the shadowy figure hiding in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to grab her.

Example: Meanwhile, on the opposite shore, the enemy troops boarded a ship to sail to America.

2. Key intrusion words to look for include: as before, after, behind, believed, considered, debated, discovered, during, felt, figured, hated, inside, knew, liked, loved, noticed, realized, pondered, remembered, sensed, since, smelled, tasted, thought, wanted to, when, while, wished, understood, until, used to.

3. Showing versus telling is not necessarily the same as narrator intrusion. An example of intrusion would be:

Dick Malone, a dark, handsome, intelligent man stared through the window of his fortieth-floor penthouse at the brooding LA skyline.

This sentence is simply awful, but you get the point. Yes, I just intruded with an opinion. If you write in omniscient, this is perfectly acceptable. In all other cases, it isn’t.

Even in third person, a character does not think to himself:

I’m a handsome, intelligent, man standing in my fortieth-floor penthouse. My décor is ultra-modern and shows I have expensive taste.

To fix the intrusion, the writer can show the character entering his building or getting off at the fortieth floor. The character places his keys in a ceramic bowl on a glass and steel hall table or hangs them on an ornate message board above it. The character walks into the living room, across the deep pile carpet, and places his jacket on the back of a white leather sofa. He can look at himself in the mirror (overused but effective) or catch a glimpse of himself in the glass as he stares at the brooding LA skyline.

He could notice a photo of himself and his wife. He can think about the way they used to be, so young, so good looking, so idealistic. He can wonder if she still finds him as attractive as he finds her. He can miss her presence in his swank apartment, one they chose together but he now occupies alone. In this way, you show the reader his world rather than tell them about it. This would be strongest in first person or third person close up, relating it through the character's lens. How does he feel about the space? What irritates or soothes him? Is coming home a good thing or a bad thing?

The door closed behind me with its familiar whoosh. I tossed my keys onto the slick glass table. As they slid onto the white marble tile floor, I resolved to find a coconut shaped ash tray like the one I stole from a hotel in the Bahamas. It had comfortably held my keys for years before I met Sally. I could take a sledgehammer to the table, pity she wouldn't be around to see it. I could replace the white leather furniture with soft suede lounge chairs with cupholders. For the first time in five years, I could do anything I wanted. I flung my coat across the metal back of the dining room chair and used the remote to lift the automatic blinds from the panoramic windows. They were useful and could stay. I slipped off my tie and rolled up my sleeves. The fancy, useless rugs, monochromatic vases that didn't hold flowers, and artfully arranged books she never read, could go to Goodwill. They'd make some poor schmuck's day. I popped a frozen burrito in the microwave, no plate, and popped the top off a Corona. I needed boxes and some paint, yeah, brown and beige to relieve the endless white. She left, but it was time for me to erase her.

4. Another example is when a writer inserts statements for suspense:

Sally didn’t know that Dick had other plans for her and that his plans would change her life forever.

Little did Dick know that Spot, so peacefully curled up at the end of his bed, would attack him in the middle of the night. If he had known what the dog was capable of, he might have put Spot in his crate.

These are extreme examples, but you get the point. Who is giving us this information? It isn’t Dick or Sally. Some writers do this on purpose, to say, “Wait for it: a tense situation is coming.” It does the opposite. The author just told us there is going to be an attack in the middle of the night, removing the suspense factor.

The author could have shown Dick snuggling up with dear Spot, holding the dog close, feeling all warm and safe. Then Spot growls and wriggles away from Dick. The dog’s fur stands on end. Cut scene. Next chapter. The reader keeps turning pages to find out what upset the dog. That is well-crafted suspense.

5. In third person limited point of view and first person, a writer often tells the reader things the point of view character couldn’t possibly know.

Jane sat in the café, sipping a cooling mocha latte, lost in thought, a book open on the table. The man in the booth behind her stared and wondered why someone so good looking was so sad.

Unless Jane has eyes in the back of her head, she isn’t aware that she is being watched. Unless she reads minds, she won’t know what the man behind her is thinking. The verbal camera panned away from Jane and followed the man in the booth. This is either head-hopping or author intrusion, depending on the point of view.

Another example would be:

Sally perched on the edge of a park bench. She closed her eyes, wiping the sweat from her brow. When did it get so hot? A man sat down on the grass, not close enough to be obvious, but near enough to catch her if she decided to run.

Sounds suspenseful, right? However, Sally’s eyes are closed. She can’t see the man sitting on the grass. She doesn’t know why he is sitting on the grass, or that he intends to grab her if she leaves the bench. The author thinks he is setting up suspense, but he is shifting point of view or intruding.

The scene can be fixed by simply having Sally open her eyes, see the guy sitting on the grass. She can decide he is a problem and calculate whether she could run before he could grab her. This keeps us in her head and sets the tension. Will she go for it? Will she make it?

6. Writing in first person POV, a passage might read:

I bent over to pick up the note that fell from the boy’s backpack. The paper was crumpled, from the kind of yellow legal pad a businessman would use. I unfolded it and examined the crabbed handwriting. A red stain colored my cheeks as the profane words registered. What kind of boy would write such a thing?

This is very subtle intrusion. Why? Because the character can’t see her own face, so how would she know it was red? She could feel her face flush. The reader knows that a flushed face looks red. You don’t have to explain it. These mistakes are hard to catch. A good critique partner, beta-reader, or editor helps you find them.

7. Another example is when the author gives the reader the reason for someone else’s behavior:

Jane lifted the hotel receipt from the table. She held it up so Dick could get a good look at it. “And you were at the Savoy last week for what reason?” Dick turned away to hide his panic and formulate an excuse.

If the piece is written in omniscient point of view, this passage works. Otherwise, it doesn’t. Jane can see Dick turn away. She might guess why, but she wouldn’t think to herself: Dick turned away to hide his panic and formulate an excuse.

Jane could see him turn away. She can surmise that he is hiding something and press Dick for an answer. Dick’s lack of response tells her he is formulating a lie.

When he comes out with, “It was a business meeting,” Jane assumes it is a lie.

Jane can then call him on it by saying something like: “An overnight meeting?”

Dick justifies it with: “No, but it ran late and I was tired, so I got a room.”

Jane could top it off with: “You paid for a room instead of a cab? We only live five blocks away.”

Lie exposed and you have tense dialogue with a great zinger at the end. The fight is on.

8. Another problem is describing details a character would never notice.

Dick is standing at the coffee machine in the break room and Jane walks in with designer shoes and a dress that hugs her curves. Unless he is really into fashion or works in the fashion industry, he won’t know the dress is Dior and the shoes are Manolo Blahnik. A lot of female readers, me included, won’t know what the heck Dior or Manolos look like either. It is best to describe the dress and the response it creates within Dick (he is turned on by stiletto heels), than to toss in labels a reader wouldn’t recognize.

A reader forgives a few of these. If the book is riddled with them, and he feels the need to Google, you may lose him forever to social media.

You can use the shorthand references for inspiration, but you need to describe it. You can say:

Jane had on a tight, knee-length dress and uncomfortable-looking heels.

This statement reveals character more than blatant references. If a man observing a woman thinks her dress is too tight and her shoes interfere with her ability to walk, it tells you he is either sizing her up as a potential victim who can’t outrun him, or deciding that she would make a very high-maintenance girlfriend. He might like women who dress like runway models or prefer a girl who wears cargo shorts and sneakers. The way he describes Jane’s outfit tells us a lot about the way he views women.

9. Inserting descriptive shorthand for people, places, and things can be intrusive.

The author might know all about fashion or might throw designer names in to impress or to define character. It can have the opposite effect if the reader is frustrated by not grasping the reference. When a writer inserts cultural, geographical, designer, celebrity, and product references, she assumes her readers are familiar with them. When the references are lost on the reader, he flips the page. He might waste time Googling the reference. In order to Google, he must put the book down or switch screens. This is not the kind of page turning to aim for.

Writers are frequently cautioned to show not tell, though there are times when the character has to tell. It is a fine, hotly debated line and one most writers struggle with. Don’t tell us someone is sad, show us. Don’t tell us someone is angry, show us. The advice makes many writers throw darts at their manuscript. It is still good advice.

Intrusion is difficult to avoid. Stringent editing can fix it. Read through each scene. If possible, have other people read through each scene to look for intrusions. Pull back and look at what you’ve written with a jaundiced eye. Ask yourself if you’ve put anything there that the POV character couldn’t see, hear, feel, smell, taste, touch, notice, know, or do. When you’ve identified the intrusion, it is fairly easy to repair it. Rephrase it in a way the POV character would say it or do it, or change the scene’s choreography to show instead of tell.

As always if you find this information helpful, share it, like it. If you want more free information, sign up to follow the blog on blogspot or the Story Building Blocks Facebook Page. Free tips and tools are also available on my site https://dianahurwitz.com/ .

Who Is Telling Your Story?

There are several methods for relating your story through point of view.

The verbal camera location depends on the method you choose. Each method has strengths and weaknesses. You can alternate point of view from person to person by changing the POV with each chapter or scene. Don't switch POV characters from sentence to sentence or paragraph to paragraph to avoid “head hopping.”

In most genre fiction, a protagonist viewpoint is preferred, either protagonist only or protagonist as main viewpoint. The antagonist, love interest, friends, and foes may also chime in depending on the needs of your story. You can have an unbiased narrator or the cold eye of an unmanned camera.

Stories have been narrated by friends or observers. Stories are rarely told by the antagonist, but it has been done. Sometimes the protagonist proves to be the antagonist.

Sometimes POV methods are intentionally mixed, but you must carefully edit for random, unintentional shifts. A single method is easiest to follow. There have been stories where the protagonist is written in first person and other characters are written in objective or close third.

There are many opinions about which point of view you should use. Omniscient is the most distancing and first person is the most intimate. You should use whatever works for the story you wish to tell.

First Person: The reader experiences the story through the character’s lens. The verbal camera records from inside the character's mind. The reader is limited by what the protagonist can see, hear, overhear, and  know about. The story is influenced by their outlook on things. You are privy to their intimate thoughts. They have to be in every single scene. It uses I, me, and mine. The reader in essence becomes the character.

First Person Subjective: The point of view character is the narrator of the story but rather than relating his experience, he gives his version of someone else’s story. This is told in first person using I, me, and mine. The story is told through his filter and can limit the suspense potential. The verbal camera records through this observer’s eyes. It is limited to what he can see, hear, etc. You cannot explore anyone else’s thoughts unless they voice them. This can be used if you want an unreliable narrator or to mislead the audience.

Modified Objective: This viewpoint character might not know what the other characters are thinking, but will put their own spin on it. This is told in third person using he, she, and they. The point of view character interprets what is happening through the filter of his beliefs and feelings. However, it can be hard to summon the requisite sympathy for the protagonist if the story is told from someone else’s viewpoint.

Second Person: With this viewpoint, the reader becomes the POV character and is referred to as "you." The narrator describes 'you" seeing, hearing, acting, etc. It is often told in present tense. This method is rarely used. It is quirky and can be a turn off. It doesn't work in all genres.

Objective Third Person: The story is told from the viewpoint of a portable verbal camera. It records whatever it sees and hears. Thoughts and feelings are related through actions and dialogue instead of internal narrative and dialogue. It uses he, she, and they. This method allows you to follow different characters and record their interactions. The advantage is you can let the reader in on information the protagonist could not know. This works well in stories where the reader is allowed to see what the antagonist, friends, and foes are up to.

Third Person Close Up: allows you to enter a character’s mind and films like first person, except you use he, she, and they. This is useful when you have multiple point of view characters, but the verbal camera remains tight on each character as they relate their part of the story.

Limited Third Person: is a bridge between third person and omniscient. The camera is off to the side. It picks up what it can see, hear, and experience. It can stand aside as an observer, taking in other people's body language, emotional reactions, interactions, etc. It is not always reliable. In limited third, a writer often inserts something the character misses, You can comment on an expression or behavior going on in the room where the POV character isn't looking. This can sometimes turn into blatant author intrusion. You have to tread the line carefully.

Omniscient: An omniscient narrator knows all, sees all, and reads every mind at any given time. This is done with he, she, and they. The omniscient narrator can offer commentary and opinions and supply information. He never becomes one of the characters. The characters are not aware of the narrator. He is merely there to tell the tale. This method was used in literature from previous centuries. The verbal camera pans the scenes from afar. There are few limitations as to where it can zoom and what it can record. It can distance the reader from the character. Sometimes with this method, the writer “tells” the reader a story, much like reading a book to someone. The challenge is in shifting the vantage point of the verbal camera. The shifts should not be random and should be easy to follow. It can notoriously result in “head hopping.” The other danger with this method is consistency, meaning you stay in this point of view and not veer off into first person or third person close up.

In addition to type of POV, you need to decide how many point of view characters you need. The more often you switch from one narrator to the next, the more you risk diluting the reader's emotional connection to the story. 

Shifting between different character POVs allows the reader to know things the protagonist doesn't. This can add to the suspense level.  Deciding when and how to shift is a skill worth learning.  POVs can be mixed. The protagonist has been written in first person while the other characters are written in third person close up. It requires strict editing.

In the Poisonwood Bible, Barbara Kingsolver cycles through five first person POV characters: Orleanna Price and her four daughters Rachel, Leah, Adah, and Ruth May. It is one of the few stories with that many POVs in one book that I consider successful.

Switching characters does not work in all instances. One of my favorite cozy mystery series written by Ann Purser follows Lois Meade as she meddles in cases while cleaning houses. The author detoured in one book to follow the secondary characters. It was irritating rather than pleasing to find Lois relegated to the dust bin for an entire book.

Shifting the point of view in a series can keep it fresh. Tana French does so successfully in her gripping Dublin Murder Squad mysteries set in Ireland by following a different investigator in each book. In The Woods is narrated by Rob Ryan. The Likeness is narrated by Cassie Maddox and so on. I did something similar in Mythikas Island. Each book in the series is narrated in first person by a different character. In Book 1 it is Diana, Book 2 Persephone, Book 3 Aphrodite, and Book 4 Athena.

If you switch point of view within a series or from chapter to chapter, make sure it adds rather than detracts from the tension.

Breaking the fourth wall is a character intentionally speaking to the reader and was used in 18th and 19th century novels and in some modern Sit-Coms. It works best with comedy and satire.

The biggest problem with any point of view, other than omniscient, is narrator or narrative intrusion, which is when the author interrupts the story to deliver commentary, thoughts, opinions, or information dumps. This can be highly annoying. Omniscient narrators are able to be in everyone’s head at all times. With other POVs, narrator intrusion creates subtle speed bumps in the story’s flow. It removes the verbal camera from the shoulder or the eyes of the POV character to take in action on the stage the POV character isn’t aware of. The speed bumps can be low or high depending on the severity of the intrusion.

We will examine narrator intrusion in depth next week.