Is There More to POV Than Head-Hopping?

Many editors warn that stories shouldn’t “switch POV” (head-hop). Is this a rule — or a guideline that can be sidestepped by skillful writers?

John Bowers always offers a perspective that makes wordsmiths think. And sometimes he provokes outright disagreement.

Will you concur with his thoughts?

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Anyone who has been writing fiction for more than a week is probably familiar with the term “point of view” (or POV in screenwriting). New authors (and a shocking number of veterans) often have a tendency, when writing a scene involving multiple characters, to “head-hop,” meaning they detail what each character is thinking instead of just the protagonist.

It’s actually okay to tell what each character is thinking, just don’t do them all at the same time. In most novels, the protagonist is not the only character and his or her impressions are not the only ones of import. The thoughts of sidekicks and secondary characters can be vital to a story, as when the protag and a buddy are facing sudden danger and the secondary spots it first.

But every scene is, or should be, written from the perspective of one person — the point of view character. Every sight, every sound, every thought needs to be those of the POV person.

But I’m probably preaching to the clergy, since this topic has been covered many times in many ways. The subject of this article is not head-hopping per se, but point of view itself.

How Do You Define Point of View?

When writing fiction, it’s easy to fall into omniscient mode. What that means is that you become a god-like narrator who knows everything, everywhere, all the time. There may be a time and place for such narrative, but I suggest keeping it short. I’ve done it a few times (and been criticized for it once or twice), but only to set the stage for whatever is coming next. The following sample from A Vow to Sophia creates a bridge between a major battle and the aftermath:

I could have spent more time “showing” rather than “telling,” but the story didn’t require it. Instead, I used these two paragraphs to cover what would have been a hole in the story, then proceeded to “show” what came afterward.

Omniscient mode generally doesn’t require a point of view, but almost everything else does.

Get Inside the Head

When narrating a scene, you typically follow one character. That person may be in the company of others, but you want the scene to be viewed by that person only. That individual is the point of view character, and everything that is said, heard, and done should be his or her impressions. If done correctly, the reader is then “inside the head” of the POV character. Everything seen, heard, smelled, tasted, or touched is transmitted by the senses of the POV person.

You can switch POV, and sometimes I do, but don’t do it unless it really works. In other words, do it as little as possible, and never show two POVs in the same paragraph (the best way I’ve found to switch POV is to separate two POV paragraphs, either by a blank line or some kind of symbol such as ***).

In the following example, I switched POV with a new paragraph:

When the segment begins, Onja is the POV character. But when she walks away, we switch to Landon to get his impressions.

And this example shows how I typically do it:

I use three asterisks to separate paragraphs in these situations. Others simply use a blank line, and still others find fancy symbols to do the job. Pick your own poison, just don’t mix POV if you can avoid it.

Another Type of POV

What I described above is, I believe, the classic definition of point of view. But there is another definition that may be even more important, if you can pull it off. What I’m talking about is the ability to identify with your character’s personality.

It’s fun and easy to identify with your protagonist. Also known as “the hero” (or heroine), the protag is your most important character. Without him or her, there would be no story to tell, and although you should give your protag a few flaws to prove that he or she isn’t a comic book hero (unless you’re doing comic books, in which case ignore this admonition), the protag should be someone you actually like or admire.

But as a writer of fiction, you should be able to get inside the head of anyone at all. A cop, a crook, a priest, a sinner … you need the ability to identify with whomever your current POV character might be. That might be a challenge in some stories. If the protag is a quantum physicist, you might need to bone up on whatever it is that quantum physicists do (don’t ask me what that is), and relate it convincingly through the eyes of that character.

Conversely, if your POV character is a serial rapist, you need to do the same thing. The obvious challenge here is to think like someone you (hopefully) have nothing in common with. How does a female author get inside the head of a serial rapist? How does a conservative male author relate the thoughts of a militant feminist? It might take some doing, for sure. And to pull it off, you have to set aside any personal prejudice you might hold.

Here’s a somewhat low-key example from The Fighter King:

Obviously, Jeremy Mason is a cynical bastard, able to charm people while despising them at the same time.

In this next sample (from Manhunt on Tau Ceti 4), deputy sheriff Hugo Barnes expresses his dislike of our hero, Nick Walker:

Barnes is not a bad guy, but does have a short fuse. He and Nick just got off on the wrong foot from the moment they met.

Mass murderer Ken Saracen, on the other hand, is a bad guy. His thought patterns in the next sample, related largely through dialog, reflect his true character:

Have Fun With It

Writing from the POV of someone you don’t like, someone you have nothing in common with, someone you wouldn’t even want to meet, can be daunting. But look at it as an opportunity. If you can pull it off, and do it convincingly, you’ve just grown as a writer. The key is to shed your own morals and personality for a few minutes and try to put yourself inside that person’s head. What are they thinking? What actions would they take in a particular situation? How would they justify criminal activity?

Remember, prisons are packed with innocent people … at least in their own minds. Laws are obstacles that must be overcome, victims are people who deserve what they get (or don’t deserve to keep the things that are stolen from them). Some of these people are psychopaths, others are just narcissists, and all of them feel justified in whatever they do, no matter how abhorrent. To write from their POV, you have to think the same way they do … if you can.

You need to become anti-social, narcissistic, psychopathic. A good writer can pull it off. If you can make the reader believe it, make the reader question your moral stability, then you’ve done it.

In Conclusion

Point of view is more than just writing without head-hopping. It’s also the ability to carry the story through the ego of the completely despicable. Give it a try!

And have fun!

© John Bowers

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John Bowers began writing at age 12 and was considered a prodigy by his English teachers. He wrote prolifically until his thirties, but life got busy and he took a decade off, returning to the keyboard in 1993. He is the author of the Nick Walker, United Federation Marshal series and the Starport series, all available on Amazon.

Now semi-retired, Bowers still works part-time as a computer programming consultant and spends his free time writing novels. He lives in Central California.

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