Dickens' Tale of Two Cities ("It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.")
A style of storytelling that takes a historical perspective—this is what happened, this is what people thought and felt and did.
This was the standard form for much of the 19th century.
It tends to lead to a story that is slow; not immediate. The story is told rather than being dramatized. Thus it can be hard for the modern reader to appreciate.
Today, it is old-fashioned and seldom used except in parody.
Second Person
The "you" tense. (e.g., "You walk down the street, not knowing what you're going to find around the corner.")
Largely experimental and only used for a very specific kind of story.
Used by McInerney in Bright Lights, Big City to show the character's drug-addled state.
Third Person Limited
Told through one character's viewpoint, seeing just what that character sees and thinking just what s/he thinks.
Can switch POV away from that character, but the story should only be told through one character's viewpoint at a time.
The POV usually breaks between chapters, but can be done within chapters. However, the writer should give the reader a visual indication that POV is being changed—just skip down a few lines or give some other form of break.
Third person limited is the most-often-used POV and the one that, by default, is the best choice for most stories.
[I'm sure David had more to say on this topic, but he ran out of time.]
Bottom line: In Morrell's judgment, most first-person novels could be improved by a shift to the third person. First person is very hard to do—harder than third person limited—and should only be done with great care by the writer, and only when the story demands it. Otherwise, especially for new writers, they're probably better off going with third person.
David J. Montgomery—http://www.davidjmontgomery.com
###
18. What’s In A Name?
By Scott Nicholson
http://www.hauntedcomputer.com
Shakespeare said, “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” Gertrude Stein said, “A rose is a rose is a rose. “ John Davidson said, “O which is the last rose? A blossom of no name.” An adolescent Scott Nicholson once wrote a snarky line in a wretched poem that went “A rose is a rose is a risen.”
So we could assume we could name every character “Rose” and it would make no difference. Tokyo Rose would be the same as Emily Rose, and Rose Red and Rose Madder could be interchangeable titles in works by Stephen King. The character of “Rose” in the world’s most popular movie, “Titanic,” could have been “Sue,” and Johnny Cash’s song “A Boy Named Sue” could have been called “A Boy Named Rose” and theoretically the universe would have continued expanding intact.
But naming a character “Rose” doesn’t connote blandness or homogeneity. The word comes loaded with a number of associations: a flower notoriously challenging for the home gardener; a pinkish-red color in the box of Crayolas; a food source rich in Vitamin C; Shakespeare’s quote; an oft-used symbol for the fleeting and ephemeral nature of love; and all the
Roses you have personally known, as well as all the fictional Roses we encounter, whether the name is first or last.
Names do matter, and one of the quickest ways that fiction spoils itself is by having an unbelievable character. You don’t want the name to throw up a speed bump for the reader. The name should fit, go unnoticed and therefore easily accepted, or else be an intentional ploy to draw attention. These last can be tiresome: the big biker named “Tiny,” the pathetic loser called “Romeo,” etc. The name doesn’t have to do all of the work of character building, but it’s an important part of the package deal.
Uncommon names are fairly common, as evidenced by a quick thumbing through your local phone book. A thirty-second scan of mine reveals Rollin Weary, Edward Wax, Oletta Waycaster,
A style of storytelling that takes a historical perspective—this is what happened, this is what people thought and felt and did.
This was the standard form for much of the 19th century.
It tends to lead to a story that is slow; not immediate. The story is told rather than being dramatized. Thus it can be hard for the modern reader to appreciate.
Today, it is old-fashioned and seldom used except in parody.
Second Person
The "you" tense. (e.g., "You walk down the street, not knowing what you're going to find around the corner.")
Largely experimental and only used for a very specific kind of story.
Used by McInerney in Bright Lights, Big City to show the character's drug-addled state.
Third Person Limited
Told through one character's viewpoint, seeing just what that character sees and thinking just what s/he thinks.
Can switch POV away from that character, but the story should only be told through one character's viewpoint at a time.
The POV usually breaks between chapters, but can be done within chapters. However, the writer should give the reader a visual indication that POV is being changed—just skip down a few lines or give some other form of break.
Third person limited is the most-often-used POV and the one that, by default, is the best choice for most stories.
[I'm sure David had more to say on this topic, but he ran out of time.]
Bottom line: In Morrell's judgment, most first-person novels could be improved by a shift to the third person. First person is very hard to do—harder than third person limited—and should only be done with great care by the writer, and only when the story demands it. Otherwise, especially for new writers, they're probably better off going with third person.
David J. Montgomery—http://www.davidjmontgomery.com
###
18. What’s In A Name?
By Scott Nicholson
http://www.hauntedcomputer.com
Shakespeare said, “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” Gertrude Stein said, “A rose is a rose is a rose. “ John Davidson said, “O which is the last rose? A blossom of no name.” An adolescent Scott Nicholson once wrote a snarky line in a wretched poem that went “A rose is a rose is a risen.”
So we could assume we could name every character “Rose” and it would make no difference. Tokyo Rose would be the same as Emily Rose, and Rose Red and Rose Madder could be interchangeable titles in works by Stephen King. The character of “Rose” in the world’s most popular movie, “Titanic,” could have been “Sue,” and Johnny Cash’s song “A Boy Named Sue” could have been called “A Boy Named Rose” and theoretically the universe would have continued expanding intact.
But naming a character “Rose” doesn’t connote blandness or homogeneity. The word comes loaded with a number of associations: a flower notoriously challenging for the home gardener; a pinkish-red color in the box of Crayolas; a food source rich in Vitamin C; Shakespeare’s quote; an oft-used symbol for the fleeting and ephemeral nature of love; and all the
Roses you have personally known, as well as all the fictional Roses we encounter, whether the name is first or last.
Names do matter, and one of the quickest ways that fiction spoils itself is by having an unbelievable character. You don’t want the name to throw up a speed bump for the reader. The name should fit, go unnoticed and therefore easily accepted, or else be an intentional ploy to draw attention. These last can be tiresome: the big biker named “Tiny,” the pathetic loser called “Romeo,” etc. The name doesn’t have to do all of the work of character building, but it’s an important part of the package deal.
Uncommon names are fairly common, as evidenced by a quick thumbing through your local phone book. A thirty-second scan of mine reveals Rollin Weary, Edward Wax, Oletta Waycaster,
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