There are so many facets of writing well with regard to POV and as long as you start at the beginning, you’ll keep getting better at it. Don’t allow discouragement to take over. Rome wasn’t built in a day; although as my Italian husband always likes to joke, it sure fell in a day. Back to POV…it takes time to develop good writing habits. I can say this because I’ve been down the road to recovery when it comes to changing bad habits.
You need to jump into the scene with your character and almost imagine that you are that character—at least for the moment, until you finish that scene and get into the head of another character. Don’t just tell us what this character is feeling, but show the readers. Telling won’t draw the readers fully into the story. Showing will fully engage them and they’ll love your story.
What is the character thinking? What’s on his or her mind? The readers want to know that. Here’s an excerpt I’m working on for one of my current WIP’s.
Almost there, only about a few hundred feet to go, she looked at her watch. She still had five minutes to get inside. Well, I guess that wasn’t so bad for an old lady. When she reached the clearing between the woods and the lawn, she stopped for a moment. No one was outside. The lawn looked like it had just been mowed. As quickly as possible, she limped through the throbbing in her ankle and finally approached the cellar door. Opening it, she reached for the railing and then turned back to pull the door shut with her good hand. It wouldn’t budge and without thinking, she put too much pressure on her sprained wrist that gripped the railing as she tried to pull the door. She grunted as pain shot up her arm and nearly caused her to stumble down the stairs.
Hopefully there was electricity down here. Just make it to the kitchen. She cursed under her breath, berating herself for not finding a light switch before closing the door. Dirt and grime were not her friends so reaching out blindly groping to find a light switch along the damp walls did not make her day. Nothing on the walls met her search. Inching over on the cement steps to try the other side, a thin string swung near her nose. Ah, a good old string to pull. Finally, a lone light bulb on the low ceiling flickered to life. Please don’t burn out on me.
Not sure where to exit, she limped down the steps and tried to kick it up a notch. She wasted a few minutes just getting into this place. Scanning the room, she saw filthy rotten wood shelves lining the walls and some mason jars for canning on a nearby table. Those jars brought to mind memories of canning tomatoes and fruits with her grandmother and mother, but she hastily swept those remembrances away. Now was not the time for the past, but the present.
“Mrs. Hollister! Are you okay?”
She pushed her way passed the stunned woman. “Erica, I can’t explain right now, but don’t tell anyone that you saw me. Not even George, okay?”
Her blonde curly head bobbed up and down and she nervously responded. “Okay.”
Esther looked at her watch, only eight minutes left. Great, I hope this guy can keep Victor talking. Limping outside the kitchen, she carefully made the journey to her room.
Keep Friday, April 29th on your calendar to stop by my blog again. I'll be hosting a blog party for romance authors and there will be book giveaways.
Stop back again for more details.