SOME THOUGHTS ON THIRD PERSON VS FIRST PERSON NOVEL NARRATIVES

 

Hi folks,

A source of discussion that always comes up at the beginning of my classes is whether the writer should use first- or third-person. The short answer I usually give, is: “Whatever the material calls for.”

Since that doesn’t adequately address the question, I go on to amplify the answer, and that’s what I’ll do here as well.

First, I ask the student who wants to employ first-person why they chose that stance. Almost without exception, they’ll state, “Well, it’s just more intimate. Third person is too formal for the character I want to create for the story.”

That’s when I proceed to knock a couple of holes in that theory.

Before I do that, here are a few things I’ve observed. More beginning writers than established writers tend to write in first-person. Far more people who’ve been published are aware that third person is considered the “professional” pov and that first-person is often considered the “amateur” pov.

Now, before everybody starts yelling at me that there are tons of excellent books out there written in first-person, let me assure you I’m well aware of that. If I may, I’d like to refer you back to my short answer: “Whatever the material calls for.” There are often times when the material calls for first person. However… not as often as is sometimes realized.

Let me explain.

The chief reason many agents and editors prefer third person and call it the “professional” pov, is that the overwhelming percentage of successful books and bestsellers are written in third person. This isn’t an accident. There are reasons this is the case. Actually, the overwhelming majority of manuscripts that arrive in a publisher’s or agent’s office are written in first-person. If that’s so (and it is), then why would more third-person efforts become published? Well, because many more manuscripts are submitted by beginners than by pros. By the time one goes from the beginner’s group to the published group, the numbers in the second group have dramatically diminished. That means the second group is going to be predominantly writing in third person. Fewer people by far in that group, but a much higher percentage of publishable manuscripts. Most in third person… Again, please notice I didn't say all; I said most.

This simply goes back to my observation above that more beginning writers employ first-person than do seasoned pros. Editors and agents have also noted this fact. Overwhelmingly so do beginners prefer to write in first- rather than third-person. That means that when a gatekeeper encounters a first-person manuscript, it goes without saying that a little red light goes on (from his/her past experiences) that chances are pretty good this mss came from a… less seasoned writer. And, it’s just a fact of life and the business of writing that the newer the writer, the less likely the mss will be of publishable quality.

Does that mean when your first-person opus lands on an editor’s or agent’s desk it is doomed from the start? Of course not. But, a writer should be aware that there’s a bit of a bias already in place against first-person. If it’s a book that should have been written in first rather than third, and it’s written well and is of publishable quality, no problem. Any good editor or agent will be able to tell within a couple of pages if it’s written well or not, no matter what pov stance the author has elected.

And, why do agents and editors feel this way about first-person? This gets to the heart of the matter. The reason many hold first-person in a negative light is that anyone who’s read many manuscripts knows that a great many first-person novels are thinly-disguised autobiographies, usually espousing some recently-learned political or social philosophy, or, if not that, their imitation of some current (or just-over) line of bestsellers. At present, vampire or zombie opuses, or invincible characters who look suspiciously like Jack Reacher but have different names and perhaps a different hair style.

Another reason many choose a first-person narrator is that it seems easier to newer writers. Many (many!) first novels are written with characters saying and thinking things the writer him- or herself thinks in their own minds. Novels that are fiction in name only; primarily many are just vehicles to assign the writer’s own thoughts to in a loosely-derivative plot.

Those are all secondary reasons why some writers choose first-person. Overwhelmingly, however, the biggest single reason lots of writers choose first is that they feel it’s a more intimate pov. It seems to make sense. After all, if one is writing “I” from their character’s pov, one can’t get much closer to the character, can they?

You saw this coming, didn’t you!

Of course there’s a way to achieve the same intimacy with third person as there is with first. And, it’s easy.

Simply by employing a close third person, not a formal third. A narrative that uses a close third achieves exactly the same intimacy with the reader as a first person does. The good news is that by using a close third person you get all the positives and none of the negatives of third person. The chief argument against third person usually seems to be that it isn't as intimate as first-person. Well... this just resolves that argument.

The bad news is… well, there isn’t any bad news. It’s a win-win situation.

And, how does one achieve this magical close third that feels like first person with none of the baggage of first? Again, it’s easy. You simply substitute personal pronouns for the character’s name. That’s it. Sounds too good to be true, doesn’t it? Well, let’s take a look. Examples are the best way to prove a point.

I’ll give you a section of narrative in which a formal third is used. Then, I’ll give the same passage in first person. And, finally, I’ll follow that with the same narrative, only this time with personal pronouns in a close third person. I feel confident that as soon as you read them you’ll see and feel the difference.

***

From my short story, “My Idea of a Nice Thing” first published in Breeze and included in my short story collection, “Monday’s Meal.” (The two people are at an A.A. meeting and it’s about a third through the story. Raye is the protagonist.)

First, the passage in a formal third person:

            “My idea of a nice thing,” he said, “would be a world where you could get drunk and it wouldn’t harm you, physically, anyway.”

            Raye turned and offered her hand. “My name is Raye.”

            “Hi, Raye. Emory. Like the board.”

            Raye didn’t quite get it at first and then she did and smiled.

            “I liked what you said that time, about sorting yourself out,” Emory said.

            Again, Raye didn’t get it at first, and then she realized he must have been at the meeting she’d first gotten up and spoken at.

            “Well, yeah,” Raye said, “It’s kind of like that, but boy did I get in trouble saying that!”

            “From Jim, right?” ‘You shouldn’t talk about the joys of drink at a meeting or a place where that’s all the people think about?’ That Jim?” He grinned, and Raye saw he had great teeth, even and white, and what was nice was the way he smiled. Like he was unaware of how great his teeth really were, that he was smiling just because he was happy or had thought of something funny. “There’s been talk of replacing ol’ Jim. He gets his meetings mixed up, thinks this is Parents Without Partners.”

            There must have been something in Raye’s face that made him realize he’d said the wrong thing.

            “Look, I’m sorry. Let’s get out of here,” he said. “Go get a drink.”

            They use the same pickup lines here that they do in bars, Raye thought.

            “I don’t mean a drink with liquor in it,” he said. “I mean a Coke or something, but in a bar. This place feels like a hospital. It’s depressing.”

            “This is a hospital… Emory,” Raye added his name haltingly, knowing that once she’d said it she was going to leave with him.

That’s a formal third. Now, read the same passage as first person.

            “My idea of a nice thing,” he said, “would be a world where you could get drunk and it wouldn’t harm you, physically, anyway.”

            “Raye,” I said, turning and offering my hand. “My name is Raye.”

            “Hi, Raye. Emory. Like the board.”

            I didn’t quite get it at first and then I did and smiled.

            “I liked what you said that time, about sorting yourself out,” Emory said.

            Again, I didn’t get it at first, and then I realized he must have been at the meeting I’d first gotten up and spoken at.

            “Well, yeah,” I said, “It’s kind of like that, but boy did I get in trouble saying that!”

            “From Jim, right?” ‘You shouldn’t talk about the joys of drink at a meeting or a place where that’s all the people think about?’ That Jim?” He grinned, and I saw he had great teeth, even and white, and what was nice was the way he smiled. Like he was unaware of how great his teeth really were, that he was smiling just because he was happy or had thought of something funny. “There’s been talk of replacing ol’ Jim. He gets his meetings mixed up, thinks this is Parents Without Partners.”

            There must have been something in my face that made him realize he’d said the wrong thing.

            “Look, I’m sorry. Let’s get out of here,” he said. “Go get a drink.”

            They use the same pickup lines here that they do in bars, I thought.

            “I don’t mean a drink with liquor in it,” he said. “I mean a Coke or something, but in a bar. This place feels like a hospital. It’s depressing.”

            “This is a hospital… Emory,” I added his name haltingly, knowing that once I’d said it I was going to leave with him.

And, finally, the same passage as a close third. See if you don’t agree it feels exactly like first person.

            “My idea of a nice thing,” he said, “would be a world where you could get drunk and it wouldn’t harm you, physically, anyway.”

            “Raye,” she said, turning and offering her hand. “My name is Raye.”

            “Hi, Raye. Emory. Like the board.”

            She didn’t quite get it and first and then she did and smiled.

            “I liked what you said that time, about sorting yourself out,” Emory said.

            Again, she didn’t get it at first, and then she realized he must have been at the meeting she’d first gotten up and spoken at.

            “Well, yeah,” she said, “It’s kind of like that, but boy did I get in trouble saying that!”

            “From Jim, right?” ‘You shouldn’t talk about the joys of drink at a meeting or a place where that’s all the people think about?’ That Jim?” He grinned, and she saw he had great teeth, even and white, and what was nice was the way he smiled. Like he was unaware of how great his teeth really were, that he was smiling just because he was happy or had thought of something funny. “There’s been talk of replacing ol’ Jim. He gets his meetings mixed up, thinks this is Parents Without Partners.”

            There must have been something in her face that made him realize he’d said the wrong thing.

            “Look, I’m sorry. Let’s get out of here,” he said. “Go get a drink.”

            They use the same pickup lines here that they do in bars, she thought.

            “I don’t mean a drink with liquor in it,” he said. “I mean a Coke or something, but in a bar. This place feels like a hospital. It’s depressing.”

            “This is a hospital… Emory,” she added his name haltingly, knowing that once she’d said it she was going to leave with him.

***

See how by simply replacing the pov character’s name with personal pronouns instantly transforms it into a read that feels exactly like first person. The same level of intimacy? Kinda neat, isn’t it!

How do you know when the “material calls for first or third person?” There’s a handy-dandy litmus test. If you can substitute personal pronouns for all the “I’s” in the narrative and it doesn’t affect the story… then it should be in third. If it does affect the story and in a negative way, then it should be in first. Most of the time I think you’ll find that it works better in third person. A close third person.

Personally, I sometimes write in first person. Mostly for short stories. For novels, occasionally I’ll use first person, but mostly I opt for third. A close third.

Try it yourself. Take a passage written in a formal third (where the pov character’s name is used often) and rewrite it, taking out all the instances where the name is used and substitute personal pronouns for the pov character’s name. (This is once the character’s name is on the page and the reader knows who the “he” or “she” is.) Then, recast it in first person and compare the close third version with the first person version and see if you don’t agree they feel pretty much the same.

Or, take a previously-written passage in first person and substitute personal pronouns for the I’s. If you don’t feel any or very much difference, guess what? It might be a better pov to use.

Hope this helps!

Blue skies,

Les

Lagniappe

This has been a great week for good news! My agent, Chip MacGregor has just sold two novels to Stonehouse Publishing. He's working on the mass market rights with Pocket Books and will be trying to sell foreign rights at the upcoming BEA.

And, I'm sailing along with the first rewrite of my noir novel, The Rapist, which Bare Knuckle Press has taken. My editor, Eddie Vega, sent me some additional notes which I'll share. Eddie writes:

For now, work off the global changes I suggested. When you submit the revised mss, I will go over every inch and send it back to you with MS backtrack comments, so you can see the edits, which you can adopt or reject.

 As we discussed, the weakest writing occurs in the early sections. 1. You need to decide which parts are essential to the novel and which were you just cracking your knuckles getting ready to write. Leave the first kind and chuck the second kind.

On rewrite, when you see sections that are important to the plot or that has background information that you think essential, but where the writing is vague, you may want to add to some details to ground it, but be careful that you don't dramatize or super detail everything. Everything is not the same. Some things deserve more attention than others. Be careful of the "Show, Don't Tell" rule that they throw around in writing workshops. Show what matters, tell the rest. In this way, you will be following Van Gogh's Rule of Composition: Magnify the essential, ignore the obvious." That's how to fix the early parts.

Ask yourself of every page, what in here is essential to my story. If there is something there to which the answer is yes, dramatize it. That's the draft I want to see.

Best,

Eddie

I'll keep including in these posts our editor-writer journey. It's exciting on this end!