I didn't really understand the expression 'deep POV' when I
picked up Suzanne Brockmann's
Into the Night.
But I definitely recognized something special about her
writing, and it was more than tight suspense, 3D characters
and compelling conflict and plot. It was the way she used
deep POV to take character definition one step further than
any other author I'd read (or at least any other author I'd
noticed utilizing the technique).
It took me a while to figure out what that something was.
And I finally had the 'aha' moment during a dialogue class
with best-selling author Catherine Ryan-Hyde who wrote
Pay It Forward, among other mainstream fiction.
In that workshop we spent weeks studying ways to make characters
come alive through dialogue. What a character says and how
he/she says it can make the difference in distinguishing
between someone from Kansas and New York, someone with a
doctorate degree or without a grade school diploma, or even
identify differences as subtle as those between a
mother and a teacher.
And while learning how dialogue could make characters unique
and distinguishable from each other, I also realized I could
apply these techniques in a character's internal dialogue,
which, when utilized in conjunction with deep POV, becomes
narrative in that character's viewpoint.
Up until that point, I thought
I was the narrator,
that I should be using
my voice for anything other
than dialogue. (Of course at that point I didn't understand
the intangible, elusive element of voice either.) I thought
the character's dialogue was the vehicle I was supposed to
use to set each apart from the other.
What I learned from
Into the Night, and what
I wanted to share with you, was that I could make an
even greater impact if I stayed "in character" for the
entire scene (or time) I'm in that character's pov, instead
of only when they spoke.
I'm not sure if I'm making myself clear, but what I'm
talking about is different than an author's voice, or even a
style of writing. It's about staying in that one character's
mind, seeing the world, others and situations through the
same filter that character sees life through while you're in
their pov.
I've put together some examples. Hopefully they will show
better than I can tell. While you can hear the author's
voice in each excerpt, I also think you can hear the
individual character's voice as well.
************
From:
Into the Night, Suzanne Brockmann
MULDOON (Hero/Navy SEAL):
He had his weapon held at ready as he
kept his woolen scarf wrapped securely around most of his
lower face. It wasn't a good idea to go for a walk in a
crowd of Taliban-supporting terrorists with a clean-shaven
chin, but there weren't a whole lot of options here.
The good news was that the Frenchman
couldn't have weighed more than 120 pounds. It would have
been laughably easy to carry him if he weren't trying his
best to get away. Something solid kept jamming painfully
into Muldoon's back, just hard enough to keep him thoroughly
pissed off. It seemed improbable that the terrorists had let
this guy keep his camera, but he couldn't figure out what
else it might be.
There was no time for Muldoon's knee
to still hurt like hell, but it did. God, it felt like it
was the size of a watermelon, like it was starting to swell.
But that was absurd. A banged funny bone didn't swell. You
hit it, you writhe in pain and you scream for two or three
minutes, and life goes on. But try as he might, he couldn't
seem to get past the writhing part.
JOAN (Heroine):
Joan looked up and there indeed was
Muldoon. Silhouetted by the sparkling backdrop of sunlight
dancing on the ocean, this Muldoon couldn't have made a more
dramatic appearance if he'd tried.
He was all broad shoulders and wide
chest and long legs, packaged neatly into the same gleaming
white uniform.
The choir of angels missed their cue
as Muldoon came close enough for her to see his face. But,
hot damn, a face like that demanded a full forte gloria
in excelsis deo.
Yes, as fit the pattern, Lieutenant Junior grade--which made
him sound as if he were a Daisy Scout compared to the
non-junior lieutenants--Michael Muldoon was more
picture-perfect handsome than both Jacquette and Paoletti
combined. Of course, he was also about twenty years old.
If the trend continued, within the
next three minutes she was going to be handed off to a
ten-year-old ensign, and then to that toddler seaman recruit
she'd seen scrubbing the floor when she'd first arrived on
the naval base.
*******************
FROM:
Hard News by Jeffrey Deaver
NESTOR (Unsure of character role):
Once you took the element of fear out of it New York was
the biggest playground in the world.
He felt the excitement the instant he stepped out of the
Port Authority bus terminal. The feeling of electricity. And
for a moment he thought: What was he doing in wasting his
time in piss-ant Florida?
He smelled: fishy river, charcoal smoke from pretzel
vendors, shit, exhaust. Then he got a whiff of some gross
incense three black guys dressed up like Arabs were selling
from a folding table. He'd never seen this before. He walked
up to them. There were pictures of men from ancient times,
it looked like, dressed the same. The twelve true tribes of
Isreal. Only they were all black. Black rabbis...
What a crazy town this was!
Nestor walked along 42nd Street, stopped in a couple peep
shows. He left and wandered some more, looking at the old
movie theatres, the live play theatres, the angry drivers,
the suicidal pedestrians. Horns blared like mad, as if
everybody driving a car had a wife in labor in the backseat.
Already the energy was exhausting him but he knew he'd be up
to speed in a day or two.
RUNE (Heroine):
Rune had spent a
lot of time trying to decide if she was in love with this
man. She thought she was in a way. But it wasn't like the
old days--whatever they were--when you were either in love
or you weren't. Love was a lot more complicated now. There
were degrees, there were phases of love. It kicked in and
out like a compressor in an air conditioner. She and Healy
could talk easily. And laugh. She liked the way he looked
like the man in the Marlboro ad. She liked the way his eyes
were completely calm and deeper than any man's eyes she’d
ever seen. But what she missed was that gut-twist, that
weight-losing obsession with the object of your desire which
was Rune's favorite kind of love even though it was totally
rare.
Rune stood at the round porthole, looking out over the
water, at the way the lights in Hobeken made lines in the
waves like runway approach lights. With her eyes she traced
them to the land and back again. She watched them for a few
minutes, until they were shattered by a passing speedboat.
**************
And here is something from my own ms:
The Art of
Danger (although even when this technique is utmost
in my mind, I still have an extremely difficult time
executing it.)
CARSON (hero):
And he'd learned all this in just a
few days of knowing her. But there were several things about
her that kept him from taking that next step. He glanced
around the studio. If she had been an accountant, or an
architect, or a school bus driver, he'd already have pursued
the dating question further, maybe even bugged her until
she'd relented and said yes. Gauging the attraction between
them might have already slept with her.
TRE (2ndary character; 16yo):
"I
don't know." As soon as the words were out, Tre squeezed his
eyes closed. He knew some stuff, but not everything. He
didn't get his mom and all her moods. A lot of the time he
couldn't tell if she was frustrated with her work or their
dad or Tanner or him. And, shit, he had his own crappy life
to worry about. "She complains. I can't do anything right.
She's always tired."
His coach
had that impassive but attentive look--the one that said he
was listening, but that didn't give away any sign of
sympathy for Tre's problems. "Did you ask her why she was
tired today?"
JACKSON (2nd villain):
Jackson
turned the key and rotated his palms over the leather
steering wheel, forcing the blood from his fingers. He was
stupid, but he wasn't that stupid. He saw where this was
going, recognized the ultimate plan. The mob had him. If he
didn't go through with this, they'd release the tapes of him
fucking Neva. It would cost him not only his reputation and
his job, but his career. If he did this, they had him for
drug trafficking. Considering his standing in the District
Attorney's office, they'd have the next DA in their pocket.
And he hadn't seen it coming.
No, he'd been too busy fucking the DA's wife, riding the
wave of high profile cases, fanaticizing about the power and
prestige he'd have as the new District Attorney of one of
the richest communities in California in six short months
when Lionel retired. Dreaming of a judgeship one day.
