Teresa Hirst

Point of View: n. 1. A manner of viewing things, an attitude. 2. a. A position from which something is observed or considered; a standpoint. b. The attitude or outlook of a narrator or character in a piece of literature.

I write non-fiction with a decent comfort level. I can write to different audiences with a broad perspective or a personal one. I can write about people, using their names and ideas to tell their story. I can explain generalized ideas with specific examples. I can also express emotion when I write about myself.

Right now, I write fiction with a lot of angst. Angst that it is not good enough. Angst that it feels detached. Angst that it is boring.  I know my non-fiction writing experience will make me a better fiction writer, but for now, I’m not at the same comfort level.

I’ve been asking myself: How do I make what is not real feel real, sound real, read real? I think I need to give up real and play pretend. Or that’s at least what my husband recommends. So, how do I pretend?

Many, many years ago I imagined stories in my head with the Fisher-Price Little People. They were my characters at the Little People School House or Hospital in the ultimate chokable size. I could speak their lines to each other or push them in a wheelchair from the ambulance. I walked them to school where they would talk with there teacher with a really cute bun head and sit them into their perfectly-sized school desks. I put myself in their Little People heads and played it out from their point of view.

Then I had children of my own and the Little People grew bigger so they were no longer a choking hazard. I tried to maneuver these chunky bodies on the Little People Farm, and it just felt awkward, never mind how silly I sounded to myself making up their words for them.

Now, all my actual little people have grown up and fitted themselves into actual desks. Since I’m not worrying that they will choke on everything anymore, I have time to pretend, again. And I’ve struggled to do it.

Maybe the adult alternative to carting out Little People and their settings is to pretend like I actually am my character—change my point of view. I’ve been writing in third person, which is the point of view I like most to read. But what if, I tried a chapter in first person, the point of view I least like as a reader?

The result? I didn’t know I could look so good with my hair up in one of those cute buns. No, I wasn’t transformed, nor was my writing. But it became more natural, less forced. It flowed more smoothly, and I didn’t stop myself in the writing process nearly as much.

In real life, our point of view changes our outlook (see an example of that in this video) .  Maybe it’s the same in the pretend world, too.

As a reader, which point of view do you like best? As a writer, which point of view helps you find your voice?

My mom still has the wooden Little People school teacher with the yellow bun, but I found a picture of her on-line, courtesy of  This Old Toy.com