Picking a Point of View (not a how-to, more of a crisis)

There are tons of articles online about picking a POV (point-of-view). Pretty much every writer blog/website ever discusses the semantics of picking one.

Some stories are just meant to be told in a certain way. Those are easy.
Some people only know one way to write. That's easy too.

But then there are people like me.

In a word?

Lost.

I started writing in third. Always in third. I grew up reading the classics, and I aspired to write stories like the books I loved. The classics are written in third. (Before the 20th century).

Then, I pulled out what would eventually become Tantrum to Blind, and I decided to re-write it in first. This may or may not have anything to do with reading approximately a million stinking words of Twilight. Plus, I made the mistake of thinking I could simply replace "She" with "I" and everything would be the same.

Yeah.

So, after getting a beta reader, I realized I had to learn how to write in first person. I fought and struggled against the third "author" voice in my head. After all, that's where I felt my strengths where. But my seventeen-year-old MC, Lily, would not be describing things the way I would. So I pushed and pushed (the keyboard buttons) until I edited myself right out of the book.

And you know, I still look at it and feel kind of regretful. Most often I'm listening to CCR (creedance clearwater revival) and there is something in the music I wanted in the book, but isn't there.

For a very short period of time I had an anonymous writer mentor. She was cranky, and most everyone found her abrasive to the point of being a troll, but once you got over the roughness of her words, I realized the truth in everything she told me about my writing. While struggling over first, she had me re-write a portion of Tantrum in third. Said it was better. I wanted to cry.

But, I finally got the point where I can write in first pretty well. At least, I understand how to edit myself there.

When I read what I've written on my adult project, I know it's good. I know I've hit my sweet spot in first person and in story-telling. But I can't help but feel, the story could be so much bigger if I wrote it in third. And I'm constantly wondering the same question:

Am I writing it in first because it's easier for me, or better for the story?

I don't have an answer. ImpressMe, where are you? Writing glorious literary novels about rocks, I know...

Points for first-person for Black Mountain Crank:

• It's a story about two people. Writing it in first keeps the focus on two people working out their shit in a marriage. Which is what I wanted the story to focus on. If I switch to third then you've got all these "bigger" roads to wander down-- like the drugs and cultural conflicts-- when it's not a story about those things.

Points for third-person:

• I could say more.

But maybe I would just be adding pointless words?

Another thing to consider is that maybe I just haven't learned how to write as well in first. There are glimmers of things I love in my writing. Things that combine everything I want in third with everything I am in first. Where I don't feel restricted in the least in the voice:

“What do you mean? You don’t understand this?” I gestured to the chasm spreading out before us. The gorge snaked below our feet, fog already trailing its smoky fingers across the bottom as the sun sunk below the mountain ridge. The only man-made thing in sight was the Bridge. But even it seemed a part of the landscape. The rusted steel sprung from the gorge like twisted and curved beams of sandstone, bowing to each other as they met in the middle.

He tipped his head at the velvet sky, smiling.

I put the cigarette to my mouth as I plotted how to untangle that ponytail out of his hair. I exhaled in a sigh, the smoke catching in the wind, twisting above me as the breeze pulled it away.

If I could sustain this moment in writing, I would never have this discussion with myself.
But mostly I'm writing like this:

I breathed the tingling tobacco smoke, imagining it brought more than eventual lung cancer. The smoke floated in the air, almost seeming to bend around the shape of the ghosts crowding around me. I glanced at Williams as he stared at the closed and lonely doors. "You gotta come back here, holding a big fat surprise winner check, and then everyone'll open the door."

“Got one handy?”

"Who called it in?" I flicked away ash as the wind tugged and pulled.

Williams rolled his eyes. "Anonymous tipster."

"Oh, fuck."

Tobacco might be an actual character in this book. It's everywhere. But anyways, this is a big scene...and I'm falling short and  I know it. It's not bad. It's just not great. I need every. single. word. to count in this story. I keep repeating myself, and I don't care-- this is the best story I will ever tell. It's the closest I will get to writing the great American novel. I almost wish I could have someone else write the story, someone who would do it justice. Now I want to cry because I really wish someone great could write it. I'd rather the story be told the right way, than mess up the telling.


All I know is, there needs to be writer therapy. I need a mentor. I need a guide. I need a visit with the mentor (haha writer's journey).


I'm chewing my nails and drinking coffee and I don't know which way to go.