by Ashley Lister

Over the past couple of months we’ve looked at first and second person point of view. Whilst both of these are useful ways to convey a sense of story, neither of them are as popular as third person point of view.

The parlour was quiet enough so Victoria could hear the tick of the Grandfather from the hall outside. Stark spring sunlight filtered through the net curtains to illuminate the elegant furnishings. The family’s finest bone china was laid out on a lily-white tablecloth. The afternoon tea was completed with freshly baked French fancies. Sitting comfortably in one of the parlour’s high-backed chairs, Victoria placed one lace-gloved hand over the other, adjusted her voluminous skirts, and stared down at Algernon as he knelt before her.

If first person point of view is like a diary entry, and second person is like a recipe, I like to think of third person point of view being where the story is narrated from the perspective of someone sitting on the shoulder of the main character. Notice, in the example above, we’re told how Victoria can hear the tick of the Grandfather: but we don’t have Victoria telling us she can hear it. This distancing of narrative voice removes us slightly as readers, so we’re not as fully invested in the character. However, we are able to get a full picture of the world from the main character’s perspective: a much fuller perspective than we would have had from the somewhat limited perspective of a first person narration. (NB This fiction comes from my short story ‘Victoria’s Hand’).

She knew what was coming.
She had anticipated this day for months.
Before he started to speak, she knew what he was going to say.
It was the first time they had ever been together without a chaperone. Unless he had come to the house with this specific purpose her parents would not have allowed her to spend any time alone with a suitor. The idea of her being alone with a man was simply too scandalous for civilised society to contemplate.

“Victoria, my dearest,” he began.
There was a tremor of doubt in his voice. Victoria liked that. It suggested he wasn’t entirely certain that she would say yes. His bushy moustache bristled with obvious apprehension. His Adam’s apple quivered nervously above his small, tied cravat. His large dark eyes stared up at her with blatant admiration. He looked as though his entire future happiness rested on her response to this single question.
She was dizzied by the rush of rising power.

Third person is one of the most popular points of view and, in the contemporary marketplace, it’s the go-to position for writers when they’re trying relate events. Obviously, this will feel more natural for some writers than others. However, as with all the tools at our disposal as writers, it’s well worth trying this point of view to see how it works for your narrative voice.

As always, I look forward to seeing your work in the comments box below.

Ash

by Ashley Lister

Conventional wisdom tells us that we never get a second chance to make a first impression. Nowhere is this more true than in the opening line of a piece of fiction. Consequently, when Jane Austen writes, “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife”, we are immediately hooked and we want read on. There is humour in this line. There is intrigue. We don’t know if this statement is made in seriousness or in jest. But we do know we have to read on. 

Or take Dickens:

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way – in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.”

This is another of those lines that makes us want to read on. After this catalogue of dualities, a list of binary opposites that suggest good and bad and light and dark and heaven and hell, readers know there’s going to be conflict, and they settle back and wait for the ride.  

A good opening line should do at least four things.

1. It should arouse interest in your reader.
2. It should relate to the rest of the narrative.
3. It should introduce key themes of the story that’s about to unfold.
4. It should make your reader want to read on. 

And, as a short exercise, crafting a strong opening line can often be a useful way of kick-starting the imagination.  The following are three opening lines I’d be keen to pursue.

For Jack, it was overwhelming all-consuming unbridled love at first sight. For Jill, the emotional connection was far more intense. 

“Anyone can talk to the dead,” he grinned. “But Betty’s different. Betty knows how to get the dead to give up their darkest secrets.”

Once upon a time there were three women who all lusted after Fat Tony.  This is the story of how they each got what they wanted.

As always, I’d love to see your opening lines in the comments box below.

Ash 

by Ashley Lister

A few years ago I was at Eroticon and ended up chatting with the wonderful Janine Ashbless. We were discussing the usual questions that are thrown at writers (“Where do you get your ideas from?” and “Do you do all those things that are mentioned in your books?”) when Janine said, “I don’t care where someone gets their ideas from. What interests me is how they manage to sit down and produce large numbers of words on a daily basis.”

And it’s a valid point. It’s especially pertinent in the age of distractions in which we currently live. Aside from all the demands of family, friends and the workplace, there are also time-vampires such as emails, FaceBook, Twitter, Instagram and all those other social media apps, as well as the distraction of excellent blogs (such as this one). In truth, sitting down at a computer and simply writing has become something of an endangered practice.

There are various proffered solutions to this problem.

1. Turn off your internet connection.
I don’t subscribe to this one. The idea of turning off my connection to family, friends and colleagues is a non-starter. However, if you’re suffering from a terminal case of the diversions, it might be one worth considering.

2. Set targets and deadlines.
There are advantages and disadvantages to this one. Targets are a helpful guide as to what’s to be done. Deadlines can give a definite endpoint. But missing targets can be detrimental to a writer’s confidence. And, the danger with setting deadlines is that we will often make sure the work to be done takes up exactly the length of time allocated. I do use both of these, but I try to use them judiciously. My targets are what we in the teaching profession call SMART (Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Realistic and Time-Bound). This time-bound aspect helps to ensure my deadlines aren’t too lenient or too restrictive.

3. Timed writing sessions.
This is possibly my preferred approach to writing and overcoming the problem of distractions. One of my favourite books on writing is Margaret Geraghty’s The Five-Minute Writer which supplies exercises that can each be done in five minutes. Timed writing sessions can last from as little as five minutes, or they can last as long as you think your focus can be stretched. Francesco Cirillo’s Pomodoro Technique from the 1980s advocated 25 minute blocks. Personally, I use a timer on my phone to set aside twenty-minutes where distractions and interruptions are forbidden. I don’t know if it’s the most effective way of avoiding diversions. But I do know it works for me.

If your new year resolution is to write more productively, hopefully one of the above will be of assistance. And, if you’re using some other method to help you progress with your writing, I’d love to see you mention it in the comments below.

By Ashley Lister

There are some forms of poetry that are so simple it’s easy to forget how compelling they can be. This is the loop poem and, in my humble opinion, it’s a powerful way of introducing repetition.

Leather, lace and whips and chains
Chains me to the bed at night
Night time comes and so do you
You lick and suck and sometimes bite

In each stanza of a loop poem the last word of the first line becomes the first word of line two. The last word of line two becomes the first word of line three. The last word of line three becomes the first word of line four. This pattern is followed for each stanza.

You pull the bindings far too tight
Tight enough to make flesh red
Red marks are like your calling cards
Cards hand-delivered to my bed

The rhyme scheme for the above format is xaxa, where x is an unrhymed line of poetry, although a rhyme scheme is not a necessity for this type of poem.

As always, I look forward to seeing your loop poems in the comments box below. And, finally, I’d like to extend season’s greetings to all the regular readers of this column. I genuinely hope the new year brings you all those things that you personally desire.