This was timely for me. Switching from first person to third person to allow for more POVs. You're right---it's more than a pronoun change. It's almost a rewrite. But the book will be better for it. Thanks!
I'm curious about Deep or Close third person. It's often not included in an explanation of POV, why is that? Can you switch POV's in the same story for different characters in a multi-pov story?
Hey Michelle! Such a great post - This is one of my favourite videos because of the accompanying music ("The Entertainer", if I recall) and Rosa makes a cameo in third person omniscient :) My writing exercise is taken from a scene in my contemporary WIP about 4 teen friends who met at fat camp in the 90s and forged a friendship spanning 15 years and jumping to present day 2011 - Here is the original scene in first person, past tense where the MC Myra arrives at fat camp:
---
I zipped up my black hoodie, all the way to my chin. I’d stayed at the back of the camp bus long enough for the screaming teenage horde to charge off. So long that my back ached from sitting still all that time.
The driver glared at me from his rearview mirror. I’d honestly forgotten he was there.
“Sorry, Mister.”
I grabbed my luggage from the overhead rack and slinked off the bus with a sigh. Trudging along the gravel path, I glanced up at the hung sign in the worn-out canoe bolted to the porch beams.
"WELCOME TO CAMP CHICHI WONKA"
Some welcome! Mummy never even asked if I wanted to go when the brochure came in the mail last month. At least she looked pleased.
All I wanted to do was curl up in bed and avoid trouble. But if I hoped to make Mummy happy, I had to give this place a chance.
Find the cabins. Keep a low profile. Survive the next two weeks. Shouldn’t be too hard, right?
---
Here I've rewritten the scene in third person omniscient:
Myra zipped up her black hoodie, almost nicking her own chin. She hated crowds; lingering at the back of the camp bus so long her back ached. And sleeping on a lumpy camp bunk bed for the next two weeks might only make it worse. At least the rowdy teenage mob had stampeded off–and away from her.
The driver gave her a death stare from his rearview mirror. She must’ve forgotten he was there.
“Sorry, Mister.”
She snatched her luggage from the overhead rack and skulked off the bus with a sigh. Ploughing along the gravel path, she glanced up at the hung sign in the worn-out canoe bolted to the porch beams.
"WELCOME TO CAMP CHICHI WONKA"
Quite a welcome! Myra’s mother never even asked if she wanted to go when the brochure came in the mail last month. She did, however, look pleased so Myra didn’t mind.
All Myra wanted to do was curl up in bed and avoid trouble. But if she hoped to make her mother happy, she had to give this place a chance which meant stepping onto the wooden porch.
Meanwhile, at the nearby sign-up sheets area, Cass spotted Myra, making a bee-line for an immediate introduction.
Myra needed to find the cabins, keep a low profile, and survive the next two weeks. Shouldn’t be too hard, right?
---
Finally, I've rewritten the scene in second person - I decided to make it present tense because second person past tense sounded weird when I read it aloud (I'm the director right? LOL):
You zip up your black hoodie, practically kissing your chin. You remain at the back of the camp bus long enough for the hollering teenage crowd to stomp off. So long, your back is hollering its own tune from sitting motionless all that time. Camp bunk beds might only make it worse.
In the rearview mirror, the driver glares at you. To be honest, you forgot he was there.
“Sorry, Mister.”
You grip your luggage from the overhead rack and slither off the bus with a sigh. Traipsing along the gravel path, you catch a glimpse of the hung sign in the worn-out canoe bolted to the porch beams.
"WELCOME TO CAMP CHICHI WONKA"
What a welcome! Mom never even asked if you wanted to go when the brochure came in the mail last month. At least she looked pleased so you don’t mind.
The only thing you want to do is curl up in bed and avoid trouble. But if you hope to make Mom happy, you have to give this place a chance which means crossing this wooden threshold.
Your mission: Find the cabins. Keep a low profile. Survive the next two weeks. Shouldn’t be too hard, right?
---
Thanks Michelle! As usual, this was such an awesome and fun exercise - I learned so much :)
This was timely for me. Switching from first person to third person to allow for more POVs. You're right---it's more than a pronoun change. It's almost a rewrite. But the book will be better for it. Thanks!
I'm curious about Deep or Close third person. It's often not included in an explanation of POV, why is that? Can you switch POV's in the same story for different characters in a multi-pov story?
Hey Michelle! Such a great post - This is one of my favourite videos because of the accompanying music ("The Entertainer", if I recall) and Rosa makes a cameo in third person omniscient :) My writing exercise is taken from a scene in my contemporary WIP about 4 teen friends who met at fat camp in the 90s and forged a friendship spanning 15 years and jumping to present day 2011 - Here is the original scene in first person, past tense where the MC Myra arrives at fat camp:
---
I zipped up my black hoodie, all the way to my chin. I’d stayed at the back of the camp bus long enough for the screaming teenage horde to charge off. So long that my back ached from sitting still all that time.
The driver glared at me from his rearview mirror. I’d honestly forgotten he was there.
“Sorry, Mister.”
I grabbed my luggage from the overhead rack and slinked off the bus with a sigh. Trudging along the gravel path, I glanced up at the hung sign in the worn-out canoe bolted to the porch beams.
"WELCOME TO CAMP CHICHI WONKA"
Some welcome! Mummy never even asked if I wanted to go when the brochure came in the mail last month. At least she looked pleased.
All I wanted to do was curl up in bed and avoid trouble. But if I hoped to make Mummy happy, I had to give this place a chance.
Find the cabins. Keep a low profile. Survive the next two weeks. Shouldn’t be too hard, right?
---
Here I've rewritten the scene in third person omniscient:
Myra zipped up her black hoodie, almost nicking her own chin. She hated crowds; lingering at the back of the camp bus so long her back ached. And sleeping on a lumpy camp bunk bed for the next two weeks might only make it worse. At least the rowdy teenage mob had stampeded off–and away from her.
The driver gave her a death stare from his rearview mirror. She must’ve forgotten he was there.
“Sorry, Mister.”
She snatched her luggage from the overhead rack and skulked off the bus with a sigh. Ploughing along the gravel path, she glanced up at the hung sign in the worn-out canoe bolted to the porch beams.
"WELCOME TO CAMP CHICHI WONKA"
Quite a welcome! Myra’s mother never even asked if she wanted to go when the brochure came in the mail last month. She did, however, look pleased so Myra didn’t mind.
All Myra wanted to do was curl up in bed and avoid trouble. But if she hoped to make her mother happy, she had to give this place a chance which meant stepping onto the wooden porch.
Meanwhile, at the nearby sign-up sheets area, Cass spotted Myra, making a bee-line for an immediate introduction.
Myra needed to find the cabins, keep a low profile, and survive the next two weeks. Shouldn’t be too hard, right?
---
Finally, I've rewritten the scene in second person - I decided to make it present tense because second person past tense sounded weird when I read it aloud (I'm the director right? LOL):
You zip up your black hoodie, practically kissing your chin. You remain at the back of the camp bus long enough for the hollering teenage crowd to stomp off. So long, your back is hollering its own tune from sitting motionless all that time. Camp bunk beds might only make it worse.
In the rearview mirror, the driver glares at you. To be honest, you forgot he was there.
“Sorry, Mister.”
You grip your luggage from the overhead rack and slither off the bus with a sigh. Traipsing along the gravel path, you catch a glimpse of the hung sign in the worn-out canoe bolted to the porch beams.
"WELCOME TO CAMP CHICHI WONKA"
What a welcome! Mom never even asked if you wanted to go when the brochure came in the mail last month. At least she looked pleased so you don’t mind.
The only thing you want to do is curl up in bed and avoid trouble. But if you hope to make Mom happy, you have to give this place a chance which means crossing this wooden threshold.
Your mission: Find the cabins. Keep a low profile. Survive the next two weeks. Shouldn’t be too hard, right?
---
Thanks Michelle! As usual, this was such an awesome and fun exercise - I learned so much :)