One of the conclusions that folks could have, and perhaps should have, drawn from my last post on omniscient viewpoint is that it is easy for editors and critiquers to mistake it for something else. When this happens, you are likely to get “you have viewpoint problems” comments based on the fact that they think you are writing tight-third-person, but you aren’t “following the rules.”

This looks like a critiquing problem, and in some instances it is. Readers, editors, and critiquers have all seen the same how-to-write books, and absorbed all the same “writing rules” about “head-hopping,” as writers have, and sometimes one simply cannot convince them that there is nothing wrong with what one is doing because it’s omniscient. Much of the time, though, this isn’t a critiquing problem – or at least, it isn’t the kind of critiquing problem you get with the rule-obsessed.

It’s a writing problem, and it often arises when the author is suffering what I described as a failure of nerve in the last post. It can be because the author is unconsciously writing omniscient and feeling uncomfortable about it because he/she doesn’t get omniscient (or, sometimes, even recognize that’s what it is), and keeps trying to shove the viewpoint back to a typical tight-third. The shoving doesn’t work, and it makes it really obvious that the viewpoint isn’t proper tight-third, so it ends up looking as if the author is trying to write tight-third and failing.

This is true, in a way, but the problem isn’t that the author set out to write tight-third and blew it. It’s more as if the author got halfway through the book writing in first-person and suddenly thought, “Wait, I’m not supposed to be writing in first person; I better switch everything to third-person.” Only the switchover doesn’t work; the author gets the pronouns changed, but there are still turns of phrase and personal opinions and a bunch of other things that are fine in first-person, but that just don’t work in third-person because there’s a lot more to switching viewpoint types than just changing the pronouns.

The other reason for failure of nerve is the one I described last time: the author does indeed intend to write omniscient, but they think of it as nerve-wracking and scary and strange, so they keep retreating back into the nice, clear rules and conventions that they are used to having in tight-third. This, too, results in a weird hybrid that just doesn’t work.

This is where it becomes a writing problem, rather than a critiquing problem – since the viewpoint isn’t written as clearly one thing or the other, the reader has to guess whether the writer was trying for tight-third and sliding into sloppy omniscient, or trying for omniscient and not quite pulling it off. Since the most common third-person viewpoint these days is tight-third, the readers, editors, and critiquers are almost certain to look at the story and assume that the hybrid is faulty tight-third, and they will base their comments on that assumption.

One can, of course, tell one’s beta readers and/or editor right up front, “I am trying to write omniscient and I’m a bit worried about how it is coming out.” (About half of the people you say this to will look at you as if you have two heads and ask why on earth you want to write omniscient, nobody does that these days, it’s old-fashioned, and anyway it is hard. It is worth warning them anyway, if only so you know their attitude.) Unfortunately, one generally can’t go around to every single one of the readers who picks up one’s book and tell them that.

The only other solution is to clarify the viewpoint. This is not at all easy with omniscient (as witness the list of books in the last post that are, all of them, written in omniscient, but that many, many readers interpret as some odd variant of tight-third, simply because they aren’t used to seeing omniscient). If your editor/critiquers are identifying as “problems” things like seeing the thoughts/feelings of more than one character per scene, or a narrative voice that is significantly different from that of the supposed POV character, or including information in narrative that the supposed viewpoint character couldn’t know, you have to be clearer, cleaner, and smoother about all of them so that they read “more omniscient” and less like tight-third.

If your intention is to write tight-third (or you decide that the viewpoint is close enough to tight third that turning it into tight third will be vastly easier than trying to clarify it as omniscient), fixing things is considerably easier, as it’s usually a matter of getting rid of everything the POV character couldn’t see, hear, feel, know, or think. Note that I said “easier” – it isn’t easy, in any absolute sense. Usually, all the places where the viewpoint slides out of tight-third and into someone else’s head are spots where the author has some piece of information that they absolutely want the reader to know, but that the POV can’t see, hear, etc. Which means that one has to find some other way to get that information across right then, move it to some later point in the story when the POV does find/figure it out, or do without it.

There are also a few problems that almost never happen except in omniscient, because they involve things you can only do in omniscient, like providing the thoughts of multiple characters at once, or giving information that nobody in the story could know. Clumsy transitions between characters, blatantly trying to force the reader to see or interpret things the way the writer wants, and the had-they-only-known type of “foreshadowing” (which is usually both clumsy and dated) are problems wherever they show up, but they usually only show up in omniscient.

6 Comments
  1. One problem I’ve encountered is “how do I deal with a telepathic or empathic viewpoint character, one who can tell what the other characters are thinking and/or feeling?” I’ve generally resorted to some form of synesthesia, where the characters can “hear” or “feel” or “smell” the thoughts or emotions in other people’s heads. But I’m sure there are other solutions.

    • I like writing stuff with telepaths or empaths, because I can do reasonably tight third-person and drop in useful bits of data about other people’s emotions or thoughts.

      E.g., with a quasi-police group, of which one member is an empath…
      • “The answer, if any, would be informative, but the subject’s emotions had slanted to a bitter resignation.”
      • ‘From the emotional turmoil, [the empath] expected [the subject] to burst into tears. Instead, she merely set her jaw and demanded, “Why are you doing this to me?”‘
      • “Though her angry misery was almost palpable, there was no guilt upon her.”
      • “He reached out, and caught /worry and humor at the situation/, along with /faith, trust/.”

      A lot of the time I just reported on other characters’ emotional states as I might report on visible expressions, with the occasional “extended his power to test [someone’s] emotions,” “taste/feel/see/sense” an emotional state in someone, and failures, to remind the reader that I was actually doing tightish-3rd with an empath who only required a little effort to get an emotional read. And when it wasn’t an evaluation of direct state, I was careful to use qualifiers: “[the villian was] likely sorting through possibilities and consequences and perhaps deciding the matter was tipping against him.”

      (I’d love to show off that story, to see if it works for other people, but it’s fanfic that I hope I could get turned into licensed fic sometime, so I’m hoarding it. *shifty-eyes* My readers have generally expressed liking for it, though.)

      • • “He reached out, and caught /worry and humor at the situation/, along with /faith, trust/.”

        Now this is a technique I might borrow: Using slashes (or possibly some other non-standard “quote” mark) to show “quotes” of the target’s emotions as perceived by the empath.

        Being able to drop in data about other characters’ emotions wasn’t my main reason for giving my first-person POV character a (limited) empathic ability. But it was something I was aware of as a possible additional advantage when I made the decision to do so.

  2. I don’t think I could write in omniscient. Too many viewpoints only confuses me!

    • ‘omniscient’ is a matter of the information available via the narrator, not the number of viewpoints. So, for example, in LotR, few scenes, or even chapters, have more than one viewpoint. What makes it omniscient is the commentary from the narrator, as, for example, when a flying Nazgul goes wailing across the sky of Mordor towards Barad Dur. Sam doesn’t know why, but the narrator tells us ‘the Lord of the Nazgul had met his doom’. Which, in passing, fixes the time line in relation to the Battle of the Pellenor Fields that we’ve already read about.

      In fact, if I’m understanding Ms Wrede correctly, there’s still only a single viewpoint. It’s simply that the view is of whatever happens to be holding the narrator’s attention at that point. What can bother people is having a narrator with a short attention span: “Rachel climbed the stairs, holding the lamp in front… OOH! Shiny! Bertram inched across the face of the rock, fingers and toes barely gripping the rain-slick surface…” and so on. The other end of the range is having one who gets so focused that we forget that he really does know everything that’s going on – and then tosses in something seemingly out of nowhere.

      It’s perfectly feasible to write an omniscient narrator who only follows one character through the story. That would, though, be hard to tell from camera-eye unless the narrator constantly tells us things that the character doesn’t perceive, which is one of the writing errors Ms Wrede is pointing out. Frankly, I’d probably find the constant interuption rather annoying, but at least I wouldn’t be confused about the viewpoint 😉

      • In Lieutenant Hornblower CS Forester does do an omniscient narrator who follows Bush through the story. IIRC the narrator doesn’t show anything that Bush fails to physically sense, but does constantly provide interpretations and ideas that Bush fails to perceive. E.g. “A poet might have seen something dramatic and beautiful in those spider lines cleaving the air, but Bush merely saw a couple of ropes”