Venn
One of the technical issues that most commonly vexes the writers with whom I work is the idea of omniscience. At the same time many writers are also drawn to this multi-faceted approach to storytelling, yet they feel confused and hemmed-in by the pitfalls and confusion that can arise when attempting more than one point of view.
One thing I want to say straight off is that the use of an omniscient point of view does not imply a more grown-up or sophisticated writer. It’s definitely a skill one needs to work at, but I think sometimes people can be drawn to it because they think omniscience will make their writing seem more intelligent. To me, this is a really dangerous idea. It is the story, and only the story, which should influence your choice of point of view. And the right choice depends on entirely on what the story needs the reader to understand, as well as how and when. How close do you want your reader to be situated when it comes to your protagonist? What kind of bias does the story require? A single point of view works better when ti comes to subjectivity. Or does your story require a zoomed-out overview, a greater objectivity, in order for us to understand what you are wanting to say? Then yes, consider playing with multiple points of view, and here is some great advice on how to think about this process.
CONFESSION: The following Tip is stolen! Lifted from a Substack by the writer Emma Darwin, called The Itch of Writing. I am astounded by the amount of fantastiuc content Emma posts in her Substack. And it’s all really excellent, useful information and advice. So please take a look and perhaps in return for sending you her way, Emma won’t mind me sharing some of her suggestions regarding shifts in Point of View.
The thing that really struck me in a recent post I came across was her idea of Circles of Consciousness. I had never visualised shifts within Point of View in quite this way - like overlapping Venn diagrams – but now I think I will never not conceive of them, or teach them, in this light.
Let’s start with Emma’s example of shifting point of view within a scene using narration. (This is from a much wider, well-worth-reading post about all the different ways to shift between points of view in fiction) That is to say, writing through a shift in POV, without starting a new chapter or leaving a gap on the page between paragraphs. You are taking the reader by the hand instead, as you shift, leading them from one point of view to the other.
Here’s her example, in a scene involving two characters called John and Alan:
Oh, God, he'd slept through the alarm! John scuttled to work in a fluster where he had to wedge himself into a packed lift . Alan followed him into the lift, and they travelled in silence. At the twenty-third floor, Alan got out murmuring that he had to drop in on HR, but actually he went to the canteen. There were mornings when only a double hot chocolate with extra cream made the prospect of the day bearable: especially when it included a meeting with cretinous George….
Great. I hope you can see how it was the narration that took us, via actions in shifting settings, smoothly from one point of view to another.
Emma returns to this same John and Alan scene later in the post, and this is when she talks about points of view as circles of consciousness. Here is what she writes:
Using the circle of consciousness. What often goes wrong with point-of-view moves is that the writing "head-hops" straight from deep inside one consciousness to deep inside another. The reader is disoriented and maybe even confused: it's a bit like having tuned into French only for the radio to flip to German, or from cynical satire to something very sincere and heartfelt: what and how are we supposed to understand?
It helps to think of a point of view as a circle of consciousness. Right in the centre of each character's circle is the inside of their mind - their feeling and thinking - but there's a much larger circle of what they can physically touch/see/smell, the information they know about the past and the wider present, and so on.
And, obviously, if there are several characters present, the circles of each character's consciousness will overlap. Meanwhile, the narrator's circle encompasses whatever you choose to allow it. Once you've understood that, then you just have to make sure we come out of one head in stages, via the overlap, into the next head. If you do it steadily and coherently, we'll go with you:
• Oh, God, he'd slept through the alarm! This is rooted deep in John's point of view because it's not only John's experience, it evokes his voice and subjective experience by using free indirect style.
• John scuttled to work in a fluster and wedged himself into a lift. This is all about him, and evokes his feelings (scuttled, fluster), but we're a little further out because it's not necessarily his voice: it may be the narrator's choice of verbs.
• Alan followed him in This is still John's experience, from within his circle of consciousness, but there's no special evocation of John's feelings. And, crucially, it shifts our attention away from John towards Alan, although using Alan's first name makes us assume he's someone John knows.
• and they travelled in silence. At the twenty-third floor, This could be any of John, narrator or Alan: we're in the overlap of the circles of their consciousness, where they are all experiencing the same external facts. (Notice that simple information, not tied to a character's point-of-view, can still evoke things: the silence between the colleagues, the fact that the building has more than twenty-three floors...)
• Alan got out murmuring that he had to drop in on HR, We're focussed on Alan's actions a little way inside the circle of his consciousness but still where it overlaps with John's, to whom he's presumably murmuring: this evokes something of Alan's character-in-action (murmuring) but the words themselves aren't coloured by his take on things
• but actually he went to the canteen. We're still experiencing Alan from outside his head, but we've left John's circle, because John's stayed in the lift and can't know this.
• There were mornings when only a double hot chocolate with extra cream made the prospect of the day bearable: Now we're further into Alan's consciousness, with his feeling and perhaps unspoken thoughts, but it's still consistent with the narrator's voice.
• especially when it included a meeting with cretinous George. And here's Alan's voice coming in loud and clear in free indirect style: we're right inside his consciousness, with his voice and his take on his experience, as we were with John's at the beginning.
Do you see? Isn’t this brilliant?
So next time you are writing a scene in which two or more people are present, imagine they are three circles in a Venn diagram, and as you write you have the possibility of moving both within those separate spheres, from the innermost dead centre of each character’s unique-to-them thoughts and feelings and memories, as well as outward through the areas in which their experiences overlap, in this slice of time, in this scene. These are the actions all of them can see, the sensations that are shared. As long as you hold the reader’s hand as you are transitioning from one character’s centre to another, we will not be jarred and we will happily go with you.
Of course this is only one way in which it is possible to transition between multiple points of view in a story, so if you’re keen for more techniques, definitely take a look at Emma Darwin’s post, Ten Ways to Move Point-of-View (link here).
Happy omniscience! Go play.