Narrative voice — help please.…

The most com­mon com­plaint I am hear­ing from those that I have shown the blessed (bless-ed?  CURSED) debut novel (frag­ments, don’t get excited Lau­rence), is that I am mak­ing it a bit harder to read than it should be — in a tech­ni­cal sense.

My prob­lem is this (Tom is the main character):

  • I (nar­ra­tor) want to talk about Tom in the third per­son, for when I can’t do show not tell.  Also, I need a third per­son nar­ra­tor to help shift some of the scenery and char­ac­ters around.  Tom will how­ever be in most if not all scenes.  In my head, the nar­ra­tor is sim­ply a cam­era that can see into Tom’s head, and presents the world as Tom sees it, while occa­sion­ally pan­ning out of his head to give context.
  • Tom often thinks of him­self in the third person.
  • Tom has an inter­nal mono­logue kind of chunter­ing away the whole time.
  • Tom also has clearly defined ‘thoughts’ that are ‘heard’ above the mono­logue — or at least should be distinguished.

So — with all that in mind, I’m writ­ing a lot of this:

A. Tom con­sid­ered the valise.  He won­dered where it should rest.  ‘No rest for the wicked.’  He wasn’t wicked though.  Tom’s valise rested.

Hang on.  That’s too con­trived.  This (from mem­ory) is nearer a ‘live’ example.

B.  Tom’s Uni­verse winked at him in the dark­ness.  He tried to gather his thoughts.  He failed.  They were too sticky.  ‘Like… like…like meringue.’

The prob­lem is slip­ping in and out of his head.  But each time I try to clar­ify what is internal-general, what is internal-specific and what is sim­ply bor­der­line autism, it tends to make it a mess for the reader.   Do I need the quotes around meringue?  (Now there’s a sen­tence one doesn’t get to write every day).  There are also log­i­cal / world incon­sis­ten­cies that the reader sim­ply has to accept — ie the Uni­verse, while the reader knows what it really phys­i­cally is, has ‘liv­ing’ prop­er­ties for Tom.   What I’m try­ing to avoid is this:

C. Tom imag­ined that the shapes moved in the dark­ness.  He was con­fused and couldn’t make sense of things.  He visu­alised his thoughts as sim­i­lar in con­sis­tency to a meringue.

Do you think it’s ok to sim­ply have this instead:

D.  Tom’s Uni­verse winked at him in the dark­ness.  He tried to gather his thoughts.  Failed.  They were too sticky.  Like… like…like meringue.

Sigh.  Not a big­gie really.  But I’m a lit­tle wor­ried that it will not really turn out as I intended.  I’ve just read ‘The Gar­goyle’ and the author uses a typo­graphic device to achieve the same thing — his inner demon / snake is rep­re­sente in text as block-cut texts.  It’s just that it feels like the story will lose some of the identity-based issues if I present Tom in any other way.

But then again, if no-one reads it because they keep hav­ing to double-check which ‘voice’ is speak­ing, then it’s all moot, n’est-ce pas?

MOOT MOOT!  Bon mots for boon moots.  Moon boots for mon bots.  If a bot were a foot that would have been per­fect.  Foot moot boot.

But I digress.  I’m meant to be research­ing some­thing for chap­ter 5.  Hush now.

10 Comments on “Narrative voice — help please.…”

  1. I under­stand the prob­lem, I think. Except that I can’t see a prob­lem. I just re-read chap­ters one and two as you pro­vided them to me and I didn’t get bogged down in who was say­ing or think­ing what nor was I baf­fled as to whether the nar­ra­tive descrip­tions were from Tom’s POV or the uni­ver­sal narrator’s.

    I don’t like quotes around thoughts. That always strikes me as rather child­ish. Per­haps that’s unfair, but there you go. Typo­graphic tom­fool­ery is best left to those who are excel­lently good at it. e e cum­mings, for example.

    Take this (D) for example:

    Tom’s Uni­verse winked at him in the dark­ness. He tried to gather his thoughts. Failed. They were too sticky. Like… like…like meringue.

    It doesn’t need any­thing. No quotes, no ital­ics. Sen­tences one and two are clearly uni­ver­sal nar­ra­tive. Sen­tence three could be either but it’s obvi­ously about Tom. Same for sen­tence four. The ellipses in sen­tence five make it 100% Tom’s per­sonal inter­nal narrative.

    Ques­tions: would you share the inter­nal nar­ra­tive of other char­ac­ters besides Tom? If you did, it could get very con­fus­ing. There’s noth­ing wrong with hav­ing scenes with no Tom in, but you just need to be con­sis­tent and avoid inter­nal narrative.

    Or if you must, use some qual­i­fi­ca­tion. Like ‘she thought’.

    Niamh put the menu back into the plas­tic pizza-shaped menu holder and smelled her fin­ger­tips. Anchovies, she thought. That reminds me of…no, let’s not go there.

    Do you want me to link to this here blog post on my blog in case one or two other writerly types might care to share their learned opinion?

  2. ivan says:

    Gosh. If I’d have known you were bring­ing com­pany I’d have vac­u­umed a bit. Put some nib­bles out. You know that kind of thing.

    Link away.

  3. […] when deal­ing with, well, the kind of story that my erst­while col­league and friend Ivan is writ­ing. Please pop over to his place and have a lit­tle read. Feel free to express your […]

  4. Just sling out a bag of salted nuts and a six-pack of Fos­ters. They’re not fussy.

  5. Hello Larence’s friend Ivan.
    I started try­ing to say some­thing use­ful. Then I realised you’re far bet­ter off wait­ing for another nov­el­ist to come and have a look. Me giv­ing my opin­ion is basi­cally akin to a passer-by stick­ing their head through your open win­dow and shout­ing non­sense at you.
    Still, for what it’s worth, I think D is fine as it is.
    I don’t know whether I’d have under­stood that the ellipses make it clear this is Tom’s inter­nal nar­ra­tive with­out read­ing it in con­text with the rest of the novel. But I liked it any­way. And if the uni­ver­sal nar­ra­tor spoke that way, ellipses and all, I’d still like it.
    If it had quotes around it I’d assume some­one was speak­ing out loud.
    But as I say, that’s a reader’s opin­ion based on one sen­tence.
    Don’t worry though. I’m sure a nov­el­ist will come along soon and say some­thing much more helpful.

  6. Oh look see, you def­i­nitely shouldn’t lis­ten to me.
    I can’t even spell Laurence.

  7. Oh, *now* she says she can’t spell ‘Lau­rence’ and here I am half way through chang­ing my name by deed poll.

    Minor aside: I still think D is fine.

  8. You jest, but the other day I dis­cov­ered that on my birth cer­tifi­cate my name is actu­ally spelled Michele.

    I’ve been spelling my OWN NAME wrong my entire life.

    My mom says that I’m right and it’s my birth cer­tifcate that’s wrong because appar­ently my dad was in charge of fill­ing out the forms and “he can’t do any­thing right”.

    Still. That’s a whole other story.

  9. Adaddinsane says:

    Oh! Oh! Oh! Me, I know it. Pick me! Pick me!

    Read Stephen Donaldson’s Thomas Covenant stuff, he does this *all* the time, slip­ping in and out of the protagonist’s head, you’d think he’d slip over! Messy! Ugh!

    Never causes a prob­lem. Unless you don’t hap­pen to like his writ­ing, but I do so that’s just totally okay.

  10. pldcgptprik says:

    WKxRohrKk Ping G20 vhshiPfARjgywMDC

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