If you’re anything like me, when you’re in writing mode, you’ll have a narrative style that you naturally gravitate towards. For me, my default style is third person, past tense, using deep point of view. But again, if you’re anything like me, you will encounter that one story that makes you question whether your default is the right choice.

Perhaps there is something within the narrative construction that makes you think you need to be a little bit closer to the characters. Or maybe there is something within the narrative that wants you to be more distant. Or maybe you just want to experiment and see what you’re capable of doing.

But there are some things about certain narrative constructions and certain stories that lend themselves more to one particular style of narrative as opposed to another. Making that decision as to which is most appropriate is not an easy thing to do.

In today’s post, I want to explore this idea of whether a narrative wants to be in first person or whether it should remain in third person. And I want to discuss what is similar about first-person and third-person, deep-point-of-view narratives and what is different.

Spoiler alert: Today’s post will contain excerpts from my novel Dancing in the Purple Rain. In some cases, the excerpts will be taken out of context. However, the purpose here is a learning exercise to talk about the differences between narration styles. Because of the excerpts included, this post happens to be a long one.

The Rewrite of Dancing in the Purple Rain

As I mentioned above, my default for writing tends to be third person, past tense, using deep point of view. However, while I was writing Dancing in the Purple Rain, there was something about the story that made me question whether third person was the right narrative style to be using.

Before I got too heavy into the story drafting, I even wrote the first chapter in multiple styles, playing around with the narration. And I asked my writing buddies which one they believed worked better.

The answer: They worked the same. There was little difference in it.

It was the story itself and the main character that was pulling the reader in, not the narrative choice. It was my use of deep point of view that was attracting them.

So, I was stuck in this conundrum of not knowing whether this manuscript wanted to be in third person or first person. Seeing as third person was my default, I continued writing in that third-person style.

I completed the first draft, where certain scenes still needed to be fully fleshed out (namely the fight sequences… and there are quite a few fight sequences in that novel, including a big one at the midpoint and a massive one (that spreads over multiple chapters) at the end). But the entire time, I kept getting this nagging feeling that the manuscript might work better in first person. I couldn’t shake the feeling. But all of my test scenes written in both voices were constantly being met with this “They both work” commentary from my writing buddies.

So, I got to work on the rewrites, continuing to write in third person. I told myself that I wasn’t allowed to avoid writing the tough fight scenes, leaving nothing unturned when it came to character development. I had roughly 80% of the novel fully fleshed and in a state that was ready to go to beta readers, all of it written in my default third-person style. But as I got to the final battle sequence, I had only one response to my own writing:

S***! This manuscript wants to be in first person.

Seriously, there was something that was in the final battle sequence playing around in my head that needed to be in first person to make it work. It took me three months of intensive rewrites to get through that manuscript at that point, but…

After a lot of breathing, I went back to the first chapter and started my rewrites again, this time shifting the entire manuscript into first person. I knew I had made the right choice when it took me only two weeks to complete the new rewrite, including writing the full final battle sequence from scratch.

Two weeks later, it was sent to beta readers… who only confirmed the power present in the narrative choice.

The truth about deep point-of-view narratives

I’ve written about using deep point-of-view narratives before. There are some writers who incorrectly believe that first-person narratives are inherently more intimate. However, what they don’t understand is that it’s the depth of perception associated with first person that makes it more intimate. Without that depth of perception, you have a work with a bunch if me’s, I’s, and we’s, but is no different to any shallow point of view presented in third person.

In that original blog post, I gave a few examples on how to deepen the perspective. And I showed how the third-person, deep point-of-view variants lend themselves to a different type of story.

For completeness of the topic, I’m going to repost those deep point-of-view paragraphs here.

First-person variant:

It was like someone decided to turn my head into a bongo drum. The pulsating was nauseating. I have no idea how long I laid there on that floor, my eyes closed and taking breath after breath, trying to keep my stomach from heaving, but it was long enough for my tongue to stick to the roof of my mouth.

Third-person variant:

It was like someone decided to turn Veronica’s head into a set of bongo drums. The pulsating was nauseating. She had no idea how long she laid there on that floor, eyes closed and taking breath after breath, just trying to keep the contents of her stomach down, but it was long enough to give a sandpaper feel to her tongue that stuck to the roof of her mouth.

To me, the third-person variant is just as intimate as the first-person version, but there is a hint to a different kind of story—simply because different genres have different expectations when it comes to first vs third person.

The first-person version would happily find its home in a contemporary romance or woman’s fiction, possibly even a coming-of-age story or one about a person fighting cancer. However, the third person version would work well in a crime novel or a thriller.

So, knowing that my personal fiction writing is in thrillers, it’s only natural to lean towards third person as my default. Yet, Dancing in the Purple Rain, a science-fiction technothriller, wanted to be in first person. It’s time to take that detailed look into the different narrative styles, highlighting what first person was able to offer me that third person couldn’t.

Understanding the Narrator in First Person and Third Person

Within any limited-perspective narrative (and a deep point of view is a limited perspective by nature), all viewpoints, thoughts, and opinions need to be restricted to a single point-of-view character. I’m not saying that your story can’t use multiple points of view over the course of the entire novel, but within any given section, only one point of view is present on the page. Unless your characters are mind readers, they would have no way of knowing exactly what another character is thinking. So, characters’ thoughts need to be conveyed by other means, including body language.

However, the point-of-view character should never be confused with the narrator for a story.

In a third-person narrative, the narrator is often the writer. As such, there will be hints of the author’s voice present on the page—even in deep point of view. I will grant you that while working in deep point of view, there will be a lot of the character present on the page too, but that narration will still have the overtones of the author themselves. Within a multi-point-of-view story, it’s the continuity of the author’s voice, even with the presence of the character voice, that helps to smooth transitions between point-of-view shifts.

In first person, the narrator is the point-of-view character. This doesn’t mean that they are the protagonist of the story. An example of this is Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, where the narrator and point-of-view character is Watson, not Sherlock, who is the protagonist. But because the narrator is one of the characters in the story, the writer needs to back away completely from the narrative voice. Everything on the page needs to be a reflection of the character, not the writer.

It’s the last point that can make first-person narratives fall apart, particularly in multi-point-of-view stories, because no two characters will have the same voice. Just from reading the narrative, a reader should be able to identify the point-of-view character without any additional clues. However, the requirement to remove the writer entirely from the narrative is also what can be the most freeing for a writer like myself.

For my novel Dancing in the Purple Rain, the main character has viewpoints and instinctual reactions that are so vastly different to my own. The only way I could properly convey her thought process on the page was to remove myself entirely from the narration, making my main character the narrator. As such, I was able to bring to life my character’s language style and cognitive reasoning in a much deeper fashion than what could be achieved in third person.

Let me give you an example.

Example 1: Opening Paragraphs

Original 3rd-Person Variant

The brown package resting on the table might have seemed innocent to some, but Mike knew it contained death. She never knew exactly what form of chaos the Pregutor would choose to unleash on the world, or why the Pregutor did it, but that really wasn’t her concern. As long as she got paid.

The clock in the corner of her optical display glasses slowly counted down to zero. She sighed as she glanced around the room, wondering who the unlucky recipient of the brown package of death might be. Would it be the man with the tablet in the corner having a very loud, boisterous conversation with someone on video chat? Perhaps it would be the woman who seemed to be at her wit’s end as the order console at her table refused to take her order—something about exceeding her caffeine allowance for the month. Or maybe it was the young thing who kept getting stopped at the door—the entry scanner flickering between the red X and green checkmark, then back again.

Final 1st-Person Variant - As published

I stared at the brown package on the table. What form of death would it contain this time? Gun? Bomb? Some biochemical weapon? It really didn’t matter. My job was to deliver the package—not question why or how the ensuing chaos would be unleashed on the world.

I sighed as I glanced around the room. Who would be the unlucky recipient of the brown package of death? Would it be the man with the tablet in the corner having a boisterous conversation with someone on video chat? Perhaps it would be the woman who seemed to be at her wit’s end as the console at her table refused to take her order—something about exceeding her caffeine allowance for the month. Or maybe it was the young thing who kept getting stopped at the door; the entry scanner flickered between a red X and a green checkmark, then back again.

Assessment

Both of these passages work and work well. They convey the same information and quickly build the setting. You can even see the lines that remained as the manuscript was rewritten into first person. But there’s a level of cynicism in the first-person variant that isn’t present in the third-person version.

Just look at the first paragraph. She’s wondering what form of chaos the Pregutor would choose to unleash on the world, but the actual questions present in the first-person voice adds a hint of curiosity laced with apathy.

I will gladly admit that the true difference between the two versions is not really seen in this short passage, so let’s look at a different one.

Example 2: Walking through the health scanners

Original 3rd-person Variant

Mike rolled her shoulders and breathed in slowly, counting to five as she inhaled, then counting to three before she exhaled to another count of five. She kept her eyes forward and her hands down by her sides. Her fingers lightly tapped her thighs as her hands shook uncontrollably. She knew the scan would take at least thirty seconds to run the full sequence, and it would report everything about her physical health to the technicians—including her climbing audimensase levels.

The system hummed and slight vibrations radiated up through her feet as she waited to be released from the cage.

She mentally counted to thirty, then forty-five. The red X still shined brightly and the doors still had not opened. She counted to sixty, and she had to force herself to remain calm. What she wouldn’t do to have her earbuds right then.

“Is there a problem?” Mike asked when she counted to one hundred. “The scans don’t normally take this long.”

Final 1st-Person Variant - As published

I rolled my shoulders and breathed in slowly, counting to five as I inhaled, then counting to three before I exhaled to another count of five. I kept my eyes forward and my hands by my sides. My fingers lightly tapped on my thighs—an uncontrollable action.

The scan in this machine wasn’t like the scans moving between sectors. This one would be a full sequence, taking at least thirty seconds to run. And it would report everything about my physical health to the technicians—including my climbing audimensase levels.

The system hummed and slight vibrations radiated up through my feet as I waited to be released from the cage.

Twenty-nine. Thirty.

The red X still shined brightly, and the doors still hadn’t opened.

Fifty-three. Fifty-four.

My heart rate sped up, and my breathing was getting a little shaky. What I wouldn’t have done to have my earbuds right then.

Eighty-five. Ninety. One hundred.

“Is there a problem? The scans don’t normally take this long.”

Assessment

Again, when we look at these two passages, it’s the same action that is described in both. However, in the first-person variant, we can sink deeper into her head. Her observations become background thoughts.

But let’s look at an emotionally charged scene.

Example 3: Grieving for her friend

Original 3rd-person Variant

With the first strum of the guitar, she laid on her bed and pulled the covers over her head. She closed her eyes and focused on the musical chords, controlling her breathing. The lyrics started, and the tightness in her chest eased. The image of George’s fun-loving smile hung before her mental eye. As the chorus began, her mind drifted to the first time she heard the song as a child—at least the first memory of the song that she could recall.

It was at O’quv Lageri. George might have been two years older than her, but he was more than happy to put up with the little girl who followed him around like a puppy. It probably had something to do with the fact that whenever anyone tried to pick on him, Mike would put herself between George and the source of danger. She never did anything—never raised a fist. She just stared at the bullies—and they would always back down. Everyone seemed to be afraid of her. But not George. Their bond ran deep—always looking out for one another.

And whenever it rained, even though it wasn’t really that safe, George would sneak Mike out of the dormitories to laugh and dance in the purple rain.

Mike and George sang the chorus as loudly as they could. His arm draped over her shoulders. And as their horrid rendition of the song ended, he would always say the same thing to her as he held her close. “I’m here. Not letting you go. Never forget that.”

Final 1st-Person Variant - As published

With the first strum of the guitar, I laid on my bed and pulled the covers over my head. I closed my eyes and focused on the musical chords, conjuring memories from our playful jaunt in the purple rain as it burned our skin. I fingered the pock scars that ran down my arms as I remembered how badly we would sing the chorus of our favorite song together. His arm draped over my shoulders. And as our horrid rendition of the song ended, he would always say the same thing. “I’m here. Not letting you go. Never forget that.”

Assessment

This is where a first-person narrative can really start to show its power. Within the third-person version (remembering that this was also an early draft that hadn’t been “tightened” as well as it could be), we get all of the backstory laid out for us. This backstory injection is the “author” (i.e. me) putting in their own thoughts and opinions of the situation. But when working in first person, the “author” is removed, and the narrative becomes 100% the character’s thoughts and reactions.

In that moment, the character is only thinking about the relevant details and not all the rest of the backstory that goes with it. The full backstory is irrelevant at that point.

Internal Workings are Presented Differently

Another way to look at this is to consider where the camera is if this was a film. In a third-person narrative, the camera might be standing right behind the point-of-view character, maybe even sitting on their shoulder, but there is still a level of distance that allows the reader to see the point-of-view character from the outside (and not just by looking at a mirror). For first-person narratives written with the depth of perception where it should be, the camera is inside the point-of-view character’s head. The reader is seeing the world through their eyes. And because they are inside the character’s body, they can feel what the character feels on the inside and hear their internal musings.

We saw how this played out in the grieving snippet from above. But this shift in camera position has a significant influence on how fight scenes are written. Let’s look at some examples from my fight scenes.

Example 4: The Fight with Friends

Original 3rd-person Variant

Mike lowered her own hood, so she could use her peripheral vision to hunt down the weakness in the group surrounding her. She wasn’t looking forward to the bruises that would soon cover her body from head to toe, but if she wanted to survive this day, she needed to slip into the mind of the enemy.

She backed up slightly, ensuring that she was properly in the center of the group. She knew that she was opening up herself to attacks from all sides, but until she found the weakest link, she would need the greatest distance possible from danger.

Marcus sauntered towards her. She rolled her eyes at the cockiness pouring off him in a salty perfume and a haze of yellow. She so wanted to put him back into his place, smack him from side to side and put him flat on his back, but she had to make it look good if she was going to succeed at her mission.

Marcus lunged, swinging his baton at her, spinning around with a series of kicks. It was a rookie move, something that Mike easily dodged. She didn’t even have to block a single one of his attack moves.

Was it possible that his fighting abilities had always been this rudimentary? Even in their youth, she often had little trouble staying ahead of him, but now she wasn’t even breaking a sweat. She knew exactly where his strikes would be aimed, and without effort, she would duck, bend, or jump to the side, landing a kick of her own to his abdomen and occasionally his head. A few times, she came close to using the tranquilizer dart against Marcus, bringing her fist around in a swinging move that would ultimately press the needle end into Marcus’s neck. But as good as a fighter as she was, his physical strength would always be stronger than hers, and he was able to use his brute strength to stop her from pushing the dart into his neck. He even tried to grab her arm and twist it up behind her, but she flipped over him and under him in ways that he clearly didn’t know one could use.

Final 1st-Person Variant - As published

I lowered my hood, giving me full use of my peripheral vision to hunt down the weakness in the group surrounding me. I held no delusions; this little stunt was going to earn me more bruises, but if I wanted to survive, I needed to slip into the mind of the enemy—starting with the weakest link.

Marcus sauntered toward me. The cockiness poured off him in a salty perfume and a haze of yellow. I so wanted to put him back in his place, to smack him from side to side and land him flat on his back. He lunged at me, swinging his baton and spinning around with a series of kicks.

It was a rookie move. Something easily dodged.

Was it possible that his fighting abilities had always been this rudimentary? Even in our youth, I had no problems staying ahead of him, but now I wasn’t even breaking a sweat. Without any effort, I ducked, bent backward, or jumped to the side, kicking him in the abdomen and occasionally his head. A few times, I came close to using the tranquilizer dart against him, bringing my fist around to press the needle into his neck. But Marcus had always been physically stronger than me. He was able to use his brute strength to stop me from pushing the dart into its target. He even tried to grab my arm and twist it up behind me, but I flipped over him and then under him in ways he clearly didn’t know I could do.

Assessment

Are you noticing the removal of the “author voice” from the writing as we shift to the 1st-person variant? The language becomes tighter, and the character is having their own opinions and thoughts thrust into the foreground.

Example 5: The Scene that WANTED to be in first person

Original 3rd-person Variant

The air grew warmer as Mike led the team down the halls in the lower levels of the Rhodon Corporation building. But as much as it was a maze in the tunnels of the Sanctuary, this was worse. All of the halls looked the same. White upon white, the floor blending in with the ceiling. And their black tactical gear only made them stand out.

For the tenth time, Mike brushed down the velcro strap on her vest. And as much as she hated the illusion and preferred to be in reality, she wished that she really did have a knife strapped to her ankle and a pistol that didn’t have a DNA safety. Eddie tried to assure her that the override hack that he had done on the pistol that she held out before her would be secure, and that the gun would respond to her command, she just couldn’t help but wonder how spliced the DNA match really was. Was the weapon she was carrying be about effective as a rock or a small club?

As they navigated the halls, a sense of unease grew in the pit of her stomach. These halls should have been teeming with STAR soldiers. Especially, considering that the security channels were buzzing about an insurgent team, and how all security personnel were to report to stations for further orders. But the halls were empty.

Every time they passed another junction, Mike glanced into the ceiling corners, knowing that little cameras were recording their every move. Everyone had suggested that she had the ability to hide from people—all of the visions from the past few days… or was it hours… suggested it too. But cameras weren’t people. She might have been able to make people forget that she was ever there, but technology was a different beast.

If only Alice was still with her. She could have used Alice to disrupt the security camera feeds.

Final 1st-Person Variant - As published

The air temperature dropped as we headed to the lower levels of the main Rhodon Corporation building. Twenty stories below ground, heading deeper into the devil’s lair. I had walked these halls so many times over the years, and never once did I register their significance. Then again, I was absorbed in my duties as part of PentWave or STAR—not trying to blow the place up.

As we exited the service stairwell, unease grew in the pit of my stomach. The security channels were buzzing about an insurgent team, and how all security personnel were to report to stations and await further orders. Yet the halls on the lower levels of Rhodon were empty. There was no one around. Not even STAR soldiers.

But they were watching us. Recording our every move with little cameras mounted on the ceiling. Eddie had tried to hack into the system using his remote tablet, but whatever patches they had in the system demanded that he have a direct connection. So, the cameras still watched us.

If Alice was still here, perhaps I could have done something about those stupid cameras. Instead, Lucas reached out to my shoulder, reminding me to remain visible to the team.

Assessment

I know this last segment is missing some context to understand what is going on, but within the voice, everything in that passage “wanted” to be in first person. The third-person variant was so close, but it was missing something. And it was when I was working on fully fleshing this scene (and the next one in the story—which was only in note form in my third-person draft), I knew that the story needed to be in first person for it to work properly.

Sometimes, this happens. We work towards a certain point and realize that we need to rewrite the entire manuscript using a different narrative style. But rewrites done with purpose happen quickly.

All excerpts used in this post came from my science fiction technothriller, Dancing in the Purple Rain.