On Writing Romance_ How to Craft a Novel That Sells - Leigh Michaels [93]
Third-Person Selective
In third-person selective, it's as if the person telling the story—the narrator—is sitting on the main character's shoulder, able to see and hear what the character sees and hears, but also able to eavesdrop on and report the character's thoughts and feelings. The narrator reports the actions of the characters using the words he, her, their, etc., to tell the story. If the main character is Jane, the narrator will refer to her with Jane or she.
Because of its close connection between narrator and character, third-person selective has almost as much immediacy and personal impact as first person, without being as constrained by the character's own deficiencies and prejudices. The narrator in this case is almost invisible, simply sharing the details and making no comment on the story.
Third-person selective means the readers see what the viewpoint character sees, hear what she hears, and know what she thinks (though not every single thought). Third-person selective includes only scenes in which the viewpoint character is present. If Jane walks out of the room, the readers walk out with her—so the readers can't hear what is said after Jane leaves, any more than Jane can.
The readers also know how the other characters look, see the actions they take, hear the exact words they say, and can draw conclusions about what they're thinking from Jane's observations of such things as facial expressions, tone of voice, etc. Because the readers see what's going on, they may draw different conclusions about events than Jane does. If Jane deduces from the look on another character's face that he's angry, the readers know what Jane's thinking—but they don't know for sure whether Jane is right.
In this example from Heather Graham's romantic suspense novella Bougain-villea, notice how the heroine's perceptions as she sits by her father's hospital bed are shared with the readers:
As Kit slowly awoke and opened her eyes, she saw a man standing in the doorway. He was very tall, and in the shadowy, dim light he at first appeared to be dark—and sinister. She had the uneasy feeling that he had been standing there, staring into the room in silence for a long time. Staring as she slept, making her feel oddly vulnerable.
His shoulders were broad beneath a heavy winter coat, and he seemed to stand very straight, with a great deal of confidence and assurance. She sensed that he wasn't watching her. He was watching her father. Waiting for him to die.
Kit blinked, and awkwardly tried to rise, wanting to demand to know who he was and what the hell he was doing. But when she blinked, he was gone. There was no man in the doorway.
Was there a man in the doorway? Was he sinister, threatening, confident, assured? Is he really waiting for Kit's father to die? Though Kit believes so, the readers—who have seen the evidence for themselves through the third-person POV—may or may not agree.
If you were using a third-person selective/multiple POV you might follow up a scene like this one with a scene from the POV of the man who was standing in the doorway, relaying his thoughts, feelings, actions, and reactions to Kit.
Third-Person Dual
Many authors want to include the thoughts of both main characters within a single scene—using a third-person dual POV It seems logical that the readers need to know what both hero and heroine are thinking, so the author tells them what Jane says and what she's thinking, then shifts to John and what he's thinking, then back to Jane.
In the following example from her short contemporary novella An Officer and a Gentleman, Rachel Lee uses typographical tricks to make clear which POV we're in at any given instant, and because both characters are thinking similarly, the passage quickly and effectively shows us both characters' feelings.
Giving up on the newspaper, Dare carried his coffee into the living room and stared out the window at the bleak North Dakota winter morning. What