Wednesday, March 14, 2018

Writing Wednesday- Point Of View

"Point of view is a decision a writer makes that will determine through whose eyes the story is going to be told."
    Elizabeth George Write Away

Point of view is a difficult tool for me. I was aware of it from a long ago look as an English major in college. When it came to writing my novel I found myself in a quandary about who should tell the story. I settled on multiple narrators because I needed the story to come out through several sets of eyes. Here is a short vignette about an adventure I had with my grandchildren. I am writing in the point of view of my eight year old granddaughter.



   We arrived at my grandma's house really early because my mother was leaving for the day. I had the dog on a leash as we arrived and before I could take off my shoes and coat, Grandma announced we would be going to see a sunrise. I understand that the sun rises everyday but really, we needed to go see it happen?


 Grandma picked the beach as a viewpoint. I love the beach, but it was cold. Rex, the dog, was over joyed to visit those sandy shores. He pushed ahead making me pick up speed. When we arrived at the sand his nose was digging up new smells. I was afraid he would run away if we let him off leash, but he really would have liked to be free. He made the strangest motion when he started digging with his hind legs. When back legs far apart, he pushed away the sand to uncover who knows what?



Grandma kept telling us to look at the horizon. The sun would soon come over the far away mountains. I liked the sound of the waves lapping up on the rocks. I noticed Rex carefully stepping into the cold watery foam. I got as close as I could, avoiding wet feet. Wet feet would make me unbearably cold.



Then the light grew brighter and an actual yellow ball rose up. At first it was like a fiery fan shape and then within seconds it popped up over the hill. Wow! Beautiful! A river of gold made a pathway over the water almost to my feet. This happens everyday while I'm asleep? The cold made me agreeable to Grandma's call to go home. She made us shake the sand off our shoes and off the dog's paws before we got into her car. Breakfast does taste better after seeing a sunrise, and the hot chocolate is the best ending to a truly great adventure.




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In my novel Rubato a piano teacher is found dead and a lost autograph manuscript of Franz Liszt is discovered. Who wanted that document enough to kill? 











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