I know what you’re thinking—we’ve already determined that head-hopping isn’t what we want to do, that we want to write Deep POV, with only one viewpoint character per scene. We know: head-hopping is bad, bad, bad, bad. No-no. Don’t do it. No writing the thoughts of any character but the viewpoint character.

Yes, that’s the majority of head-hopping—from one character’s thoughts to another. The other part of head-hopping, the part that’s harder to grasp, is when we jump outside of our viewpoint character into either omniscient or no viewpoint whatsoever.

Huh?

I shared last week a few comments that I make on a lot of contest entries I judge. Another one is that in deep POV, you cannot write anything that your viewpoint character cannot see, hear, smell, taste, feel, or know for him/herself. If you’re in your heroine’s viewpoint and you write: “her face turned red,” you’ve head-hopped. Why? Because that description is coming from an external observer. She can’t see her own face turn red. She can only experience the burning sensation, feel the mortification deep-down inside her soul, wish the floor would open up and swallow her.

Last week, someone posted a question on the ACFW e-mail loop asking if she could write that her viewpoint character smiled, since the character cannot see herself smile. This is taking this part of POV a little too far. Every time I see that question crop up, I think about a line from Steel Magnolias when Ouiser is talking about having run into Drum Eatenton at the Piggly Wiggly, “…and I smiled at the [SOB] ’fore I couldn’t help myself.” We think of ourselves as smiling at other people. Sometimes we may not realize we’re doing it, because it can be a subconscious gesture. And you don’t want to fill your narrative with: She smiled. He smiled back. You want to get to the root of the emotion behind the smile. But sometimes, a viewpoint character just needs to smile. The best thing to do is to imagine yourself as your viewpoint character—and then write only what you can experience as her.

Then, there’s the problem of no viewpoint at all. Have you ever read a book and you got to a certain point in a scene and you had to flip back a page or two to remember whose viewpoint it was in? This happens when the narrative is too objective, especially in a scene that’s dialogue-heavy. Unless you’re writing your whole novel with this objective voice (in other words, you never go into anyone’s thoughts, emotions, gut-reactions at a deep level), what you’ve done is just hopped out of your character’s head. Here’s an example from Menu for Romance—first, edited down, then the full version:

Major changed the subject. “Your mom invited me to drop by their New Year’s open house. You going?”

Meredith shook her head. “No.”

“She said she had something she wanted to talk to me about.”

“Hmm. No—I don’t usually go over for the open house, just for our family dinner later. Instead, I’m fixing to go home, sleep for a few hours, and then head over to the new house—I’m planning to get the paint stripped from all the woodwork in the living room and dining room tomorrow.”

“In one day?” Major grunted. “Wouldn’t you rather relax on your holiday?”

“But working on the house is relaxing to me. Plus, it gives me a good excuse to go off by myself all day and be assured no one’s going to disturb me.”

The elevator doors opened to the dim, chilly underground parking garage. Major stopped her from exiting first. He stepped out, looked around, then turned and nodded to her. “Looks safe.”

“Of course it’s safe. You lived in New York too long.” She walked out past him.

“Meredith, Bonneterre isn’t the little town we grew up in any more. Even before Hurricane Katrina, it was booming.” He stopped her again and planted his hands on her shoulders. “Please don’t ever take your safety for granted. Not even here in the garage with security guards on duty. If anything happened to you…”

Meredith blushed and dropped her gaze.

“Look, I don’t mean to alarm you. But in this day and age, anything could happen.” He kept hold of her a moment longer, then let go and readjusted the straps of his bags on his shoulder.

Whose viewpoint is that scene in? Major’s or Meredith’s? Now, read it again:

Major changed the subject. “Your mom invited me to drop by their New Year’s open house. You going?”

Meredith shook her head. “No.” The simple answer held a magnitude of surprise.

“She said she had something she wanted to talk to me about.”

The porcelain skin between Meredith’s brows pinched. “Hmm. No—I don’t usually go over for the open house, just for our family dinner later. Instead, I’m fixing to go home, sleep for a few hours, and then head over to the new house—I’m planning to get the paint stripped from all the woodwork in the living room and dining room tomorrow.”

“In one day?” Major grunted. Meredith’s new house was anything but: a one hundred-year-old craftsman bungalow everyone had tried to talk her out of buying. “Wouldn’t you rather relax on your holiday?”

“But working on the house is relaxing to me. Plus, it gives me a good excuse to go off by myself all day and be assured no one’s going to disturb me.”

The elevator doors opened to the dim, chilly underground parking garage. Major took hold of Meredith’s arm and stopped her from exiting first. He stepped out, looked around, saw nothing out of the ordinary, then turned and nodded to her. “Looks safe.”

“Of course it’s safe. You lived in New York too long.” She walked out past him.

“Meredith, Bonneterre isn’t the little town we grew up in any more. Even before Hurricane Katrina, it was booming.” He stopped her again, planted his hands on her shoulders, and turned her to face him. “Please don’t ever take your safety for granted. Not even here in the garage with security guards on duty. If anything happened to you…”

Meredith blushed bright red and dropped her gaze.

“Look, I don’t mean to alarm you. But in this day and age, anything could happen.” He kept hold of her a moment longer, then let go and readjusted the straps of his bags on his shoulder.

Now whose viewpoint is this scene in? See how just a few little things that come from deeper inside the character’s head keep us grounded in whose viewpoint it is?