It’s always a thrill to post pictures of my church’s annual mystery dinner. I co-write these with a talented woman named Teresa McCarthy. It takes about two months total (give or take) to pen the script. Teresa and I have a blast creating a cast of characters that are funky, fun, and murderous. The setting for ‘Murder Bavarian Style’ was The Mordburg Bier and Strudel Festival.
This is a serious cast pose.
This is a not-so-serious cast pose.
(Wondering which one is me? I’m the Russian countess in the silver Rod Stewart wig.)
The two books I’ve written so far are in first person point of view, and it was stinking easy. I channeled my main characters and spoke their dialogue aloud. (Note: this drives my family nuts.) It’s like performing on stage, becoming a living, breathing, conniving Lady Macbeth or a hooting monkey for Kipling’s Just So Stories. No problem. Give me that dang script!
My new work-in-progress has four main characters, and I switch who I am channeling from chapter to chapter. In close third. Spitting close.
How’s that working for me?
Perplexing, but invigorating. I’m working harder. Thinking harder. Asking myself, “Whose brain am I in right now?”
The German word for point of view is Gesichtpunkt. The translation: face point, or where your face is pointed. Isn’t that a good visual for what’s involved in point of view? Follow the character’s nose (or bulgy eyes or pointed chin, whichever works for you).
(Graphic courtesy of Pixabay)
Close third person is cool, but hard. Some chapters I am drafting in all four MC’s point of view just to see which one reads better. It’s like watching a movie where the same scene is played out through different viewpoints. I like it.
In November I have the pleasure of going to a Highlights Foundation workshop titled ‘Understanding Close Third Point of View’. I am thrilled beyond measure, practically biting at the bit. And feeling extremely blessed. So blessed.
Yeah, that’s me–Little Miss Prissy Pants on the left. This picture was taken when I was seven years old. It’s about the time when I became a major storyteller. Now some people might argue that I was a liar-liar-pants-on-fire. They’d be right.
You see I discovered the power of words, and I used that power to weave wondrous tales. A plain dry bean in my hand morphed into ‘the’ magic bean, and I substituted my name for silly old Jack’s. It’s how I rolled. It’s how I survived.
Looking back, my imagination helped me rise above some pretty hard circumstances. I think this gift came from the Irish side of my family. I had a crazy uncle who could paint vivid pictures with words. He swore every bit was true. I’m a wee bit saner than Uncle Jay.
Perhaps this joy I have with word play is why I write for children. I am still the seven year old with a big imagination who has a lot to say.
(And the little blonde to the right? It’s my younger sister who was in cahoots with me in acting out adventures. I was the flame. She was the kindling.)