I Can't Write in Third Person

Several years ago (or maybe several more than that), I saw a quote from a well-known novelist that belittled children's literature: "Anyone can write for children," this well-known novelist said, "because anyone can write in first person." (Full disclosure: the quote went something like that, and before you ask me who said it, I'll tell you that I can't remember.)

My knee-jerk reaction was one of righteous indignation: How dare said well-known novelist insult writing for kids! Kids are the only people worth writing for in the first place! But beneath the controversy, there was something sharp and true that this novelist was saying.

Writing in first person is easier than writing in third.

THE SOUND OF LIFE AND EVERYTHING and DON'T VOTE FOR ME are both written in first person. So is DON'T SOLVE THE PUZZLE and the next manuscript I wrote (which is on submission at the moment). So is Bonnie. So is this. So is almost everything I've written since I first signed with an agent.

I love writing in first person because it makes a novel so accessible. Readers can insert themselves into the story because the pronouns insert them into the story. But what I never considered until recently (read: what I never considered until I went back to writing in third person) is that writing in first person also makes the novel more accessible to the person writing it.

When you're writing in first person, your narrative voice and the main character's voice are, of course, one and the same. Even when you're writing in close third, there's some degree of separation between the main character and the narrator, and that separation has somehow changed the way I write, especially the connective tissue. Once I'm entrenched in a scene, I don't find it (as) difficult to write snappy dialogue, but it's in the connective tissue--the transitions between chapters, between sections, between scenes, and even between moments within the same scene--that your voice really shines through. I think that's the major difference between a good book and a great one. Good books have great scenes, but great books have great transitions that make you want to savor every word.

Because the narrative voice is the ONLY thing that makes connective tissue worth reading, the contrast between writing in first and third becomes sharper. In first person, you can borrow your MC's wit and personality to imbue transitions with more life, but you have more work to do when you're writing in third person. It's almost like you have to cultivate a whole other character, one who's never seen but whose voice is always heard.

I don't have it figured out. I'm working on two manuscripts right now, both of which are in third person, and the going has been slow, awkward, and more than slightly frustrating. But maybe I need to cut myself a little slack. Writing in third person is different than writing in first, and the sooner I figure that out, the sooner I might (finally!) make some progress.

The Living Christ

Several months ago, I asked myself how I could make my Sabbath-day worship more meaningful, and one of the thoughts I had was that I could memorize "The Living Christ." This proclamation was issued on January 1, 2000, a few weeks before my sixteenth birthday, by fifteen men who stand as special witnesses of Jesus Christ. On last Sunday, exactly one week before Christmas, I memorized the last paragraph, so in keeping with this Christmas season, I thought I'd share it with you.

What follows is my recitation of "The Living Christ." I typed it out just before I wrote this introduction and only referred to my own memory. As such, I probably messed up some of the punctuation and/or capitalization, but I hope the words themselves are accurate. (I did go in and add the scripture references after the fact, though the quotation marks are mine.)

As we commemorate the birth of Jesus Christ two millennia ago, we offer our testimony of the reality of his matchless life and the infinite virtue of his great atoning sacrifice. None other has had so profound an influence upon all who have lived and will yet live upon the earth.

He was the Great Jehovah of the Old Testament, the Messiah of the New. Under the direction of his Father, he was the creator of the earth. “All things were made by him, and without him was not anything made that was made” (John 1:3). Though sinless, he was baptized to fulfill all righteousness. He “went about doing good” (Acts 10:38), yet was despised for it. His gospel was a message of peace and goodwill. He entreated all to follow his example. He walked the roads of Palestine, healing the sick, causing the blind to see, and raising the dead. He taught the truths of eternity, the reality of our premortal existence, the purpose of our life on earth, and the potential for the sons and daughters of God in the life to come.

He instituted the sacrament as a reminder of his great atoning sacrifice. He was arrested and condemned on spurious charges, convicted to satisfy a mob, and sentenced to die on Calvary’s cross. He gave his life to atone for the sins of all mankind. His was a great vicarious gift in behalf of all who would ever live upon the earth.

We solemnly testify that his life, which was central to all human history, neither began in Bethlehem nor concluded on Calvary. He was the Firstborn of the Father, the Only Begotten Son in the flesh, the Redeemer of the world.

He rose from the grave to become “the first fruits of them that slept” (1 Corinthians 15:20). As Risen Lord, he visited among those he had loved in life. He also ministered among his “other sheep” (John 10:16) in ancient America. In the modern world, he and his Father appeared to the boy Joseph Smith, ushering in the long-promised “dispensation of the fullness of times” (Ephesians 1:10).

Of the Living Christ, the Prophet Joseph wrote: “His eyes were as a flame of fire, the hair of his head was white like the pure snow, his countenance shone above the brightness of the sun, and his voice was as the sound of the rushing of great waters, even the voice of Jehovah, saying:

“I am the First and the Last. I am he who liveth; I am he who was slain. I am your advocate with the Father” (D&C 110:3-4).

Of him, the Prophet also wrote: “And now, after the many testimonies which have been given of him, this is the testimony last of all, which we give of him: that he lives!

“For we saw him, even on the right hand of God, and we heard the voice bearing record that he is the Only Begotten of the Father;

“That by him, and through him, and of him, the worlds are and were created, and the inhabitants thereof are begotten sons and daughters unto God” (D&C 76:22-24).

We declare in words of solemnity that his priesthood and his church have been restored upon the earth--“built upon the foundation of apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief cornerstone” (Ephesians 2:20).

We testify that he will someday return to earth. “And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together” (Isaiah 40:5). He will reign as king of kings and rule as lord of lords, and every knee shall bend and every tongue shall speak in worship before him. Each of us will stand to be judged of him according to our works and the desires of our hearts.

We bear testimony, as his duly ordained apostles--that Jesus is the Living Christ, the immortal Son of God. He is the great King Immanuel, who stands today at the right hand of his Father. He is the light, the life, and the hope of the world. His way is the path that leads to happiness in this life and eternal life in the world to come. God be thanked for the matchless gift of his divine Son.

In memorizing these powerful words, I hope that I can claim, at least in some small way, this beautiful testimony as my own.

*If you have any questions or comments, feel free to leave them below. Conversely, if your question or comment is of a more personal nature, you're always more than welcome to e-mail me at kvandolzer(at)gmail(dot)com.

Are You Hooked?

I entered Bonnie's first page in this week's in-house critique session over at Authoress's blog. This story is probably closer to my own truth than any of the other stories I've written, and for the last couple of months, I've been seriously thinking about self-publishing it. If you have a few minutes, I'd love to hear what you think!

Where Are We Supposed to Go from Here?

I'm not sure what to say right now. I keep logging on to Twitter, scrolling through my feed, getting sad/tired/upset, and logging back out. I can't deal with the world right now, not its hatred, not its violence, not its nastiness.

In some ways, I feel like an outsider looking in. I didn't vote for Mr. Trump, but I didn't vote for Ms. Clinton, either. As a compassionate conservative, I feared--and still fear--a Trump presidency, but I couldn't get behind enough of Ms. Clinton's policies to really get behind her. Add to that the fact that I think they're both compulsive liars who've broken several major laws, and the last thing I wanted to do was give either one my vote. But I'm still in disbelief. I'm still mourning what I thought was the greater of two unhappy outcomes. I'm still sad/tired/upset.

Where are we supposed to go from here? I thought Ms. Clinton's concession speech and President Obama's come-to-Lincoln moment were noble and inspiring, and even Mr. Trump's victory lap was more gracious than I thought it would be. But that hasn't seemed to make one speck of difference on the ground. Xenophobes are jeering. Protesters are marching. Racists are being racist. (I'm trying to construct a time machine and skip ahead to 2020, but science was never my best subject.)

I'm disappointed in my country, which I think made the wrong choice. I'm disappointed in my state, which had a historic opportunity to reject both major-party candidates and vote for real change. (In the end, we voted for the guy everyone thought we would vote for, the guy who's been saying about Muslims what Governor Boggs said about many of our ancestors when, in 1838, Missouri legalized the wholesale killing of Mormons.) And I'm disappointed by the vitriol that's still flying back and forth. President Obama said we weren't Republicans or Democrats but Americans first.

To be honest, I'm not sure that's true.

I don't know where I'm going with this. I don't know why I'm even writing it. I guess I just want to say we can't keep going as we have. We have to change our hearts and minds if we ever hope to be one nation, or someday, we will fall apart.

Five Winners!

Without any ado, Dr. Stender's winners:

#12 THE TITANIC CAPER
#20 ESCAPING FATE

THE TITANIC CAPER and ESCAPING FATE win full requests!

#19 SOUL RIPPER

SOUL RIPPER wins a request for the first 100 pages!

#4 VERY CAREFULLY AND NOT ALL AT ONCE

VERY CAREFULLY wins a request for the first 75 pages!

#23 LIGHT KEEPER

LIGHT KEEPER wins a request for the first 50 pages!

Congratulations, winners! Please e-mail me at kvandolzer(at)gmail(dot)com for instructions on how to submit your materials.

Lastly, a big thank-you to Dr. Stender for taking the time to share his insights and a big thank-you to YOU for being brave enough to enter and critique. I know it isn't easy to have your work picked apart, but I hope the experience has been instructive. Best of luck with your other queries, and happy Halloween!

The Agent = Uwe Stender of Triada US Literary Agency

This month's agent was Uwe Stender of Triada US Literary Agency! From his website: "Literary Agent Dr. Uwe Stender is a Full Member of the AAR (Association of Authors' Representatives). He is interested in all kinds of commercial fiction, especially Young Adult, Middle Grade, Mysteries, and Women's Fiction. He is also interested in all kinds of non-fiction projects. But surprise him, his tastes are eclectic, and he may just love what you wrote!

"His favorite five novels right now are: Eleanor And Park, How It Went Down, Code Name Verity, High Fidelity, and The Big Sleep."

If you'd like to connect with Dr. Stender, definitely check out his new Twitter handle, @UweStenderPhD. I'll announce his winners in a few!

It's "An Agent's Inbox" Time!

Check out the entries below, then leave some feedback in the comments if you feel so inclined. (ENTRANTS, PLEASE REMEMBER TO CRITIQUE AT LEAST THREE OTHER ENTRIES!) And I'm sure this goes without saying, but please keep your comments constructive (i.e., not rude or mean-spirited). If you want to think like The Agent, you might consider the question, "If you were an agent, would you request more of this entry?"

I'll reveal The Agent's identity and announce his or her winners and prizes at the beginning of next week, but until then, have at it!

(For your information, I take out profanity when I'm formatting the entries, so if you notice any asterisks, they're my asterisks, not the entrants'. Also, entrants, if you find a Krista-generated error in your post, feel free to shoot me an e-mail, and I'll correct it straightaway.)

An Agent's Inbox #25

Dear Mystery Agent:

DANGER TASTES DREADFUL is a middle grade fantasy, complete at 34,000 words. Think of the gentle humor and friendship in Eva Ibbotson's THE GREAT GHOST RESCUE with the classic adventure style of the NARNIA books. The novel stands alone, but has series potential.

Ten-year-old Bernie is a troll, and trolls should be fearless. At least, that’s what Bernie’s dad says. But before Bernie gets a chance to prove himself, giants stomp into the forest and steal his parents. Now, the timid, always-hungry Bernie and his mischievous, rock-obsessed best friend, Tish, must travel together across the barren lands to Mount Dreadful and find a way to keep their loved ones from becoming the main course in a giant feast.

Inside Mount Dreadful's smoky caverns, Bernie and Tish discover the giants have enemies of their own who may prove even more dangerous than the giants. Bernie and Tish must figure out who is friend and who is foe, rescue the captured trolls and escape the mountain, all without getting squashed or roasted or eaten alive.

I have published short stories in several small press SFF print anthologies, as well as stories and poetry for both children and adults in magazines such as Beyond Centauri, Strong Verse, and Enchanted Conversation.

Thank you for your time and consideration.

Regards,

B.L.

DANGER TASTES DREADFUL

To a troll, trouble had its own spicy, cinnamon smell. Bernie recognized it because a faint whiff always hung around his best friend, Tish. But the tang in the air smelled much stronger. He bent down, close to the ground. His green, sweaty feet stank, but it was something else. He sniffed again, then stuck out a thick, stubby tongue and licked the dirt path.

It tasted bitter, though somehow familiar. Bernie thought about where he might have tasted it before, when he felt a beetle wriggling on his tongue. He spat out slobber-covered twigs and leaves across the path, but caught the beetle and munched on it, enjoying its crunchy flavor.

Bernie stopped chewing. That bitter flavor was the taste of danger! He looked around, but didn’t see anything unusual. No footprints on the path. No looming shadows under the trees. No beady eyes peeking out from behind a bush. Nothing moved except the leaves which danced in the gentle breeze.

Crack!

The loud noise echoed through the forest. Bernie stared in the direction of the mysterious sound. He knew what he should do, what his dad would do. He should investigate, find the trouble, stop the danger. After all, trolls were tough and feared nothing.

At least, that’s what his dad always said, but Bernie didn’t feel tough. His knees wobbled, his ears lay flat and his heart hammered like a woodpecker in his chest.