Writing Tips from Wannamarry U.
POV1
Monica wandered into the parking lot
at Wannamarry U, deep in thought. There was nothing
she wanted more than to be a published romance author,
but as an incoming freshman, she realized she had a
lot to learn. She’d listened carefully to today’s lecture
on point of view, but the concept still eluded her.
If only there were a way to make it clear.
She stacked her books on the roof of
her Dodge Spirit and fumbled in her purse for the keys.
Footsteps pounded behind her, hard and fast. She froze
with fear, gripping the purse to her chest. It must
be the university’s latest threat. Everyone was talking
about him.
The mugger.
“Give me all your money,” he growled
and stabbed a pistol in her back.
She gasped. “I…I will, but please don’t
shoot me with that .44 automatic.”
There was a pause. Seconds ticked away
while Monica wondered desperately if they were her
last. The cold steel of his revolver sent a shiver
up her spine.
Finally, he spoke. “How did you know
what kind of gun I have?”
His question caught her by surprise. But,
of course. The man was standing behind her, and
she couldn’t actually see him or his weapon. “Oh,
I see. I messed up my POV.”
“POV? What’s that? Pissed off villain?”
“No, point of view. You see, from where
I’m standing, there are things I couldn’t possibly
know. Like you’re wearing a red shirt.”
“Dang, lady.” He frowned. “You must
be psychic.”
Monica considered. “Perhaps I am. How
did I know you just frowned?”
“Well, never mind. Just give me that
twenty dollar bill you’ve got hidden in your purse.”
“Hmm. You must be psychic, too.”
“Enough!” He reached around her and wrenched
the purse from her grasp.
She caught a glimpse of his shirt. Red.
How could she have known?
“Lay down on the ground, lady. Face down.
I don’t want you to identify me.”
Good idea. Then maybe he won’t hurt
me. Monica stretched out on her stomach.
He opened her purse. Dang, this lady
carries around a ton of junk.
“Wait a minute,” she said, her nose against
the gritty surface of the parking lot. “This is my POV.
You’re not allowed to think.”
“Oh, yeah? And how are you going to stop
me?”
“I can’t stop you from thinking, obviously.
But whatever you’re thinking or feeling has to come
through my point of view. I can use my five
senses, my intuition, my reasoning skills, or my past
experiences to figure out what is going on. Everything
is filtered through me—”
“Oh, it’s all about you. Typical.” He
dug through her purse. “If you’re so smart, what do
you think is going on now?”
“Well, I can’t see you, but I know you’re
going through my purse. I can hear the sound of you
rummaging through my things. But there’s no way I could
know you have a tattoo on your shoulder that says ‘Shirley.’”
Damn. She knows too much.
“I heard that,” she warned him. “I told
you, this my POV. And you’re about to be arrested.”
“How do you know?”
“Don’t you hear the siren?”
He yelped as tires screeched on the pavement.
“Drop the gun!” a deep voice shouted.
A scuffle erupted behind her. Monica
scrambled to her feet, ready to flee. There was no
need for escape. A young police officer had wrestled
the mugger to the ground. The contents of her purse
lay scattered over the asphalt.
She took a deep breath. “Oh, officer.
Thank God you’re here.”
The policeman snapped handcuffs on the
thief. “Just doing my job, ma’am.” As he hauled the
mugger to his feet, the officer’s biceps bulged in
the tight shirt of his navy uniform.
Monica’s mouth fell open. Why, her rescuer
was so handsome. And so strong.
He deftly stuffed the mugger into the
backseat of the squad car and shut the door. Then he
turned to her with a smile. “Are you all right?”
She was lost. Why write romance when
she could experience the real thing? In her own point
of view. She sidled up close to the policeman. “How
can I thank you, Officer Riley?”
He gave her a confused look. “How do
you know my name? Have we met before?”
“No, but I have a POV problem.”
“I see.” He admired the deep green of
her eyes.
“Are you allowed to do that in my POV?” she
asked.
“Do what?” And those lips of hers. I
bet they’re delicious.
“You did it again. This is my POV,
and I should do all the thinking.”
“Oh.” Officer Riley rubbed his jaw. “Then
what do I get to do?”
“You can talk and move and have expressions
on your face. But I can’t know what you’re thinking.
That would spoil the mystery and magic of romance.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “You like romance?”
“Oh, yes. Don’t you?”
“Maybe. But what do you mean by the mystery
of romance? It always seemed rather…straightforward
to me.”
“Oh, no. It can be wonderfully mysterious.
You see, from my point of view, I can only guess at
what you’re thinking or feeling.”
A hint of a smile played on his lips. “Rather
like detective work?”
“Exactly. I’ll draw whatever conclusions
I can by using my five senses.”
“I see.” He stepped closer. “And what
are your senses telling you now?”
“From your movements, I can see that
you’re interested in me.”
“Mmm.”
“And I would say the sexy sound of your
voice confirms it.” She smoothed her fingers over
his muscular arms. “And you feel like you have excellent
stamina.”
He pulled her against him. “A brilliant
deduction.”
“And you smell like danger and Old Spice.”
He smiled slowly. “All that’s left is
taste.”
She wiggled out of his arms. “We’ll
leave that for later, until the sexual tension rises
and threatens to overwhelm us.”
Damn. He felt it rising right
now.
“I heard that,” she warned him. “Don’t
you dare take over my POV in mid-scene.”
“Fine. Let’s go to my place and start
a new scene. And next time, I get to do all the thinking.”
Monica smiled. Fat chance. As
if she wanted him for his mind.
“I heard that,” he said.
Oh, shoot. She sighed. This POV
was trickier than she’d thought.
Does Monica have eyes in the back
of her head? Will she find true love with Officer
Riley? Will she drive around town with her books
on the roof of her car? Only Wannamarry U.’s. head
librarian Kerrelyn Sparks knows for sure. Stay tuned
for more classes from Wannamarry U..
Click here
to read article 2: Punctuation 101
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