But I often have one piece missing--setting. I don't want to get bogged down in descriptions that are out of place, pull the reader out of the story, or worse, bore the heck out of people. But I know that I need setting if I am going to ground my readers into a world.
Ah, world building. Isn't that supposed to be for paranormal, sci-fi, historical or science fiction? I'm writing contemporary romances, right? I can skim over the details of setting. No. And the more I write, the more I realize that I need effectively weave in setting and backstory so that it is truly part of my characters' lives.
I know this tapestry, rich and filled with many threads, will deepen my characters' POV.
I've struggled with Deep POV. How can I become better at giving my characters a deep POV. One explanation I read really helped me understand this better. I can't remember where I picked this one up-- a Twitter Post leading me to a blog which led me to another blog--who knows. But here it is:
Deep POV is also referred to as Limited Third Person. It takes you deep inside your character, showing not only what he feels in response to a situation, but why he feels that way. It adds a depth of emotion to a scene. In order to achieve deep POV a writer must dig deep into their characters' personalities and motivations. In a sense they become the character, allowing the reader to view the inner workings of the POV character's mind and thus experience the scene as the POV character does. The reader does more than read a story they live it.
Wow. Another way of understanding how to achieve Deep POV is through writing the story in first person, then shifting the work into third person. Tricky! Yup. Now I've never written on the fly as far as fiction goes when it comes to blogging, but I thought I'd give it a whirl.
Disclaimer: I do not do online fiction prompts because my first drafts often consist of words like "insert @@ here" or "Fix later" --get the sad and sorry picture? And grammar is not my ultimate forte--that is why I have CPs LOL (Bless them).
So here goes:
Sometimes when she drove along the small country roads in Northern Alabama during a cloudy day, she was drawn back to when she was a child visiting her Oma in Holland. The Dutch low clouds, gray and billowy, almost touched the ground and made her feel like she was driving through a pillow. The windshield wiper slapped against the glass in a steady cadence, back and forth, mesmerizing her as she rested her head in her Oma's lap while she sucked on a snoopje. The salty, black licorice calmed her carsickness as Oma snuggled her close to her ample bosum. But today, as she drove through the misty rain, the wipers sounded like gongs, and upped the pain throbbing in her temples. The low clouds touching the swampy land were like a suffocating blanket ready to smother her. She pulled into her driveway, opened her garage door and drove inside. No one was waiting inside her house to hold her, or to comfort her with a stolen piece of candy. But she still tasted salt as her tears tracked down her cheeks and moistened her taut lips. She'd always said she'd never die in Alabama. Today she learned she might break that promise.
Disclaimer: this work is a piece of fiction. Please don't start sending me flowers or begin my funeral arrangements.
So what do you think? Am I getting there? I don't know, but I am enjoying the journey.