Point of view: a reader and writer’s perspective

Writing has made me a more critical reader. My latest library book lost me as a reader because of technical issues. Besides some rather drab characters and a meandering plot, the POV shifted so often I was starting to feel the main action of the story was my ability to leap about between character’s heads. I won’t tell you what the book  is because I don’t want to bash another writer. I can tell you that the main reason I picked it up was author recognition.

Besides being irritating, it raised all kinds of questions.  How is a well known published writer allowed to commit these major editorial sins? Where is her editor? Does this bother anybody besides me?

Point of view is challenging. It was a difficult concept for me to grasp and flipping between character’s heads is easier than channel surfing. It’s so easy to do without being aware of it, but my handy dandy desktop Self-Editing for Fiction Writers helps guide me through these muddy waters.

I also find it useful to read books, like the annoying one mentioned, which ignore this important element because it makes me aware of how much I don’t want to inflict these mental gymnastics on my readers.

As a writer, it took me a while to understand which point of view I was even writing in, but once I did, it raised my POV consciousness. For me, writing a fantasy seen through the eyes of a cat, means I must ‘become the cat’.

As a reader, I don’t have the patience to stay with a book that forces me to guess who’s thinking what. I returned the book to the library. Now I need something good to read!

A Conversation with my muse

For the life of me I cannot figure out why certain things catch my attention and others float past with barely a mental nod.  Odd little things, like commas. First it was the Oxford comma.  Now it’s the Comma Splice.

“Why commas?” I asked my muse. “Why do I care? It’s a little strange, don’t you think?”

There’s a deep silence, then a barely perceptible shrug .  “Why not?” he purrs.

“But it’s not earthshakingly important. It’s not like commas affect the global template of things like politics, banking or the environment.”

“It’s a power thing,” he says.

“What? Power? Are you crazy?”

“Maybe,” he says, ” but look at it this way. You don’t have any control in the political arena, and it’s hard to save an iceberg when you live in California, unless it’s lettuce in the garden. But commas. You do have power over those. It’s the little kingdom of grammar and punctuation that you can do something about. Ooops.”


“Ended a sentence with a preposition. Hah, you didn’t even notice.” 

“Did too.”

“Right. So, take your pick. Feel helpless at not being able to save the world. Lie awake at night worrying about bailouts,  global warming, or which despot might set off a nuclear bomb….or get control of your commas.”

“I see your point.”

So, what’s the comma issue this time?


“Is that something like wire splicing?”

“How do you know about wire splicing? You’re just a cat.”

“That’s rude. Be nice or I’ll leave.”


“You forget that I pay attention to everything. You should know better. Isn’t the old man an electrician? All these years I’ve been watching. You think I haven’t picked up a few things about the electrical trade? I’m going to leave and find a good napping place.” 

“No, no. Don’t leave. I just didn’t figure you’d be interested in electrical wiring.”

“You know you’ve digressed quite a bit here in this blog. Why don’t you get to the point?”

“Yes, thanks. So…I was reading articles on grammar tonight and the one that caught my attention was about comma splices. It wasn’t a term that was used when I was in school, so I looked it up. It’s really nothing more than a run-on sentence, but the term bothers me for some reason.”

“Please go on. This is fascinating,” he says, no longer purring, but getting heavy lidded.

“You’re being sarcastic, but I have no one else to tell this to, so try to stay awake.”

A deep sigh from my muse, but I plunge forward. “A splice is the joining of two things, like wires and wood. Now I’m all for the joining together of things, but not when it is two independent clauses joined together by a weak little blip of a comma. It’s like two sentences trying to get in on one ticket. It’s not ethical.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Give me an example.”

“I thought you’d never ask, I have one right on the tip of my tongue.”

“Aha! I caught you.”

“You are paying attention, aren’t you? O.k. Here’s another one. 

“Wire connectors are ideal for splicing multiple electrical wires together, they come in a wide variety of sizes and types.”

“You couldn’t resist the electrical plug could you? No pun intended.”

“You’re so funny.”

 “O.k. Grammar Geek. Pray tell, how does one solve this grammatical atrocity?”

“It’s so simple. Usually a period works. Or, when appropriate, a connecting word like ‘and’ or ‘but’.  But it’s the term ‘comma splice’ that still grates on my senses. It doesn’t fit. It draws all the attention to the comma giving it some misplaced validity.”

My muse’s eyes are closed, so I’m on my own. Then it comes like a flash.

“Oh wait! I know why it bothers me. A splice usually refers to the joining of two things that are meant to be together, like rope or wire or film. But in this case, splicing together two complete sentences is a grammatical error. Only in the use of commas is a splice not a good thing. What were they thinking?”

He opens one eye, looking askance at me. “You know, my purpose here is to inspire creative flow, not to be a sounding board for your meditations on these technical anomalies.”

“I’m almost done. I was just thinking that the term ‘run-on sentence’ was what we used when I went to school. That term actually defines and identifies the grammatical problem. ‘Run-on sentence’ was good enough for me and my generation.”

“I think your showing your age.”

“Hmm. You might be right.  Maybe I’ll take a nap with you.”