Trap: Headhopping

Headhopping is when we switch between the perspectives of characters mid-scene. It's confusing for readers and can throw them out of the story.

Headhopping generally happens when a writer doesn't stick to POV guidelines. Here are some tricks I use in some of the more troublesome styles.


Third Person Multiple

In this POV we spend an entire scene or chapter within one character’s perspective. In the next scene, generally, we switch to the POV of another character. In each scene we see the world through the eyes of that particular character, and no one else. This includes the character’s internal feelings and reactions. A good example of this is Game of Thrones.

A quick trick I use to keep from headhopping in third person multiple (and third person limited) is to think of it as writing in first person:

"I threw a twenty on the table."

Only swap out the personal noun for something more distant.

"Mike threw a twenty on the table."

"He threw a twenty on the table."

Since you're locked to one perspective in first person it is impossible to headhop.


Subjective Omniscient

In this POV the story is told by a narrator who knows the inner thoughts of the characters. The narrator should be written as a character his or herself, and have a strong voice. Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy is an example of the Subjective Omniscient POV done well.

Think of it as a grandfather telling a story to his grandkids. His “voice” should come through in the text. You'd be in the grandfather's POV the whole time, so any headhopping between characters wouldn't feel unnatural.


Objective Omniscient

In this POV the narrator is all-knowing but doesn’t have a voice and is unable to relay the inner thoughts of characters. A distant, unbiased observer.

I tend to think of this POV as “movie-mode” because when writing I imagine a camera filming the action. We can see what the characters are doing and saying, but we don’t know what they’re thinking—it has to be guessed through physical cues and dialogue.

Trap: The Irony of Speed

I'm so fast. Hey! Look how fast I'm going!

This is a trap many overeager writers fall into when writing action scenes. Describing something as happening "quickly" has the ironic effect of slowing the action down. More words in a sentence means more information for the reader to process, which slows the pace.


Big Bad Betty sank the eight ball in the corner pocket. "Pay up, honky."

"Ain't got no money," said Stranger.

Before Big Bad Betty could even open her mouth, Stranger snapped his pool cue into two stakes, spun fast as a whirlwind, and drove one stake into her heart. Betty's two thralls barely realized what had happened before Stranger swiped some billiard balls off the table. He hurled the balls at them, striking one on the nose and the other on the jaw. They both fell hard and fast to the ground.

Suddenly the bartender pulled out a shotgun. Thinking quickly, Stranger dove out the nearest window.


See how the unnecessary words drag the pace? If you want to keep readers breathless, the key is to write short, clean sentences. Tell us what happens in as few words as possible.


Stranger snapped his cue and drove it into Betty's heart. He chucked the billiard balls at her two thralls. Hit one in the nose. The other in the mouth. They both dropped.

The bartender fired a shotgun. That's Stranger's cue to leave. He dove out the window.


Things happen much quicker without the extra words. And in the last sentence we replaced a "quick" word with some internalization from Stranger, showing us his dry wit.

Mucous Lightning!

Trap: Repetition

Tell my wife I'll be home for dinner.

Tell my wife I love her.

The Law of Conservation of Ninjutsu states that each team of ninjas has the same finite amount of "power" of martial arts, therefore a team with less ninjas has more powerful ninjas. That's why when an action hero takes on many foes, it's no sweat. But when facing a single enemy, he'd better watch out.

Repetition in a novel works the same way. When used once it can be very effective. But with each subsequent use it loses impact. When used too much the reader will grow bored, like the Avengers cutting through hordes of robots.

So it's a good idea to limit instances of repetition to maybe once or twice a novel. And it's important you repeat something worth repeating, to draw attention to an important revelation or a character's breaking psyche. Like so:


I walked among the fallen soldiers until I found Bryan. Dead. My son was dead.

Here the repetition is drawing attention to the mother coming to terms with her son's death, or her mental breakdown—whatever the context of the story leads you to believe. Now imagine another repetition was uttered later:


The dish slid out of my hand and broke against the floor. I broke something again.

That last sentence may have some deeper meaning depending on context. Regardless, see how its presence dilutes the impact of the first sentence ever so slightly? Now imagine another repetition appeared in a later chapter:


Diane left that afternoon. Left me again. For the last time.

Now it's beginning to be too much. Notice how the repetitions have the unintended effect of comparing a dead son and a leaving daughter to a broken dish? Any more of these and the reader will begin to think that this character just likes to repeat her thoughts. This is especially bad in third person novels. When multiple characters use repetition, the reader will assume it's just a writing crutch the author likes to use. Because it is.


Since your repetitions are finite, it's important to use them in the right place. Try not to use it like this:

It had been two days since the battle had ended. Two days since the smell of burning flesh had filled the air. Two days since the barbarians had swept through Hampstead. No survivors.

Here the repetition draws attention away from the more important passages. Is it really that important the reader know this happened two days ago, three times over?

It had been two days since the barbarians swept through Hampstead. No survivors. The smell of burning flesh still filled the air.


Repetition is like a quiet exclamation point. Use it sparingly.

Tips and Traps: Breadcrumbs and Connecting-the-Dots

“Connecting-the-dots” is a kind of expository writing trap that many writers fall into. When
characters move in space or time, the writer describes detailed steps of the physical action or internal thoughts/feelings required to get the character from one place to the next—connecting the dots for the reader. Even if the writing is solid, connecting-the-dots is still expository and it slows things down. It feels like empty space to the reader.

As a general guideline, unless something important is happening physically (action) or emotionally as a character moves from one action/event to the next, we don't need to see it. Think of this as laying out breadcrumbs for the reader to follow. When we're following actual breadcrumbs up a trail, we just need to be able to see the next one ahead. Each one doesn't have to be touching our feet in order for us to make the connection and continue the journey.

Breadcrumbs are the opposite of connecting the dots. Instead of tracing every step of the journey, you as the writer make choices about what's most important, and then use those moments to move us through the story. Trust readers to imagine the extra details and events.

Below I'll show you the difference between "breadcrumbs" and "connecting-the-dots" using the opening page of an old trunk novel of mine that I've been reworking. It hasn't really settled into a genre, but right now it is middle-grade horror.









Breadcrumbs:

Moonlight shone through a paper window, onto Mina. She lay on the stiff wooden floor, her teddy bear acting as a pillow. Waves crashed against the pebbled beach outside. The stones jostled under the surf.

A decrepit old woman appeared in the doorway. Her eye-sockets were empty. She floated towards Mina. The old woman's feet dragged, thumping over cracks in the floorboards. As she passed out of the moonlight, she glowed in a greenish hue. Just a common ghost, then. Not a gwisin. Nothing to worry about.

The ghost made a crackling noise deep within its throat.

“You're almost there," said Mina. "Come outside and I'll show you the way." The ghost did not acknowledge her. They never did. But Mina liked to believe that ghosts understood humans on some level.



Mina stood on the beach, just out of reach of the waves. All around her, ghosts marched into the sea.

She bowed three times to the distant island, the Land of Spirits. After the third bow she remained on her knees and prayed. “Mom, I can’t sleep. I’m scared about tomorrow.”


Now let's look at an early draft of the same scene. The dot-connecting is labeled red. Since this writing trap makes passages overlong and grinds the pace to a halt, I'll pick it up from Mina talking to the ghost, which is where the most egregious dot-connecting takes place.


Connecting-the-dots:

 

The ghost made a crackling noise deep within its throat.

“You're almost there," said Mina. "Come outside and I'll show you the way." The ghost did not acknowledge her. They never did. But Mina liked to believe that ghosts understood humans on some level.

She arranged her faded, loosely fitting shirt and trousers before sliding the door open and stepping onto the creaky walkway outside. She signaled the ghost to follow. Mina slipped on a pair of worn shoes and stepped onto the grass, breathing in the cool night air as she glanced upward and saw countless stars glittering in the sky. The beach lay before her and a bamboo forest stood behind. Her simple, thatched roof hut sat on a strip of tall grass that separated the beach from the trees. “This way.” said Mina as she strolled toward the water.

Mina stood on the beach, just out of reach of the waves. All around her, ghosts marched into the sea.

Mina pointed herself in the direction she knew the Land of Spirits to be and bowed, touching her hands and knees to the ground, before standing upright. She repeated this two more times and after the third time, remained on her knees. “Mom, I can’t sleep. I’m scared about tomorrow.”


While the first red paragraph has details to help the reader visualize the world, there isn't anything there that is immediately relevant. We see Mina put on her clothes, open the door, put on her shoes, look around (which is filtering), before finally heading to the beach. Nothing relevant to the plot or revealing of Mina's character happens. Even if something is going to happen in the forest later, its not necessary to see the forest until it factors into the story. We expect to see Mina at the beach with the ghost, and the longer it takes for her to get there, the more "work" we feel like we have to do to become engaged in the story.

Readers are good at imagining transitions. There's no need to "walk there" if nothing affects the plot along the way. In the "breadcrumbs" version I replaced the entire red paragraph with a scene break.

In the final paragraph we see physical dot-connecting. Is it necessary to see the individual steps of the bow? Maybe. The difficulty of the bow may show Mina's devotion and work ethic. But if you stack up too many point-by-point descriptions the writing will become dry. Let readers imagine these mundane actions.

Trap: Simultaneous Actions

This is related to dangling modifiers. The sentence construction is often similar.

Grabbing his backpack from the table, he strolled down the road enjoying the sunshine. 

Very long arms?

Taking a swig of his coffee, he carried on with his knitting.

Three hands?

To fix simultaneous actions, make sure your characters are doing one thing at a time, in logical sequence:

He grabbed his back pack from the table, then strolled down the road enjoying the sunshine.
 

After taking a swig of his coffee, he carried on with his knitting.

 

Trap: Dangling Modifiers

A dangling modifier is a word or phrase that modifies a word that is not in the sentence, or modifies a word other than the one it intends. Examples in red.

Sipping wine on the terrace, the moon looked almost full.

The moon was sipping wine on the terrace?

Walking up the drive, the castle  came into view.

The castle was walking up the drive?

Pondering what she had said, his fingers twanged her bra strap.

Thoughtful fingers?


To resolve dangling modifiers, make sure the word you intend to be modified is in the sentence:

As they sipped wine on the terrace, the moon looked almost full.

She walked up the drive. The castle came into view.

Pondering what she had said, he twanged her bra strap.

Trap: Independent Body Part Syndrome

This is when we see body parts apparently acting independently of their owners:


His hand reached out to stroke her hair.


His foot kicked her ankle.



Unless you specifically mean to indicate that the character’s hand, foot, or other body part is acting without his conscious volition, it is preferable to write:


He reached out to stroke her hair

or

He stroked her hair – in many cases his reaching out will go without saying.


He kicked her ankle.

Trap: Filtering

Filtering is when you describe a character’s thought processes and experiences rather than allowing the reader to experience them.

A filtered scene might read:

Turning, she noticed a handsome vampire standing in the shadows. It seemed to her the expression on his face was disdainful and cold.

An unfiltered version of the same scene would read:

She turned. A handsome vampire was standing in the shadows, the expression on his face disdainful and cold.

In the first passage, the reader is watching the character as the character watches the vampire. In the second, the reader is watching the vampire with the character – this gives it more immediacy and impact.

Words and phrases that often indicate a scene or passage is filtered include:

She noticed...

He saw...
She felt...

He tasted...

She heard...
He remembered...
She looked...
It seemed to her…

Synonyms for those words are filters too. Glanced, watched, recalled… The list is endless. Be sure to watch out for synonym phrases too. "He thought back to" is the same as "He remembered." Strike out the filters and simply describe the action.

Remember: we should be in the POV character's head, seeing the world through their eyes. Not standing beside them, watching what they do.