Lesson Two _ Part Two

Lesson Two Assignment #2

  One of the best ways to experience the power of point of view is to write an emotionally strong scene between two people who, when they tell their story, have very different versions of the experience. This is a practice in writing in First Person POV

1.  Write a fight between two people, perhaps a mother and a daughter or a father and a son. A fight has built in tension, which makes the scene easier to write. You also have opportunity to use dialogue - when people fight, they usually have a lot say!

2.  Begin by asking yourself what is the issue between the characters (mother & daughter or father & son, or any two people).

3.  First write the scene from the daughter's point of view. This means you get inside only the daughter's head. The reader can hear what the mother says and see how she acts, {throught the daughter's eyes} but cannot know her thoughts. This exercise brings you totally inside the daughter. The only inner thoughts you use belong to the daughter.

4.  Then put the daughter's story aside and write the scene from the mother's point of view.

  You need not have the exact same dialogue and almost certainly the story will be very different from the mother's point of view.

5.  This time around, you show the reader only the mother's inner thoughts. The daughter speaks and acts but we do not know her motivations other than by what she says and does, as shown through the Mother's eyes!



This is a great eye opener of an exercise geared to deepening your understanding of the writer's technique of point of view. You should use first person for both versions of the dispute. Show how each character distorts things in his/her favor.



Lesson Two – Part Two

Example One—Aunt JoAnne’s POV

         “What the hell were you thinking?” I said in a calm voice—considering.  I had just seen the police to the door and was struggling with the door’s deadbolt lock.

         I turned to look at my nephew and waited.  He frowned and answered, “I don’t know.”

         “You not only managed to get arrested for possession—but you lied to me when you said you were going to bed and sneaked out to buy pot.  I don’t know—“

         “I texted you.  Didn’t you understand it?”

         “Yes.  But what have I told you for over a year now?  If you are going to break rules or laws, you had better be prepared to take the consequences.  I guess you will believe me now.”

         “I tried to give you a head’s up.  I texted you.  You were supposed to refuse to let them search me.  I’ll never be able to trust you now.”

         “You’ll never be able to trust me!?  Are you crazy?”  For a minute, I thought I’d heard him wrong.

         “No.  I tried to let you know.  Then I would have come home and you would have handled it . . . which is what every other parent in the country would have done.  But you let me down.”  I watched as he threw himself back into the corner of the sofa and scowled at me.

         I shook my head and was pretty sure I heard something rattle—obviously I had a screw loose.  “Do you ever listen to the crap that comes out of your mouth?  You can’t trust me because YOU lied, sneaked out—again and bought pot?”

         I dropped into the nearest chair and laughed.  “This is too rich.  If it wasn’t the middle of the night I’d call your grandmother to tell this—it’s priceless.”

         “I tried to help you,” RJ whined in an exasperated tone.

         “Oh no!” I said, shaking my head at him.  “You were trying to help yourself!”

         “Well . . . yeah.  But I was trying to help you too.  This is going to ruin Christmas—“

         I cut him off with another laugh, “You think?”

         “Just calm down, Aunt JoAnne.  I was thinking of you too.  Now you’re going to have to take me to court and if they put me in juvy you’re going to have to bring me my work from school every day.  It’s going to make a lot of work for you.”

         I just stared at him.  Maybe he was insane, after all his mother had been a nut-case.  I tried to lower my voice—which had been creeping up a notch with every exchange—and was about to try again when RJ asked, “Can I have my phone?”

         “No!”

         “Come on.  I just want to make a quick call—“

         “You might never get your phone again,” I snapped.  “Oh, and that Xbox 360—that ship sailed.”

         “What do you mean?” 

I looked at him and blinked.  He was serious. I turned to face him fully and said in a firm, slow voice, “I mean that you will not be getting the Xbox 360, the games you wanted or the subscription to Xbox Live.  You are also not getting a bicycle and you will not be leaving the house until you turn eighteen.”

“Are you f****** kidding me?”

“Do not swear again.  You are a hair’s breath away from ‘Nowhere’ Utah and ten months of boot camp—on your dime.”

“You can’t use my money if I won’t let you.”

“Oh contraire, mon cher.  I can and will.”  I studied him sitting there, thinking that it was a very good thing my brother was dead.  Then I took several cleansing breaths and continued, “And then—as if it isn’t bad enough—you argued with the policemen about the inferior quality of the pot?  Is there anything in that rock-hard skull of yours?  Is there?”

“Well, it wasn’t good pot.  And that business about the baggies being paraphernalia is b*** s***.”

“I told you not to swear.  The officers explained that that is Arizona law—if it holds drugs, it’s paraphernalia.  Too bad for you, you don’t get to make the rules.”

“It will be all right.”

“This is what . . . your fifth and sixth felonies?”

He grinned.  “Ah . . . I think this will be eighth and ninth.  But they won’t know about the ones in Connecticut.”

“On what psychotic plane do you live?  What?  You don’t think they’ll find out?”

“Well, not if you don’t tell them.”

I shook my head at him and whispered, “Go to bed.  We will discuss this in the morning.”



Example Two—RJ’s POV

         I followed the cops into the kitchen.  Big Jo looked pissed.  But so was I.  I texted her – don’t let them – and she told them to go ahead and search me.  It was f****** jaywalking they stopped me for.  All she had to do was say ‘no’ and none of this crap would be happening now.  I stood there in front of the ‘fridge and tried to look sorry.

         I watched the first cop hand her my cell phone and money and show her the two piddling bags of weed.  Then she signed the paper and gave me one of her creepy looks.  I shoved my hand out for my phone.  “Can I have my phone?”

         “No.”

         “But it’s my phone.”

         Then the second cop piped in, “No, it’s her phone.”

         I leaned against the refrigerator and concentrated on not blowing up.  The cops headed towards the door.  She shook their hands and so I did.  I mean, it couldn’t hurt, could it?  She was trying to get the deadbolt locked when she asked, “What were you thinking about?”

         I fell back on the old reliable “I don’t know.”

         “You not only managed to get arrested for possession—but you lied to me when you said you were going to bed and sneaked out to buy pot.  I don’t know—“

         Now I was getting mad.  After all, it was all her fault.  “I tried to give you a head’s up.  Didn’t you understand it?”  She was getting very red.  I hope she doesn’t have a heart attack—that’s the last thing I need.

         “Yes.  But what have I been ragging you about for over a year now?  If you’re going to break rules you’d better be prepared to take the consequences.  I guess you’ll believe me now.”

         “I tried to help you.  I texted you.  You were supposed to refuse to let them search me.  But you screwed up.  You’re always going on about trust.  I’ll never be able to trust you now.”

         “You’ll never be able to trust me!?”  She was starting to go purple now.  I hoped she was done.  But no such luck, ‘cause she blabbed on, “Are you crazy?”

         Now I was mad.  “No.  I tried to let you know—help you.  Then I would have come home and we would have handled it ourselves . . . which is what every other parent in the country would have done.  But not you.  YOU let me down!”  I sat on the end of the couch and played with the dog and tried not to look at her. 

         “Do you ever listen to the crap that comes out of your mouth?”  She was as purple, but she did have a kind of splotchy look.  I wished I’d paid more attention in health class.  I mean even I’d be suspicious of myself if another adult died when alone with me.  “You can’t trust me because you lied, snuck out and bought pot?”

         She plopped down into her chair and made a sketchy laugh.  “This is too rich.  If it wasn’t the middle of the night I’d call your grandmother—this is priceless.”

         All right.  Now, she was going too far.  It was her fault.  And Grandma would bitch at me all through Christmas.  “But I tried to help you.”

         Aunt JoAnne lurched forward in her chair and yelled, “Oh no!  You were trying to help yourself!”

         “Well, partly.  But I was trying to help you too.  This is going to ruin Christmas—“

         “You think?” she said.  In just that bitchy voice my sister used.

         “Just calm down, Aunt JoAnne.  I was thinking of you too.  Now you’re going to have to take me to court and if they put me in juvy you’re going to have to bring me my work from school every day.  It’s going to make a lot of work for you.”

         I decided to change directions and asked, “Can I have my phone?”

         “No!”  She just yelled it—which was totally uncalled for.

         “Come on.  I just want to make a quick call—“  Actually, it was a couple—but I didn’t tell her that.

         “You might never get your phone again.  Oh, and that Xbox 360—that ship sailed.”

         I knew what she meant.  She said stuff like that all the time, but I decided to play dumb and asked, “What do you mean?”

         Now she got really snotty and said, “I mean that you will not be getting the Xbox 360, the games you wanted or the subscription to Xbox Live.  You are also not getting a bicycle and you will not be leaving the house until you turn eighteen.”

         I was mad now.  “Are you f****** kidding me?”

         “Don’t swear again.  You’re about a second away from ‘ButtF*** Utah and ten months of boot camp—on your dime.”

         “Not with my money.”  I had plans for that money—and it sure in hell wasn’t camping alone to ‘find myself’ one hundred miles from anything in every direction—especially not with $60K.  That was a lot of pot—a lot of the best pot.  Hell, it was a car.

         “You’re wrong.  I can and will.”  The splotches had either gone or they’d just spread into one really big one.  I thought she was winding down, but then she started up again, “And then—as if it isn’t bad enough—you argued with the cops about the quality of the pot?  Is there anything in the head of yours?  Is there?” 

         “But it wasn’t good stuff.  And that business about the baggies being paraphernalia is b*** s***.”

She was totally looking crazy now.  “I told you not to swear.  The cops told you what the law is—if it holds drugs, it’s paraphernalia.  Too bad you don’t get to make the rules.

         “It will be fine.  I’m not going to jail.”  She really had no clue.  I’d told her this before—it was like she didn’t believe me or something.

         Big Jo made a face and asked, “This is what . . . your fifth and sixth felonies?”

         “Ah . . . I think this will be eighth and ninth.  But they won’t know about ones in Connecticut.”

I might have smiled here, which was probably a mistake, ‘cause she turned red again and growled, “On what psychotic plane do you live?  You don’t think they’ll find out?”

“Stop yelling.  This is crazy talk.  They won’t if you don’t tell them.”  I knew this was pretty much crap—but I thought if I could calm her down I might still have some kind of Christmas.

She shook her head at me and whispered, “Go to bed.  We will discuss this in the morning.”  I bolted before she could start yakking again.  But I wasn’t looking forward to the morning.