I’m reading through a text book that was recommended to me. It’s the Novel Maker’s Handbothe book by Diane O’Connell. I’ve mentioned the book before, but working through it has helped me to clarify. 1) I am definitely a pantser, I still am not fond of that term, but the author uses it, quite often, the other half of the club for novice writers is the plotter. Which I definitely am not. I don’t plan for anything. 2.) My topic – POV. I have tried to make heads or tales of that concept. I thought I’d sit down and write a novel without one consideration of how I wanted to write it. However, there are rules and not following said rules can make for a confusing Hodge-podge of words. I am attempting to write in Third Person Multiple, which can be considered omniscient except the POV needs to be limited overall (up to five) and only one per scene. So I am going to explore an idea I have using the 3pM format. Every edit I have done so far was doable, but I had to keep in mind that the POV in the scene cannot read the mind of the person they are engaged in a dialogue with. They can only hear what is being said, witness body language, and can only analyze their own thoughts. So with that in mind I will attempt it out of the box.
Her place of solace was her own chamber. She would spend hours in the window seat looking out her window. It was a ritual she had developed by necessity. Away from the scrutiny and comparisons to her sisters by her mother. Years ago her brother left a picture book behind and she quickly absconded with it and tucked it away. She would often be positioned in her window seat with her feet above her head, ankles crossed, and petticoats drawn back to expose the skin between her slippers and shin–reading the book. Her brother had read it to her on visits so many times that she memorized the words and began to recognize them on sight. The corresponding pictures, barnyard animals and green countryside, also gave clues to the words she began to know. She played games with the words and watched the seasons change while hidden behind the veil of the window dressings that concealed her space.
She could never be caught in such an unladylike position and slipped the book underneath the cushion at a moments notice. Instead of learning an instrument or endless hours of needlepoint she wore the pages of her book to a much thinner and creased version of itself.
She calculated the routine of the servants, who cooperated with her by their structured schedules. She knew when they would come and go, what areas would be skipped on a certain day due to a more pressing obligation. It was those times she would sweep through the servants quarters looking for journals, newspapers, and flyers. Anything containing words she could make use of.
Once in a great while her father would come up to the terem and spend time with her. Her mother would not approve of the individual attention he would give her. She would simply attribute her mother’s objections to her unusual interests and pastimes so foreign to her she couldn’t bear it.
“Father, where is Pavel?” she asked not so much for the fact that her father alone wasn’t enough for her entertainment, but she wanted to know what he did on a daily basis.
“He’s with his tutor, Katia. Same as every other time you ask me.”
“What is he learning today?” she asked.
“He’s with Moncliff, so it’s mathematics I believe,” he said.
“What does he need to know that for?” she asked.
“Katia, you have too many questions. Show me something you’ve done.”
“Why father, I’m observing,” she went to her window and opened the Damask drapes and voile panels. “I had Trudy open the window, can you smell it?”
Her father stepped by her side and breathed in the fresh air. It was pleasant enough and he looked at her sideways and smiled.
“It’s Spring, it’s quite a different smell than Winter. Of course, I can’t have my window open when it’s cold, but sometimes Trudy freshens the room and I love the smell of the clean cool air and the patterns the frost makes on the window.”
“Katia, you remind me so much of…my mother. I wish you could have known her. You have her coloring, but she was a very sensual woman as well. She loved the sights and sounds and…life, she loved life. She was taken away from me far too soon. She would have loved you, too.”
“Why do you only talk about her when we are alone? Wasn’t your mother…?”
“Now, Katia, we don’t mention her to the others because…it’s our secret. Our little secret. The others would feel bad because they look nothing like her. So, we’ll just share her between us. All right? Well, Katia, I have to go collect Pavel, he’s coming with me into town.”
“Why, can’t I ever go into town with you?” she said stomping her foot.
“If I bring you, I’ll have to bring everyone of your sisters including your mother and the maid servants.”
“Father, that used to work when I was small, but now? What is the problem? Why can’t I spend more time with you? Outside of this?” she spread her arms out wide and turned in a compete circle ending in his caress.
“Katia, you are my precious girl,” he said. “Too precious to take outside where there are those that could harm you.”
She looked at him with one eyebrow raised.
“Well, dear,” he said taking her to the door of her chamber. “I have to speak with your mother before I leave.” he said and she walked half-way down the hall and let go of his hand. He disappeared around the corner and she turned to go back to her room that still held the essence of her father mingled with the Spring air coming in through the window of her private world.