How the narrative tense shapes the point of view #writing

Every story is different and requires us to use a unique narrative time. Narrative tense conveys information about time. It relates the time of an event (when) to another time (present, past, or future). So, the narrative tense we choose when writing a particular story indicates its location in time.

In my previous post, we talked about narrative point of view. POV is the perspective, the personal or impersonal “lens” through which we communicate our stories. It is the mode we choose for conveying a particular story.

The narrative tense we gravitate to is also a component of our voice.

We shape our stories by combining narrative time with two closely related aspects:

• Narrative point of view.
• Our narrative voice (we’ll explore this more later).

The way that narrative tense affects a reader’s perception of the characters is subtle, an undercurrent that goes unnoticed after the first few paragraphs. It shapes the reader’s view of events on a subliminal level.

• “I eat.”
• “I am eating.”
• “I have eaten.”
• “I have been eating.”

The above sentences are all in the present tense. They contain the present-tense form of a verb: eat, am, and have.

Yet, they are different because each conveys slightly different information, a different point of view about how the act of eating pertains to the present moment.

Revisions are a mess for me because I “think aloud” when writing the first draft. Passive phrasing finds its way into the prose.

When I begin my second draft, those weak verb forms function as traffic signals. They were a form of mental shorthand that helped me write the story before I lost my train of thought. But in the rewrite, weak verbs are code words that tell me what the scene should be rewritten to show.

I’ve used these examples before. Each sentence says the same thing, but we get a different story when we change the narrative tense, point of view, and verb choice.

• Henry was hot and thirsty. (Third-person omniscient, past tense, passive phrasing.)
• Henry trudged forward, his lips dry and cracked, yearning for a drop of water. (Third-person omniscient, past tense, active phrasing.)
• I struggle toward the oasis with dry, cracked lips and a parched tongue. (First-person present tense, Active phrasing.)
• You stagger toward the oasis, dizzy with thirst. (Second-person, present tense, active phrasing.)

This is a moment in time for these thirsty characters, and the way we show it to our readers is meaningful in how they perceive the scene.

Sometimes, the only way I can get into a character’s head is to write in the first-person present tense. This is because the narrative time I am trying to convey is the now of that story. (This happens to me most often when writing short stories.)

Every story is unique; some work best in the past tense, while others must be set in the present.

WARNING: When we write a story using an unfamiliar narrative mode, watch for drifting verb tense and wandering narrative point of view.

Drifting verb tense and wandering POV are insidious. Either or both can occur if you habitually write using one mode but switch to another. For this reason, I am vigilant when I begin writing in the first-person present tense, but later discover it isn’t working for me. If I were to switch to close third person past tense, each verb must be changed to match the new narrative mode and time.

But changing an entire draft to a different narrative mode isn’t the only danger zone:

• Time and modes will drift sometimes for no reason other than you were writing as quickly as you could. For this reason, when you begin revisions, it’s crucial to look at your verb forms to ensure your narrative time doesn’t inadvertently drift between past and present.

So, where does voice come into it? An author’s voice is their habit, their fingerprint, a recognizable “sound” in the way a story is communicated.

The way we habitually phrase sentences, how we construct paragraphs, the words we choose, and the narrative mode and time we prefer to write in is our voice. It includes the themes we instinctively write into our work and the ideals we subconsciously hold dear.

So, our voice (or style) is formed by our deeply held beliefs and attitudes. We may or may not consciously intend to do it. Regardless of intent, our convictions emerge in our writing, leitmotifs that shape character and plot arcs.

As we grow in writing craft and our values and beliefs evolve, that growth is reflected in our voice. We get better at conveying what we intend to say, and our style of writing reflects it.

A fun writing exercise is to write a 100-word short story in a narrative mode that you dislike. Think of it as a little palate cleanser.

Then, rewrite it in that same mode but using a different narrative tense. You might see a wide array of possibilities that a new narrative mode and tense bring to a scene.