I’m not sure about you folks, but when I start a story, I usually have a clear idea of what POV it should be from, then invariably I get part way through and wonder if a different POV would tell the story better.

Despite thinking about this a lot, I have to say that I rarely follow through, mostly because I find it hard to write in some POVs.

So, in the interest of developing my POV muscle, I’ve been doing some exercises to play around with perspectives. As always with the exercises I do, the quality of the writing is not my foremost consideration – rather, it’s about having a play, trying something different, and getting the creativity flowing for the writing session to come.

So that I don’t get distracted by working out what to write, I usually choose a well know story that I can play with. Here’s a few paragraphs I was messing around with recently. If you don’t know the story, then I think I have bigger problems than needing to practice POV!

I grab my hood, wondering not for the first time, which of my ancestors thought the family colour should be red. I mean, I like red and all that, but it sure ain’t discreet when I’m walking through the woods. Worse than that, it pretty much signals ‘wounded animal right here – come and finish me off’. I really must talk to Dad about getting some new camo threads. I know what he’ll say, but still, it’s worth a shot.

***

Little Red grabs her hood form the hall stand wondering, as she has a habit to, which of her ancestors thought that red should be adopted as the family colour. It’s not that she wasn’t fond of red – she was – but rather it was that it made her a real beacon when she was in the woods.

***

You stomp down the hallway, grabbing your hood off the rack by the front door. As always, you can’t help but wonder what brain-dead ancestor of yours thought that red would be a good choice of family colour, given the amount of time your family spends in the woods. The same woods that were inhabited by an always hungry wolf that has a penchant for human flesh. You squeeze your feet into your black, lace-up boots. They’re standard army issue; you picked them up at the disposals store last year (probably explains why they are now a bit of a squeeze – you’ve really shot up these last few months).