Is First Person Really More Intimate?

Some time ago, a writing buddy of mine received a “Revise and Resubmit” (R&R) on her crime novel, with an attached editorial note stating that the editor thought it would work better in first person.

For a moment, I want to reflect on the simple fact that she got an R&R. People, this is an awesome thing for a writer to get.

1. It's not a rejection.
2. The acquisition editor saw something in your story and writing that has great potential, but they felt the manuscript wasn't quite ready to take before the powers that be who issue and sign contracts. The editor is giving the writer another chance.

If you get an R&R, celebrate! Then take the time to look over the editorial notes and seriously consider their merits.

Okay, so after we finished celebrating the fact she got an R&R, she told a group of fellow writers about the editor wanting the manuscript in first person. There were roughly ten of us around the table that day, and several piped up quickly to say, "first-person narratives were more intimate." There I was, sitting on the other side of the table, biting my tongue. The others in the room were so adamant about their view, and nothing I could say would change their point of view. More importantly, my writing buddy agreed with them.

If people don't want to hear it, your advice will fall on deaf ears.

In my years of writing and editing, there is one thing that I have learned that will always stand true: it doesn't matter who is in the right, because at the end of the day, it's the writer's story. They have to do what they think is best for their story, regardless of what anyone has to say. If they don't want to hear it, they will completely ignore your suggestions — and possibly get angry or upset with you for making the suggestions in the first place.

So, it didn't matter if I knew that the others around that table were wrong. As far as they were concerned, first person was more intimate. Never mind that it's actually the depth of perception that creates that intimacy.

A few weeks later, I asked my writing buddy how the rewrites were going. She about burst into tears, frustrated beyond belief, because the first-person voice just wasn't working for her. Finally, it was time for me to come in and be the voice of reason.

"Is it possible that the reason the editor suggested that you rewrite the manuscript in first person was because they wanted to see a deeper perspective in the narrative, but didn’t know how to convey that concept? First-person narratives delve into the inner emotions and thoughts, but third person can too, if you use a deep point of view."

She sat and looked at me stunned. Everyone else around her was insisting how intimate first person is, getting deeper into the head of the POV characters. Yet, here I was saying that she should continue using third person, but deepen the perspective.

She changed out her pronouns, shifting her manuscript back into third person, and suddenly, the manuscript worked for her. Off she went, working on her rewrites, but in third person with a deep perspective. That particular manuscript will hopefully be published by the end of the year, assuming she doesn't hit many snags during the final stages of the publication process.

There are two lessons to learn from this little tale:

1. Just because an editor says it should be one way doesn't mean that they're right. It's your job as the writer to look at the editor's feedback and identify what exactly they're getting at — especially if their feedback is going to lead to massive rewrites. They have identified an issue, but their solution is not the only solution. The talented and experienced writer can take that feedback and morph it into something that works for them.
2. First person is not more intimate. Deep POV is.

You don't believe me? Please say you at least believe me on point number 1: where the editor is not always right.

It's the depth of perception that makes first-person narratives intimate.

So, let's look at a first-person example to deal with this intimacy misconception.

I could feel my head throbbing, which made me reluctant to open my eyes. I took deep breaths, because I felt dizzy and I knew I wasn't strong enough to raise my head. My tongue felt like it was glued to the roof of my mouth.

It's clear what is happening to the POV character, but this passage is bogged down in TELL, distancing the reader from the character. It doesn't matter that this was written in first person, there is no intimacy about it.

BTW, the above example is what is commonly seen from many new writers delving into first person for the first time. Similar constructions are also common in third-person narratives, but that's a conversation for a different day.

To give more connection within this example, the obvious solution (and the one many will recommend) is to use more show.

My head throbbed and I was reluctant to open my eyes. I took deep breaths until the waves of dizziness lessened and I was strong enough to raise my head. My tongue felt glued to the roof of my mouth.

Okay, we can experience the events described a little more and a picture starts to form in the head. For many, this will be as far as they go with their depth of perception; however, I feel that I still don't know anything about the character or the way they perceive the world. I want to go deeper!

It was like someone decided to turn my head into a bongo drum. The pulsating was nauseating. I have no idea how long I laid there on that floor, my eyes closed and taking breath after breath, trying to keep my stomach from heaving, but it was long enough for my tongue to stick to the roof of my mouth.

We get a sense of the POV character's disorientation and we are fully immersed into the pain and nausea. It wasn't the fact that it was written in first person that created the intimacy. It was the deep POV. You can achieve the same effect in third person. Still don't believe me?

It was like someone decided to turn Veronica's head into a set of bongo drums. The pulsating was nauseating. She had no idea how long she laid there on that floor, eyes closed and taking breath after breath, just trying to keep the contents of her stomach down, but it was long enough to give a sandpaper feel to her tongue that stuck to the roof of her mouth.

Okay... So, I embellished a little on the details. I couldn't help myself. Third-person, deep POV is my preferred narrative style for my personal writing.

To me, the third-person variant is just as intimate as the first-person version, but there is a hint to a different kind of story — simply because different genres have different expectations when it comes to first vs third person.

The first-person version would happily find its home in a contemporary romance or woman's fiction, possibly even a coming-of-age story or one about a person fighting cancer. However, the third person version would work well in a crime novel or a thriller.

I'm a fan of deep POV and show in general. Through the deeper POV, you get a sense of a character's personality and how they perceive the world. This is important if you want to create an immersive feeling to your story. As demonstrated above, intimacy within narrative is not restricted to first or third person, but it requires an understanding of the depth of perception.

Sign up to our mailing list and get a copy of this subscriber-only download. It's a worksheet designed to help you think deeper, changing the way you approach a scene depending on whose POV that it's written from.