When it comes to the narrative voice of a piece, there are many factors to consider—singularity versus plurality, closeness, point in time, and reliability to name just a few. Last September, I wrote this Kernel concerned with selecting the correct point of view for a story in a very broad sense. But the truth of the matter is, every story, when told well, has a unique POV crafted by calibrating an almost endless list of dimensions. That is rightfully intimidating, because it is, in my opinion, the craft element that most frequently sets apart good work from great work. One of the POVs (in the largest sense of the term) that is most fascinating to me is the first person plural. It is rarely written, or at least rarely published, and I believe the reason for that is because to succeed in the first person plural, one must have a mastery of several other perspectives.
Now, as I’ve said before, I am not a fan of taking writing “rules” at face value, so what follows is not a prescriptive list of how to approach the first person plural, but rather an exploration of the factors I see as imperative to understanding this point of view. I encourage everyone to experiment writing and rewriting stories from every perspective, but especially the tricky ones.
What “we” have to offer that “you” and “they” and “I” don’t
My favorite thing about the first person plural, is that it invites you to write every other standard POV within the same piece. Yes, it necessitates the “we” act as the basic element of self-reference, but nothing holds back that “we” narrator from talking to or about “you,” “you all,” “he/she/they,” “them,” and, yes, even breaking off to talk about a single member of the we as “I.” That means a single story can employ the levels of familiarity, interiority, and distance of any POV while still remaining consistently under a single narrative voice.
To illustrate this:
We want to tell you a story that we have never told before. We want you to know what he did last summer. He was an angry and greedy man with a tendency to chew through the meat of his cheeks until they bled. I did not agree with the others at first, that this story should be told, but what else is there to do, when the blood stains the floor for all of them to see?
In the example above, the narrative voice exists as a first person plural, but references “you” (second person), “he” (third person singular), “I” (first person singular), and “they” (third person plural). Of these, the integration of “I” into an otherwise first person plural perspective is likely the rarest, but it is by no means unprecedented. In his novel in flash, We the Animals, Justin Torres regularly moves between a singular and plural narrator. George Saunders does the same in his short story “Sparrow.”
I think it would be hard to argue against the powerful use of such a versatile and adaptive perspective, but as with any powerful force, it requires an understanding of the amount of pressure—in this case, the movement between different perspectives—one can apply. For example, if the narrator speaks about the mysterious “he” for too long, a return to “you” or “we” could become unintentionally jarring. For this very reason, there are many first person plural narratives that exact a stricter adherence to the “we” voice, for example, Jeffrey Eugenides The Virgin Suicides.
What it means to be (or not to be) a part of the team
Conventional wisdom dictates that a narrative voice should remain consistent throughout a piece. This presents a dilemma for this amorphous POV. How should a narrator switch from “we” to “I” or break off to talk about a singular member of the we as a separate character? The answer is: intentionally.
In Joshua Harmon’s short story “Rope,” the first person plural narrator is an unnamed character and their sister Mindy. In this particular piece, with more than forty references to “Mindy” and over fifty to “I”, you might think the proper categorization is first person singular, and yet there are over a hundred references to the first person “we.” Each time the writer chooses to break the “we” into its individual parts, the reader feels echoes of the main thematic question of the piece. Who are these characters separately versus collectively, and how does that self-definition define their choices, actions, and inactions?
By selecting any POV, a writer is defining a status quo of voice, but if we know anything about successful storytelling, it is that a status quo can and often should be disrupted. Any time the narrative voice detaches a piece of the “we,” the effect should be intentional. Like a poem with a single line that breaks meter, the writer should be aware that they are drawing the reader’s attention and creating emphasis. Use that emphasis to the advantage of your storytelling.
“We” aren’t like those other POVs
Because of the scarcity of “we” narratives, the use of plurality is going to offer the reader a unique experience. It is the writer’s job to craft a piece with the level of confidence that novelty (like writing experimental fiction) requires. This article from Electric Literature’s Read Like a Writer Series talks about how this POV stands out to readers, and one of my key takeaways has to do, once again, with confidence.
If you ask a lawyer what makes a piece of evidence valuable, one of the things they will bring up is corroboration, or the ability of multiple facts, information, and accounts to lead to the same conclusion. Corroboration is built into a plural narrative. Anything that the “we” says is corroborated by its multiple parts. The writer can use this built-in tool to establish the outlandish as factual, or to subvert the readers’ expectations. Perhaps the “we” is not as honest or reliable as our brains want it to be. Perhaps the “we” has been a singular entity all this time and its use only signals a delusion.
I’ll be honest with you, I haven’t fully cracked the first person plural point of view. I’ve written many stories, all flash fiction, from this point of view trying to figure out how to get all the magic out of it. I think some of these stories were successful, though most of them have since evolved into other POVs. I will keep trying, because one day, I will come upon a story idea that can only be told by “us.”
My kernel of advice: Give “us” a chance. “We” might be the best way to tell your story.
Inspiration, Information, & Insight
Natalia didn’t quite finish The Patron Saint of Liars before her travels started but she’s hoping to find the time on planes and trains.
This past week Sarah was on a “word fast”—an intentional abstention from reading and writing—as part of her efforts to recover from an intense semester in graduate school. Instead she spent her time getting back into her body by working out daily, going on hikes with friends, and gardening. She also took a solo “artist’s date” to a nearby city to visit an art museum and treated herself to a nice lunch. She’s headed into next week feeling well-rested and raring to go on a couple of summer writing projects.
Shelby is reading We Were the Universe by Kimberly King Parsons and is enjoying its similar themes and compelling weirdness to All Fours. She watched the Books Are Magic livestream author talk of Parsons in conversation with Chloé Cooper Jones. Parsons mentioned Veronica—a book Natalia has recommended to Shelby and which Shelby had bought and still hasn’t read—as a book of inspiration, and now Shelby is determined to integrate it into her more immediate TBR pile.
Neidy has been busy with work this week, but she was able to sneak in listening to a few episodes of her favorite podcast, The Shit No One Tells You About Writing, and rereading a good portion of The Deluxe Transitive Vampire, which the kernelists are reading along with some other writing friends.
Never considered all the benefits & wonder of this POV!
Also I just Veronica and it was INCRED. Thanks for the req @Natalia & definitely read ASAP @Shelby!