Recently, I gave a talk at the online summit Perfect Your Process about dramatic irony.
One question that came up several times in different forms was how to structure multi-POV stories. And knowing I didn’t have the time to go through it all, I answered a bit vaguely.
- Should you alternate between POVs evenly?
- How many chapters should each person get if I include them?
- Do you still use the four-act structure with two POVs, and which POV gets the plot points? Are both getting them? Do you alternate between who gets the plot points?
Yes, I understand where these questions are coming from.
When I say “it depends,” I can already feel the sigh.
Because a recipe is so much easier.
A single-POV story is something we’ve encountered so many times that many writers can cook it like bread. How do you bake bread? Well, breads can be slightly different, but most breads have these basic ingredients: you need flour, yeast…
But with several POVs, the question sounds more like: how do you cook food? Well, to be able to help you, I have to say that it depends. On what food. What are you trying to make?
So I understand the need for structure as a writer. But I still want to backtrack a bit.
Why is structure there? To provide a framework so the writer can create an emotional experience for the reader—and make them want to turn the pages. I recommend starting with the emotional experience you want to create.
Start here:
- Why do you want to write this specific type of multi-POV story?
- What do you love about it as a reader?
- What emotions does it stir in you?
- And how are the different viewpoints contributing to—or even better, creating—that experience?
Go deep and articulate this for yourself in as much detail as you can. Show it to your writing group, discuss it, and you’ll get even more valuable perspectives.
Deciding how many POVs a story should have is going to influence everything ahead, and you want to be mindful of why you’re doing what you’re doing—and where you want to take the reader.
When do you add a new POV? When the story gets better because of it.
“But Ina, what if the reader expects there to be a certain number of chapters from each?”
The reader will forgive almost anything you do if it serves the story.
Throw in a new POV smack-dab in the middle? Yes—if that crazy turn is what the story has been building toward all along.
Just one POV from the love interest, in one seemingly random place? Yes—if the reader needed to see this one thing to go back to rooting for the couple after thinking their case was lost.
This is why, when writers ask for this advice—and when writing teachers give it—they often say “don’t do this” or “don’t do that.” Those are the only “rules” everyone can agree on. Using it badly is worse than not using it at all.
But I’m not your stern English teacher. I trust you to be, in Brandon Sanderson’s words, a chef, not just a cook.
Multi-POV is a superpower. With great power comes great responsibility. To the reader.
Rather than making a new POV feel like a chore or a tool for inserting information, can you introduce it at the moment when the reader is craving that character’s perspective, as Stieg Larsson does in his Millennium trilogy?
So let’s talk about what you want to create.
Do you want to create juicy reveals that shock the audience? Or escalate the tension by throwing in the POV of the villain and show how the hero is struggling in vain to win the day?
Then, alternating chapters from the start is probably not the best choice at all. You might want to change POV towards the end, like The Housemaid. Or you might want to start alternating chapters towards the end when the tension has been building and you want to up it another gear, like Louise Penny in How the Light Gets In.
Do you want to create an epic tragedy like Game of Thrones? Then you introduce a cast of characters who together build toward a tragic climax (Ned Stark’s death), and make most other POV characters act in ways that complicate and escalate the situation—with or without their knowledge. Plot points? The story builds whenever the inevitable Stark–Lannister war draws closer.
And remember: you’re painting with several colors instead of black and white, so you need to hold multiple threads in your head. Each character is on an individual journey—even if it’s not a full four-act arc. Where do they start? Where do they end? And does each chapter shift them, even slightly?
And a heads-up: creating an epic multi-POV series before you’ve written a single-POV novel is like trying to paint the Sistine Chapel before finishing a single portrait. You’re setting yourself up for trouble. Remember that George R. R. Martin wrote many shorter works before Game of Thrones—that’s where he built his skills.
Finish something smaller first. Make sure you can do it well. Then return to your epic.
Do you want to write a romance or romantasy, and you’re unsure whether one or two perspectives work best? Mythcreants has a great article on how to make that decision. While they lean toward “cut extra POVs and keep it simple”—which I understand, even if it’s a bit uninspiring—they ask the right question: your viewpoints should make the romance better, not worse.
Do you want to follow mainly one perspective, but add just a drop of another POV at key moments?
The Harry Potter series creates a ‘rule’ that it adheres to over the seven books: chapters from other POVs can only come at the beginning, before we get into Harry’s perspective. That gives it a sense of restraint and order so it can build reliable expectations, but also gives leeway for the author to create intrigue, stakes, and expand the scope without sacrificing the advantages that come with following one character tightly.
It’s your playground. You create the rules.
The only thing a reader asks of you is that everything be done with purpose. And that purpose is to create a rich emotional experience.