2006-03-13 0834 Writing: He sat before his computer, wondering what to write, wondering how to write. The words came easily to him, but the question remained;

A Writer’s Angel

He sat before his computer, wondering what to write, wondering how to write. The words came easily to him, but the question remained; should events occur in the past, or in this strange real-time space where the reader sees the plot unfold before their eyes. Should he write directly from the mind of the central character, or from the viewpoint of a floating non-existent disembodied thing; a writer’s angel hovering over the story calling every one else “he”, “she”, “him”, “her”. That angel goes where no other character in the story can. It can float over scenes thousands of miles apart, travel into the mind of first one character then another, listen and share their deepest thoughts with the reader.

That angel is a boon to writer’s everywhere, thought the Author. He sits on my shoulder, a literate intermediary between storyteller and avid reader. The angel is a confidant, an ally and a betrayer. He can show the murder taking place, but hide the murderer’s identity. He is a trickster, directing the reader to see only what he wants to show them. He is the writer’s best friend.

The angel is the Third Person, the watcher in the corner.

The writer sat back and turned to his angel. The angel knew the writer couldn’t possibly see him, but still felt the eyes bore into his non-existent soul.

The writer smiled; “You behave now, or I’ll write the next story using First Person perspective.”

The angel quivered.

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