Thou Shalt Not Head Hop

Recently, Rebecca told me we needed to write a blog post against head hopping. In my usual fashion, I nodded agreement. Then she told me if I was bored, I could write it.

Shortly after realizing her suggestion wasn’t a suggestion, I said a few choice swear words and decided I was in fact bored enough to write the blog post in question. Wishing I could head hop to someone more interesting, I got to work.

“Head hopping” is the term for when you change points of view during a section of writing, in essence “hopping” between the heads of your characters. Multiple perspectives in a short time frame combine to confuse your readers, throwing them rudely out of the world you’ve created for them and making them decide to go pick up another book, like my latest flash fiction collection, A Terrible Place.

Now, you may be saying, “But D.L., I see stories told from multiple perspectives all the time!” To which I nod sagely and agree.

The key here, though, is organization. Multiple perspectives are fine, as long as the reader is able to understand the shift without having to think about it too much.

Thinking, you see, drop kicks the reader out of your story, perhaps never to return.

Readers come to fiction to escape the need to think. They want to be lost in a world of fantasy, in a story so compelling they have no problem ignoring the toddler climbing in their lap to demand chocolate. Nor do they notice that they’ve now opened seven chocolate bars for said toddler, who is riding a sugar rush that has transformed them into a three-foot-tall Godzilla.

So, what does head hopping look like? I’ve prepared an example for you:

Rebecca sighed. She wanted her publishing company to put out a blog post on head hopping, but she didn’t have time to write it because she was having a tea party for her stuffed animal collection.

“Maybe I can talk D.L. into writing it,” she muttered.

Rebecca’s husband looked over from the next room. He’d gotten used to most of his wife’s strange behaviors, but the stuffed animal tea parties still threw him a little.

D.L. heard the chat alert chime on his phone, but ignored it. The number of people using head hopping in their writing had skyrocketed, and as a result, sales of his latest collection were going up almost as fast.

Atlas climbed onto his dad’s lap, chocolate bar in hand. Dad was in such a good mood today, he kept looking at his computer and grinning. It was like he didn’t notice that he, Atlas, kept asking for more chocolate. Dad would just unwrap the next bar, pat him on the head, and go back to looking at his computer.

Finally, D.L. picked up his phone and looked at the message. Rebecca wanted an article about head hopping? No! His sales would plummet! He started to tap out an angry reply, then stopped. He did owe Rebecca a favor, for covering for him when he wanted to go to the Polly Pocket convention. With a sigh, he told her he’d see what he could do.

Rebecca saw the message and jumped for joy! Running to her room, she grabbed all her stuffed animals and carried them to the dining room table. Placing each of them in a chair, she went to the kitchen to start the teapot.

At this point, you’re probably not lost (I did try to make my example easy to follow), but I hope you see why the constant shifting can be annoying to a reader. In seven paragraphs, we bounced between four perspectives, each with their own motivations and goals.

For a reader, it is a lot to keep track of.

Readers want consistency, to stay with one character until an obvious transition point, like a new scene or chapter. They don’t want to pinball around multiple perspectives and try to make sense of it all.

It’s a form of sensory overload. Too much information can be just as bad as not enough.

Let’s take a look at the example again, this time told from just one perspective:

The phone dinged.

D.L. looked away from his computer to see who it was. Rebecca. She probably wanted him to do something so she could hold a tea party for her stuffed animals or some other bullshit.

He winced in pain as a small foot dug into his groin, and looked up to see the smiling face of his three-year-old. Atlas held out a chocolate bar, and D.L. unwrapped it. Jumping back to the floor, Atlas ran out of the room, roaring like a dinosaur.

Rebecca’s problem would not be fixed as easily.

Opening the message, he saw she wanted him to write a blog post on head hopping. Jesus. Other writers head hopping was behind the skyrocketing sales of his latest collection. Why would he want to undermine that?

Then D.L. remembered he owed Rebecca, for covering for him so he could go to the Polly Pocket convention. With a sigh, he typed out his reply: “I’ll see what I can do.”

See the difference? By narrowing the perspective to a single character, the same information is conveyed to the reader without breaking them out of the story.

We don’t need to get inside everyone’s head to tell a story. Narrowing your focus will help your readers engage with your characters and make your stories easier to follow.

And if sales of my latest collection, A Terrible Place, plummet, so be it…