Written by Mia Alaniz
“Intention is the key—if there’s a reason to be moving in that way, then just go with it.” —Lucas Schaeffer
How do writers decide whose we see through, which voices shape a narrative, and how point of view influences what a reader comes to understand? These questions guided our November Third Thursday, where Writers’ League of Texas Program & Member Services Manager Lore Arnold hosted authors Lucas Schaeffer (The Slip) and Jennifer duBois (The Last Language). The evening was centered on the art and implications of first, second, and third-person narration—how each perspective challenges, constrains, and expands what a story can do.
Lucas Schaeffer opened up the conversation with a deep dive into his dynamic approach to point of view in The Slip. His novel begins with an omniscient narrator before shifting into close third-person chapters that follow several characters. As Schaeffer explained, “For much of the novel, we’re in close third person,” but the book also includes one first-person chapter, one in first-person plural, and even one written in the second person. He uses these shifts to signal early on that the narrative in The Slip will bend and stretch the rules of point-of-view. “Hey, this is a little bit different… but go with it,” he said.
Because The Slip hinges on the slow unfurling of a mystery, Schaeffer emphasized how point-of-view can function as a tool for shaping what the reader knows and when they know it. He wanted moments where the audience holds more information than certain characters, and his use of omniscience made that possible. Earlier drafts introduced these shifts too late and created dissonance; moving them up allowed him to set expectations and build a cohesive narrative rhythm. For Schaeffer, perspective is never decorative—it structures the pacing and suspense, building up to a satisfying emotional resonance.
Schaeffer also shared how his years of experimentation with point-of-view prepared him for the novel’s bold structure. Nearly every point-of-view he tried eventually influenced The Slip. He often drafts in third person because it feels expansive enough to explore before committing to a more focused lens. When asked how he manages the inherent challenges that come with picking a primary point-of-view, he laughed: “I clearly do [experience them], and I deal with that by switching perspectives. It’s so great—I love it.” His advice to writers was to pay close attention to the perspectives that naturally compel them as readers and let that instinct guide their own work.
Jennifer duBois followed the discussion by explaining why The Last Language could only unfold in first person. For her, the narrator’s voice is not just a stylistic choice but the foundation of the novel’s tension and intimacy. Her novel, which is narrated in first person, is occasionally addressed to a “you,” who is both the narrator’s nonverbal patient, Sam, and a courtroom audience—or perhaps even the reader themselves. This layered address blurs the line between confession and testimony, compelling the reader to question how much of the story is actually shaped, reframed or withheld by the intentionally unreliable narrator.
DuBois also reflected on the seductive power—and danger—of a strong first-person voice. “If a reader finds your voice very seductive and charming, they might go with it into places that feel uncomfortable,” she said. Yet if they do not like the voice, they may resist the narrative entirely. First person magnifies the consciousness of the narrator, spotlighting the act of storytelling itself: what is revealed, what is concealed, and how memory or desire distorts narration. For duBois, the choice of point-of-view is inseparable from the psychological architecture of the novel.
She rounded out her discussion by describing her broader experiments with narrative perspective—multiple third-person voices, retrospective first person, and present-tense third-person narration. But second person, she admitted, feels unnatural to her, joking that she generally avoids it. Her practical advice to writers was to consider whether their story depends on the telling—on the subjective framing and filtering of experience. If so, first person can deepen a narrative’s interiority, complexity, and emotional charge. Point-of-view, she reminds us, is both technical and philosophical: it determines how truth is shaped and how a reader is asked to interpret it.
November’s Third Thursday reveals how profoundly the point of view can shape the reader’s experience—whether through Schaeffer’s fluid blend of omniscience, close third-person, and experimental chapters or through duBois’s tight first-person voice that blurs confession with testimony. Each author demonstrated that point-of-view is both an exercise in constraint and liberation, a way of orchestrating tension and understanding. No matter which perspective a writer chooses, the lesson is clear: be intentional. Choose the consciousness (or myriad of consciousnesses) through which your story can be told the most powerfully.
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Continue to support our authors by purchasing their recent releases. You can check out Lucas Schaeffer’s The Slip and Jennifer duBois’s The Last Language here.
For more insight into writing and publishing, please join the Writers’ League of Texas on January 15 for January Third Thursday: “Writing Toward Hope: Creativity in 2026.”