Thou Shalt Not Write in First Person Present Tense... Or Shall You?
Thou Shalt Not Write in First Person Present Tense... Or Shall You?
AKA the Literary Police hate my tense. Do I care?
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OK, take it away, Sue!
“You’re doing what now?”
Even through the telephone line he sounded positively apoplectic. In my mind, I could practically see the steam tooting out of his ears. The only thing missing was his face turning into an actual red balloon before, pop!
Meanwhile, my face was burning up faster than a guilty toddler caught with their hand in the cookie jar. I was being totally schooled, the way you get schooled when you’re not just wrong—you’re so wrong that you don’t even know how deep your wrongness runs. I was a noob, and he was making sure I knew it.
This wasn’t just anyone. This was Mr. Big Name Author. The real deal, movie rights and all. We were classmates once upon a time. So here I was—a first-time author about to release my debut novel on Substack. And like the nervous novice I was, I’d reached out for advice. He graciously asked me what the book was about, we chit-chatted for a bit, and then I made my fatal error.
“It’s written in first person, present tense,” I said.
I might as well have said, “I cook spaghetti by boiling it in Mountain Dew.”
His reaction?
Immediate horror. Like, I could feel his skin crawling through the phone. It was as if I’d declared I’d just wretched onto someone’s dinner plate and had the audacity to ask them to clean it up.
How could anyone be so uncouth? So idiotic? So monumentally misinformed that they’d do something as heinous as write a novel in first-person present tense?!
Stung and feeling the heat of my own stupidity, I slunk away, tail firmly between my legs, stewing in a beautiful cocktail of mutinous stubbornness and eviscerating self-doubt. Was he right? Had I single-handedly murdered my chances at writing success?
I wasn’t about to let this go without a fight, though. So I brought the whole humiliating episode to my writer’s group like a crime scene.
“I’m feeling totally mansplained to,” I vented. “I also don’t want to reflexively dismiss concerns if they are valid. My editor had no issue with first person present tense. Nor did all but one of my nine beta readers. But Mr Big Name Guy is adamant it’s only Young Adult where this works. And no publishing house would want to pick up the book given this + my genre (literary fiction/ historical fiction). As I’m not looking to/trying to go that route I’m trying to place his feedback in context. So coming here for some others’ perspectives. As I said, I don’t want to reflexively dismiss something just because I felt mansplained to.”
And bless their collective hearts. Back they came with glorious examples1 proving that no, writing in first-person present tense is not some cardinal sin of the literary world.
I howled with laughter when they sent me these zingers:
“I just read a first person present tense paranormal romance by a big-name trad author, so…🤷♀️😉”
“Just because someone is crushing it in any field doesn’t mean they know what they’re talking about.”
“Honestly, if people are this worked up over your tense, maybe they need a new hobby. Like knitting. At least those needles won’t stab their hearts!”2
Then, because life just had to twist the knife a little more, I stumbled across yet another author on Substack, laying down the law as if they were the Moses of fiction: THOU SHALT NOT WRITE IN PRESENT TENSE.
And I thought, Okay, seriously, what’s the big deal? Why does first-person present tense send people into such a spiral of rage? Is it really that offensive? Did I miss a memo that declared this the writing equivalent of pineapple on pizza? (By the way, I love pineapple on pizza. Maybe I’m just weird.)
And if you don’t like it, why must you turn into a fire-breathing dragon, decreeing that no-one should use it ever again?
I’m truly curious.
Why do people get so hot under the collar about first person present tense?
So here’s my question to the writing world at large: Why is this such a hot potato? Why does first-person present tense make people so hot under the collar that they feel the need to declare war on it?
And while we’re at it, how do you deal with all the pronouncements and judgments about what you should or shouldn’t do as a writer? It’s exhausting trying to navigate the minefield of unsolicited advice without collapsing under the weight of self-doubt.
How can we, as authors, support each other in finding our voices, developing our styles, and letting each other bring out the gold? Maybe instead of poking around on each other’s creative dinner plates, we could just…not?
PS: And to stir the pot a little more: which version below do you prefer3?
PPS: And yes, we could do the same comparing third person present tense with third person past tense. But it would get a little tedious to read the same piece four times. And I do try to have some mercy on my readers! 😘
Version 1
Boom!
The noise is deafening. The crack thunders through my body, shakes the whole house.
Boom!
Louder, closer. The window rattles. Everything in my room turns white in a blinding instant.
BOOM!
I’m sure this one has blown the roof off the house.
Mummy comes into my room, sits on the side of my bed, reaches out and caresses my face.
“Scared?” she asks.
I shake my head no.
Another crash pounds through the house. But it’s a little further away now. I imagine the giants hurling thunderbolts at each other. A wild mad party in the sky. Safe in my bed, safe in our house, I wriggle under the covers, feeling my heart race with the wild energy outside. I want to be out there, feeling the crash and boom through my body. I want to ride the storm like a wild horse, crashing through the air, galloping and leaping over hills and cities and valleys.
Instead I hug Teddy Bear and wriggle in bed with delight while the wild summer Highveld thunderstorm unleashes its fury all around.
“My funny little kookaburra who loves a storm,” Mummy says as she leans over and kisses me on the forehead. “Go to sleep now. It’s passing over.”
I drift off to the rumbles receding into the distance, and the rain pattering on the roof, a steady reassuring lullaby.
Version 2
Boom!
The noise was deafening. The crack thundered through my body, shaking the whole house.
Boom!
It was louder, closer. The window rattled. Everything in my room turned white in a blinding instant.
BOOM!
I was sure this one had blown the roof off the house.
Mummy came into my room, sat on the side of my bed, reached out, and caressed my face.
“Scared?” she asked.
I shook my head no.
Another crash pounded through the house, but it was a little further away now. I imagined the giants hurling thunderbolts at each other, a wild mad party in the sky. Safe in my bed, safe in our house, I wriggled under the covers, feeling my heart race with the wild energy outside. I wanted to be out there, feeling the crash and boom through my body. I wanted to ride the storm like a wild horse, crashing through the air, galloping and leaping over hills, cities, and valleys.
Instead, I hugged Teddy Bear and wriggled in bed with delight while the wild summer Highveld thunderstorm unleashed its fury all around.
“My funny little kookaburra who loves a storm,” Mummy said as she leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. “Go to sleep now. It’s passing over.”
I drifted off to the rumbles receding into the distance and the rain pattering on the roof, a steady reassuring lullaby.
The Hunger Game series by Suzanne Collins. The Divergent Series by Veronica Roth. James Patterson. Chris Fabry. Just to name a few. 🤣
Ok, full disclosure, I made the last one up. But the other two are for real.
From my debut historical fiction/creative non-fiction/literary fiction (while we’re questioning things, lets add some genre mash-up to the mix), On the Road to Jericho.
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I print out the email saying I musn't use first person present tense. I make sure to use nice soft high quality paper. I wouldn't want paper cuts like the last time.
I enter the bathroom, feeling confident that my morning coffee is doing its work.
There. There it is.
The writing advice... so soft, so cleansing. It flushes cleanly, its true mission accomplished at last.
I’m used to Version 2, so it’s familiar, but I can say Version 1 is more suspenseful. Version 2 is more detached (narrator survived at least to now), version 1 is more open-ended (a boulder could fall on the narrator any second now).