HIT PLAY OR READ THE POST BELOW:

Understanding omniscient narration is one of the biggest challenges fiction writers face—and getting it wrong can undermine your entire novel. The majority of novels published throughout history were written in third person, yet so many aspiring authors today misuse omniscient narration or confuse it with close third person.

I’ve edited hundreds of novels, including New York Times bestsellers, and today I’m breaking down the five biggest mistakes you might be making with omniscient narration and third-person POV, including sneaky ones you think you’re avoiding.

POV shapes your entire story, so you need to get it right, or else you'll be facing a huge rewrite.

Omniscient Narration vs. Close Third Person (Know the Difference)

Most of the issues I see with POV happen because amateur writers misunderstand the difference between omniscient narration and close third person. If you think you're writing one but are actually writing the other, you'll confuse your reader, lose their trust, and end up having to rewrite every scene.

POV is that important. And you might think you’re writing omniscient narration when you actually aren’t—or you shouldn’t be.

So let’s set the record straight:

Omniscient narration is when you have a godlike narrator who hovers over the story and understands everything that's going on from a bird's-eye perspective, including each character's individual thoughts. This is what a lot of people miss.

The omniscient narrator actually acts as their own character and has their own commentary on things that the characters don't know about. This is the hallmark of successful omniscient narration. We should feel the presence of the narrator throughout every scene mediating the events of the story.

Close third person, also called limited third person or deep third person, is when we only have access to one character's head at a time. We are experiencing the story from inside their mind and therefore only know what they know at any given moment. Their observations, their thoughts, their reactions.

Think of the difference as a drone camera showing you the entire landscape from overhead and one of those new smart glasses that records exactly what you're seeing.

Omniscient narration is still used by authors today, but it was actually more common decades ago. So, you'll see many classic and canonical authors writing in it. In contemporary fiction, close third person is more common.

So, now let's test your POV knowledge. I've taken excerpts from two recently published novels that are written in third person, and let's see if we can spot the POV difference.

Here's the first example, which is The Midnight Library by Matt Haig.

27 hours before she decided to die, Norah Seed sat on her dilapidated sofa, scrolling through other people's happy lives, waiting for something to happen. And then out of nowhere, something actually did. Someone, for whatever peculiar reason, rang her doorbell.
She wondered for a moment if she shouldn't get the door at all. She was, after all, already in her night clothes even when it was only 9:00 p.m., she felt self-conscious about her oversized ECO WARRIOR t-shirt and her tartan pajama bottoms.
She put on her slippers to be slightly more civilized and discovered that the person at the door was a man, and one she recognised. He was tall and gangly and boyish, with a kind face, but his eyes were sharp and bright, like they could see through things.
It was good to see him, if a little surprising, especially as he was wearing sports gear and he looked hot and sweaty despite the cold, rainy weather. The juxtaposition between them made her feel even more slovenly than she had done 5 seconds earlier.

So, what do you think? Omniscient or close third person?

This passage is written in close third person because we're tightly aligned to what Nora is experiencing in the moment. In the very first line, we get the insight that Nora is sitting on her sofa waiting for something to happen. Verbs like "wondered" or "thought" immediately tie us to the POV character and tell us that we are in their mind.

Then we get "she felt self-conscious," which is another line that is telling us what's going on internally. Even when she is describing the man who shows up at her door, we understand that it's filtered through her own perspective.

The description is how she sees him, the things that she notices about him, like that he's “tall and gangly and boyish with a kind face and his sharp and bright eyes.” We get her reaction to seeing him with the line, "It was good to see him." Again, we get what she's feeling with "Made her feel even more slovenly than she had done 5 seconds earlier."

There's really no commentary from a detached narrator here, so we're firmly in close third person.

Now, let's look at the second example, which is Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng.

Everyone in Shaker Heights was talking about it that summer. How Isabelle, the last of the Richardson children, had finally gone around the bend and burned the house down. All spring the gossip had been about little Mirabelle McCullough—or, depending on which side you were on, May Ling Chow—and now, at last, there was something new and sensational to discuss.
A little after noon on that Saturday in May, the shoppers pushing their grocery carts in Heinen's heard the fire engines wail to life and careen away, toward the duck pond. By a quarter after twelve there were four of them parked in a haphazard red line along Parkland Drive, where all six bedrooms of the Richardson house were ablaze and everyone within a half mile could see the smoke rising over the trees like a dense black thundercloud.
Later people would say that the signs had been there all along: that Izzy was a little lunatic, that there had always been something off about the Richardson family, that as soon as they heard the sirens that morning they knew something terrible had happened. By then, of course, Izzy would be long gone, leaving no one to defend her, and people could—and did—say whatever they liked.

What do you guess for this one? It’s omniscient narration, because you can't say we're in any specific character's mind in this passage.

We are really following the community as a collective and getting bits of insight from the narrator themself. The story begins by talking about everyone in Shaker Heights, not a specific character—the group as a whole.

Then we get a description of what the gossip has been about, which gives us a sense of the dynamics among the community but is from that bird's-eye perspective. There's even a moment of second person, depending on which side you were on, where it feels like the narrator is speaking directly to us.

When the fire is described, the narrator says, "Everyone within a half mile could see the smoke rising over the trees." Again, describing things in a collective.

And then toward the end of this passage, the narrator interjects with some foresight that the characters don't yet know: “And by then, of course, Izzy would be long gone.” This is insight the characters don't yet have, but the narrator does, which is how you know you have an omniscient narrator.

You can feel the difference in these perspectives, right? The atmosphere, our connection to the characters, and the narrator's role are totally distinct across these two passages.

How to Choose between Omniscient Narration and Close Third Person

So, how can you tell if you're writing in close third person or omniscient narration? First, ask, "Do I get inside the head of one character or multiple?" If it's one, you're writing in close third person.

If you get into multiple characters' heads, we need to ask a follow-up question. And this is where many writers get tripped up. Does the narrator have their own distinct presence, commentary, and voice throughout the story?

If not, you're probably writing rotating close third person rather than omniscient narration. I would argue that close third person is actually closer to first person than it is to omniscient narration because in both close third person and in first person, we are tightly aligned to the POV character's thoughts and feelings. And omniscient narration is doing something else entirely.

Now, I’m going to say something that might rattle some of you. If you’re on the fence about POV, choose close third person. Too many new authors start writing in omniscient narration because they don’t take the time to think about whose perspectives we should actually be following.

But in reality, they're not ready to tackle the complexities that omniscient narration requires just yet. And in many cases, omniscient narration isn't actually serving their story's specific needs. I see this all the time in manuscripts submitted to me for editing.

And changing the POV from omniscient to rotating close third person is one of the toughest but most common critiques that I give. I'm not saying close third person is better than omniscient narration. They can both be great, but omniscient narration is harder to execute correctly and is often misunderstood.

And readers today tend to crave the intimacy of close third person. So that's why I recommend it to newer writers.

So what do I mean when I say omniscient narration is often executed wrong? That brings me to the most common mistake I see in third-person manuscripts.

Head Hopping (The #1 Omniscient Narration Mistake)

You may have heard the term before and think you're avoiding it, but are you really?

Most writers who think they're writing omniscient narration are really just head hopping.

I know what you're thinking: “But doesn't omniscient narration give me access to all the characters' minds? So, I can move between them whenever I want. And isn't that how [insert classic author's name here] wrote? I'm just emulating their style.”

Saying you're writing omniscient narration doesn't give you a hall pass to do whatever the heck you want with the POV. With true omniscient narration, any movements in the POV are clearly intentional. The reader trusts the narrator to guide their experience of the story and hold their hand throughout the book.

But head hopping is when you switch from one character’s mind to another mid-scene for no discernable reason, following no discernable pattern, all seemingly at random. You’re not actually writing omniscient narration, but just a messy version of rotating close third person.

It's jarring, disorienting, and erodes the reader's trust. Because if we're constantly shifting perspectives, we don't have enough time to actually form a connection to any of them. The reader doesn't know whose story it actually is because we're constantly getting jostled around. It feels like whiplash.

So now I want you to put on your editing cap and see if you can spot the head hopping in this passage.

Megan watched the fireworks go off above the ferris wheel. She remembered the time her first boyfriend kissed her at the top of the ride. The electricity between them, the feeling that the night could stretch on forever if she'd let it. She had thought they had so much more time.
Jeremy nudged her, bringing Megan back to the present. He could tell something was bothering her. Megan smiled, not wanting to ruin this perfect night.
"I'm craving some fried Oreos," she said.

Did you notice the head hopping? We begin in Megan's POV, indicated by the line, “Megan watched.” Then we get a brief flashback into her memory. And then here's the slip: “He could tell something was bothering her.” That's Jeremy's internal perception, not Megan's.

And then in the following line, we jump right back to Megan's POV: “Megan smiled, not wanting to ruin this perfect night.” That quick random jump into Jeremy's POV is a hallmark example of head hopping.

Luckily, fixing it is simple. Let's revise the line, “He could tell something was bothering her,” to read, “Megan hoped Jeremy couldn't tell something was bothering her.”

The same idea gets across, but now we stay grounded in Megan’s internal experience.

Head hopping can be tough to fix if you’re doing it constantly across your entire manuscript. But if you think you might be running into this issue—whether you’re attempting omniscient narration or close third person—take the time to fix every instance. It will make your novel significantly stronger.

If you've chosen close third person narration, remember you have to stick with the designated POV character's thoughts throughout the entire scene. You can't dip to another character, not even for a single line. All thoughts, emotions, and judgments must come from the POV character or at least be observable by them through the others’ actions, dialogue, or gestures.

But what do you do if you need to explore multiple perspectives throughout your story? That's when you can use rotating close third person narration, where you switch between perspectives at designated chapter breaks. But for each chapter, we stay within a single POV character's head.

Now, let’s say you know you’re avoiding head hopping. You’re cleanly switching between your POVs at chapter breaks—whether you’re using omniscient narration or rotating close third person—but readers are just not connecting with your story. That’s a sign you’re making the next mistake.

Mistake #2: Not Going Deep Enough

Like I said at the beginning, close third person is really closer to first person than it is to omniscient narration. Because readers should get as much access to the POV character's mind as they would if you were writing in first person. The only real difference between close third person and first person is that you're not writing in the character's actual voice.

When you don't go deep enough into the POV character's mind in third person, you increase what's called the narrative distance, which is the space between the reader and the characters and events of the story.

It's called close third person because we want to feel close to your POV character. So work to remove as much of the narrative distance as you can.

A problem I see with newer authors is that they focus only on describing what's happening externally in a scene. The physical environment, the characters dialogue, the action and choreography. That's all important, but it's missing a key layer: the POV character’s internal thoughts, reflections, reactions, and emotions.

Those elements are what make fiction distinct from other storytelling formats. Bring us into their heads so that we experience the scene from within their mind and body, not from afar.

When the narrative distance is too wide, readers feel like spectators. When it's close, they feel like participants, so aim for that.

Here's an example passage where the narrative distance is too wide.

As Cara took off her heels in her apartment entryway, her phone buzzed. Her mom was probably wondering how her date went. "Hey, Mom," she said excitedly into the phone.
"The date went super well. I might even be able to take him as my plus one to Jenny's wedding."
"That's great, honey, but I have some news.”
“What happened?"
"Gran had a stroke, and I'm at the hospital with her now. We should know more tomorrow.”
“I feel terrible that I'm not there.”

Technically, this passage is fine. There's no head hopping, but it falls totally flat emotionally. Cara tells her mom she feels terrible, but we don't feel it at all. We don't get inside her mind.

All we see is what she says externally to her mom. We ultimately don't feel closely connected to her at all. Narrative distance tends to creep up in dialogue exchanges, so make sure you're weaving in enough of the POV character’s internal responses and reactions.

Let's make some revisions to this passage to close the narrative distance.

As Cara took off her heels in her apartment entryway, her phone buzzed. Her mom was probably wondering how her date went.
"Hey, Mom," she said excitedly into the phone. "The date went super well. I might even be able to take him as my plus one to Jenny's wedding."
"That's great, honey, but I have some news.” Her mother's voice was uncharacteristically somber.
Something's wrong. “What happened?”
“Gran had a stroke and I'm at the hospital with her now. We should know more tomorrow.”
Cara lowered herself onto the couch. She'd seen Gran last Sunday at brunch. She'd been perfectly herself teasing her about Jenny's wedding.
“You've let your little sister beat you again, Cara.”
At that moment, the comment had annoyed her, but now she wished she hadn't left early. How often does she get to see Gran anyway? What if that was the last time?
“I feel terrible that I'm not there.”

With this version, we're brought much closer into Cara’s moment-by-moment reaction to her mother's news. First, she notices that her mother's voice was uncharacteristically somber and worries that something's wrong.

Once she learns the news, she thinks back to the last time she saw her gran and her regrets about leaving early. She questions if that will be the last time she ever sees her, and we feel her guilt.

This version feels so much more emotionally rich and layered because we're clued into everything that Cara is thinking in the moment. So, if you get feedback that your reader just didn't connect with your main character, you might need to deepen your POV.

This next mistake turns your novel into a scattered mess where we can't even tell whose story we're following.

Mistake #3: Including Too Many POVs

Like I said, I love multi-POV books, but there's a right way and a wrong way to do them. If you get inside the mind of every single character who shows up in your novel—the mailman who shows up in just one scene, the ex who pops in just to stir the pot, the villain's sidekick who doesn't have their own storyline at all—then it will feel like your novel is spinning out of control.

Each time you introduce a new POV, the reader must reorient themselves and reinvest emotionally in this new story line. Remember that the POV dictates who the story is about.

If you divide our attention across too many different characters, we'll only get to meet each one superficially. It's often much more effective to explore fewer POVs in much more depth. So, ensure that every POV in your story earns its place.

If a character only appears once or twice or doesn't have their own full arc, then they probably don't deserve to have their own POV. I hear from authors all the time: “Well, I have to include this scene from this other outlier perspective because otherwise the reader won't know that XYZ happened.”

My response to those authors is always this: “Do we actually need to know that XYZ happened at this exact moment, or could we learn about it when the other more important main characters learn about it?”

Often keeping certain things withheld will actually enhance the suspense and the drama when that event is eventually revealed.

Here's a quick test if you're on the fence about a POV. If you can remove the POV and the plot still makes sense, it probably wasn't necessary.

There's no official rule for how many POVs you can include in a novel. But for authors just starting out, as a general rule of thumb, I would say start to audit your POVs if you have more than four. Ask yourself, does the story actually demand all of these POVs, or am I just afraid to kill my darlings?

Now, this last POV mistake—especially common among writers experimenting with omniscient narration—is something many authors overlook until they decide to publish.

Mistake #4: Ignoring Genre Conventions

Different genres come with different expectations about POV. I'm not saying you shouldn't break the rules or experiment with genre conventions, but I want to teach you the rules and the genre conventions first so that you can do so intentionally and with purpose.

For example, young adult fiction overwhelmingly favors first-person narration because it creates intimacy and immediacy and allows teen readers to quickly latch on to the protagonist.

Mysteries and thrillers are often told in close third-person or first-person narration rather than omniscient. This allows for suspense and misdirection because we're tightly aligned to the POV character's experiences at any given moment and kept on the edge of our seat. The author intentionally keeps a lot of things unknown.

Romance is also often written in close third person or first person, typically following either one of the love interests or both of the love interests, because that allows us to witness the development of their feelings firsthand.

These days, omniscient narration is most often found in literary fiction, sci-fi, and fantasy novels, though all of those genres can also use first person or close third person.

If you're not sure what POV to go with for your story, do some research. Pick up five best-selling novels in your genre and study the POV choices. How does the chosen POV impact the reader's experience of the story and their connection to the characters? And is that something you want to emulate?

POV is one of the most important strategic tools in your storytelling arsenal. Whether you’re using omniscient narration or close third person, precision matters—and avoiding these common pitfalls will make your novel far stronger.