Well, I’m writing a fanfiction story for pretty little liars but I cannot get comfortable in my POV.
Here are two versions of it, 1st & 3rd. Tell me which one you prefer?
THIRD PERSON:
“Hanna? Can you come here for a minute?” Ms. Marin called from the kitchen as Hanna sauntered in the door, soaked from the rain. She kicked off her heels and peeled off her jacket, then headed down the hall.
“Do you want a cup of coffee? I just put the pot on.” The coffeepot hissed and dripped in the corner, as if to prove its existence and role in the conversation.
Hanna looked at her mom, who wasn’t smiling. Her expression was kind of like the one she’d worn after she’d taken too many Tylenol 3’s and started having a heated, emotional argument with the fridge. “What’s wrong?”
Her mind started searching for what could possibly be wrong now, and she immediately found the answer: Ms. Marin lost her job. They were broke. Things have been tight lately, but she didn’t figure it was that bad.
“On second thought, maybe I will have some coffee.” She stated as she walked around the island. “Do we still have that fabulous vanilla cream?”
“No. You drank it all. Listen, Hanna, sit down a minute.”
Hanna stared at her mother for a few seconds with a doe eyed expression, and then sank into a stool.
“Have you talked with your father recently?”
“No, why?” She was puzzled.
“I got pulled into a meeting a few days ago.”
She nodded, still confused. What did that have to do with her pathetic excuse for a father?
“Well, I’ve been asked to go to New York for a 2 month training program. It’ll teach me how to find a counterfeit and many other useful things. If I go, I could get a promotion, and Lord knows how much this family needs one right now.”
Hanna felt her stomach plunge, but she managed a quiet, “New York?”
——————————————–
FIRST PERSON:
“Hanna? Can you come here for a minute?” My mom called from the kitchen as I sauntered in the door, soaked from the rain. I kicked off my heels and peeled off my jacket, then headed down the hall.
“Do you want a cup of coffee? I just put the pot on.” The coffeepot hissed and dripped in the corner, as if to prove its existence and role in the conversation.
I looked at my mom, who wasn’t smiling. Her expression was kind of like the one she’d worn after she’d taken too many Tylenol 3’s and started having a heated, emotional argument with the fridge. “What’s wrong?”
My mind started searching for what could possibly be wrong now, and immediately found the answer: she had lost her job. We were broke. Things have been tight lately, but I didn’t figure it was that bad.
“On second thought, maybe I will have some coffee.” I stated as she walked around the island. “Do we still have that fabulous vanilla cream?”
“No. You drank it all. Listen, Hanna, sit down a minute.”
I stared at my mother for a few seconds with a doe eyed expression, and then sank into a stool.
“Have you talked with your father recently?”
“No, why?”
“I got pulled into a meeting a few days ago.”
I nodded, still confused. What did that have to do with my pathetic excuse for a father?
“Well, I’ve been asked to go to New York for a 2 month training program. It’ll teach me how to find a counterfeit and many other useful things. If I go, I could get a promotion, and Lord knows how much this family needs one right now.”
I felt my stomach plunge, but managed a quiet, “New York?”
——————–
which do you like best?