Author: Trina Allen
Date:   11-27-07 08:57

Help. How do I transmutate humans into animals? I'm editing two chapters from the middle of my YA novel where the central character Katharine and her friend Sara Revere have changed into a cats, and Katharine's grandmother has changed into a cardinal. I struggle with the narrator's POV. Should I call Katharine "the cat" or "Katharine." Likewise, should I use "Grandma" or "the red bird." And should I refer the animals as it or she?

Here is an excerpt where I'm struggling with POV:

“Come. Follow me.” The red bird flew, sun reflecting off its necklace.

Katharine felt herself shrink to an ordinary white housecat and leapt into the trees. She followed her grandma, a flock of blackbirds surrounding her, and her friend Sara running behind her on silent black paws.
At a safe distance, the red bird flew down and sat on the ground.

Katharine sat on her haunches, wrapped her tail around her feet and put her head down. Tears wet the white fur on her face. “I couldn’t save the baby birds, Grandma.”

“You weren’t meant to save them, child. Bad things sometimes happen that even wizards can’t control.”

“But, it’s not fair! I wanted to save them.”

The red bird sighed and said. “I agree. It’s not fair, child.” The bird took a breath. “Along with your magic comes great responsibility. You will have to follow the laws that govern wizards. We can never use our power to change history, no matter how badly we want to.” A tear glinted in the red bird’s eye.

“Why?” Katharine was curious.

The bird’s eye twitched before her grandma said, “If wizards went around changing history for their own purposes, the world would be in constant and utter chaos. Now, we must go back to the school. Follow me.” She flew back to the tree overhanging the schoolyard.

The cat climbed to the top branch and sat next the red bird.

Likewise, when the evil wizard transmutates into a cockroach, should the narrator call him "Dr. Ziegawart" or "the cockroach? Here is an excerpt that shows the POV problem:

Cafeteria trays clanked, the sound nearly deafening the small creature. Unaccustomed to these eyes, he could see only a kaleidoscope of large shadowy figures. The cockroach turned his head for a better view of the room, his antennae twitching. The corners of nearby tables and chair backs loomed like mountains. And the smashed cookie next to an almost empty potato chip bag on the floor could feed him for over a week. He was delighted that children were so careless and sloppy.

A large roach, as long as a tube of Chap Stick, he clung to a trashcan by the hooks on his six legs, unnoticed by the rowdy students eating lunch in the cafeteria. None of the teachers (who were all imbeciles) or the cafeteria staff (who were about as intelligent as slugs) saw the cockroach clinging to the trashcan, waving its antennae in constant search of a change in air that could mean danger to a small insect.

Four of his legs suddenly slipped from the trashcan. He shuffled all six legs, clinging harder to the slippery plastic. What was happening? He could …not … not … remember … His great mind had became muddled. With that realization, Dr. Ziegawart felt an emotion that was foreign to him, fear. He turned his head slowly … could hardly move his head. It was too heavy. His heart thumped once and slowed. Mustering his strength, the roach crawled up the trashcan to hide in the dim light under the rim.