Sure, this might seem odd to some: Why give a POV section to a non-character, someone that isn’t involved in driving the plot? Well, I actually do this in my third person POV books when I need to give readers an unbiased assessment of something, something the key characters won’t be able to provide, not honestly.
All the POV characters in the second book of this Saga are heavily invested in Mukti and care about her deeply. As such, their opinions on her artwork would be biased and positively glowing. The reader might not trust their judgment. Mukti herself would be an even worse judge of her abilities because she has self-doubt and confidence issues when it comes to her art. I decided that her art teacher would be the best person to relay all this—and more—to the reader, so that when her success came, the reader would know she was gifted.
I hope you enjoy this excerpt from Chapter 4: Calling :) Remember, you can get all three books for the price of one this week (the bundle is under 3.99, actually) from your favourite ebook stores. >>Click to buy<<
Thatcher knew he was a great teacher, but he was an even better artist. He also recognised talent when he saw it—and he saw it in this girl Mukti. She always sat at the back of the art class and never spoke up, but he knew she was the brightest, the most gifted student in the class. Art is her calling. Mukti wanted to learn her craft, hone her skills, become an artist, he could tell.
Interestingly, when he told them in their first lesson that he would teach them how to become an artist, Mukti seemed the most sceptical. Clearly, she didn’t think people could become artists—you either were or you weren’t. Thatcher agreed. Not everyone has the gift. But, Thatcher believed, especially in this day and age when beauty really was in the eye of the beholder, since all humans with rational thought were capable of having at least one interesting thing to say, they could sell art. To the right buyer, of course.
Walking around the high school’s largest art classroom, a table of random objects in the centre and easels and students arranged around it, Thatcher didn’t think he could help any of his pupils sell anything resembling art in the near future. Not based on what he saw on their canvases. At Mukti’s work area, however… She had great drawing skills, her shading and capturing of light was excellent, she had a good eye for proportions, and was way ahead of the class.
“Mukti.” His greeting made her jump. Lost in the moment of creation…
“Sorry, Thatcher. I didn’t see you there.”
He smiled at the pretty face and sighed. His long pony-tailed strawberry-blonde hair, round face, and grey eyes didn’t do much for Mukti, so he returned to inspecting her drawing. Besides, she has a boyfriend. When Thatcher saw him drop her off on the first day, his initial thought was, Doesn’t he own a comb?
“Impressive.” Thatcher used his college professor tone as he spoke.
“Thanks.” Her voice shook and pink bloomed on her cheeks—another sign of self-doubt. “But I’m very slow.”
“Better to take the time and get it right. How’s the journal coming along?”
“I haven’t been able to focus on the diary…” She looked guilty. The pink on her cheeks deepened, making obvious what had kept her from her journal. The boyfriend…
“I suggest you make more effort with that, Mukti, particularly if you’re serious about art. I told you I think you have potential.”
“I will.” But she didn’t assure him that she was serious about art.
Thatcher knew what this meant: She didn’t know if she was good enough. Did that boyfriend not encourage and compliment her? Did they just lock themselves in the bedroom every night? I suppose I can’t blame them. They were young and beautiful and in love. Life rarely got better than that.
