Hey, Cabin Crew members and serendipitous wanderers!
If you’re here, chances are you’re one of my loyal Cabin Crew subscribers—thank you for always coming along for the ride. But if you’ve stumbled upon this post purely through the will of the universe, let me introduce myself.
I’m MJ Mumford, a Canadian indie author with a love for twisty plots, time travel, and characters who often find themselves navigating the whims of destiny. I recently wrapped up The Syd Brixton TimeBlink Series (a time-travel thriller series, if you’re curious), and I’m beyond thrilled to be embarking on a brand-new writing adventure: a paranormal romance series!
In this month’s newsletter, I’ve asked my subscribers to weigh in on a big decision—one that could shape the entire vibe of this new series…
Should my protagonist tell her story in first-person or third-person point of view?
To set the stage (and because you’re awesome), I’m sharing a sneak peek at the opening scene of The Soulmates in Cabin 7, the first book in my planned five-book series. Think of The Mystic Island Soulmate Series as Fantasy Island meets The Seven Year Slip with a dash of Practical Magic sprinkled in. Yes, it’s going to be as deliciously witchy, romantic, and whimsical as it sounds!
If you’ve followed my stories for a while, you’ll know I usually write in first person—it’s my cozy, familiar home. But I’m not afraid to challenge myself if enough readers prefer the less intimate, more cinematic feel that third-person-limited POV can offer.
So, what do you think? Do you love the closeness and immediacy of the first-person POV, or do you prefer the broader scope of third person?
If you’re a Cabin Crew member, you can vote directly in my latest newsletter. Not a subscriber? No problem! Feel free to comment below or send me a quick email with your thoughts—I always love hearing from readers.
And if you’d like to join my monthly Cabin Crew newsletter for some time-traveling, romantic, magical fun (and sneak peeks like this one), the door is always open.
Without further ado, here’s the excerpt in both first and third-person formats. Keep in mind, this is just a first draft, so it’s bound to evolve before the final version hits the presses.
I look forward to hearing your thoughts!
Excerpt from The Soulmates in Cabin 7
First-person POV:
“I’m glad you suggested this trip,” I said to my younger, taller, redder-haired sister at the wheel. “I needed the break.”
Kali took her eyes off the road for a second to glance at me. “What the what? Who switched my feisty Quinn sister with this breath of fresh air when I wasn’t looking?”
“Zip it.”
“Well, well. We’ve only been on the road, what, two hours? And here you are admitting that I was right, that a vacation was a good idea. What else are you going to confess? That you left dirty dishes in your sink?”
“What if I did?”
“As if. I’d be tempted to call 911 if that ever happened.”
The truth was, I was grateful for Kali’s bullheaded insistence that we go away together, even if it was only for two days. Even if it was just a quick road trip to some postcard-perfect island in the Pacific Northwest—a destination I wouldn’t have chosen on my own.
“Thanks for picking a place that accepted dogs,” I said, remembering my faithful companion, Sangster, in the back seat. I pulled out a chewy snack and waved it in front of the sleeping red setter, who snapped to attention and gently nibbled the treat from my palm. I savored the uncomplicated bond between us as I ruffled his ears. “Who’s my good boy?”
“I bet he’s happy you finally decided to get out of the city.”
“He’s going to have a blast running around the island. I can’t remember the last time I took him on an adventure.”
“Didn’t you take him for coffee at Pike Place yesterday?” Kali joked.
“For your information, we went to the dog park afterwards. In fact, we ran into his buddy, Juno, and they chased each other for an hour.”
Kali signaled and exited the highway. After a few minutes, she turned onto a narrow road flanked by towering cedars and low-lying fern beds.
I straightened. “Where are we going? The ferry’s back that way.”
Kali just grinned from ear to ear, saying nothing.
“Seriously. Where are we going?” I said again, lowering my window to draw in a lungful of the woodland air, which smelled faintly fishy.
After another few minutes of my incessant questions and Kali’s annoying silence, we emerged from the forested road. It opened onto a sunny parking lot next to a dock where a beautiful classic yacht twinkled in the golden light of early summer. Several people with suitcases or backpacks stood on the dock next to the vessel, chatting amongst each other, and when Kali cut her engine, their animated voices drifted in through my window.
“Surprise!” Kali reached into her bag and thrust a glossy brochure into my hands.
My eyes narrowed at the all-caps headline. DISCOVER YOUR DESTINED SOULMATE.
“What’s this?”
“The Mystic Island Soulmate Retreat! Surely you’ve heard of it.”
I rolled my eyes, recalling decades of celebrity gossip shows touting its virtues. “Yeah. It’s for ridiculous, desperate people with buckets of cash to throw away.”
“Ridiculous or not, they have a money-back guarantee that they’ve never had to honor. Their clients always find their true love within two weeks.”
“Wait a minute.” I turned to face her. “Am I here to write a piece on it? Please tell me that’s why you’ve brought me here.” Even as I said it, I knew it wasn’t the case. Kali worked at the same entertainment magazine as me, but as a junior editor, she wouldn’t have any knowledge of my upcoming assignments.
Kali beamed. “Nope. I submitted your application on your behalf. You got in!”
“You did what?” I screeched.
“Come on, Quinnger. When was the last time you had a proper date? All you do is work.”
“Because I love my work,” I said, flipping the brochure into my sister’s lap. “I don’t need some new-age dating service to fix something that isn’t broken.”
“It’s not like that. This place is different. People say—”
“I don’t care what people say.” I crossed my arms. “Absolutely not. Take me home. Or to the island we were supposed to go.”
“Please? Just give it a chance. You’ll be thirty-nine next year. Why waste months or years searching for Mr. Right? You’ll have him in two weeks!”
I couldn’t decide what stung worse: the number—thirty-nine—or the implication that my love life required intervention.
“Just because you have a husband, two kids, and a joint bank account doesn’t mean I want the same thing. What if I’m perfectly content not cooking dinner every day or having to spend Christmas with the in-laws? What if I’m happy leaving dirty dishes in the sink for a week?”
“Ha. Not a chance.”
“Now, Kal. I mean it.”
“We can’t leave. It’s non-refundable.”
“You literally just said they offer a money-back guarantee.”
“That’s only if it doesn’t meet your expectations…or if you cancel more than two weeks in advance.”
“Oh my god. Are you serious? Why would you do this? How much did you pay?”
“That’s not important. You are important to me, and all I see you doing is working your ass off and hanging out with your big, dopey dog.”
Sangster licked his lips with exaggerated flair, as though he took exception to the comment.
“I can’t believe you would do this to me.” I pressed my lips together to stop myself from screaming.
Third-person POV:
“I’m glad you suggested this getaway,” Quinn said to her younger, taller, redder-haired sister at the wheel. “I needed the break.”
Kali took her eyes off the road for a second to glance at Quinn. “What the what? Who switched my feisty Quinn sister with this breath of fresh air when I wasn’t looking?”
“Zip it.”
“Well, well. We’ve only been on the road, what, two hours? And here you are admitting that I was right, that a vacation was a good idea. What else are you going to confess? That you left dirty dishes in your sink?”
“What if I did?”
“As if. I’d be tempted to call 911 if that ever happened.”
The truth was, Quinn was grateful for Kali’s bullheaded insistence that they go away together, even if it was only for two days. Even if it was just a quick road trip to some postcard-perfect island in the Pacific Northwest—a destination Quinn wouldn’t have chosen on her own.
“Thanks for picking a place that accepted dogs,” Quinn said, remembering her faithful companion, Sangster, in the back seat. She pulled out a chewy snack and waved it in front of the sleeping red setter, who snapped to attention and gently nibbled the treat from her palm. Quinn savored the uncomplicated bond between them as she ruffled his ears. “Who’s my good boy?”
“I bet he’s happy you finally decided to get out of the city.”
“He’s going to have a blast running around the island. I can’t remember the last time I took him on an adventure.”
“Didn’t you take him for coffee at Pike Place yesterday?” Kali joked.
“For your information, we went to the dog park afterwards. In fact, we ran into his buddy, Juno, and they chased each other for an hour.”
Kali signaled and exited the highway. After a few minutes, she turned onto a narrow road flanked by towering cedars and low-lying fern beds.
Quinn straightened. “Where are we going? The ferry’s back that way.”
Kali just grinned from ear to ear, saying nothing.
“Seriously. Where are we going?” Quinn said again, lowering her window to draw in a lungful of the woodland air, which smelled faintly fishy.
After another few minutes of Quinn’s incessant questions and Kali’s annoying silence, they emerged from the forested road. It opened onto a sunny parking lot next to a dock where a beautiful classic yacht twinkled in the golden light of early summer. Several people with suitcases or backpacks stood on the dock next to the vessel, chatting amongst each other, and when Kali cut her engine, their animated voices drifted in through the open window.
“Surprise!” Kali reached into her bag and thrust a glossy brochure into Quinn’s hands.
“‘Discover Your Destined Soulmate?’ What’s this?”
“The Mystic Island Soulmate Retreat! Surely you’ve heard of it.”
Quinn rolled her eyes, recalling decades of celebrity gossip shows touting its virtues. “Yeah. It’s for ridiculous, desperate people with buckets of cash to throw away.”
“Ridiculous or not, they have a money-back guarantee that they’ve never had to honor. Their clients always find their true love within two weeks.”
“Wait a minute.” Quinn turned to face her. “Am I here to write a piece on it? Please tell me that’s why you’ve brought me here.” Even as Quinn said it, the truth settled over her. Kali worked at the same entertainment magazine as Quinn, but as a junior editor, she wouldn’t have any knowledge of Quinn’s upcoming assignments.
Kali beamed. “Nope. I submitted your application on your behalf. You got in!”
“You did what?” Quinn screeched.
“Come on, Quinnger. When was the last time you had a proper date? All you do is work.”
“Because I love my work.” Quinn said, flipping the brochure into her sister’s lap. “I don’t need some new-age dating service to fix something that isn’t broken.”
“It’s not like that. This place is different. People say—”
“I don’t care what people say.” Quinn crossed her arms. “Absolutely not. Take me home. Or to the island we were supposed to go to.”
“Please? Just give it a chance. You’ll be thirty-nine next year. Why waste months or years searching for Mr. Right? You’ll have him in two weeks!”
Quinn stiffened. She couldn’t decide what stung worse: the number—thirty-nine—or the implication that her love life required intervention.
“Just because you have a husband, two kids, and a joint bank account doesn’t mean I want the same thing. What if I’m perfectly content not cooking dinner every day or having to spend Christmas with the in-laws? What if I’m happy leaving dirty dishes in the sink for a week?”
“Ha. Not a chance.”
“Now, Kal. I mean it.”
“We can’t leave. It’s non-refundable.”
“You literally just said they offer a money-back guarantee.”
“That’s only if it doesn’t meet your expectations…or if you cancel more than two weeks in advance.”
“Oh my god. Are you serious? Why would you do this? How much did you pay?”
“That’s not important. You are important to me, and all I see you doing is working your ass off and hanging out with your big, dopey dog.”
Sangster licked his lips with exaggerated flair, as though he took exception to the comment.
“I can’t believe you would do this to me.” Quinn pressed her lips together to stop herself from screaming.
It’s up to you now.
I have a strong hunch about which version you’ll likely prefer, but by all means, prove me wrong! Vote for your favorite in my newsletter or by responding here. I love connecting with my readers. 🤩
Copyright © 2025 by MJ Mumford. All rights reserved. This material is copyrighted and may not be reproduced, distributed, or used in any manner without explicit permission from the author.
MJ
I understand your debating which to use because of course both can work!
Personally I liked third person POV better!
See you on WWF my friend ☺️
Thanks for your feedback, Ginny. I like third-person as well, but so far, the survey shows a preference toward first-person. One reader wrote in to say that her favorite paranormal romance novels are written in first-person. This tells me it could be a genre-specific thing. I’ll make sure to do a bit more research before committing.
Both work but if I have to pick it’s first person. Simply because I feel more connected when the character shares thoughts in the first person. Feels more like they are sharing with me.
I completely get where you’re coming from, Stacey. Writing in first-person gives me that same sense of closeness to the character, almost as if I’m living the story with them. I’m glad to hear that it helps you feel that connection as a reader too. Thanks for sharing your thoughts!