This past summer, I rediscovered Myst as a smartphone app (called RealMyst) and I’ve been thoroughly sucked in all over again. While the crisp graphics and immersive sounds are great for setting the tone of the game, the thing that has really captured my attention this time around is the storytelling and world-building.

If you’ve ever wondered what makes a story world come to life, it’s a number of different things. The primary element, though, is that sense of the world being three-dimensional and truly immersive. The minute a reader (or gamer) becomes aware that they’re in a story world, it loses its magic and the spell is broken.

What can we learn about storytelling and immersive world-building from Myst? Here are three things. Note: If you’ve never played the game and you think you might want to in the future, be forewarned—there are spoilers ahead.

1) There has to be something at stake.

The game starts with us materializing on an island with a series of buildings on it. The buildings range in architecture from a classical style with imposing stone columns to more scrappy and makeshift structures like the wooden cabin at the far end of the island. As we meander around getting the lay of the land, we suddenly discover a note left on a patch of grass, giving us the first set of instructions. This note tells us to go to a specific place on the island and explains how we can decode a secret hidden message left there for us by one of the characters in the game.

When we decode this message, immediately we discover that there is something deeply wrong on this island. The creator of the island world, Atrus, has been trapped and he suspects his sons are the culprits. Now it’s up to us to assemble all the clues and free him. But there’s a catch. In the library, we find two books—one red, one blue—and when we open them, we see garbled video messages from what appear to be Atrus’ sons. Our mission in the game is to figure out how to free Atrus without accidentally freeing one or both of his malevolent sons.

In this way, Myst puts the stakes right up front in the story. We know that freeing Atrus is the goal, but we also know that bad things can happen if we inadvertently free his sons instead. And if we don’t figure out all the clues, Atrus will be trapped where he is forever.

Examine your own writing: Are the stakes clear? Are they buried in the narrative, or are they right up front in the story?

2) A story world is not static.

The way Myst is designed, you can travel to and explore the different Ages in any order. And yet, there is also a logical progression to the game. This progression gives the game a sense of story—an arc—and if you unlock a particular achievement too early (like accidentally finding the white book page before you’ve visited all the Ages) the game will not make sense. There is an internal logic to how the story is put together and most players will go through the steps in a particular order.

First and foremost, players tend to focus their attention on the main Myst Island. They find the hidden message right at the start of the game (establishing the stakes) and then they explore the island and figure out how to find the Linking Books that connect to the various Ages.

Most players will solve the puzzles leading to a specific Linking Book and then they will go to that Age and explore it. Once in that Age, they will solve multiple puzzles there before coming back to Myst Island. Once the player has explored all four Ages (Mechanical, Selenitic, Stoneship, and Channelwood), they will have enough information so that they can solve the final puzzle and release Atrus from where he is trapped.

While the graphics and sounds of Myst make the various worlds (or Ages) come to life, what makes them interesting is that there is activity. There’s something to do. The world of the game is not static. The player can make choices and change things as they solve the various puzzles. They have agency, just as the character in a story must also have agency.

Speaking of characters, while we don’t interact with many characters throughout the game and most of the adventures are solitary, we do feel the characters’ presence in the world. When we visit the various Ages, they feel lived-in, as though the characters might walk in at any moment. This lived-in quality makes the world feel dynamic and interesting because it puts characters at the center, rather than emphasizing the setting for the sake of itself.

Look closely at your story: Is there a clear arc or path through the story? Are the characters at the center of the world? If so, do they have agency, or are they just buffeted to and fro by story events?

3) The world must be a multisensory experience.

Perhaps Myst’s greatest claim to fame when it was first released was the quality of the graphics. I remember playing a demo version of the game in a computer store and when I got to that place where you click the painting in the library and it swirls around and makes a bwowooo sound, my fifteen-year-old mind was blown. Clearly the graphics are an important part of making this world feel real, but the sounds are even more important.

The place where you might notice it most is in the Channelwood Age. When you’re at ground level, the background sounds are of swampy things like frogs and flowing water. Then, when you go up into the trees and you’re walking along the canopy, you can hear birds chirping and wind blowing as well as the creaking wood of the bridges between the tree houses.

Sounds play an especially important role in the Selenitic Age, where you need to use different sounds in order to solve the puzzles. To get into the Selenitic Age, you need to decode a puzzle using the keys of an organ inside the spaceship. Then in the Selenitic Age, you have to use a combination of different sounds in the right order to open up the doorway leading to the spaceship back. Finally, once inside the return spaceship, you have to use sounds to navigate your way through a maze, eventually leading you to the Linking Book that brings you back to Myst Island.

In some areas of Myst there are only background sounds (as in the Channelwood and Selenitic Ages), but in other areas, there is also the use of a soundtrack to set the scene. For example, some of the buildings on Myst Island have music that plays when we go inside. There is an oboe theme when you go into the observatory and there’s a pulsing, almost metallic song when you climb into the tower. These snippets of soundtrack all add to the immersive experience of the game.

The key to this game’s success is that it really makes you feel like you are in that world, and a large part of that is that it doesn’t just rely on fancy graphics—it also uses sounds.

Consider your story’s world: Do you create a multi-sensory experience for your reader? Where can you tap into the five senses to add more dimension to the world? 

At the end of the day, world-building is not just about creating a nice setting for your story. The world needs to feel almost like a character in its own right. A story’s world is like a living, breathing organism that can change as the characters interact with it. This is not unlike the way the Ages of Myst change as the player discovers clues and unlocks various puzzles.

Until next time, keep writing and keep being awesome!

P.S. For more info on Gabriela Pereira, the founder and instigator of DIY MFA, check out her profile page.

The post Writer Fuel: World-Building Lessons from the Video Game Myst appeared first on DIY MFA.

For folks who may not be familiar, let’s define what DIY MFA means. We all know that DIY stands for “do-it-yourself” but what about the MFA part? No, it’s not short for “mafia,” though we do get that a lot. Actually, MFA is the abbreviation for “Master of Fine Arts” which is the graduate degree most frequently offered for creative writing.

Why would you DIY your MFA?

I got a traditional MFA myself, and while I absolutely loved my graduate school experience, I also recognized that I was in a very privileged position to be able to get that degree. At the time, I was married with no kids and lawyer-hubby was working at a big, fancy law firm, so it was okay for me to take two years off work and go back to school. We also lived in NYC, where there are dozens of schools with traditional MFA programs right in our backyard. I could go back to school without having to move.

Today’s Gabriela (by the way) would never be able to do that. Between running DIY MFA full-time and having two kiddos, ages 10 and 12, there is no way I would ever be able to go back to school at this stage in my life. I’m grateful that I had that opportunity at the time and I loved every minute of it, but I also recognize that the traditional MFA is not feasible for everyone.

DIY MFA grew out of this realization that while traditional graduate programs are wonderful and can serve some people very well, they are by no means the best fit for every writer. What I discovered in developing DIY MFA is that there are many writers out there who want the rigor of a graduate education, but the logistics are just not in their favor.

For some, it might be a matter of geography. Many writers don’t have a school with a writing program within commuting distance. Or it might have to do with the time commitment and other logistics. For a lot of writers, day jobs and family responsibilities need to take precedence, and they have to fit their writing around all these things.

For others it might come down to the type of writing they want to do. Most traditional MFA programs emphasize literary fiction, so folks writing children’s books or genre fiction would be out of luck. Yes, there are some rare programs that offer genre or writing for children concentrations, but they are few and far between.

And, of course, there is the matter of tuition. While there are some schools that offer fully-funded MFA programs, it’s certainly not true of all programs by any stretch. And if you were to pay full freight for some of these schools it could end up costing you $80,000+ per year. Unlike medical school or law school, where there’s a clear career pathway after graduation and odds are reasonable that you might be able to recoup that tuition, things in the writing space are quite a bit fuzzier. You might get a great book deal, or you might work for years and years and never pay back those loans.

With tuition rates increasing faster than inflation and the tricky state of publishing (what with the advent of AI), now more than ever, writers need a do-it-yourself education option. We need ways to build that academic rigor into our lives without the major time commitment and the ridiculous costs. DIY MFA offers many workshops and courses to help writers deepen their knowledge of the craft, but today I wanted to make the fundamentals available to everyone and walk you through—step by step—how to DIY your MFA.

How to DIY Your MFA

This is a topic I get asked to speak on all the time and it’s one of my favorite things to discuss. I love giving writers the tools they need to succeed and my favorite thing is seeing my fellow word nerds reach their goals. This is why I started DIY MFA, after all.

So, how do you do it? How do you DIY your MFA?

The key is understanding DIY MFA’s three-pronged approach. There are three pillars of DIY MFA and these are: (1) write with focus, (2) read with purpose, and (3) build your community. If you’re going to DIY your MFA, you need to build all three components into your author life.

I developed this framework after studying many different traditional MFA programs. I visited several MFA websites and looked at how they laid out their curricula and what courses they required of their students. From all this research, a pattern emerged. There were three elements that kept coming up again and again, and these were writing, reading, and community.

From this, I deduced that in order to create a DIY version of the traditional MFA you needed to have these three things. First and foremost, you need to write and practice your craft. Second (and equally important) you need to learn how to read with a writer’s eye. Finally, you also need to engage with your community, both that of fellow writers as well as your readers.

Write with Focus

Writing with focus means writing with an end-goal in mind. Sure, it’s great to noodle around and try out different ideas, but sooner or later you need to decide on a project, then knuckle down and write it. Finishing projects is probably one of the most important skills a writer will need to develop.

When you write with focus, you also take the time to study the craft and improve your skills. Lately, I’ve been revisiting the book Peak: Secrets from the New Science of Expertise by Anders Ericsson and Robert Pool, who I interviewed for DIY MFA Radio some time ago. In this book, they talk about how to use deliberate practice in order to improve your skills. Just as a top athlete or accomplished musician needs to practice in order to reach a level of excellence, so too is it with writing. If we want to reach a higher level with our writing, we need to practice.

Finally, it’s important to track your progress, because you can’t modify what you can’t measure. Many writers make a note of their word counts every time they write. Other writers might track the amount of time they spend writing. I find that word count and time are both good measures of writing progress, but they apply to different situations. Word count is best for measuring how much progress you make when first drafting a manuscript, whereas time might be a better measure if you’re in the revision process.

Read with Purpose

One of the first things I recommend to people when they ask me about how to read like a writer is I tell them to build a reading list. Just as a professor puts together a syllabus with all the books you need to read in a given semester, you need to do the same thing if you’re going to DIY your MFA. The key is understanding what kinds of books to put on your list.

When putting together a reading list, I like to think of the 4Cs: comps, contextual books, contemporary books, and classics. Comps are books similar to the one you’re writing. Imagine your book sitting on a bookstore shelf; the comps are the books on the shelf next to it. Contextual books are your research, books you read in order to inform your writing. Contemporary books are any books in your genre published within the past two years. These books do not need to be similar to your current project. Finally, classics are self-explanatory, but these are books that have stood the test of time. A good reading list is like a well-balanced diet and should include a couple of books from each of these categories.

Once you’ve selected your books, you need to practice reading them with a writer’s eye. This means not just considering what the book is about or why the author wrote it, but also focusing on how the writer crafts the story. The key to reading like a writer is to ask yourself two questions: (1) How did the writer achieve this effect? and (2) How can I do that in my own work?

Build Your Community

Finally, we come to the community piece of the puzzle. To build your community, you need to consider three different groups of people with whom you need to connect: fellow writers, your readers, and the industry as a whole. In other words, it boils down to 3Ps: peers, platform, and publishing.

When it comes to connecting with your peers, you want to consider many different questions. Do you want feedback on your writing? If so, maybe a workshop or critique group might be your best bet. How will you build support and accountability into your writing life? To do this, you may want to surround yourself with writer friends, be it via social media, a writing class, or some other type of community. Finally, do you have advisors to whom you can go for help? All writers need advisors of some kind, whether it be a mentor you admire from afar or someone you work with closely.

Building your platform is a subject that comes a little bit later in a writer’s development, but it’s good to have it on your radar so you know what’s coming down the line. Remember that as you build your platform, you want to develop an audience of readers, not necessarily of fellow writers (though writers can be readers, too!). This means that as you develop your platform, you need to do so in a way that attracts the ideal readers for your book.

Finally, at some point, you will want to get your writing out in the world, and to do that you will need to publish. There are a lot of experts out there helping writers get published, but not all are of the same high caliber. One expert whose work I highly recommend is Jane Friedman. She has two newsletters, one called Electric Speed (free) where she shares digital resources for creative people, and the other called The Hot Sheet (paid) where she reports on the publishing industry. I read both, and highly recommend them.

Putting It All Together

So, you’ve got plans to write with focus, read with purpose, and build your community. Now what? How do you know if you’re “doing it right”? The truth is, there’s no one right way to DIY your MFA. There are just two guidelines I can offer you:

1. Make sure all three elements are present in your writing life at any given time.
2. Be flexible and allow for ebb and flow between the three elements.

The way I like to think of the writing life is as a pie, where writing, reading, and community each make up a slice. You could have a perfectly balanced pie with each element taking up one third, or you can vary the sizes of the slices. Personally, I like my DIY MFA pie to look like the diagram below, where half of the pie is dedicated to writing and the other half is split evenly between reading and community.

This pie isn’t static, though. For example, if I were at a conference, the community slice would probably take up 90% of my pie, and the last 10% might be split evenly between writing and reading. The key is that all three elements are represented in some capacity, and the pie proportions can shift depending on what’s happening in my author life at that moment.

HOMEWORK: Try this experiment for one or two weeks. At the end of each day, draw a pie that represents what you did that day as part of your writing life. Over the course of a couple of weeks, you’ll start to see a pattern and you’ll get a sense for your writing life’s natural balance.

Until next time, keep writing and keep being awesome!

P.S. For more info on Gabriela Pereira, the founder and instigator of DIY MFA, check out her profile page.

The post Writer Fuel: How to DIY Your MFA appeared first on DIY MFA.

I share this story because just as knitters have a tendency to flock together, so do writers. Put a couple of writers in a cocktail party full of “muggles” and they will immediately find each other and bond over their love of words. (And yes, I did just refer to non-writers as the non-magic folk in the Harry Potter books.) There’s something about writing that brings people together, like they have a writing radar or “wradar.”

For centuries—maybe millennia—writers have been coming together to share their work. Think of the Grand Cafe in Oslo, the Abbey Theater in Dublin, or the Algonquin Round Table in New York. People talk about writing as a solitary lifestyle, yet for many of us, community is a huge part of the creative process.

So, what makes a writing community effective? And where can writers find this illusive thing called “community”? Here are three components that, in my mind, make a writing community work particularly well.

(1) More Give than Take

Whenever I’m exploring new communities, I look for places where there is an attitude of generosity among the members, a place where people give more than they take. In these types of communities, members offer feedback, share resources, and celebrate each other’s wins without expectation of reciprocation. This spirit of generosity creates a safe space where members can form strong connections with each other and everyone can thrive side-by-side. It sets a positive tone that both appeals to the more gregarious members and also makes even the shyest members more likely to participate.

Communities founded on a principle of generosity tend to be the ones that last the longest. They also attract the best members. After all, no one wants to be in a space where a handful of people monopolize the conversation. When the members are good literary citizens who lead with generosity, the community is most likely to thrive.

(2) Constructive, Not Competitive

Many writing communities are founded around a workshop model where members share their work with each other and offer feedback. In this type of space, constructive critique is key. I’ve seen many a workshop devolve into a cesspool of competitiveness, where members constantly compare themselves to each other. I myself have been in workshops where the leader or teacher believed in “tearing writers down in order to build them back up.” It was a workshop like this that made me stop writing in college and it took me seven years (seven years!) to build up the guts to try again.

While harsh judgements can certainly tear a writer down, empty cheerleading is no better. When writers do nothing but gush about how great a work is, it does nothing to help that writer improve. Instead, it’s important not just to say what works in a piece, but also explain why it works. By explaining the “why” behind the praise or suggestions for improvement, writers can help each other refine their craft.

(3) Broad Range of Genres and Writing Styles

As writers we often are attracted to communities that focus on a specific genre or type of writing. This makes sense on one level, because publishing is itself a genre-focused industry and it can be useful to connect and trade ideas with fellow writers in the same niche.

That said, we also have to acknowledge that writers from different genres bring unique insights to the storytelling process. Romance writers, for example, are phenomenal at marketing and promoting their work. Sci-fi, fantasy and historical fiction writers are amazing at world building. Thriller and mystery writers are fantastic at plot and story structure. And literary fiction writers are excellent at character development.

While it is perfectly fair game to build your community around a specific genre, I want to encourage you to stretch your boundaries and try to connect with writers outside your niche as well. Every genre has its strengths and weaknesses, after all, and when we connect with writers of other genres we can gain new perspectives and improve our craft.

Why do we care about community?

Writing is a solitary exercise. Sure, we can commune with fellow writers, but when it comes to putting words on the page, we do that work on our own. Still, finding community is an essential part of the writing life for a few reasons:

1. Community will give you support. Writing is lonely and “muggles” don’t always understand the ups and downs of the creative process. When we connect with fellow writers, we can see that we’re not struggling in isolation. Yes, writing is a wacky, wild journey, but we are not alone.
2. Community will keep you accountable. Sometimes all it takes is a little bit of peer pressure to get your backside in the chair and make you start churning out words. That has certainly worked for me. For years, I participated in a group that met in a coffee shop and wrote side-by-side. Just seeing my writing buddies focused and working on their books gave me that little extra push to keep pouring words onto the page.
3. Community will motivate you. When we work in solitude, it can feel like we’re never going to reach our goals, but when we see a friend or colleague get published or win an award, it reminds us that success is possible. Sure, you don’t want to be competitive and constantly compare yourself to others, but seeing what’s possible for fellow writers can help you stay motivated, even when your goals feel out of reach.
4. Community will build your network. I hate the word “networking” because it makes me think of “schmoozing” at cocktail parties. (Gross!) Still, there is something to be said about building a network of friends and colleagues and getting to know key players in the industry. The way to do this organically and authentically is through community. When you contribute to a writing community as a good literary citizen, people start to take notice and they’ll want to connect with you. Slowly but surely, your network will grow.

Finding a good community is a key step in any writer’s journey. Still, not all communities are created equal, and it can be hard to find a good one. Here are a few resources to help you get started.

SOCIAL MEDIA: Certain social networks can be great for building community. It used to be that Twitter was where most writers liked to hang out, but ever since the switch to X, I’ve noticed a lot of writers migrating elsewhere. I myself have found that Threads seems to be a very welcoming writing space. Use the BookThreads or WriterThreads hashtags to connect with fellow writers and book lovers. Click here if you want to connect with me on Threads. I haven’t posted much yet; I’m mostly reading other people’s posts and liking/commenting on them.

ASSOCIATIONS: These groups can be a great resource both in terms of helping you develop your knowledge base and for building community. Many writing associations tend to either be genre focused or centered around a particular geographic location. Start by looking in your area to see if there’s a writing association in your city or state. If you can’t find anything local, check out some genre-based associations listed below. Many of them have local chapters.

• AWP: Association of Writers and Writing Programs – mostly for literary fiction but includes a lot of MFA programs, literary magazines, and small presses.
• ITW: International Thriller Writers
• MWA: Mystery Writers of America
• RWA: Romance Writers of America
• SFWA: Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers Association
• HWA: Horror Writers Association
• SCBWI: Society of Children’s Book Writers & Illustrators (includes books for all age groups, including Young Adult)
• SinC: Sisters In Crime

Of course, this is just a small sampling of writing associations, but it can help you get started.

DIY MFA: Did you know that DIY MFA has its own unique community? Our DIY MFA Members HUB is a close-knit group of writers who are committed to their craft and want to learn and grow together. We meet twice a month via zoom calls, plus the membership offers a ton of resources like access to the entire DIY MFA webinar library and all of our Writer Igniter Summit interviews.

To keep the community tight, we only open the doors to new members a few select times per year. Curious about the HUB and want to learn more? Click here for more info and to get on the waiting list.

There you have it: three components of a good community, along with four reasons why community matters, and three different places you can go to find your birds of a feather. If you haven’t found a writing community yet, I want to encourage you to take the leap. Choose one of the resources I shared above and check it out.

Until next time, keep writing and keep being awesome!

P.S. For more info on Gabriela Pereira, the founder and instigator of DIY MFA, check out her profile page.

The post Writer Fuel: What to Look For in a Writing Community appeared first on DIY MFA.

Notice how in the compound word “workshop” the “work” part comes before the “shop.” It’s as though the word itself is telling us to put emphasis on the work first. 

Yet, somewhere along the way, workshop went from being a place to being a verb, a thing you did as part of the evaluative process for creative projects. “Let’s workshop these pages and see if we can make them better,” one writer might say to another. Or maybe, “Let’s take these pages to the workshop and see what other people think.”

I suspect this shift might be related to the beginning of one very famous writing workshop which, in the 1930s, established a paradigm for how creative work should be critiqued. The Iowa Writers’ Workshop—and the hundreds of similar programs and courses it inspired—put much more emphasis on the critique aspect than on doing the work itself. 

In this model, the act of writing is a private matter, something we should do in the privacy of our wooded cabin or humble garret. Workshop instead becomes a place you would go to talk about writing, rather than actually do it.

What is worse, this workshop model (which has been in place for almost 100 years) is not inclusive to marginalized writers, or even just writers wanting to create something a little bit outside the norm. You see, according to this workshop model, the writer whose work is on deck must sit quietly while the rest of the group offers their impressions of the work. Some workshops even go so far as to put writers in “the box,” “the booth,” or “the cone of silence.” The reasoning behind this method is supposedly to avoid defensiveness and lend some objectivity to the process. Yet all it does is create a one-sided discussion that excludes the writer whose work it is. This approach can be problematic or even harmful.

I remember, back when I was an itty-bitty baby writer, taking a workshop where we adhered strictly to the box method. It was an introductory fiction workshop with writers of all genres/categories, and at the time, I was working on some middle grade short stories. When it came my turn for critique, the class squandered my entire thirty minutes talking about how the voice of my story was juvenile. Well, no kidding it was juvenile—I was writing for 10-year-old readers. I wasn’t about to sound like Faulkner. If the workshop had allowed for dialogue, if I had been permitted to break out of the booth and tell my classmates what my intended audience was, we probably would have skipped past “juvenile” and actually gotten to a productive discussion. Silencing the writer turns the workshop into nothing more than a talkshop.

I hate to admit it, but until around a year ago, I still operated according to this same problematic paradigm. The truth is, I didn’t realize it could be any other way. This was how I had been taught in every writing class I ever took, including at the traditional MFA I attended. I’m embarrassed to say that even DIY MFA used the “Loving Bubble of Support” method of critique for quite some time. Sure, it might sound more warm and fuzzy than a cone of silence, but it still hearkens to that same tradition of silencing the writer who has the most at stake in the discussion.

Now we do things differently and (in my opinion) so much better. First and foremost, we acknowledge that critique is not a one-sided discussion, but rather a dialogue, and the writer whose work is being workshopped should be the one leading the charge. 

Critiquing someone else’s work when they can’t talk back is easy. Holding a true dialogue and approaching that work with curiosity and compassion is hard work. Hence, the term “workshop.”

In her fabulous book The Antiracist Writing Workshop: How to Decolonize the Creative Classroom, Felicia Rose Chavez talks about many different ways to bring work back into the workshop setting. Having students write longhand journal entries in response to thought questions in class. Creating an environment that engages the senses and gets writers out of their seats. Building a collaborative lexicon, both in terms of common craft vocabulary and also a classroom-inspired collection of reading material. 

All these are ways to put the “work” back in workshop. After all, as Chavez says: “Workshop isn’t workshop if someone doesn’t accidentally trip over a writer.”

At DIY MFA, we also believe that workshops should be about doing the work, about putting words on the page. This is why, as I’ve developed new curriculum over the past year, I have made a deliberate effort to incorporate hands-on activities, like freewriting and roleplay. The goal, of course, has been to nudge writers outside their comfort zones and get them actually writing, rather than simply talking about the work. My hope is that writers who participated in our programs this past year have reaped the benefits of a true workshop.

Until next time, keep writing and keep being awesome!

P.S. For more info on Gabriela Pereira, the founder and instigator of DIY MFA, check out her profile page.

The post Writer Fuel: Rethinking the Way We Workshop appeared first on DIY MFA.

Where Malice Domestic promotes the traditional mystery with low levels of sex, violence, and gore, Bouchercon covers all types of mysteries. Agatha Christie lovers rub shoulders with Harlan Coben and Christa Faust fans. I go to both because historical fiction authors and readers will attend, but I go to Bouchercon to get my noir fix. And noir can definitely be historical—whether authors set their stories in the past as Scott Von Doviak in Lowdown Road (1974 Texas) or let their protagonists be haunted by the past as Faye Snowden did to Raven Burns in A Killing Fire.

“The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars/But in ourselves.” 

Cassius, in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, pithily names the source of all problems in noir, less so Gothic and hard-boiled fiction. Perhaps it’s the reason I love those subgenres, even if I don’t, probably can’t, write them.

Let’s discuss noir first. If we’re talking about film, it’s a style. Dark alleys, rain-slicked streets, murky atmosphere, shots down spiral staircases, reflections, shadows, shady characters who come to no good end. In film, think Out of the Past, The Sweet Smell of Success, Odds Against Tomorrow, and L.A. Confidential. That last is neo-noir, but really, was anything shot in daylight?

In fiction, noir has many definitions, and the authors at the panels I attended debated them all. One overrode all others—it always ends badly for everybody. Nobody gets away with it, even if it looks like they have done it. Additionally, in noir, the main character usually is a louse, but generally, she/he/they do bad things to worse people. Finding the truth of the situation is worse than not knowing. Dreamers turn into schemers. This definition goes along with my conception of noir—there’s no easy walk to Easy Street. Both film noir and noir in fiction are full of stupid, corrupted and corruptible, amoral people trying to hit the jackpot, so they can check out of the rat race. It never goes well. Something else I would add—there is no redemption here. History matters, personal history most of all, foreclosing any reclamation.

There was something of a consensus that the cops and PIs are not involved in noir fiction. The authors on the panels agreed noir was crime fiction without them. I beg to differ. Have they read James Ellroy’s La Quartet? Ellroy is completely traditional in this sense—the cops are just the other gang, better armed and funded.

Noir has two close cousins—Gothic and hard-boiled fiction. If I could draw a three-circle Venn diagram, there would be significant overlap amongst the three categories. 

Gothic, which these days means we’re talking about the American South, is all about an intense, emotional experience and buried secrets that corrupt everything and everybody they touch. These secrets are the point of overlap with noir because discovering the truth of these secrets is worse than not knowing the source of the corruption. Above all, people are willing to go to extraordinary, violent lengths to keep these secrets. 

Faye Snowden made an interesting point here—preachers are always corrupt in Southern Gothic. Don’t believe her? Read David Grubb’s Night of the Hunter. I cannot think of a more corrupt example than Harry “Preacher” Powell, unless it’s Elmer Gantry, but Gantry was a mere crook, not the murderous, hateful, but charming charlatan that is Powell. And definitely watch the film—Charles Laughton directed it, using Expressionism to capture the Gothic feel, and Robert Mitchum played Powell to his rotten worst.

For the record, Gothic literature came from mid-eighteenth century England—think The Monk by Gregory Lewis, which has enough crime, religiosity, and overwrought emotion to last a lifetime and which has never been out of print—to New England, where Nathaniel Hawthorne did well with it (The Scarlet Letter) to the MidAtlantic, where Edgar Allen Poe (The Fall of the House of Usher) ran with it—Baltimore’s NFL team is the Ravens for a reason—and then to its natural landing spot, the Deep South. 

Why? Shakespeare wrote that the past is prologue. In Requiem for a Nun, William Faulkner disagreed—“The past is never dead. It’s not even the past.”

The original sin in the South is slavery. Having to grapple with this unresolved past plus things done and left undone in the name of religion, makes Faulkner and Flannery O’Connor easier to understand. Faulkner, who dealt with the horror and costs of slavery underlain by a stern and fervent Protestantism, social transgression, and obsession with death, laid the roadbed for modern Southern Gothic. Flannery O’Conner, herself Catholic and therefore something of a religious outsider in the South, wrestled with secrets, transgression, death, and the grotesque in her work. Religiosity and hypocrisy can combine to corrupt, making the South a fertile setting for terrible crimes, of which murder might be the least. S.A. Cosby and Attica Locke, in addition of Faye Snowden, have brilliantly plowed this ground.

(For more on Faye Snowden’s take on Southern Gothic: https://crimereads.com/southern-gothic-crime-fiction-a-palimpsest-and-primer/ )

If noir’s in the middle, with Gothic on one side, then hard-boiled is on the other side. It overlaps with a cynical narrative voice, a corrupt and vice-ridden world, and a world-weary protagonist who knows the score, but who plows ahead to expose the corruption. The difference? Noir starts with a tepid hope, which is crushed under the bad choices the characters make. Everything gets worse, and nothing works out. In hard-boiled, the protagonist gets out alive, if more shit-stained, more damaged, and the crooks, mostly, end up jailed or dead.

Like Gothic and noir, hard-boiled can be historical or contemporary, but the past is always there to haunt the characters.

It should be no surprise that the PI novel—America’s contribution to crime fiction with Hammett, Chandler, and Macdonald putting murder on the ‘mean streets’—is the backbone of hard-boiled fiction. The private investigator is an archetypal character. She/he/they are always an outsider, always a damaged loner, but the PI knows right from wrong, even when others don’t. Sara Paretsky said at the panel on the enduring popularity of the PI novel: “The individual voice still matters.”

The PI novel has moved a long way from the days of Hammett, Chandler, and Macdonald, whose white male characters, the Continental Op, Philip Marlowe, and Lew Archer, have given way to a broader, more diverse set of PIs, such as Gary Phillip’s Ivan Monk, Sara Paretsky’s V. I. Warshawski, and S. J. Rozan’s Lydia Chin, as well as broader, more diverse crimes and locations. After all, Assassin’s Orbit by John Appel involves Noo Okereke, a sixty-two-year-old PI, investigating a brutal assassination in outer space a couple centuries in the future. While it is more space opera than PI novel, it does show that PIs are far from dead in fiction—the whole point of the Bouchercon panel.

I didn’t just do noir and its cousins at Bouchercon. I went to several history panels, too. I’ll talk about them in the next blog on the biggest mystery convention of the year.

A former college professor, Karen Whitehurst holds a Ph.D. in British history from the University of Virginia. She currently resides in Maryland with one long-suffering husband, three naughty cats, and over one hundred houseplants. A writer of both historical mystery and SF & F, she is currently at work on a mystery set in 18th century England during the Gordon Riots.

For more information, visit her website.

The post Noir and Its Cousins at Bouchercon 2023 appeared first on DIY MFA.

I cannot think of a better one for the new or emerging writer (a term I dislike, but one with a certain utility) than Malice Domestic (www.malicedomestic.org). This is the annual convention/conference for readers and writers of traditional mysteries. Agatha Christie is the patron saint here, so no explicit sex, violence, or gore. The context and the consequences of the violence, usually murder, drive the stories here: so, no to James Ellroy and Karin Slaughter, and yes to Martin Edwards, Catriona McPherson, and Misty Simon.

As a convention, it’s fun and low-key. One author described Malice to me as a great, annual family reunion. I go to Malice to hang out with my friends. I go to find new authors and books tho’ I am the hardest sell because I am so eclectic (read mercurial) in my tastes. Also, my reading tastes lean toward the grittier police procedural, which can cross over the line to hard-boiled and noir, more Bouchercon and ThrillerFest. (I’ll discuss them at a later date.) I go to learn new things.

Malice is so worth it—especially the author interviews. This year, it was Ann Cleeves, Vaseem Khan, and Hank Phillippi Ryan. Abir Mukherjee was supposed to be here, but he got quarantined in Britain due to Covid. (Did you think we’d heard the last of the virus?) However, with a little technical help from Zoom, Mukherjee joined Khan for their live-from-Malice podcast of the Red Hot Chili Writers, #99—Britain v America: the Indian Tea Party. (https://www.spreaker.com/show/red-hot-chilli-writers ). Once the tech started working—all hail the Marriot staff!—it was hilarious. No Malice is complete without a  presentation by Lucy Zahray, aka the Poison Lady, who will teach you how to poison your victims accurately. 

Don’t try using strychnine in Britain before 1819. 

This year seven or eight panels dealt with some historical topic. Historical mystery (hist-myst) generally falls in the traditional mystery category. I only went to four of these panels. After all, we can’t do everything at a con, no matter how much we want to do so; the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. Sometimes, the programmers have to set panels against each other in a time slot. Annoying, but it happens. Still, there’ll be at least one we’ll regret not going to. This year, I couldn’t make the one on the tension between historical fact and historical imagination (set against another historical panel) and one on thrillers wherein the past haunts the present (needed to eat—yeah, don’t forget to do that).

The panels I did make were quite good, so no need for teeth-gnashing. Most of the discussion involved authors discussing who their protagonists are, how and when they do research, and that very real tension between fact and imagination. 

Many of the authors created protagonists from the lower ranks of society, as one author put it, someone without authority or someone who is a social upstart. I can’t say my own protagonist is a social upstart, merely an outsider amongst the aristocracy. The outsider is another way to do it, and there were a few of those, like “the agony aunt.” (Agony in Victorian understanding means a problem, and such columns were published in the newspapers from the late 18th century. Lonely hearts letters, too.)

As to research, most do it before and during the writing process: one described going down the research hole for three months before writing, while another regarded research as nourishment during the writing. Yet, another described doing research after the first draft as “cleaning up after a party.” Overall, the authors did it throughout the process.

Take away: do what works for you, but without going down the research rabbit hole.

One of the moderators said historical novels are a good way to educate about history, particularly social history. Up to a point, I agree. In fiction, we’ve got to tell a good story with good, relatable characters. If there’s truth to be found here, it’s emotional truth. Those two objectives mean that sometimes accuracy’s going by the boards. Now, there will be times when we’ve got to make it up because there’s no documentation or there’s no way anybody could’ve had that experience, such as treating smallpox with red flannel or driving a Roman chariot.

Best question to the panelists in any session—What did you learn the hard way? The lessons gleaned—

• Don’t think it’s going to be too easy. It’s a long process (writing a historical novel).
• No guarantees on getting published. Do it because you love it. Have fun and entertain yourself, and then others. (Sound advice for any type of writing.)
• Don’t be too angry with the copy editor.
• It’s important the writer knows the historical details, but it’s not necessary that the readers know them.

And that wraps up the report from the 35th Annual Malice Domestic. Hope to see you there next year, along with Guest of Honor Sujata Massey, Lifetime Achievement Award winner Elaine Viets, and the toastmaster, Lori Rader-Day.

A former college professor, Karen Whitehurst holds a Ph.D. in British history from the University of Virginia. She currently resides in Maryland with one long-suffering husband, three naughty cats, and over one hundred houseplants. A writer of both historical mystery and SF & F, she is currently at work on a mystery set in 18th century England during the Gordon Riots.

For more information, visit her website.

The post History at Malice Domestic appeared first on DIY MFA.

Today, I want to explore the invaluable benefits of writing retreats and programs specifically tailored for LGBTQ+ writers. These safe and inclusive spaces offer a nurturing environment, supportive community, and opportunities for personal and artistic growth.

Creating Safe and Inclusive Spaces

Writing retreats and programs dedicated to LGBTQ+ writers create safe and inclusive spaces where individuals can freely express themselves without fear of judgment or discrimination. These environments foster a sense of belonging and understanding, empowering writers to delve into personal narratives and explore their identities in their work. 

By eliminating the need for self-censorship, LGBTQ+ writers can fully explore their creativity and push boundaries, resulting in more authentic and impactful storytelling.

Building Supportive Communities

Retreats, communities, and guest writer programs can provide a unique opportunity to connect with like-minded individuals and build supportive communities. 

Sharing experiences, challenges, and triumphs with others who understand and empathize can be immensely empowering and inspiring. These communities offer a network of support that extends beyond the duration of the retreat or program, providing ongoing mentorship, collaboration opportunities, and lasting friendships. 

Connecting with fellow LGBTQ+ writers not only strengthens individual voices but also fosters a sense of solidarity within the wider community.

Nurturing Personal and Artistic Growth

Attending a writing program or retreat offers a nurturing environment that encourages personal and artistic growth. Through workshops, seminars, and one-on-one feedback sessions, participants can hone their writing skills, learn new techniques, and gain valuable insights from experienced mentors and facilitators. 

Additionally, the focused time and space away from daily distractions allow writers to delve deeper into their craft, exploring new genres, experimenting with different styles, and pushing their creative boundaries.

Amplifying LGBTQ+ Voices

Representation matters. Writing retreats and programs for LGBTQ+ writers play a vital role in amplifying underrepresented voices and diverse narratives. 

By providing a platform specifically designed for LGBTQ+ writers, these initiatives enable stories and perspectives that are often marginalized or overlooked to reach a wider audience. 

The power of storytelling lies not only in its ability to entertain but also to educate, challenge stereotypes, and foster empathy. By supporting and encouraging LGBTQ+ writers, we can contribute to a more inclusive literary landscape.

Overcoming Challenges and Finding Validation

LGBTQ+ writers often face unique challenges in the literary world, including heteronormative expectations, the need to educate readers on LGBTQ+ issues, and the pressure to conform to mainstream narratives. 

In an age of increasing calls for censorship and book bans, LGBTQ+ programs and communities help writers navigate challenges by offering a platform where their voices are not only accepted but celebrated. 

The validation and affirmation received within these spaces can be transformative, instilling confidence, resilience, and a sense of pride in one’s identity and work.

Programs to Consider

Retreats and programs tailored for LGBTQ+ writers provide invaluable opportunities for personal and artistic growth, fostering a sense of belonging, support, and validation. 

By creating safe and inclusive spaces, these initiatives amplify the voices of LGBTQ+ writers, empowering them to tell their stories authentically and contribute to a more diverse and inclusive literary landscape. As we continue to strive for equality and representation, it is crucial to recognize and support the unique contributions of LGBTQ+ writers. 

Here are some LGBTQ+ programs to consider and perhaps even apply for if you’re an LGBTQ+ writer in search of support and community.

Lambda Literary’s Writing Retreat

The Writer’s Retreat for Emerging LGBTQ Voices has been in service since 2007. It is the nation’s premier LGBTQ writing residency. It is the only multi-genre writing residency devoted exclusively to emerging LGBTQ+ writers.

The Loft’s Writer’s Workshop

This program has moved online, offering much more opportunity for LGBTQ+ writers from all around the country. They provide an excellent resources section as well, so writers have options as to how involved or independent they want to be.

Contests

There are also some amazing writing contests hosted specifically for LGBTQ+ writers. 

Examples include those hosted by Dunlop (the PFD YA Queer Fiction prize and the PFD Adult Queer Fiction Prize), Saints and Sinners (short story and poetry contests), Queer Sci-Fi, Lambda Literary (Jeanne Cordova Prize for Lesbian/Queer Nonfiction; J. Michael Samuel Prize for Emerging Writers Over 50; and the Judith A. Markowitz Award for Exceptional New LGBTQ Writers, just to name a few!), and the Lumiere Review Writing Contest (poetry and short stories).

DIY MFA

Join us here at DIY MFA! While this community is open to all writers in all genres, it is an inclusive group where you will find support from ally and LGBTQ-identifying writers as well. Build your own community within the community!

Adam W. Burgess is an English Professor at College of Southern Nevada. He has a Ph.D. from Northern Illinois University and is pursuing a post-doc writing certificate at the University of California, Berkeley. He loves engaging in all topics related to LGBTQ literature and craft. You can find Adam on his website or follow him on Twitter.

The post Nurturing Creativity and Amplifying Voices with LGBTQ+ Writers’ Contests and Programs appeared first on DIY MFA.

As defined by the World Health Organization, wellness is not an absence of illness. It is a practice that invests in the well-being of your body, mind, and spirit. There is an entire industry that wants you to believe you need large investments of time and money to achieve this goal.

Writer wellness is not expensive, time-consuming, or possible only with special equipment. You do not need a meditation room with incense and tufted cushions. You only need ten minutes. If you don’t have ten minutes, you can still nurture your body and mind with just ten breaths. Daily practice is what counts. Consistency is more important than length of time. And with a few small exercises you can care for your spirit.

I used to go to a yoga studio three or four times a week. It was something I needed and was given space for. I don’t have the same kind of time now. I have to find ten minutes wherever I am, whether it’s in my office, at a conference, or in the short time to myself while brewing coffee in the morning.

Writer wellness encompasses body, mind, and spirit

Body

Taking care of your eyes is very important. Long hours staring at the screen not only fatigue the muscles around your eyes but are stressful to your brain. Blue screen time disrupts your circadian rhythm, leading to health issues. Spend a few moments looking away from the computer screen. Boost your relaxation by focusing on something green, such as the plant in your writing space or a tree outside.

Likewise, it is counterproductive to sit for long sessions without stretching. The more tense your muscles become, the less oxygen circulates to your brain. Muscle spasms and compressed spines are results of sitting too long in a chair. Equally important is opening up circulation to your wrists so you can keep typing for years to come. Stretching can be as simple as wiggling your toes or standing and extending your arms above your head.

Mind

Your brain can only process so much information in an hour. Take breaks and give your brain a rest, ideally ten minutes every hour. Our brains love to problem solve, so focusing on something else lets your subconscious mind do the work. This is why I recommend listening to birdsong or going for a walk. Studies show that spending time in nature boosts creativity.

The other aspect to taking care of the body is mindful breathing. This simply means focusing on your breathing for a set amount of time. Where your mind goes, your energy goes. When your mind is scattered across several tasks, your energy is equally scattered. Taking time to focus only on breathing brings energy back to yourself. It also relaxes the parasympathetic nervous system, allowing your brain to hum in the background and come up with creative solutions.

To learn a ten-second breathing meditation click here. I use this to focus in the morning and between projects to shift my creative mindset.

Spirit

Creativity is a deeply personal act. Writers make themselves vulnerable when putting their work out there. In your writing journey there will be critical reviews, critiques that may not always be helpful, and people who will put roadblocks in your path. This is why taking care of your spirit is equally important as taking care of your body and mind. Setting boundaries to ward off energy vampires and taking steps to protect the inner bark of your creative tree are key to keeping things positive.

Be a champion of your own well-being with these simple practices

Writing doesn’t come with a coach, trainer, or physiotherapist. But you can be a champion of your own well-being with these simple practices. Choose one thing and try it for a few weeks. When it becomes routine add another technique. You will feel a subtle but powerful change in your approach to writing.

These practices for body, mind, and spirit all create steps on the path to a happy and healthy writing life.

Ambre Dawn Leffler is a Tai Chi instructor, gardener, and weather geek who writes about vegetables, seasons, communing with nature, and the interconnections of mind/body. She loves trees and cherishes time in their presence. Learn more with her free Wellness Kit for Writers and on her website ambredawnleffler.com. You can also follow her on Instagram.

The post Create a Happy and Healthy Writing Life appeared first on DIY MFA.

Today we’re exploring how we bring the diversity of our knowledge, skills, and personalities to our metaphorical table and use them to better understand and improve our own writing.

Discovering Each Other’s Personalities and Talents

We vary in educational background, knowledge of writing mechanics, and experience with different writing platforms/theories: Story-a-Day, The Write Practice, Author Accelerator, etc. The one we have in common is DIY MFA. As we mentioned last time, we met in Small Group Coaching, belong to the HUB, and have taken DIY MFA 101 and/or Pixels to Platform. 

We vary in our approaches to the novels each of us is trying to revise. Liz makes progress by plugging faithfully away, focused on one story. To avoid pulling out her hair, she mixes her approach by setting word goals, using the Pomodoro Technique, and entering writing challenges like NaNoWriMo. 

Brenda and Soleah take inspiration from brief sojourns away from their novels to generate new stories they bring to us for feedback. In that way, Brenda won an honorable mention in Writer’s Digest’s annual contest last year, and Soleah’s story won the Grand Prize of Short Fiction Break‘s Spring Writing Contest. These wins are fantastic because they bolster each writer’s confidence so she can return to editing with enthusiasm. 

Janet struggles mightily to get words on the page, and only dire threats help. She uses The World’s Most Dangerous Writing App, a site where you have a couple minutes to write continuously—as in, don’t stop for more than three seconds or the app erases everything you’ve written. Yikes. That only happened once; she swore briefly, then started again. She wrote twelve scenes that way.

Our different approaches show us, up-close, other ways of writing, allowing us to challenge ourselves to write better. We absorb each other’s knowledge and make it work for us. 

To Paraphrase Tina Turner, What’s Alchemy Got to Do with It?

According to the Oxford Dictionary, alchemy is “a seemingly magical process of transformation, creation, or combination.” So, what has transformed for us individually because of our group? 

We did a quick internal poll to determine key changes:

• Stronger sense of accountability, both in producing writing consistently and in giving each other well-considered feedback
• Stronger belief that I am a writer; belonging to the group is a constant reminder of this identity and of why we want to write
• Joy that comes as the group expresses its pride whenever one of us masters a new skill, meets a word count goal, publishes something, etc. 
• Technical improvement; clearer sentences, etc. 
• The ongoing reminder that although writing is hard work, it’s fun.

More Transformation: Internalizing Each Other’s Editorial Voices 

An unexpected indicator that our group works was when we began to hear each other’s voices in our heads. 

Early on, Brenda was flummoxed by the Oxford comma, quotation-mark rules, and the dreaded sentence fragments she learned were peppering her story. With much gentle nagging from Janet (oops—see our next article on missteps!), Brenda eventually absorbed the rules organically into her drafts. Sentence fragments remain but with a purpose, and she now can engage in the great Oxford comma debate. This growing understanding of mechanics gave her the knowledge she needed to feel confident while giving and receiving advice.

Janet had an entirely different problem. She dawdled at finishing revisions because of a long-standing feeling that the “hero” in her romance is stupid and boring. Much to her shock, from the beginning Soleah effusively crushed on this fellow. Janet still finds that hilarious, but in moments of despairing that this character is hopeless, she’s grateful for the memory of Soleah’s swooning, “Ah, Rick!” It gives Janet confidence not to toss the novel. Similarly, Brenda’s “Just get ‘er done!” admonishment rises up to haunt Janet. In a good way.

Liz’s rich technical detail lets the reader visualize her futuristic world; however, we’re often kept at an emotional distance from her main character. Janet continuing to ask Liz what her main character is feeling made her stop and wonder why it’s easier to imagine her other characters’ emotions more readily. This sent Liz on a path of self-discovery where she realized that to fully examine her main character’s inner workings, she had to come out of hiding and safely confront her own past. Now Janet’s questions about emotions and characters pop into her mind whenever she’s fleshing out a new scene or re-writing an older one. 

Soleah adds four languages to our cauldron. One of her native languages is French, so this group has been a blessing in giving her people who can closely read her English novel. The “commode” story is now a legend among us. In an earlier novel draft, Soleah used this word over and over, until Brenda and Janet finally couldn’t stay in the scene any longer. The character was putting food on the commode? Soleah was blissfully ignorant that what she wrote was far from what we read. In French, commode means a chest of drawers. In Canadian/American English, it means toilet. We all got a good laugh, and now the word is shorthand for “Please proofread this story for me. I don’t want any commode in there.”

Being Authentic 

Despite our many differences, our values and moral compasses are similar. This gives a basis for being less defensive and more trusting of each other’s suggestions. And in this business, trust is everything. 

Our Zoom meetings rarely stop under three hours as we often digress into the realm of real life. Because we genuinely are fond of each other, we often get caught up helping discover solutions to personal challenges. We’re all strongly protective of each other and regularly share unsolicited—sometimes annoying—but usually helpful advice. Inevitably, one of us diplomatically steers the conversation back to writing.

When it comes to writing, having these three other voices helps us step out of our own tunnel vision about our stories. No, we don’t always follow each other’s advice—about life or writing. But we do stop to think about what rings true.

By allowing ourselves to incorporate our personal lives into our weekly sessions, we’ve come to know each other well and can, to paraphrase Gabriela, honor each other’s reality. 

As good as our group is, it hasn’t always run as smoothly as you might think from our enthusiastic description. We did make mistakes along the way. Stay tuned for our next article.

What about you and your writing group? 

Can you think of special knowledge or a talent you can contribute to a critique group? (Please don’t think you don’t have one!) And what skills and/or perspectives are you missing that critique partners could provide?

A Discovery of Writers is made up of four DIY MFA Small-Group Book Coaching graduates who were partnered in the program in 2020, stayed together after our terms ended, and have turned into a tight, very effective writing support group. We love how we work together and would like to explore/share our experience with the Word Nerd community. For more about us individually you can find us here.

The post The Alchemy of Personalities and Talents in a Writing Group appeared first on DIY MFA.

Whether the look on her face is caused by indigestion or consternation about your age, the effect will be the same: going into your pitch, your confidence will plummet. In your flustered state, you may even forget the important points to deliver in your pitch about your own creation, your baby, the work you’ve spent years polishing until it shines. 

When this happens, it’s not fair to you, it’s not fair to your work, and it’s not fair to the agent, who really is looking for great writing by an author she can promote. 

So what is happening here, and what can you do about your panic at the look on her face, so you can pitch with confidence during your 10-minute chance to shine?

So Shine, Already!

Plan on taking care of the physical aspects of shining. Maybe you can’t look so young or beautiful or handsome as the young agent across from you, but you can look your best physically—take a look at the look on your face. Is the look on your face one that will invite and intrigue the human being sitting across from you? 

Presentable and professional is the minimum requirement for your hair and clothing, how far up you go from there is up to you. You should be alert and pleasant, as comfortable and relaxed as possible, with plenty of shine. You must be focused in thought and passionate in your speech, with the latter as clear, crisp, and understandable as you can make it. 

The key to all of the above is your self-confidence, based on your dedication to your own work.

How Do You Get to Carnegie Hall? Practice, Practice, Practice!

Research the best way to pitch by starting here: The Write Practice, Writer’s Digest and Women’s Prize for Fiction. 

Practice your pitch a lot, out loud. Start with a one sentence summary and then fill in the details through the end of the allotted pitch time. 

Practice in front of a mirror—check the look on your face—while your phone records and times your pitch. Play it back and listen to how you sound—is your passion for your project coming through clearly? Don’t rush but keep close to the time allotted for your pitch (out of the usual 10 minutes with an agent, time your pitch to 1-1.5 minutes; the rest can be used for the agent’s questions and also for yours). 

Practice again in front of your family, your friends, your writer’s group, inviting critique. 

Keep in mind that the agent will listen to 100 pitches that day, so make yours one that will grab and keep her interest by getting to the point of the novel (play, screenplay, short story collection) at the beginning of the pitch.

Self-Confidence

Think about how you felt about yourself in your youth. What is the one thing you wished you had more of then, or even now? Self-confidence? 

Many of us lack the self-confidence we should have, especially middle aged plus women, especially women of a certain age who began writing or returned to writing later in life. 

To be an artist, you must have pride, you must be proud of yourself. You know this when a sentence just isn’t good enough, not up to your standard, not meeting the level you want to achieve. At your computer or with your notebook open, sitting alone, you know this in your bones. In a large room full of your fellow writers vying for places in lines to pitch to one of fifty agents, that feeling of pride may evaporate, to be replaced by panic. 

So ahead of being in that room, or opening that Zoom, you must remind the inner you, the proud, dedicated artist deep within, that you are just that: a self-confident, proud artist with a passion to write and a great book to pitch.

Irish artist collective The Hags, Na Cailleacha in Irish, meaning “wise women,” is a group of 8 women, mostly over 70. These artists (6 visual artists, 1 musician, 1 curator/writer) formed a collective to break through the invisibility of age, and to create a forum to show their work. They came together for the camaraderie essential to continue developing their art. 

Most older people begin to feel invisible, lose an essential network, and a good sense of how to move forward. The Hags have found it. When asked, all of them said that the thing they lacked as young women was self-confidence. When they developed more self-confidence with age though, they were no longer invited to show their work, and were assumed to be retired by the youth-oriented art world. They felt forgotten. With the collective though, they found an enjoyable and productive way to be visible, to develop and show their work.

What happened to the 8 women pre-Hags, happens to older writers too. But there are many communities and groups of writers, everywhere, online and in person, and as much as we work alone, it’s essential to find the support of a writing community—and you’re in one right now! DIY MFA offers myriad ways to develop your writing skills, professional writing life and community. So, find your community (see my March post, Finding My Writing Tribe) and start pitching your work!

Constance Emmett was born in Brooklyn, New York where her mother’s family landed after leaving Belfast, Northern Ireland. Constance’s debut novel, Heroine of Her Own Life (2019) and sequel, Everything Will Be All Right (2022), books 1 and 2 in the Finding Their Way Home series, were published by Next Chapter. A Massachusetts Hilltown dweller, she is writing book 3 in the series and a novel set in 18th c. New York.
You can find her on her website and follow her on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.

The post Develop Self-Confidence for Your Pitch (No Matter Your Age) appeared first on DIY MFA.