Family dynamics are difficult enough to grasp, let alone write about. But when properly explored, they make for powerful stories.

Here’s a few rules I follow when writing about my family:

1. Empathy, Always

My number one rule for writing about family dynamics is: always do it with empathy.

Human beings are seldom monsters. They do harm each other because of unresolved trauma, emotions they were never permitted to feel, and pressures that were too much too soon. When we fail to acknowledge this in our stories, we’re only telling them by half.

You don’t have to dive into the details of Grandpa’s PTSD and subsequent struggle with substance abuse to explain the nuances of your father’s self-absorption, but Grandpa’s inability to be emotionally present with him must be a part of your explanation of who he is as a human being.

You don’t have to reprint every malignance Grandma used to whittle mom’s soul down so that she always feels less than. But if you’re going to tell us that mom perceives everything said to her as some thinly veiled slight meant to rob her of confidence, you have to explain why.

Empathy is the practice of standing hand in hand with our characters—allowing them to be human and relatable—and no story about family dynamics is even decent without it.

2. Write Angry, Then Refine

Families aren’t designed to be fair. They can be infuriating, and they can leave you feeling bitter and bruised. When we deny we’re angry, we kiss our truth goodbye. 

I always write my rough drafts with as much anger as I can muster—even if I know it’s irrational—because I believe anger is respect for self. And without self, you just don’t have a story. When I refine that rough draft, and edit out the irrational bits, what’s left behind is just the right amount of vulnerability.

3. Avoid The Clinical

If you’re writing about your family, odds are you’ve already sought therapy to deal with them. You may have picked up diagnostic terms from your therapist. Don’t use them.

It’s all well and good to know your Aunt Grace is codependent with her son, your mother is slightly borderline, your Dad is a narcissist, and your brother has bipolar disorder—and it can be comforting to lean on a therapist’s knowledge when the holidays are nigh—but fact is: clinical diagnoses are boring, unemotional, and reductive. People are more complex than the collection of traits they embody when stressed.

Your Thanksgiving story packs more punch if you simply retell what you saw and felt. Your mother threw a tray of green bean casserole at your father over a perceived slight, and your father was more upset over the stain on his expensive shirt than the emotional impact the outburst had on his loved ones. Your Aunt Grace launched into a rant because everyone upset her nearly 40-year-old son who still lives her basement, and your brother laughed maniacally at it all because he was stoned on pills and had been awake for three days straight. As a result, you felt [insert emotion]. That’s good writing.

4. Dig Deep

What do you really want to say about your family? Don’t ask your prefrontal cortex. Ask your gut. That’s where the answer to that question really lies.

How did your gut feel when your mother threw the beans and huffed off? What went on in there when your dad stormed out the back door to go play with his toys like an infant?

So often we control the way we feel with our thoughts, rationalizing them into something more acceptable (and controllable) when the real story is roiling below. Nobody wants to read the acceptable story. They want the meat. Give it to them.

5. Follow Your Fear

Have you ever written about your family with nausea in your stomach, typing out sentences, deleting them out of fear and then typing them again? Have you ever thought, “Oh, I couldn’t possibly say that. You’re not supposed to say things like that about family.”

Good. Who gives a crap about what they’re supposed to say?

Family dysfunction feeds on our secrets. It is nurtured by our silence. It rolls, storm-like, through generation after generation—feasting on souls and leaving a wasteland in its wake—and the only thing that stops it dead in its tracks is truth.

If there is fear in the pit of your stomach when you write about your family, then follow it. Honor it. That fear means that what you’re writing about is honest and therefore relevant. And if you’re not interested in relevance—if you’re only interested in saying what has already been said—then don’t bother writing about your family.

We don’t need to read it.

Over a celebrated twenty-year design career, Erin Tyler has designed book covers for multiple New York Times bestselling authors, such as James Altucher, Ryan Holiday, David Goggins, and Tucker Max. She is a graduate of the Rochester Institute of Technology and is currently the creative director at Scribe Media. Erin is the author of the Amazon best-selling book, The Bad One: A Memoir About Growing Up a Goat.

The post #5onFri: Five Tips for Writing About Family Dynamics appeared first on DIY MFA.

As an instructor, the value of peer critique over the potential negative experience was not there, so I developed a form of passive critique. My goal was for students to grow in their writing without the uncomfortable feedback that wasn’t necessarily productive.

DIY MFA 101’s Critique Sessions

With inner awareness, I am open to another point of view and perhaps a paradigm shift. Enter DIY MFA 101’s critique sessions. My goal for the course was revising and editing my work for publication. As the critique sessions became available, I didn’t dive into the opportunity. Instead, I steeled myself for the recordings to observe a known dynamic of discomfort, a not necessarily expansive exercise.

After the first critique session, I reconsidered my perspective. With Gabriela’s approach, the clear parameters considered peers as actual beings when receiving feedback. I believe most creatives are quite connected to their work, so critique is a personal experience. The session’s vibe surprised me. Writers are placed in the spotlight via their work, and they themselves are seen.

I found the response was a blend of success along with challenge areas. The brain is wired for negativity as a survival response, and that can be contagious. It was interesting to see that those providing critique didn’t seem to feel the impetus to say just anything, as thoughtful response was encouraged. At this point, I relaxed a bit more into the process, still observing the session more than listening to the content.

Critique sessions with Gabriela are multifaceted. I noticed something extra was surfacing. A reader’s response. Writers are getting to know who their readers are. It is rare to receive such feedback from actual readers: why the reader is captivated with your work and what personally resonated with them. The response came from both actual genre readers as well as those that relate to the story in some way. For a peer review, I found this very intriguing. I think of it as a beta-reader preview.

Writers can learn from response to others’ work. Gabriela encourages writers to consider all feedback in regards to their own writing. This component was especially motivating, for there is a fine balance between supporting the writer while considering your own learning. This is healthy interdependence at its best.

As a former English and art instructor, I believe one goal is to learn to discern feedback, encouraging ownership of one’s writing. Growth being the target, the work being something that you’d like to get out in the world. Creating a trusting environment is the foundation for the experience. Gabriela creates an atmosphere by placing writers in a safe space and drawing in response when it strays.  At this point, I found myself looking forward to each individual’s critique, leaning into certain writers’ manner of cogent response. Interestingly, in this space, your potential future critique group begins to form.

In a trusting environment, one can discern what is valuable feedback, what is not to be considered as heavily, and what to discard. Remarkably, I found that neutral and irrelevant feedback is useful. A writer can consider the source and get to know the response. Knowing who your work is not for and what your work is not, along with whom it is for and what it is, has value. As every response has an aspect of significance, your writing and discernment improves as you hone your critique-receiving chops. Gabriela’s critique sessions create space for practice and growth.

To develop the ability to receive feedback is key for writers and artists alike. Gabriela’s 101 course provides an excellent place to start. As your work gets out there, feedback will come in many forms. There will not always be a gatekeeper, a Gabriela, to filter content and provide expertise. Discernment assists in refining feedback response. It provides structure that allows the writer to take in information and mine for growth without being overwhelmed by judging the experience and individuals providing critique.

Gabriela’s space is safe and respectful. The participants are provided guidelines for response and the writers are provided parameters for asking questions, not responding to critique. I noticed that there is a form of allowing that takes place on both sides. When you take the approach that everyone’s doing their best in that moment, the space remains clean.

Gabriela is the last to speak. Though I found that individuals still tend to gather in lines of thought, leaving her pure gold to the last allows the peer group to chew on and suss out areas they may not have explored. Her response carries prime content for improving your work. Whenever Gabriela speaks, my fingers are on the keys taking notes, highlighting, underlining, and bolding as her writing expertise is shared with the group.

Finally Relaxing

As the sessions continued, I began to relax into the process. Before these meetings, I would have never considered a peer group for review of my work. I believe it is important to find your cohort where you are of comparable mindset, with a window of common acumen and on the same path regarding goasl. The individuals need to be all-in, prepared to bring their A-game. It’s not necessary that everyone has the same level of knowledge and expertise in writing. It is important that parameters are mutually respected and the spirit of allowing as well as integrity is maintained.

As we are the culmination of our experiences on this planet, being open to the what-if is key to peer critique. After Gabriela’s sessions, I see the process in a whole new light. Dynamic transformed, paradigm shifted. When there is trust, compassion and an understanding of what the other is experiencing, a valuable response for growth occurs. Our ultimate goal is to share our work with our readers, peer critique can be an integral part of the journey.

In that, I’ve met others with similar views on peer critique. 

Consider this: If peer critique is not your comfort zone, lean into the possibility. It’s the little things that culminate into progress. A writer can begin by observing. Then be prepared to thoughtfully respond, using your writing skills and readership hat. When you are ready, submit your work for feedback. Discern and ask questions. Gabriela creates a dynamic safe space for such an undertaking. It’s a great place to start your peer review adventures in critique.

Chere Hughes is an author and instructional designer who writes middle grade and adult fantasy fiction. From a perspective of within, Chere expresses motivations of the human spirit. Her colorful writing spins tales integrating current culture within fantasy realms. As a former English and art instructor at Vincennes University, Chere has designed numerous courses. She blogs on her website at Cherehughes.com You can find her on Instagram, Facebook and Twitter Chere lives and writes in Flagstaff, AZ.

The post Key Features in No-Fear Critique appeared first on DIY MFA.

Several weeks ago, I went into the doctor’s office for my first ever MRI at the age of 29, and it was honestly a terrifying experience. But, not the MRI itself. In fact, aside from being slid into a massive tube, the whole process was really quick and largely uneventful. (There were a lot of loud noises from the machine, but I got to listen to classical music and take a nice nap.) 

The fear, however, came from everything leading up to the appointment: the scheduling, the anticipation of what the results would say, the unknown of what those results would mean for and to me after they were given. It was a lot to think about and frankly, scary. Because at the end of it all, what I feared was the examination of my mortality. Now, not every instance of fear is something quite that heavy. But whatever your fears happen to be, big or small, they can do more work than just being frightening. They can, believe it or not, be inspiring.

Take a minute and think about some of the things that you’re afraid of, whether it be a certain insect, hospitals or even being in a room full of strangers. Now, think about how those things make you feel and how you’ve responded to them. Everything you’re thinking of from the fear itself to the response is one of the many ways that we know we’re not only alive, but how we conduct ourselves in everyday life. And all of this can be extended to the characters we create in our stories. 

Sometimes in our writing, our characters can start out with a lot of momentum. But after awhile, if we’re not careful, things can flatten out and plateau. And sometimes, it’s because a character’s motivations have been lost or misdirected, and are in need of reexamination. One way to do that is by taking a look at one of their main motivators: Fear.

1) Ask you characters to name their fears, big or small

Depending on the character, asking them to name their fears can sometimes be the most difficult part of the process. Because not only are fears scary to talk about, they’re also deeply personal. And that level of vulnerability can, at times, be very hard for a character to walk into willingly. So, try starting the exercise of reexamination in an environment that is comfortable and familiar to your character(s), and you can do this either in your head, on a sheet of paper or on a computer screen.

Next, start taking them through a series of questions about how they’re doing mentally, so you can determine if having this conversation now will yield the best results or if you should have it later. Example questions could include: How are you feeling today? When was the last time you slept? Has there been anything particular on your mind lately? Etc. After you’ve had the chance to sort of assess where they are mentally, go ahead and begin asking them about their fears, whatever they may be.

With the main character of my novel, Abigail, it took years to get her to the point where she was not only able to name her fears (like isolation and not belonging), but to talk about them. When she did, I finally started to understand some of her responses to certain situations in the novel better, and it made the writing of her more authentic because I knew why she was leading me down particular paths.

2) Present a character’s fears to them

These do not need to be scenarios that end up in the final draft of your stories, but sometimes writing them out can, again, be helpful in understanding how your characters respond to being face to face with the things that frighten them. Which, can also help you better understand what motivates them. 

After learning about your characters’ fears, take one or two of them and come up with a scenario where that fear is front and center, and place your character right in the middle of it. For Abigail, it was placing her in the middle of the woods all by herself with no one or any kind of civilization around for miles. Once your character is set up, take note of how they’re responding to the fear that’s been presented to them. Have they frozen in front of it? Have they tried to run or escape? Do they even believe what they’re seeing or experiencing is real? Or are they trying to talk themselves out of it being in front of them? The information you get out of this can be crucial to your storytelling because when we as writers know how our characters respond in the face of their fears, we can better understand the ways in which they will interact with not only the worlds you’ve created, but the people within them.

3) Give a character a scenario where they have the opportunity to overcome or give in to the fear

Different from just placing the fear in front of them, set your characters up in a scenario where they have the opportunity to either overcome their fear or give in to it. And this distinction is important because what they choose to do about their fears, says a lot about them and how they handle conflict, stress, difficulty and a whole host of other everyday roadblocks. Those responses alone can give you a world of insight into how they will respond to pretty much anything you throw at them.

For Abigail, her response of fleeing danger or conflict or hard things has turned out to be a hallmark of who she is in the novel. And it has even inspired many different circumstances and scenarios in the story that weren’t in the original draft, but ended up working out a lot better in later revisions.

In the same way we learn about ourselves when it comes to engaging with our fears, so too, can we learn a lot about our characters when we give them the same opportunity to engage theirs. Whatever the response your characters have to their fears be sure to pay close attention as it can give you a great view into not only who they are, but who they can be depending on the circumstance. Because when our characters are at their fullest and most authentic, it helps us move past our own fears to make our stories the best they can be.

Jenn Walton is a writer, editor and storyteller based in Washington, D.C., whose fiction works are housed mainly in the speculative genre. She has completed her first novel project that explores, through the lens of a failing utopia, what happens when society gives in to its fear of the other. She previously wrote for a communications firm where she drafted and edited sponsored and organic content for top-tier academic institutions, Fortune 500 companies and leading philanthropic organizations that has run in The Washington Post, USA Today and the Atlantic. For more from Jenn, please visit her at her website or on Twitter.

The post How to Deepen Your Characters by Assessing Their Fears appeared first on DIY MFA.

Today I have the pleasure of hosting Kevin Brooks on the show!

Kevin is a critically acclaimed young adult novelist whose first book, Martyn Pig, was named a Publishers Weekly “Flying Start” selection. Kevin has written many books since then including Black Rabbit Summer, which was shortlisted for the 2009 Carnegie Medal, and The Bunker Diary, which won the Carnegie Medal in 2014.

His most recent novel, Born Scared, is a terrifying thriller about a 13-year-old boy named Elliot confined to his home by incapacitating fear. But then on Christmas Eve, a mixup at the pharmacy leaves him with not enough pills. His mother must go out into the snowstorm to get more, and when she doesn’t come back Elliot has to venture out after her on his own.

This book really resonated with me on so many levels and I’m sure it will resonate with many of you as well.

So listen in as Kevin and I talk about this amazing book, and learning how to embrace the fear of writing not just on the page but as writers.

In this episode Kevin and I discuss:

• Tackling the deeply, dark reality of mental illness on the page.
• How to deal with “analysis paralysis” and keep writing.
• Creating drama and suspense when your character is in a very confined space.
• The technique of shifting between 1st and 3rd person POV, and how to do it right.
• How to use the design aspects of writing to enhance your story.

Plus, Kevin’s #1 tip for writers.

About Kevin Brooks

Kevin Brooks is a critically acclaimed young adult novelist whose first book, Martyn Pig, was named a Publishers Weekly “Flying Start” selection and his second novel, Lucas, won the 2004 North East Book Award.

Subsequent novels include (but are not limited to) Candy, The Road of the Dead, Killing God, Black Rabbit Summer, which was shortlisted for the 2009 Carnegie Medal, and The Bunker Diary, which won the Carnegie Medal in 2014.

His latest novel, Born Scared, is now available from Candlewick Press, who will also be releasing his book Dogchild in the United States in 2019.

Kevin Brooks lives and writes in Essex, England.

To learn more about Kevin and his work check out his author page on the British Council website at literature.britishcouncil.org/writer/kevin-brooks.

Born Scared

From the moment of his birth, Elliot’s life has been governed by fear of almost everything, even of his own fear—a beast that holds him prisoner in his room. The beast is kept at bay, though not eliminated, with a daily regimen of pills.

But on Christmas Eve, a mix-up at the pharmacy threatens to unleash the beast full force, and his mother must venture out in a raging snowstorm to a store that should be only minutes away. Hours later, when she still hasn’t returned, Elliot sees no choice but to push through his terror, leave the house, and hunt for her. What happens if the last of his medication wears off and the beast starts scratching at the doors of his mind? Everyone has a breaking point—will Elliot come to his?

With plot twists and turns that keep readers on the edge of their seats, multi-award-winning author Kevin Brooks offers a high-suspense exploration of fear and what it means to truly be afraid.

If you decide to check out Born Scared or Kevin’s other recent book Dogchild we hope you’ll do so via these Amazon affiliate links, where if you choose to purchase via the link DIY MFA gets a referral fee at no cost to you. As always, thank you for supporting DIY MFA!

Link to Episode 237

(Right-click to download.)

If you liked this episode…

Head over to iTunes, Stitcher Radio or Google Play and subscribe so you’ll be first to know when new episodes are available.

Also, remember that sharing is caring so if you know anyone who might enjoy this podcast, please tell them about it or leave us a review so other listeners will want to check it out.

Until next week, keep writing and keep being awesome!

The post Episode 237: Embracing the Fear of Writing — Interview with Kevin Brooks appeared first on DIY MFA.

Negative Capability

For weeks, I read about writing. I scoured my dreams looking for a spark, a place to begin. No such luck. Finally, I sat still. Sat with my increasing anxiety about deadlines, Sat with the screaming need to write something. Into this chaos, an idea emerged — negative capability.  Which is a fancy way to say, I was still thinking about fear but now I had a topic.

John Keats believed successful writers possessed what he called negative capability. Writers should be “capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason.”

Being in the midst of nothingness and not being twitchy or irritable. Acknowledging all of the uncomfortable bits without running. Without looking for distractions.  In his new book Why Poetry, Matthew Zapruder calls poets “alchemists of nothingness”. We poets transform that nothingness “into something palpable.”

Nothing into Something

Whether or not I have that enviable capability, I recognize poetry’s power to name the unnameable or find new ways to describe the everyday.

Like Jane Kenyon’s poem, Happiness, takes on that elusive and eponymous state and makes it knowable:

No, happiness is the uncle you never
knew about, who flies a single-engine plane
onto the grassy landing strip, hitchhikes
into town, and inquires at every door
until he finds you asleep midafternoon
as you so often are during the unmerciful
hours of your despair.

Or Nikky Finney’s ability to capture the rush of a writing streak in her poem, The Blackened Alphabet:

I am on I am on
I am pencilfrying
sweet Black alphabets
in an allnight oil

And Jane Hirshfield’s take on life and love in For What Binds Us:

And see how the flesh grows back
across a wound, with a great vehemence,
more strong
than the simple, untested surface before.
There’s a name for it on horses,
when it comes back darker and raised: proud flesh,

as all flesh
is proud of its wounds, wears them
as honors given out after battle,

I sat a while longer with my silence, meditating on the words of poets. Reading and writing poems are both salvation from and antidote to nothingness.

In Praise of Spontaneity

I’ve had this battle with fear before (and most certainly will again). A couple of years ago, I didn’t write for almost six months. While I made my way through it, I found no magic pill or easy cure.

To break my writing fast, I sat down each evening for two weeks with an fast writing pen, a plain notebook, and my computer. I sat with an expectation to write a poem before I went to bed. Not a Pulitzer Prize-winning poem, just simply a poem. (However, I did write a few of which I’m quite proud — Lady Lazarus, Medicine, and Desire Lines.)

Amazingly, each night I wrote a new poem and posted it on my blog. The more I wrote, the easier it became. What a miraculous thing it is to write without fear.

So it was then; so it is now.

Consider this a praise song for sitting with nothingness and an invitation to jump in–jumping into the deep end and finding you can swim.

Brenda Joyce Patterson is a poet, writer, librarian, and lover of short writing forms. Her poetry and flash fiction have been published in Vayavya, Gravel Magazine, and Melancholy Hyperbole. Along with works by Maya Angelou, Gwendolyn Brooks, and Alice Walker, her travel essay “The Kindness of Strangers” appeared in Go Girl: The Black Woman’s Guide to Travel and Adventure.

The post Writing Through Fear and Anxiety appeared first on DIY MFA.

Back in January, Gabriela sent out an email telling her word nerds about a webinar hosted by Alexia Vernon for her Spotlight MasterTreat. I was ready to dismiss the whole thing out of hand as soon as my social anxiety (ie: my fear) saw the words ‘public speaking’. That was until I read the line from Gabriela: “Like it or not, writers must practice public speaking.” In that moment I sat down to honestly ask myself how I was planning on getting better at public speaking if not something like this.

So I entered the contest, went to the webinar, and, long story short, ended up winning one of two free tickets for the MasterTreat in Las Vegas. I gathered my courage and told Gabriela I accepted. In my excitement I told everyone who would listen that I had won.

Preparing

Alexia recommended completing the Your Spotlight Talk course (which was included with the ticket to the MasterTreat) so I started on that immediately. I am nothing if not a dedicated student, after all. The first piece of work was creating a vision board. Being familiar with vision boards I got a piece of poster board, wrote ‘My Vision Board’ across the top, and proceeded to draw the picture you see to the right. As soon as I finished that picture I started crying. I didn’t add anything else to my vision board because being able to pitch my (eventual) book to total strangers is what I really wanted out of this experience. That was my Why.

Over the next two months I gradually completed the other Your Spotlight Talk modules. Alexia’s videos were wonderful, giving the right amount of instruction and reassurance in an open and understanding way that I’ve never experienced from another person. The course still brought on my fear in a big way. More than one video left me curled up in a blanket on the floor behind my couch. And I won’t lie, I would’ve given up on the whole thing several times if I hadn’t told everyone that I had won and was going to Vegas for the retreat.

Whenever the fear got to be too much, I would go to my safe place, under my blanket, behind the couch until I was able to calm down enough to remind myself Why I was putting myself through this. I completed the coursework to the best of my ability and on top of everything I learned from the modules themselves, I also gained a lot of experience in managing my fear.

Facing My Fear

When the time came for the retreat, I decided that my intention for the weekend was ‘confidence’. The Spotlight MasterTreat itself was a whirlwind of powerful women and insightful lessons. But the most important thing that happened for me was on the second day. Alexia called for volunteers for some exercises in front of the group and one woman from our table volunteered another woman from the table and she went up and did great with the exercise.

And I felt terror, true terror bloom in my chest. The idea that someone else could volunteer me and that I would have to go in front of the room broke through my confidence and reduced me to tears. When the exercises ended and I hadn’t been called on, I felt myself begin to relax. But instead of letting myself fall back into my comfort, I began to examine what had happened. At some point it was my express goal to get up in front of people, so I needed to face this fear so I could learn to work though it. In that moment, I consciously chose to let my Why be bigger than my fear, and I went to my table leader.

While crying, I talked through the experience with her until I was able to realize that the thing that really terrified me was not necessarily being in front of the group, but being expected to improvise what I needed to say. Alexia came over while I was talking, listened for a while, and then asked if it was okay for her to come up with an exercise for me to do the next day. I told her that it was.

Overcoming My Fear

The exercise ended up being reading from the menu of the restaurant in the hotel we were in. Alexia had me read items off the menu with different inflections and intentions to members of the group. When I had relaxed a bit she had me stand up and tell the group about my favorite book. I stumbled a little, but not even fear could make me forget why I love Brandon Sanderson’s Mistborn. And then she asked me to share what I hope for people to get out of my books. And even though I was nervous and tight, I was able to do it. And with that experience came the knowledge that I could do it again. It might not be beautiful or easy, but I knew then that I could stare into my fear and choose that my Why was more important.

There will be fear in your life. There is no getting around it. And it might send you to curl up under a blanket on the floor behind your couch. But while you’re there, and safe, take a look at your Why. Look at that goal that you want to accomplish and ask if you’re willing to give it up because of the fear. My sincere hope for you in those moments is that your Why is bigger than your fear.

I’d love to hear about your own Whys.

Laura Highcove has been writing her entire life and enjoys creating fantasy worlds and discovering the people who live there. She has been influenced by anime, table-top gaming, and Norse mythology, in no particular order. Her current obsessions include gryffins, anything Brandon Sanderson writes, and The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild. Visit her website or follow her on facebook to get to know her better.

The post When Your Why is Bigger than Your Fear appeared first on DIY MFA.

Yes, I wrote the book. Yes, I edited it until I was so sick of my characters I wanted to kill them off. And yes, I braved the gauntlet and submitted it. But the support of my group has made those things possible. If my book were a car, they’ve been the mechanic and the fuel that has kept it going.

From basic craft to submission, they’ve given me the tools and the courage to cope with the basic fears inherent in birthing a novel.

The Fear of Grammar

When I started going to my writers group, I knew nothing about writing. Here are some amateur grammar and word choice mishaps from my early stages:

1) Writing Friend: “You have some misplaced modifiers.”
Me: “Modi-whata?”
Writing Friend: “That phrase is modifying the wrong word. Your character just tossed her eyeballs.”

2) Writing Friend: “You should use fewer adverbs.”
Me: “What’s an adverb?”
Writing Friend: “Do a ‘find and search’ for ‘-ly’.”
Me: “My entire manuscript is littered with those!”

3) Writing Friend: “Synonyms for said slow down your prose. It’s a sign of amateur writing.”
Me: “My high school English teacher lied to me?”
Writing Friend: “You can’t use clichés.”
Me: “But I like clichés!”

My friends didn’t roll their eyes at me or call me naïve. They just let me figure out on my own that adverbs and said synonyms slow down prose, and clichés make for a dull, skimmable book.

The Fear of Learning More

They steered me toward craft sources that have improved my skill. They told me to check out DIY MFA and Margie Lawson. They taught me that Donald Maass is the master of tension. My immediate response to all of it was, “This will take months to learn!”

They said, “Yup. Let’s swap writing exercises.”

Learning some things came a little easier, like the Hero’s Journey. It helped sort out my plot problems, and I soaked it up like a sponge.

And there was always more. “Read your writing out loud,” they said.

“If I do all this, I’ll never finish my book!” I said. But months later, I did.

The Fear of Sharing My Writing

“You know, someday,” they said, “you’re going to have to let someone read your book.”

“Will you?” I said. Which was met with a flat, “Duh, of course we will.” The compassionate feedback from people who knew me so well was the perfect marriage of encouragement and critique.

The Fear of the Business

They forced me to branch out from our close-knit group to national organizations like Romance Writers of America. I joined Twitter. I followed my writer buddies to conferences where they told me I should pitch my book.

“I’m not ready,” I said.

“What do you have to lose?” they said. After weeks of nerves and gentle prodding from my friends, I did it. I pitched my book and got requests.

I heard from them about #Pitmad, pitching your book on Twitter. “It’s tomorrow?” I said. “No way.”

“We’ll do it together,” they said. I got two favorites from agents that day on Twitter. One of whom is now my agent.

The Fear of Saying “The End”

“I’ve been working on this book for months,” I said. “Four hours a day, seven days a week. And it still has issues!”

My friends said, “You need a break.”

I said, “Okay. I’ll take two weeks.”

“No. Take a month. Do NaNoWriMo again.”

I freaked. “Write a-whole-‘nother book? Are you crazy?” But I did it. I wrote an entire new novel in November and came back to my book in a month with fresh eyes.

The courage to submit my work came from my friends, too. “You’re going to have to declare it done soon,” they said. “You can’t work on this project forever.”

I said, “But what if everyone hates it?”

“They won’t hate it. You’ve worked hard, and you’ve written a good book.”

Then there was another round of fear. Before offering representation, my soon-to-be agent requested revisions after I sent her my full manuscript. She suggested I cut a series of backstory scenes that had been the inspiration for my entire story. I called my friends, terrified, “I can’t do it!”

They said, “Just try it. Cut the scenes. Read it through again. You might like it.” I did. My agent and my friends were right: it was a far better book without it.

I haven’t heeded all of their advice. I use a filter. Sometimes the best way to decipher what my gut is telling me is to hear the opposite from someone else. But I try my best to listen and pay attention to what my writing friends say. The people who know me best are often the ones who know what I need to hear, even when I don’t want to hear it.

Here’s hoping I can give back as good as I got on their writing projects. Heaven knows, I’m going to need them for the next stage. The process of submission is going to be a long haul, and I can’t imagine doing it without them.

My group is still meeting, still talking about writing every week. Agent or no, I have more writing to do. And I can’t wait to learn what my group will teach me next.

Robin Lovett, also known as S.A. Lovett, writes contemporary romance, and her debut novel, Racing To You, will be released July of 2016. She is represented by Rachel Brooks of the L. Perkins Agency and has a forthcoming series releasing with SMP Swerve in the summer of 2017.

She writes romance to avoid the more unsavory things in life, like day jobs and housework. To feed her coffee and chocolate addictions, she loves overdosing on mochas. When not writing with her cat, you can find her somewhere in the outdoors with a laptop in her bag. Feel free to chat with her on Twitter.

The post Overcoming Fear and Landing an Agent With the Help of Writing Friends appeared first on DIY MFA.

Ruh-roh. Becca’s taking a turn for the serious this week.

Just a month ago, I lost my best furry buddy. Couple that with several seriously ill family members and the recent firestorm that swept through southern California, and you might say that it’s been difficult to find time, let alone inspiration, to write. Fear and Grief are the sort of house guests who eat all your food, wreck all your sh!t, and stay indefinitely on your couch. And then blame you for making them dependents.

But this blog isn’t about how to force yourself to keep working on your novel when everything’s going to hell. I had a peer in a creative writing class a few years back who wasn’t a writer, and never claimed to be. She said that she was taking the class to help herself work through some trauma. That’s what we’re going to do today with Fear and Grief.

1. Fear

Don’t try to hide, I see all you anxiety-riddled people. That’s right, those who suffer from imposter syndrome, those who think every word they put down, every published piece will be examined before God and everybody—and then emblazoned with a big scarlet A (for Amazon… Okay, that wasn’t the best extended metaphor ever).

If you weren’t worrying about that before, you sure are now.

Fear is a parasitic little house guest. The more you keep feeding it, the more hair it leaves in the shower. Try these simple exercises:

• Write it down! Seriously, you read all the way through this article for this common-sense advice? Write down your list of what’s scaring you right now. Acknowledging your fears is the first step in conquering them—and turning a light on is a great way to see exactly what sort of hairy visitor you’re dealing with.
• Come back to your goals. In a recent Writer Fuel that Gabriela sent out (if you haven’t signed up yet, you should! It’s that minty green box there on the right), she talked about the top 3 goals for her annual “holy grail”—three goals that trump everything else. You should have a goal that is so strong you would pursue it, even through your fears. According to The Guardian, public speaking is among our top five fears, and yet many writers will have to face this. If one of the items on your bucket list is to do a reading of your book, you’re going to need to conquer that fear pretty quick. Book reading as a famous author trumps being afraid to talk to people (self, listen up!).
• Do what scares you. Afraid of what your family will say when you put out your memoir? All the more reason to do it (as Anne Lamott would say, “You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.”). Traumatized by firestorms (like me)? Write a story about an arsonist. Terrified of jumping off a cliff? What the heck, do it! (No, no. DIY MFA holds no liability for following any of the directions herein.) Writing about what scares you will help you conquer the beast with the almighty pen!

2. Grief

This one is a little tougher. Grief is different for everyone. I myself have struggled with bottling emotions inside until they become physically painful. Grief is more of a lurker who may even convince you that he isn’t still staying at your house, but in the morning you’ll find all your bacon confiscated (Nooo! Not the bacon!).

Even for those who have trouble expressing their sorrow, there are still ways to write through it.

• Let it hurt. Writing about what makes you sad, like I did with my cuddle buddy, is going to hurt worse even than all those rejection letters you get as a writer. I know, impossible, right? Good. Write about how much it hurts, too; write about how it feels to crumble. And while you’re at it, try to balance the sadness with the brightness: From good times you spent with a person, or the hours of work your hard drive allowed you to accomplish before it crashed.
• Try poetry. Poetry doesn’t have to make sense. Poetry doesn’t have to mean anything except to you. Poetry can include all images that express how it feels to grieve (for ideas, check out this article on the image from Danielle Mitchell). When my 18-year-old neighbor, my brother’s best friend, passed away in a car accident four years ago, I cried every day for weeks. I still grieve, but I began to move forward the day I wrote a poem:

Last Words

for Michael

Trembling low and

confidential to a voice I

didn’t care to hear,

They said

he blew a

Kiss

to his girlfriend

through transparent

car windows

reflecting

too much

I thought,

I wouldn’t be disappointed if

that was my last word.

• Get help. A lot of time we blame our profession instead of seeking to see if there’s something deeper going on. Oh, those depressed artists! It’s okay to be sad, but it can really help to reach out to both friends and professionals who know the tricks to avoiding chronic sadness.

It’s hard to move forward, whether from tragedy or fear of failure, from painful memories or from something as seemingly “simple” as avoiding writing for weeks on end. Fear compounds fear, and grief gets worse the longer you hold onto it, but you are a writer. You can write through it. Write and weep every day if you have to. Only you know which methods help you. I hope that, whoever is hurting out there, you take comfort that you are not the only one and that you can and will write through this.

Got a question? Tweet me @beccaquibbles with the hashtag #askbecca, email me at becca [at] DIYMFA [dot] com, or just leave a comment below! You could see your question answered right here at Ask Becca!

Rebecca Ann Jordan is a speculative fiction author and artist in San Diego. She recently won Reader’s Choice Best of 2013 for her short story “Promised Land” at Fiction Vortex and has published poetry and fiction in Flapperhouse, Yemassee Magazine, Bravura Literary Journal and more. Becca regularly columns for DIYMFA.com. See more from her at rebeccaannjordan.com.

The post Ask Becca: Writing through Loss and Fear appeared first on DIY MFA.

Your parents have been lying to you.

There is a monster under the bed.

And its name is Self-Doubt.

Self-Doubt is sneaky. It starts out like a small, niggling sticky note with a week-old due date: I really should submit to that writing contest. And the longer that sticky note goes untended, the hungrier Self-Doubt gets: I’m not a real writer. A real writer would have done that contest, which, when the results go up, slips into All of these authors are so much better than me! What’s the point of ever writing anything again?

I’ve decided to tackle this sometimes brushed-over topic of a writer’s life because, for the past week, I’ve received some pretty important rejections and been struggling to keep writing through the mire of Self-Doubt’s matted fur and sharp claws and bloody teeth.

So, without further ado, here are a few little tricks I’ve found useful in my own writing life.

3 Deadly Symptoms of Self-Doubt:

1. Impostor Syndrome.

I’ve always known I was a writer, but am I a real writer? Real writers, as everyone knows, get paid with lavish advances, book deals, and movie rights. Real writers win contests and awards and speak at conferences. Real writers never question whether or not they should have gotten a steady job in astrophysics instead. Right?

A lot of friends have the words “aspiring writer” on their Twitter bio. I hate “aspiring.” Why? It encourages this train of thought: “Someday, I will be a real writer. But right now, I’m just not there yet.”

Stop aspiring. Start doing. Delete “aspiring writer.” Replace with “author.” It really is that simple, and that difficult. You’re never going to feel like you’re a “real author” unless you start treating yourself like one.

Halfway through writing this blog, I discovered this Writer’s Digest article about a certain monster that clings under your writing desk. The thoughts immediately came: “I’m no Chuck Sambuchino or C.C. Hunter! What am I thinking, trying to write an article that I have no qualifications to write?”

I wallowed for a little while. And then I wrote. Maybe it’s not as good as anything you’ll find on Writer’s Digest, but it’s something that only I could have written, and more importantly: It’s done! And published! I’m not an imposter after all!

2. Writer’s Paralysis.

This beast rears several ugly heads, and every time you cut one off, another grows back in its place.

It takes many forms. It can creep in while you endlessly edit, convinced it will never be ready to send out. Or it can be there at the beginning of a story, with a blank page staring in front of you, and this thought in your head: Whatever I write down, it will never be good enough. It won’t win any awards. It won’t get on the New York Times Bestseller List. I’m not even sure I’ll like it.

Indecision can be deadly.

Remember our little agreement? That you’re going to treat yourself like a “real author” (whatever the heck that is)?

Real authors sometimes get Writer’s Paralysis. And then they write.

Real authors don’t keep their creative flame under a bushel. They don’t stuff their half-finished manuscripts in desk drawers, consumed with crippling terror that they’ll never be the next J.K. Rowling or Shakespeare or Emily Dickinson. News flash: You won’t! You’ll be the one-and-only YOU, with your own unique authorial stamp. But first you have to do the work. That means shipping that sh!t.

3. Rejection Depression

Seriously. It’s going to happen, no matter how good you are. Here are two steps to train yourself to deal with it.

• Do something every single day that terrifies you. Something you might receive rejection from, be it a polite, “There are many factors that go into choosing pieces. Unfortunately…” or a less formal quip from a friend: “Yeah. This sucks.” That might mean submitting stuff after only 50 revisions, or accepting a writing assignment you don’t feel qualified for. This will help normalize the process of sending your brain children flapping from the nest.
• #ASSEMBLE!

Amass an army of rabid supporters—before the rejections start rolling in. When things don’t go well, you’re going to need this list of people to call on:

• The Mommy. Sometimes all you need is a shoulder to cry on. This doesn’t have to be your actual Mommy (although mine is), but anyone who hugs you and pats your back and goes all “Oh honey, you’re so talented, they just can’t see it.” B’awwwww.
• The Distraction. Get your mind off your own troubles with this one-man party: “Quit your bellyaching! Life is good! Let’s go get drunk!”
• The Voice of Reason. After being coddled and partying and waking up with a hangover so severe you’re not sure if you’ll ever write another word, this is the person you want to call up for some sound advice: “Drink coffee. Get your butt in that chair. Keep writing.”

That’s the most important writing advice I have ever heard:

KEEP WRITING!

“If you hear a voice within you say you cannot paint, then by all means paint and that voice will be silenced.” ― Vincent van Gogh

Rejections? Keep writing. Self-doubt? Keep writing. Impatiently waiting? Keep writing. The monster of Self-Doubt haunts every artist. Imposters give up. Authors don’t. Starting today, you’re an author. (Yes, self, that means you, too!)

Got a question? Tweet me @beccaquibbles with the hashtag #askbecca, email me at becca [at] DIYMFA [dot] com, or just leave a comment below! You could see your question answered right here at Ask Becca!

Rebecca Ann Jordan is a speculative fiction author in San Diego. She recently won Reader’s Choice Best of 2013 for her short story “Promised Land” at Fiction Vortex and has published poetry and fiction in Flapperhouse, Yemassee Magazine, Bravura Literary Journal and more. Becca regularly columns for DIYMFA.com. Quibble with her @beccaquibbles.

The post Ask Becca: The 3 Deadly Symptoms of Self-Doubt appeared first on DIY MFA.

Now, here’s something to take on: Look beyond the anger, the embarrassment or the frustration. What is there for you? Consider that a rejection or a lack of response is a gift. It gets you in touch with what you fear, which helps you build the muscle of courage.

Facts and Interpretations

Let’s look at what rejection actually is.

One way to look at rejection is that your work wasn’t accepted. That’s a fact. The second is rejection meaning something about you. The monologue in your head may sound like, “I’m not good enough.” How likely are you to keep writing and querying if you come from a dis-empowering context? Here’s what to do when you start beating up on yourself:

1. Declare a breakdown. Write down the issue that’s bothering you.

2. Write down all the things that are upsetting you besides being rejected that day. Your dog pooped on the carpet, the mail arrived late and your shoe needs cobbling. Clear all that junk out of your head. Distinguish the judgments you have about yourself or others based on each of the things you list. Are those judgments facts or interpretations? If they’re interpretations (most things that upset us usually are our own judgments, not the actual events), cross them out and move on to the next step.

3. Now write down the facts of what you’re upset about. This step will clarify what happened versus how you feel.

4. Now, ask yourself what you’re committed to. Do you want to be the first-ever writer of dog-themed mysteries for tweens? Declare it! Your feelings change from second to second and really can’t be trusted. Your commitment, however, is something you’ll work toward no matter how you feel. You will write when you’re too tired or feeling lazy. Consider that your commitment has to be a large enough vision that it overcomes your feelings, which are temporary sensations.

5. What action steps will you take to make your declaration happen? Write down your goal. What do you want to create by when? Then work backwards, creating milestones and rewards for yourself, each step of the way. Your plan may change over time. No need to beat up on yourself over that. Just re-tool and keep it moving.

6. What are you responsible for in this experience? Write that down. Certainly, there are things out of your control. And then there are things you could control, like the quality of a draft, the amount of hours you put into it, and the way you took care of yourself in order to produce good work. This part of the exercise is hard because humans love to blame others. Once you take credit for how things went, you’ll gain elevation on the experience AND you’ll be able to see more (perhaps, better) options. Remember: When you blame someone else, you give up power.

7. What gold did this experience provide you? It may very well be that your draft wasn’t ready for the world. Or the rejection may be a lesson in resilience. Declare what the experience gave you. This is like an exercise in gratitude. When you see the gold in a situation, you may actually be thankful that you were rejected.

Facing Fear to Build Resilience

Now back to getting in touch with what you fear. A lot of what many of us do is act in ways that protect ourselves from experiencing our fears. Sometimes, what we’re avoiding is so scary, we bury it deep down. Would you consider that in doing so, we’re really avoiding ourselves? Yet, in not facing fear, we create a far more volatile relationship with it.

That’s why rejection usually hurts so much and why many people avoid taking risks.

So instead of avoiding the ickiness, practice being with fear in small, safer ways. When you begin flexing and building that muscle of courage, that next rejection letter won’t stick to you.

This is the second article in a series about dealing with rejection as a writer. Read the first article here .

Julie Varughese is a life coach and former journalist. She is at work on her first fictional series and on a documentary film on her grandmother. She takes it as a practice. Check out her website: www.julievarughese.com

The post How to Stay in Action When You Get Rejected appeared first on DIY MFA.