But then there are those other times when the opposite happens. No matter how hard I try, the words just don’t come. I sit at the computer, stare at the screen, and I’m lucky if I can barely eke out a paragraph, much less a page or a whole chapter. Not gonna lie, I’ve been feeling very uninspired lately and the past couple of newsletters have been a challenge to write.

So, how did I get through it? After all, I must’ve gotten through it somehow or you wouldn’t be reading this newsletter right now. To understand how to get into a state of creative flow, we need to understand where creative flow comes from. Specifically, creative flow is based on four central concepts: the mind-work cycle, skill-based learning, practice, and community.

Mind-Work Cycle

The mind-work cycle is this notion that when we write we create a feedback loop between our brains and our writing. Our thoughts, experiences, and emotions (i.e., things coming from our minds) will naturally influence the words we put on the page. At the same time, when we write we process our thoughts and emotions and we also metabolize our experiences. This means that the very act of writing will in turn influence our minds.

Sometimes this feedback loop has a positive impact on our ability to find creative flow. For example, suppose you are writing a story loosely based on something that happened in your early life. By writing about this experience, you might work through some of the difficult emotions and maybe even “rewrite” how some events played out. This creates a positive experience at the page, which will make you more likely to want to continue working on that story. This feeds the mind-work cycle and increases your creative flow.

On the other hand, suppose that the memories and past experiences impact your writing in a negative way. This might make the writing itself more difficult and you may be less likely to want to continue with the project, thus impeding creative flow. Note that just because a project might bring up negative emotions does not automatically mean it will create a negative cycle. (After all, for some writers, sad stories can be more engaging than happy ones.)

The key here is to be aware of that mind-work cycle, to understand that our thinking impacts our writing but our writing also impacts our thinking. We want to keep track of that cycle so that when it’s going in a positive direction, we can ride that wave and be in that state of creative flow. But we also want to be able to step back and assess that cycle, to make sure we’re not moving in a negative direction and getting in the way of our own creative process.

Skill-Based Learning

One of the biggest fallacies about creativity is that it’s mysterious and amorphous, that there’s no rhyme or reason to it. As my high school English teacher would say: “Bull-honky!” Creative work—like writing—can be as technical and precise as other more scientific fields. And this technique doesn’t just apply to the craft, all those more abstract mindset-related components can be just as skill-based. The key here is understanding how skills are put together and for this I have two major sources of inspiration: Suzuki Method and Montessori Method.

The Suzuki Method was developed by Shinichi Suzuki as a method for teaching very young children how to play a musical instrument. It is based on the idea that all children are capable of learning music and that those skills develop in a similar way as learning language. One of the things that is central to the Suzuki Method is this idea of breaking skills down into their smallest components. Children aren’t expected to simply pick up an instrument and start playing. Each microscopic motion—from hand position to finger moments—is practiced in isolation first, then eventually strung together with skills building on each other. Progress may be glacially slow at first, but suddenly, you blink and the child is playing Bach.

The Montessori Method is also focused on skill-based learning. In this case, the emphasis is on children working at their own pace (often in groups of mixed ages) and using specifically developed Montessori learning materials. These materials are deliberately designed to help children explore various abstract concepts in concrete, hands-on ways. Students often work in a self-directed way, exploring different stations around the classroom. The hallmark of a typical Montessori classroom is how quiet it often is, with students sitting on the floor with mats rolled out in front of them, doing various activities individually or in small groups. These activities teach children specific skills, like how to do a pincer grip to hold a pencil. 

If skill-based learning can be used to teach very young children how to play a musical instrument or how to understand complex mathematical concepts, it can certainly apply to adults wanting to develop their creative flow. The key is understanding that creative flow is not magic. It’s a teachable, learnable skill. All it needs is practice.

Practice, Practice, Practice

I’ve talked about practice here and here, and I’ve also interviewed experts on the topic of deliberate practice. You could say I’m a little obsessed with the idea of practice. But how does practice relate to creative flow?

In the words of my late, great violin teacher: “Practice doesn’t make perfect, Gabriela. It makes things permanent!” She’d often say this to me after I’d spent a week practicing the wrong notes and had to spend the next two or three weeks un-learning and fixing the mess I’d made.

As writers, we often practice things without even realizing it. For example, I know a lot of writers who practice the art of not finishing a project. They get caught up in what I call Perpetual Chapter One Syndrome, starting project after project but not finishing a single one.

Other writers practice the art of procrastination. They get into the habit of pushing back and postponing their writing, which makes it that much harder to get back on track. Or, some writers even practice the art of not writing. They hang out together in coffee shops talking about their writing projects but they never actually get around to putting words on the page.

As creative people, we need to take a step back and look at our writing practice with objectivity. Have we created any writing habits that are not serving us? Are there aspects of our regular writing process that don’t seem to be working? Where have we practiced problematic behaviors and turned them into bad habits?

If we identify any bad habits, we need to find a way to break them, which often takes longer than it did to create the bad habits in the first place. This is why it’s so important to assess our own writing practice and try to avoid creating bad habits before they become too ingrained in us. It’s easier to avoid a bad habit than it is to un-learn it.

Community

This is a topic near and dear to my heart, and it’s one of the three pillars of DIY MFA. Community is an important part of harnessing creative flow. Social accountability makes us more likely to meet our goals, Positive peer pressure of writing in tandem can help us knuckle down and get to work. And having a community’s support can help us build resilience and bounce back from creative disappointments.

Interestingly enough, community is also an important part of the Suzuki and Montessori Methods. In a traditional Suzuki music school, students often participate in group classes where they all bring their instruments and play through the repertoire together. If one student doesn’t know a particular piece, they sit down and listen while their classmates play. This type of environment creates motivation, where students are excited to learn new pieces because they want to play with their classmates. And for the students who know all the repertoire, these classes are a space where they can reinforce their learning.

In the Montessori Method, classes often mix the ages of the students. This means you might have a preschool classroom with children of ages three through five together. From a developmental perspective, these are vastly different ages. Yet, having these children together in the same class serves a very important purpose. When the children work together in groups, the older students set an example for the younger ones and show the younger students how to do the activity. The younger child might be learning from the older child, but the older one is also benefiting from the collaboration because they reinforce their knowledge.

In this way, both the Suzuki and Montessori Methods use community to help students learn. But community is not just for teaching young children. We as writers can use community as a way to learn and grow as well. For example, when we see fellow writers succeed, that shows us what’s possible and can motivate us to keep working, even when we feel discouraged. Community can contribute to our creative flow in any number of ways, which is why it is such a crucial part of DIY MFA.

Conclusion

Creative flow is not some mysterious, abstract thing that you have to figure out through trial and error or guesswork. Creative flow comes from developing concrete, learnable skills and building them into our repertoire. To achieve creative flow, we need to be aware of the mind-work cycle and recognize that our creative work impacts our minds as much as our minds impact our creative work. This means, if we notice a negative cycle happening, we need to break that cycle and course-correct.

In addition, we need to be aware of what skills we are practicing in our creative work and make sure that they are serving us rather than hindering. Practice can make habits permanent, so we need to scrutinize our habits and make sure we are not developing any that might get in the way of our creative flow.

Finally, we need to understand the role of community in our creative process and find a way to use it effectively. Whether we draw on other writers to help us hone our focus, or we use social accountability to help us reach our goals, community can be a great motivator. It can also be a source of support when we run into creative obstacles.

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: Where Does Creative Flow Come From? appeared first on DIY MFA.

Scenes are an essential component of storytelling because they are the fundamental building blocks of any story. Without scenes, all you have is a string of exposition (“this happened, then this happened, then this happened”). That does not create an immersive story experience for your reader. Scenes give readers the feeling that they are right there in the story, experiencing the events alongside the characters. If you imagine a story like a movie playing in your head, scenes are what create that feeling.

Why Scenes Matter

I like to think of scenes as the lowest common denominator of storytelling. A scene is the smallest possible unit that still contains all the essential elements of a story: character, plot, world, and theme. Any smaller unit than a scene—a paragraph or a sentence, for example—might contain a couple of those elements, but likely will not contain all four.

To me, scenes are the cellular component of the story organism. Just like an individual cell contains all the same DNA as the full organism, a scene contains all of the story’s “DNA” by representing all four storytelling elements. And just as different cells may manifest the DNA in different ways—a brain cell is different from a muscle cell after all—different scenes will highlight different aspects of the story, but they still contain all four of the basic components.

In other words, a scene taps into all of the five W’s: who, what, when, where, and why. The “who” is the character (or characters) present in that scene. The “what” is what happens, or the plot events of that scene. The “when/where” represents the world as it appears in that moment, and the “why” is the theme and how it is infused into the scene at hand.

I’ve had a lot of writers ask me: “How can I tell the difference between one scene and the next?” While this is not a hard-and-fast rule, I like to look at the 5 Ws, and when one or more W changes, that’s often a clue that the scene might be changing as well. For example, if a character enters or leaves the scene, if we change location, or if a new plot event comes into play, those are often possible indicators that we are shifting from one scene to the next. While this is not always the case, it’s usually a sign that we should take a closer look at the scene and see if it has indeed changed.

Scenes vs. Chapters

Another question that often comes up for writers is this distinction between scenes and chapters. For some writers, scenes and chapters are one and the same in that each chapter is a single scene. Still, it’s important to understand the distinction between the two, because they are, in fact, different.

If scenes are the smallest unit of storytelling, chapters are an artificial construct created by writers to deliver a particular experience to the reader. This means you can have many scenes within a single chapter or one scene spanning multiple chapters. Shorter chapters make the pacing feel faster while longer chapters can stretch out the pacing and increase suspense.

For example, in the novel Sweethearts by Sara Zarr, there are two timelines, one in the present and one in the past. The present-day timeline is paced with moderate-length scenes while the past timeline is one long scene stretched out over the entire length of the book. This creates a sense of suspense. The reader wants to keep turning pages to find out what happened in that intense scene in the past timeline.

Another example is the chapter break during the Reaping scene of The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. The first chapter of the book includes a few different scenes—Katniss and Gale hunting, Katniss and Prim at home getting ready, and the beginning of the Reaping scene. The chapter ends abruptly at the moment when Prim’s name is drawn from the tribute jar. The scene then continues into the second chapter, where Katniss volunteers to take her sister’s place. That chapter break (right at the height of tension) builds suspense with a cliffhanger at the end of chapter one. Readers want to keep turning pages to find out what Katniss will do.

As these examples show, while in some cases you might have scenes and chapters that are equivalent, chapters are an artistic choice and a tool that writers can use to create a desired effect in the story. Scenes, on the other hand, are a fundamental unit of storytelling, not an artificial construct. 

Scene vs. Exposition

If scenes are the “show” part of storytelling, then exposition is the “tell.” Many writing teachers hammer home the idea that you should “show, don’t tell” but I prefer to think of it as “show and tell.” The truth is that showing and telling are both essential parts of storytelling. Scenes and exposition both perform important functions and one is not necessarily better than the other.

Scenes, as mentioned before, have a certain immediacy to them. The reader feels like they are right there with the characters, experiencing the moment at hand alongside them. Scenes have an immersive feel to them and oftentimes we don’t even realize we are reading when a scene really pulls us in.

Exposition, on the other hand, is great for skipping time or zipping from one location to another. If scenes are like the basic cells in a story organism, I think of exposition as the connective tissue that helps to hold everything together. Exposition is what allows us to say “Five years later” or “The next morning in Timbuktu.” It allows us to skim over the less important (or less interesting) parts of the story, until we get to another section that merits a scene.

Consider this example. Suppose you have a character who walks to work every day by the same route. The reader doesn’t need to know about every crack in the sidewalk or every random stranger that crosses the character’s path. If it’s a regular, ordinary day, the story can just say “He walked to work that day” and then craft a scene when things get interesting.

But let’s suppose, on a particular day, something dramatic happens on the way to work, like they meet the love of their life. Now it makes sense to craft a full scene, so we can capture that dramatic moment. Exposition lets us skip over the mundane, everyday stuff, while scene lets us dive into an important moment for the character.

The Elements of Scene Structure

At DIY MFA, we consider scene structure as it relates to each of the four story elements: character, plot, world, and theme. I like to think of these story elements as mapping directly onto the four natural elements: fire, water, earth, and air. 

Plot, for example, represents water or the ebb and flow of the storytelling. The plot events are often a sequence of actions and reactions, where events happen and characters respond, prompting other events to happen, and so forth.

When you put the elements of a scene together, you end up with something akin to the image below. The bead-like shape is intentional because scenes are like beads on a string, each one building on the one before and helping the necklace take shape.

This four-pronged approach to scene craft is only the tip of the iceberg. In our signature DIY MFA programs (like Plan to Plot), we go much deeper into these story elements and how they intersect with each other. For example, key moments in the plot thread overlap with significant points in the character’s arc through the scene. This is not coincidental.

Do a Deep Dive!

If you’re curious about scene craft and structure, one of the best ways to understand the techniques is to do some close reading and analyze what you see on the page. Choose a scene from a favorite novel, memoir, or story and see if you can tease apart the four different elements.

What sections relate to the character’s arc through the scene? What components are the ebb and flow of plot events? How does the author ground the scene in place and time, and what symbols or thematic elements help bring the story’s theme to life? See if you can identify and analyze the different parts of a scene. After that, you’re well on your way to crafting great scenes yourself. 

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: Scene Craft and How to Create Stronger Scenes appeared first on DIY MFA.

But there’s more to writing than just the writing itself. There are many elements that touch our writing but are not necessarily writing-related. Still, these elements can have a huge impact on how we get words on the page.

There are a lot of experts teaching about the craft of writing, but not as many who talk about the “other stuff” like resilience, focus, overcoming blocks, setting boundaries, and other such topics. This is why I created the DIY MFA FLOW Framework.

The DIY MFA FLOW Framework has four parts to it. These four components represent four different aspects of our creative lives. In fact, the word FLOW is itself an acronym. (And if you’ve been in the DIY MFA ecosystem for more than five minutes, you probably know we love our acronyms!)

• F = Find Your Focus
• L = Live Your Learning
• O = Overcome Your Obstacles
• W = Work Your Words

The idea behind the FLOW Framework is that all these ancillary skills which surround our writing are just that: skills. This means that they are teachable and learnable, not esoteric, amorphous concepts that are impossible to figure out. At DIY MFA, we believe that you can practice specific skills related to your creative life. Then you’ll have these skills in your back pocket, so you can implement them at crucial moments.

Find Your Focus

Focus is the foundational aspect of the FLOW framework, because without focus, none of the other FLOW components are feasible. In addition, focus is essential for getting words on the page and is a necessary first step to be able to write. No matter how many creativity hacks we might try, if we can’t focus, we can’t do our creative work.

Find Your Focus skills include how to:

• Set effective goals
• Find the right project that lights you up
• Make empowered choices
• Eliminate distractions
• Discern when to emphasize life vs. writing

Live Your Learning

As writers we are constantly learning. We like to learn new craft-related techniques. We also learn about our own subject matter so we can write compelling and authentic stories. In terms of the FLOW Framework, learning is the day-to-day maintenance piece. These are the skills we will draw on most often as we are living our creative lives.

Live Your Learning skills include how to:

• Determine our best writing process
• Handle failure and avoid guilt
• Use deliberate practice to learn new skills and techniques
• Develop ideas through imitation, improvisation, and incubation
• Structure your ideas and give them a concrete shape

Overcome Your Obstacles

Sooner or later, all writers hit bumps in the road. Whatever we might call it—writer’s block, resistance, “The Wall”—the result is the same. Sometimes we face a creative crisis and we need techniques to help us get through it. These skills are ones we may not draw on every day, but we want to practice them and keep them handy so that we have them when the need arises.

Overcome Your Obstacles skills include how to:

• Side-step obstacles by acting “As If”
• Use your creative identity to anchor you during tough moments
• Identify your creative monster and take away its power
• Craft a creative survival kit in case of emergencies
• Put together a Peace Corner to keep you grounded

Work Your Words

This element is the interpersonal part of the FLOW Framework. While the other elements address more individual aspects of the creative life, we must also accept that creative work exists in an ecosystem, and we must learn to navigate that system. This FLOW component is all about communication and using our words effectively with others.

Work Your Words skills include how to:

• Reframe language that does not serve you
• Use language for problem-solving
• Set boundaries with strategic word choice
• Ask for what you need effectively
• Redirect and deflect verbal attacks

Skill-Based Learning and the Importance of Practice

One thing to keep in mind with the FLOW Framework, is that the emphasis is not on vaguely understanding amorphous concepts. When I teach this framework, the main task at hand is for writers to learn specific, concrete skills, then practice them in a safe space—a journal, a worksheet, a virtual workshop—so that when the need arises, they have that skill ready.

This is not unlike how I teach the craft. Yes, there are certain aspects of writing that are very cerebral and abstract, but the goal is always to translate those amorphous ideas into concrete techniques that writers can implement right away. This is why so many of our programs at DIY MFA include a live classroom component, where writers can participate in real time.

It is difficult to practice skills in isolation, though not impossible. If you find you don’t have the opportunity to join a life workshop or take a class in real time, you can still learn techniques and practice them on your own. The key is learning to look at the work you do in practice with an objective outlook. There is one DIY MFA technique I find particularly useful for practicing both the technical aspects of writing and those ancillary skills represented in the FLOW Framework. It is called the Petri Dish Technique.

The Petri Dish Technique

The idea behind the Petri Dish Technique is that you identify the skill you want to learn, practice it in isolation, then put the technique back into context after you have solidified it. For example, imagine you want to learn how to write better dialogue. First you identify that dialogue is, in fact, the problem you want to solve. Next, you find some dialogue exercises online or in a book of writing prompts and you do those exercises until you feel like you’ve nailed down the dialogue. Then and only then do you go back into your work-in-progress and fix the dialogue throughout.

The reason this technique works so well is because it allows you to practice a technique outside the context of your current project. This lowers the likelihood of you tinkering your story to death and making your voice feel stilted and artificial. This is not unlike how scientists might take a cell sample from an organism, run tests on it in a petri dish, then infuse the cure back into the organism once they’ve solved the problem. The petri dish allows for a safe space to run those tests and not kill the organism in the process. The same is true with your writing.

But what about those ancillary skills from the FLOW Framework? How can we use the Petri Dish Technique with those?

In this case, we have to get a little more creative. Instead of doing writing prompts, we need to find some other safe space where we can practice those skills. I find journaling to be especially effective for this purpose. If I don’t have a circle of trust immediately handy where I can try some of the skills out on real people, I find that writing about the skill in a journal can be an effective alternative.

This is why, when I teach the FLOW Framework I like to have worksheets handy so writers can practice the techniques on the page. This is especially helpful because I find many writers to be introverts, and introverts don’t often want to practice techniques through roleplay or other more extroverted activities. For writers, processing concepts through pen and page is often more compatible with their introspective natures.

Reclaiming Your Creative Flow

If you’re having trouble finding your creative flow, start by using the FLOW framework to identify which area of your creative life needs the most attention. Is the problem that you feel scattered and can’t concentrate on your creative work (Focus)? Is it something relating to your everyday writing process (Learning)? Are you perhaps struggling with a creative crisis like writer’s block (Obstacles)? Is the issue one of setting boundaries or communicating your needs (Words)?

Once you have a sense for the overall cause of this lack of flow, look at some of the skills listed above and see if you can find one that might help address the issue. (Note: the lists of skills are by no means exhaustive, so you might identify something that’s not on a list. That’s okay!) After you’ve selected a skill, grab a journal and spend a little bit of time writing about it.

A great way to journal about this is with the “So What?” Technique. Start by making some sort of statement about the topic at hand, like “I don’t feel inspired to write.” Then write “so what?” Answer with another statement, then ask “so what?” again. Keep doing this for five or six “so whats?” until you hit on the core reason behind the lack of creative flow. After that, write a few paragraphs about what you’ve uncovered. The purpose behind the five or six “so whats?” is that they allow you to go deep and not stop at the most obvious answers.

There you have it: a step-by-step guide to reclaiming your creative flow, using the FLOW Framework alongside practical tools like the Petri Dish Technique and the “So What” Technique.

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: Lost Your Creative Flow? Use this Framework to Get it Back appeared first on DIY MFA.

This is one of the reasons I am such a huge fan of the Pomodoro Technique. If you’re not familiar with it, this is a method designed to help you eliminate distractions and get your work done. It originated in Italy in the 1980’s, where a young college student, Francesco Cirillo, was struggling to get through his studies. Using a tomato-shaped kitchen timer (hence the “pomodoro” in the name) he broke his study sessions down into short sprints where he would focus on the subject at hand until the timer went off. After experimenting for several years, he eventually found that the optimal length of time for each “pomodoro” (i.e. sprint) was 25 minutes with five-minute breaks in between.

The idea behind the Pomodoro Technique is that you set a timer and then focus on one thing until the timer goes off. After this focus session, you take a break, then come back for another one. You can keep doing this for as long as you like or until you have finished the task at hand. Every four or five sprints, you can also give yourself a longer break.

Why the Pomodoro Technique Works

There are two primary reasons why the Pomodoro Technique is so effective. First and foremost, it enables focus and helps you avoid multitasking. It also forces you to take much-needed breaks, which can have major health benefits.

(1) It Helps Avoid Multitasking.

The main reason the Pomodoro Technique works is because it eliminates multi-tasking, since you have to focus on one thing at a time. Multitasking may seem productive, like you are knocking out multiple tasks at once, but that is actually not the case. When you multitask, your brain can’t focus on multiple things at once so it’s constantly toggling between the various tasks. This leads to context switching.

Context switching is the phenomenon where, when you alternate between multiple tasks, your brain has to “reboot” every time it makes the switch. This might only take a split second but if you switch tasks enough times, those seconds will add up. You lose time whenever your brain has to switch tasks, which means multitasking is actually less productive than focusing on one thing at a time.

In addition, multitasking can lead to errors and can affect your brain health. When you multitask, it requires using more of your brain, which means that multitasking is less efficient than doing focused work. Multitasking can also create other health problems, like increased blood pressure or stress. Even if these problems are short-term, they can still have significant effects.

When you use the Pomodoro Technique, it forces you to focus on one thing at a time. Each pomodoro sprint is only 25 minutes long, meaning that if any distraction comes up—phone message or email ping, you can easily postpone attending to it until the 25-minute sprint is over. After all, it’s only 25 minutes. Then, when you have finished the sprint, you can catch up on anything else that may have happened while you were working.

(2) It Forces You to Take Breaks.

Another reason why the Pomodoro Technique is effective is because it forces you to take breaks. Many writers (myself included) love to immerse themselves in their writing, working for long stretches of time. But if you work for too long, you can end up injuring yourself. I speak from experience.

When I was in grad school for my MFA, I spent so much time writing that I eventually gave myself “golfer’s elbow” and ended up with my right (dominant) arm in a brace for several weeks. That definitely put a damper on my writing. If I had been more careful and taken more breaks during my sprints, I would not have injured myself and wouldn’t have had to postpone my writing for quite so long.

With the Pomodoro Technique, you take breaks every 25 minutes. This gives you time to stretch and move around, as well as rest your eyes, wrists, and hands. It may feel like you are wasting five precious minutes of writing time, but prolonged typing or staring at the computer screen can have adverse health effects. If you take care of your body, you will be better able to keep writing for the long term.

Not only that, but sometimes a break is just the ticket to help you get unstuck when you’ve written yourself into a corner. A short change of scene or activity can help your mind recharge and when you come back to your writing, you’ll be refreshed and more creative.

How to Use the Pomodoro Technique

Here’s a quick step-by-step on how to use the Pomodoro Technique.

1. Choose a timer. This should preferably be a dedicated timer that you only use for Pomodoro sessions. There are several Pomodoro apps out there (I like an iOS app called Focus Keeper) but you can also use a good, old-fashioned kitchen timer.
2. Set the timer for 25 minutes. During that pomodoro session focus on nothing else except your writing.
3. Take a 5-minute break. When the timer buzzes, stop and take a 5-minute break.
4. Rinse and repeat. Every four pomodoro sprints, extend your break to 15 minutes. 

Just remember that while you are in a pomodoro session, you should not do anything but write. No checking your email, no sending a text message, no logging into social media. All of these things can wait until the pomodoro session is done and you are on your break. If something comes up that is truly important—for example, you have a brilliant idea for another story—jot down a quick note to yourself, then get back to your focused work.

The Pomodoro Technique works best when the task at hand is big and overwhelming. If you choose a task that’s too short, you run the risk of completing the task before the pomodoro session is done. Doing pomodoro sessions is especially helpful when you need to break down a big, scary task (like writing a novel) into smaller, more manageable chunks.

For example, let’s say you are working on a novel or a memoir. It can feel daunting to crank out those 80,000 words, but with the Pomodoro technique, you can break that project down into smaller parts. Let’s do a little back-of-the-envelope math and see how you might map out those incremental steps.

Suppose that in a 25-minute Pomodoro sprint, you can crank out 500 words.That means you’ll need 160 Pomodoros to reach your 80,000-word goal. This may seem like a lot, but if you can do two or three Pomodoros in one day, that brings the number of writing days down to around 64. If you can work on your writing three times per week, you could have your first draft reach “the end” in around five months! Suddenly, that 80,000-word goal might feel a lot more doable.

I would also recommend, when applying the Pomodoro Technique to your writing, that you keep a log so you can track your progress. At DIY MFA, we are big fans of iteration and the best way to tweak and improve your writing process is to log your writing sprints. After all, you can’t modify what you can’t measure.

Make Adjustments to the Technique

As we wrap up this discussion of the Pomodoro Technique, I want to encourage you to give it a try, but also make adjustments as necessary. I find, for example, that for my own writing process, a 25-minute sprint is far too short, but 45 or 60 minutes gives me more time to immerse myself fully in my writing. If I was writing for longer stretches, though, I would also give myself slightly longer breaks, anywhere from 7-10 minutes.

In other contexts, 25 minutes might be too long. For example, in the past I used the technique with my children while helping them practice their instruments. (Little Man plays the piano, Lady Bug the violin.) What I found, though, was that 25 minutes was far too long for them to sustain their focus, so we dropped the length of the sprints to 10 or 15 minutes instead of the typical pomodoro sprint. We took shorter breaks between sessions (sometimes just 2-3 minutes) but they were able to sustain their focus for longer.

This is why I encourage you to experiment with the method and find the format that works best for you. There are no hard-and-fast rules when it comes to the Pomodoro Technique, so try some things out and see which combination of sprint and break lengths are most effective for you. Track your writing sprints and use the data to help you identify which variations work best.

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: Why You Should Try the Pomodoro Technique appeared first on DIY MFA.

Once I saw it, the obsession grew. I got the soundtrack (both Broadway and London Cast versions) and spent hours listening to my favorite songs over and over again, until the cassette tapes almost wore out. I would compare the different versions—who was the best Valjean? Which version was the best? Overall I preferred the London version (I mean, Patti LuPone as Fantine, who could beat that?), but I liked the Broadway Javert (Terrence Mann) better and his song, “Stars,” had a much better ending. The version in the London production was anticlimactic by comparison.

In honor of introducing my daughter to Les Miserables, I thought I would do a three-act analysis to see how the framework holds up with a musical. Note that I am basing this analysis on the original Broadway version, since that is the first one I ever saw. Note also that the three-act structure has three acts in it (obviously!) but the show only has two theatrical acts. I will refer to the acts of the musical as “parts” rather than “acts” so as to avoid confusion.

Spoiler Alert! If you haven’t seen Les Miserables, please be aware that there will be spoilers. You can probably figure this out just from the title, but things end badly for just about every character, with only a few minor exceptions. Unfortunately, the show is no longer on Broadway, but there will be a concert version coming to Radio City Music Hall later this year. You can also catch the film version, which is pretty close to the Broadway rendition in terms of songs and structure.That said, this musical is a hundred times better on stage than it is on screen.

Okay, let’s dive into our analysis of Les Miserables.

PROLOGUE: Part 1 of the show begins with Jean Valjean doing hard labor in prison, a sentence he received for stealing a loaf of bread. He has served time for 19 years as prisoner 24601. The first song (“Work Song”) is where he gets paroled and meets Inspector Javert (who is then a prison guard) for the first time.

As part of his parole, he gets a yellow ticket of leave, and everywhere he goes, no one will give him honest work. When he is about to despair, he is taken in by a Bishop, who gives him a place to stay. In the night, Valjean steals some silver and tries to run away but is caught. The constables bring him back to the Bishop, accusing him of theft. The Bishop tells them that he gave the silver as a present and even gives Valjean an additional two candlesticks, saying that he left so quickly, he had forgotten to take them.

Valjean has a conversion of spirit, realizing that the Bishop has given him his freedom. He decides he must turn his life around, so he abandons his identity and reinvents himself as a new person.

ACT 1: Here we flash forward several years, where Valjean—in his new identity—has become a factory owner and mayor of a city. We see the workers in his factory, who are poor and unhappy. Still, they consider themselves lucky to have any job at all.

In the factory, the foreman wants to seduce a young worker, Fantine, but she refuses him. The other factory workers think Fantine is stuck-up, so when she brings a letter with her to work, they steal it from her and read it aloud. It turns out, Fantine has a child who is living with an innkeeper and his wife in some country village. She sends money to help support the child. A fight breaks out between Fantine and the other women. As the factory owner, Valjean steps in and asks his foreman to sort the problem out. The foreman fires Fantine, and she laments the sorry turns her life has taken (“I Dreamed a Dream”).

To survive, Fantine sells her locket and her hair, but eventually must turn to prostitution (“Lovely Ladies”) to survive and send money to her child. When a customer tries to take advantage of her and she fights back, he accuses her of attacking him. Javert (now a Police Inspector) arrests Fantine but as mayor, Valjean intercedes and takes her to a hospital

In another scene, a man is pinned under a runaway wagon and Valjean is able to lift it singlehandedly, saving the man’s life. Javert sees this work of supreme strength and thinks he recognizes Valjean. But, then another man is captured and identified as Valjean, so Javert abandons his suspicions. The Prologue and Act 1 answer the five story promises as follows:

Character: Jean Valjean is our protagonist. He begins in the Prologue thinking only of his own survival, but after the Bishop gives him his freedom, his goal shifts to protecting his identity and keeping his past a secret. What he ultimately wants is his freedom and to stop running from the law.

Voice: While there is no voice because this is a musical, what makes this show so epic is the way the various different melodies weave in and out of each other. The music clues us in, showing us which parts of the story are connected.

World: The story takes place in France in the first part of the 19th century. It begins in a prison in 1815 when Valjean is released. Next, it jumps to 1823 in Montreuil-sur-Mer where Valjean is the mayor. Afterwards, the timeline skips forward yet again, this time to Paris in 1832.

Problem: Jean Valjean is a convicted felon who has skipped parole. In order to continue in his comfortable life, he must hide his identity. He must constantly be looking over his shoulder and running from his past.

Event: At first, Valjean is very hands-off in his dealings with his employees and the poor. Then he meets Fantine among the prostitutes and realizes the consequences of him being so passive.

PIVOT POINT 1:  When the innocent man is captured in his place, the real Jean Valjean is torn between two choices. He can let this man be accused instead of himself and finally have peace of mind that no one will come after him. On the other hand, he can reveal his true identity and be imprisoned all over again. Eventually, during the song “Who Am I?” Valjean decides to reveal his true self as prisoner 24601. The event at this pivot point is the innocent lookalike being captured. The choice is Valjean deciding to reveal his identity.

ACT 2:  Valjean goes to the hospital where Fantine lies dying. While there, he promises her that he will take care of her daughter, Cosette. Javert finds him in the hospital and after a confrontation, Valjean manages to escape. He goes to the countryside and finds Cosette living with the Thénardiers, an innkeeper and his wife. The Thénardiers are con artists, stealing from their customers (“Master of the House”). They treat Cosette like a servant while their own child, Eponine, is spoiled. Valjean pays them 1,500 francs to let him take Cosette away.

From here, we skip forward again, this time to Paris in 1832. The poor are barely scraping by and General Lamarque is the only source of hope the people have for a better life. Unfortunately his death is imminent and there is much public unrest. Students, including Enjorlas and Marius, are getting ready for an uprising.

The Thénardiers have moved to Paris, as have also Jean Valjean and Cosette. Marius and Cosette see each other for the first time and instantly fall in love. At the same time, Eponine, the Thénardiers’ daughter, also secretly loves Marius.

Here we get to a point in the story where multiple things are happening at once. In “Stars,” Javert vows that he will finally find and arrest Jean Valjean. In “Red and Black” and “Do You Hear the People Sing” we see Enjorlas and the other students planning for their revolution. Finally, we get to the midpoint of the story arc.

MIDPOINT: The midpoint of the show does not line up with the division between the two parts. In fact, it comes four songs before. After seeing each other for the first time, Marius and Cosette are in love. In “In My Life,” Cosette starts by singing about her love for Marius but eventually she shifts to asking her father about the past. This section of the song is the midpoint.

This is a Temporary Triumph in that it seems like Valjean has finally escaped his past and found something resembling peace. The moment of introspection is Valjean having to confront the questions Cosette has about his past. In the end he holds fast and does not reveal his secrets.

The song “In My Life” follows an ABA format, in that we have sections about love at the beginning and end, and the middle portion is where Cosette confronts Valjean. The song begins with Cosette singing about her love for Marius. Then she and Valjean sing the next part together until Valjean ends the conversation without revealing his secrets. The last portion of the song is where Marius and Eponine are singing together, him declaring his love for Cosette and her revealing her love for Marius.

ACT 2 (Cont’d): Eponine takes Marius to see Cosette, and they are finally able to meet (“A Heart Full of Love”). Then Thénardier and his gang attempt to rob Valjean’s home, but Eponine is there and sees him. She screams, warning the house of the robbers and Marius runs away. Valjean is terrified that they have been found. He makes plans to leave Paris with Cosette. She does not want to go because she has fallen in love with Marius, but she has no choice.

At this point, we come to the last song in the first part of the show, “One Day More.” This song brings all the characters to the stage and combines several musical themes from across the show, including: “Who Am I?,” “I Dreamed a Dream,” “On My Own,” and “Master of the House.”

Marius decides to fight alongside his friends at the barricade. The students are convinced that the people of Paris will rise up and help their revolution. After joining his friends, Marius sends a farewell letter to Cosette via Eponine (“On My Own”). Valjean intercepts the letter and realizes that Cosette is in love. He decides to stay and eventually makes his way to the barricade to fight. At the barricade, Enjorlas, the revolutionary leader, asks for a volunteer to spy on the military. Javert—who is disguised as a revolutionary—volunteers. When he returns, he tells the others that there will be no attack so they can drop their guard. Gavroche steps up and identifies Javert as an Inspector and they capture him. Valjean is given the opportunity to execute Javert but instead he lets him go.

At the first attack, Eponine is fatally wounded. She dies in Marius’ arms (“A Little Fall of Rain”). The men sing “Drink with Me” and Valjean realizes that Marius is the man Cosette loves.

PIVOT POINT 2: As the men go to sleep, Valjean sings “Bring Him Home,” asking for Marius to be spared. He is reconciled with the fact that he may die at the barricade, but for Cosette’s sake, he wants Marius to survive. The event at this pivot point is him discovering that Marius is the man Colette loves. The choice is Valjean deciding that he will do whatever is in his power to help Marius survive.

ACT 3: The third act of this story is surprisingly short. The second attack happens and the people of Paris do not rise up and fight. The students at the barricade are left to fight on their own and all (except Marius) die at the end of the battle. Valjean survives the attack and is able to rescue an injured Marius and take him down into the sewers to escape. He collapses and Thénardier (who is looting bodies) finds the two and takes a ring from Marius’ finger. When Valjean is finally awake again and is able to exit the sewer, he comes across Javert. 

CLIMAX: Valjean asks Javert to let him take Marius to a doctor. Though it is counter to everything he believes, Javert lets Valjean go. Javert is shaken both by Valjean’s act of mercy in sparing his life and his own act of letting Valjean go. He cannot live with himself and commits suicide.

It is significant to note that the melody we hear in Javert’s last song is the same melody from when Valjean decides to abandon his identity after the Bishop has given him his freedom. This makes sense because both are moments that give Valjean his freedom, though they do so in different ways. In the first instance, Valjean claims his freedom by rejecting his true identity. The second time, Valjean gets his freedom more permanently because Javert has killed himself so he won’t be coming after him any longer. The irony is, of course, that Valjean does not know this. He believes himself to be a fugitive still.

Ending Type: Ironically enough, even though just about everybody dies in this musical, this show actually has a Happy Ending. At DIY MFA we define a happy ending not by the emotion, but by whether the protagonist achieves their goal. A happy ending is one where the main character gets what they want and they still want that thing by the end of the story.

Jean Valjean wants his freedom and he wants to live in peace. At first, he thinks he will achieve this by changing his identity. Eventually, he realizes that freedom is not a matter of identity but of being true to his principles. He chooses to show mercy to Javert, even though that will mean Javert will never stop coming after him. He also chooses to save Marius over running away from Javert and securing his own freedom. In the end, Javert lets him go and eventually kills himself, leaving Valjean finally free. By this definition, the show has a Happy Ending.

DENOUEMENT: Marius recovers from his wounds and grieves his friends (“Empty Chairs at Empty Tables”). Valjean confesses his secrets to Marius, and says he must leave to protect Cosette. He still believes the law is after him.

Marius and Cosette get married. The Thénardiers crash the wedding and try to convince Marius that Valjean is a thief by showing him a ring Valjean supposedly stole from a body at the barricade. Marius recognizes the ring as his own and realizes that Valjean must have been the person who rescued him.

Marius takes Cosette to see Jean Valjean, who is on his deathbed. Valjean dies peacefully, finally getting the freedom he has craved for so long. Knowing that Cosette has Marius and will not be alone allows him to die in peace. As his soul slips from his body, Fantine and Eponine appear, and he goes with them to the afterlife.

CONCLUSION: One of the things that I most love about this show is how the various melodies weave together throughout, making us associate different parts of the show with each other. “One Day More” pulls themes from various different songs in the show (“Who Am I?”, “On My Own”, “I Dreamed a Dream,” and “Master of the House”) but it is by no means the only instance.

For example, the moment where the Bishop forgives Valjean for his theft uses the same musical theme as “Empty Chairs at Empty Tables.” This is significant because when Marius sings the latter song, he is effectively asking his friends for forgiveness because he survived and they did not. Both instances deal with the subject of forgiveness, though in different ways.

Similarly, Fantine and Eponine are linked by the theme of “On My Own.” While Eponine sings the famous song, Fantine sings the same melody with different words in “Come to Me.” Then, at the end, when Valjean dies, the two appear singing that same melody again as a duet. It’s significant that Fantine and Eponine would be thus linked. Both have unrequited loves and both suffered a great deal in their short lives. Most importantly, though, they both want things they cannot have. Fantine wants to be with her daughter, Cosette, and Eponine wants to be loved by Marius. In this way, the music of the show weaves various characters and significant moments together.

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: Three-Act Analysis of Les Miserables appeared first on DIY MFA.

Spoiler Alert! If you have not read A Christmas Carol, hop to it! It’s a novella, so it’s super-short, plus, you can get a free ebook copy via Project Gutenberg, or read it via your browser. Personally, I recommend the browser version because then you can see the original full-color illustrations by John Leech, which are lovely. Even if you decide to read it via a device, check out those illustrations because they are lovely.

While there have been any number of versions of this story as films, I recommend reading the original. This is because no film version quite captures the nuance and depth of the original text. This is why I have based this entire analysis on the text. Let’s dive into our analysis of A Christmas Carol.

ACT 1: In Act 1, we meet our protagonist, Ebenezer Scrooge. He is a miserly, stingy man, who doesn’t even let his clerk have coal to make a fire. He has a grumpy disposition and he doesn’t care for other people. He is a This excerpt best captures Scrooge’s character:

External heat and cold had little influence on Scrooge. No warmth could warm, no wintry weather chill him. No wind that blew was bitterer than he, no falling snow was more intent upon its purpose, no pelting rain less open to entreaty. Foul weather didn’t know where to have him. The heaviest rain, and snow, and hail, and sleet, could boast of the advantage over him in only one respect. They often “came down” handsomely, and Scrooge never did.

As Act 1 develops, we learn that Scrooge has a particular distaste for Christmas. When people (like his cheerful nephew) mention Christmas, his response is “Bah! Humbug!” Throughout Act 1 we also see examples of Scrooge’s miserly attitude. He refuses to give money to help the poor, absolutely will not dine for Christmas at his nephew’s house, and when his clerk asks for Christmas day off, he balks and says: “”A poor excuse for picking a man’s pocket every twenty-fifth of December!” 

His stinginess is not just reserved for others, but for himself as well. He eats “his melancholy dinner in his usual melancholy tavern” all alone, and even his home is not truly his, but belonged to his deceased business partner, Jacob Marley. After changing for bed, he sits down in front of the fire to eat his gruel. Clearly, while this man has much money, there is nothing about him tht is extravagant.

The five promises also get answered within the first stave (or chapter).

Character: Ebenezer Scrooge is our protagonist and we follow him throughout the story.

Voice: The novella is told entirely through Scrooge’s limited third person point of view so we have access to his thoughts, but no one else’s. Also, keep in mind that the third person narrator occasionally interjects and speaks directly to the reader. This gives us a sense of the story being told to us by someone who has seen the events unfold.

World: The story takes place at the time in which it was published, the mid-9th century. The setting is London.

Problem: Scrooge detests Christmas almost as much as he dislikes being in the company of others or spending money. Yet everyone around him is in the Christmas spirit. His nephew invites him to dine for Christmas. Two gentlemen call upon him at his office, asking for money for the poor. And even his own clerk has the audacity to ask for Christmas day off. Scrooge has jut about had it with all this Christmas nonsense. Bah! Humbug!

Event: The story begins with his partner, Jacob Marley, dead. Seven years later, on Christmas Eve, as Scrooge goes home and opens his front door, the knocker transforms to look like Jacob Marley’s ghostly face.

PIVOT POINT 1:  Scrooge locks the door and retires to his room. Suddenly the ghost of Jacob Marley walks in through the double-locked door, dragging chains and boxes of riches. When Scrooge asks about the chains, Marley says: “I wear the chain I forged in life… I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it.”

Then he continues to tell Scrooge that his own chains will be even heavier and longer in the afterlife. He says: “the weight and length of the strong coil you bear yourself? It was full as heavy and as long as this, seven Christmas Eves ago. You have laboured on it, since.” Scrooge is afraid.

The ghost of Marley tells him that there is a chance for him yet. He will be haunted by three Spirits over the course of three nights. As he says to Scrooge: “”Without their visits… you cannot hope to shun the path I tread.” Scrooge immediately resists, first saying he would rather not, then trying to bargain with the ghost that maybe the Spirits could visit him all at once. While Scrooge does not openly acquiesce, at the end of the stave, when he tries to say “Humbug!” he stops himself.

As we’ve discussed in the past, every pivot point has two components: an external event and an internal choice. In this case, the external event is the appearance of Jacob Marley’s ghost. The internal choice, on the other hand, is Scrooge complying with the visit of the three Spirits.

ACT 2:  In Act 2, we have two of the three Spirit visits: Ghost of Christmas Past, and the Ghost of Christmas Present. (The Ghost of Christmas Future arrives in Act 3) All three of these Spirits take Scrooge around to different locations, where he can see both events of Christmas in the past, present, and future. As Scrooge makes these visits, his outlook begins to change.

Ghost of Christmas Past: This Spirit is small like a child, with a candle flame coming up out of its head and a cap shaped like a candle extinguisher.

The journey begins at the school where he had been a young boy. While all the other boys cheerfully went home for the holidays, Scrooge was left stranded at the school. While he sees himself alone and neglected, he feels pity for his past self and in feeling that pity he begins to empathize with others (in particular a boy who came caroling to his office the day before).

After visiting his former self at school, the Spirit takes him a little into the future, when Scrooge was a young apprentice for Mr. Fezziwig. On Christmas eve, Fezziwig and his wife had all their employees clear away the desks and furniture in the warehouse where they worked and they threw a dance to celebrate the holiday. Seeing the sort of employer that Fezziwig was and how kindly he treated his employees, Scrooge says to the Spirit:

He has the power to render us happy or unhappy; to make our service light or burdensome; a pleasure or a toil. Say that his power lies in words and looks; in things so slight and insignificant that it is impossible to add and count ’em up: what then? The happiness he gives, is quite as great as if it cost a fortune.

Scrooge begins to realize how unkind he has been to his clerk and when the Spirit asks if something is the matter, he says: “​​I should like to be able to say a word or two to my clerk just now. That’s all.”

The third visit Scrooge makes in the past is where he sees himself talking to a young woman. As the scene unfolds, it becomes clear that they have been engaged, but she is now releasing Scrooge of the commitment because she has been replaced with an idol of gold (i.e., money.)

Scrooge’s preoccupation with wealth and greed has supplanted the love he once felt for this young woman, and even if he were to force himself to stand by the engagement, she insists that he would eventually regret it. At this, Scrooge begs the Spirit to stop and show him no more, but the Spirit insists on one more vision. This time the Spirit shows a woman and her children waiting for her husband to get home. The family is loving and kind, a clear illustration of everything that Scrooge could have had but chose to give up.

At this point, Scrooge has had it with the Spirit. He takes its extinguisher cap and plops it on its head, putting out the candle flame and reducing the Spirit to nothing. While Scrooge does have a few moments throughout this journey to the past where he begins to show a change of heart, this final action reveals that he is not yet ready to make a change.

Ghost of Christmas Present: This Spirit is a giant and is dressed in a long robe with a holly wreath on its head. It holds a torch shaped cornucopia.

The first stop on their journey is the house of Bob Cratchit, Scrooge’s clerk. Interestingly, Bob is not mentioned by name until this point in the story. It is as if, until we see him in his home environment, that Bob’s very identity is defined by being Scrooge’s employee. It is only here that we see Bob as a fully-developed character, one with a loving family and a young, disabled son, Tiny Tim.

In this scene at the Cratchit house, Scrooge sees a family that has virtually nothing, but even so are grateful for what they do have. Bob even goes so far as to toast to Scrooge and calls him the “Founder of the Feast.” While his wife is not as enthusiastic about drinking to Scrooge’s health, she eventually does, as do the children. This scene shows Scrooge that true wealth comes from kindness and love, rather than money.

MIDPOINT: During the visit to the Cratchit home, Scrooge asks the Spirit what will become of Tiny Tim. The Spirit answers: “I see a vacant seat… in the poor chimney-corner, and a crutch without an owner, carefully preserved.” This is a false failure because it looks like the worst possible outcome will happen, but it turns out not to be the case. In fact, without Scrooge believing that Tiny Tim would die, he will never reach his change of heart.

When the Spirit tells him what is to come, Scrooge begs the Spirit to let Tiny Tim live and the Spirit quotes his own words back at him: “If he be like to die, he had better do it, and decrease the surplus population.” These are the self-same words Scrooge said earlier when the gentlemen visited his office, asking him to give money to help the poor. In this moment, Scrooge starts to realize that his outlook is wrong. “Scrooge hung his head to hear his own words quoted by the Spirit, and was overcome with penitence and grief.” This is the moment of self-reflection.

ACT 2 (cont’d): The Spirit takes Scrooge to various places where they see people of meager means celebrating the holiday. Eventually, they end up at the house of Scrooge’s nephew. Here the nephew, his wife, and their friends have a jolly celebration filled with food and games. Scrooge gets so wrapped up watching the games that he does not want to leave.

Eventually, Scrooge notices that the Spirit has grown quite old. He asks the Spirit if its life is very short and the Spirit replies that its life ends at midnight that same night.

PIVOT POINT 2: Before the spirit goes, Scrooge sees a claw-like hand emerge from beneath its robes and the Spirit unfolds its robe to reveal two children. The Spirit tells Scrooge:

This boy is Ignorance. This girl is Want. Beware them both and all of their degree, but most of all beware this boy, for on his brow I see that written which is Doom, unless the writing be erased.

Scrooge asks what can be done and again he hears his own words quoted back to him: “Are there no prisons?… Are there no workhouses?” This is the second pivot point. The external event is the appearance of Ignorance and Want, and the internal choice is Scrooge wanting there to be something that can be done..

Note that many modern adaptations (films, etc.) of A Christmas Carol omit this portion of the story, perhaps because it is the section that feels most on-the-nose and didactic. It is also, in some ways, the most visually disturbing part of the story and stands in direct contrast to the jolly, Christmas imagery in other parts of the novella. Interestingly enough, when adaptations omit this section, they are losing a crucial part of the story arc: the second pivot point.

ACT 3: As Scrooge looks around for the Ghost of Christmas Present, he sees that the Spirit has disappeared and in its place has appeared a silent, looming figure.

Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come: As with the other figures, this one takes Scrooge to various places where he sees shadows of the future. The first stop is a rundown shop where a few people are gathered. They are bringing in things to sell, items belonging to someone who has died. While we do not know the identity of the deceased (though, we can guess!), the purpose of this scene is to show how little these people seem to care about this man. They have even stolen his bedcurtains to sell!

At one point, Scrooge says to the Spirit: “Spirit!… I see, I see. The case of this unhappy man might be my own. My life tends that way, now. Merciful Heaven, what is this!” He has begun to realize that he needs to change his ways, though he has not yet made a full transformation. The scene changes and Scrooge and the Spirit are in a room where a dead man lies covered on a bed. This is the man whose belongings were being sold in the shop and he now lies alone in a room without friends or family to mourn him.

After these, the Spirit takes Scrooge to a home where a woman sits waiting anxiously for her husband by the fire. When he arrives, she asks him what the news is and he replies that the man to whom they owe a sizable sum is dead. (I wonder who that man might be…) While they do not necessarily celebrate the man’s death, they do go to sleep with peace of mind, knowing that their debt will likely be transferred to a more humane creditor.

Finally, the Spirit takes Scrooge back to the Cratchit home, where Tiny Tim has died and the family is in mourning. Unlike the mysterious deceased from the previous scenes who died with out anyone feeling sorry, this family is clearly grieving for its youngest member, in particular Bob Cratchit. This scene shows the immense impact that Tiny Time has made on his family and how much they love him and miss him. It is a stark contrast to the nameless deceased man from the earlier scene in the shop, where all people care about is how to dispose of his belongings.

CLIMAX: The Ghost of Christmas Yet to come takes Scrooge to one final location: a cemetery. The Spirit walks among the graves and points to one in particular. Scrooge approaches the gravestone and sees his own name carved into it. He is the deceased man whose belongings the people in the shop were selling. He is the man lying covered on the bed. He is the creditor whose death the young couple considers with relief. Scrooge finally understands what the Spirits have been trying to show him. He says:

“I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach. Oh, tell me I may sponge away the writing on this stone!”

Ending Type: This is a “change of heart” ending. Scrooge starts out the story wanting to have nothing to do with Christmas. He despises other people and wants only to be left alone with his money. lBy the end of the story, he does not get what he wants, but he also no longer wants it. In the climax, he chooses to embrace Christmas and also to treat others with kindness and generosity.

DENOUEMENT: Scrooge finds himself in his room and runs to the window. He calls down to a boy in the street to ask what day it is and learns that it’s Christmas Day. The Spirits have done everything in one night and he has not missed Christmas. He asks the boy to run to the local poulterer and buy the biggest turkey, which he instructs should be sent to the Cratchit house.

Next, he dresses and heads out to his nephew’s home. On his way, he runs into the two gentlemen who had asked him to give money for the poor one day prior. He makes an apology and pledges a large sum of money for their cause. Finally, he arrives at his nephew’s house for Christmas dinner, where he enjoys all the games and joyfulness he had seen on his visit with the Spirit.

Finally, the next day, when Bob Cratchit arrives at work a few minutes late, he summons him to his room and announces that he will give him a raise. Then he tells Bob to get more coal for the fire. The story ends with the narrator telling us:

“…it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless Us, Every One!”

I hope this holiday season brings you much joy and happiness, and that the new year gives you renewed energy and excitement for your writing. Remember: the world needs your stories, and there are readers out there waiting with bated breath for a book just like yours. 

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: Three-Act Analysis of A Christmas Carol appeared first on DIY MFA.

The Importance of Reading with Purpose

When I used to interview guest authors on DIY MFA Radio, I used to end each episode with the same question: “What’s your #1 tip for writers?” Hands down, the most common answer to that question was: “Read, read, read,” and it’s no wonder why. Reading is one of the most crucial parts of a literary life. If writers want to improve their craft, they need to read.

A writer who doesn’t read is like a chef who doesn’t eat. They have no idea if what they’re creating is any good because they can’t put their work into context. Reading with purpose allows us to see how our books fit in the greater literary landscape and understand how to make our writing better. It also allows us to see how other writers solve certain problems and we can borrow those solutions and apply them to our own work.

Note that this doesn’t mean we are copying someone else’s writing, not by a long shot. Instead, think of it as like being a mechanic, looking under the hood of a car to see how it works. When we read with purpose, we analyze another writer’s work to see how they do things, then we apply the concepts to our own writing to make it better. We’re not copying the author’s actual words or ideas, but we’re looking at the way they do things and then borrowing some of those strategies.

What Reading with Purpose Entails

Reading with purpose means reading with an eye toward your writing. It means having a core set of books on hand—what I call “the essentials”—so you have ready resources when you need them. It means being strategic when you select books, so your reading will help you with your current work-in-progress. Most importantly, it means reading with an analytical perspective, so you can understand more fully how a piece of literature works, and apply some of those concepts to your own writing. There are three important components of reading with purpose:

1. Having a select group of essential books on hand
2. Compiling a reading list that servers our goals
3. Reading with a writer’s eye

Essential Books to Have on Hand

There are three books that I recommend every writer have in their library. I know what you’re thinking—only three? Yes, you only need three, and these three will be different for each writer. If you’re like most writers, you probably have more than one book in each of these categories, but at the minimum I recommend having one of each. To remember the three books, just think of your ABCs.

• A = Anthology of Short Form Work
• B = Book of Prompts
• C = Craft Reference

Anthology of Short Form Work: It’s useful to have an anthology of short stories, preferably in your chosen genre. If you write memoir, then look for an anthology of essays, and if you write poetry, get your hands on an anthology of poems. Make sure that what you choose is a true anthology with stories by a variety of authors and not a collection by a single author. This is because you want a book that represents the broadest possible range of voices. My go-to short story anthology is The Art of the Short Story, edited by Dana Gioia and R.S. Gwynn. It’s not super-new but it has the classics.

Book of Prompts: A book of prompts is always good to have on hand. I’m especially a fan of prompt books that are organized according to topic (dialogue prompts in one chapter, description prompts in another, etc.). The two prompt books I recommend are: The 3 A.M. Epiphany (and its sequel, The Four A.M. Breakthrough) by Brian Kiteley and the Now Write! series edited by Sherry Ellis and Laurie Lamson. Both series group the prompts by category, only in the Kiteley books, the prompts are by only one author, while in the Now Write! series, the prompts are from various different authors.

Craft Reference: It’s helpful to have a craft reference handy in case you run into questions you don’t know how to answer. Strunk and White’s The Elements of Style is, of course, the classic for matters regarding style and grammar. For broader craft topics, I love books by Donald Maass, Lisa Cron, and Steven James. For “small craft” (i.e., sentence-level stuff) check out Barbara Baig’s Spellbinding Sentences. And, of course, the DIY MFA book also gives an overview of general craft topics.

Building a Reading List

One of the most important parts of reading with purpose is compiling a reading list that truly serves your writing. I remember in the MFA program, reading some books that were completely irrelevant to what I was writing. I kept wondering “what’s the point?” It felt a bit like an exercise in futility. That’s why, when I started DIY MFA, one of the first things I did was develop a rubric so that writers could come up with their own reading list, their own syllabus. This rubric consists of four types of books:

1. Comps: Comparable books (i.e., comps) are similar to your book and would sit on the bookstore shelf next to yours. If a librarian were to recommend a book similar to yours, they would choose one of these comps.
2. Contextual: These are books you read for research. They may not be similar to your book in all respects, but they may have certain aspects in common, like the same setting, or a similar use of point of view. These books lend context to yours.
3. Contemporary: You need to keep your finger on the pulse of your genre or category. This is why it’s important to read a few contemporary books, so you can be aware of trends and know what’s new in your niche.
4. Classics: Everyone should read a classic at least once in a while. Keep in mind, classics don’t necessarily need to be hundreds (or thousands) of years old. Depending on your genre or category, books considered classics might actually be fairly recent.

Reading Like a Writer

I often call reading like a writer “reading like a revolutionary.” This is because when we read with a writer’s eye, we aren’t just passively taking in the story. Instead, we are actively analysing it, not just to understand, but to apply the concepts to our own writing. The key to reading like a writer is examining how the author does what they do on the page, and then considering which of those techniques you can borrow.

How to Read with Purpose

Reading with purpose is like swimming in the ocean: the swimmer is the reader and the ocean is the story. Like the ocean, the story has different layers of depth and reader-swimmers can explore some or all of those layers, depending on their inclination.

Ocean Surface: The WHAT

Most readers/swimmers skim across the surface, because that’s where the air is. At this surface level, they focus on the WHAT of the story (i.e., the logistics). At this level, the reader is con What’s happening? Who are the characters? What is the setting?

These basic, logistical considerations are what we focus on, particularly when we’re first developing as readers. These are the types of questions my kids would have to answer for homework in elementary school. They don’t require deep analysis, just a basic understanding of the facts.

There is nothing wrong with hanging out at the surface. That’s how most people read much of the time. This is the layer where you simply get carried away by a good story, and that’s a perfectly respectable way to read. But, if you want to read like a writer, you have to go deeper.

Coral Reef: The WHY

The second layer of reading is that in-between space between the ocean surface and the ocean floor. Imagine this layer as being like a coral reef with hundreds of colorful fish, lush corals, and brightly patterned shells. This reef represents the WHY of the story (i.e., the interpretation).

This is the layer where we consider deeper, more analytical questions. What does this story mean? Why did the author write this story? How does this story fit into the greater literary context? This is how we were taught to read in high school or college literature classes. We learned to go deeper than pure logistics, but still not quite all the way to the ocean floor.

Keep in mind, reading at this layer can be hard to sustain and you can’t do it indefinitely, just as a swimmer can’t stay underwater for hours on end. Instead, when we analyze literature in this way, we usually do so for contained, specific passages, rather than for the entirety of a book-length work.

Ocean Floor: The HOW

Finally, we get to the third layer. For this one, imagine you’re bobbing along on the surface of the ocean and then you spot a sparkling gem on the ocean floor. Then, you take a deep, gulping breath and you dive all the way to the bottom to retrieve it.

This is what we do when we read for the HOW. We look deep at another author’s work and we spot the gems, and we analyze what that author is doing to understand how exactly they managed to pull it off. Then, we take that gem and we see how we might apply it to our own work.

As with the coral reef layer, this deep dive is difficult to sustain for long passages. We can analyze a writer’s work at this profound level only for short passages. If we try to read an entire book at the ocean floor level, it will be very challenging. This is why reading like a writer is a delicate, aquatic dance, where we continuously shift up and down, from the surface to the ocean floor.

Personalized Anthology Project

One activity I often recommend to writers is to compile a personalized anthology. Whenever you read something and you come across a passage that captures your attention, make a photocopy and put it in a binder. Annotate each excerpt using the WHAT/WHY/HOW framework and once you have ten or more of them in the binder, sort them according to topic (character development, story structure, world-building, description, dialogue, etc.)

The idea here is that over time, you will amass a collection of excerpts specifically from books that are relevant to your writing—because they’re books you selected, not someone else like a professor. The fact that the passages are sorted by topic will make it easier for you to find what you need. Stumped by setting? Look at some of the world-building excerpts in your binder. Not only will they help you figure out craft-related techniques, but they will be directly relevant to what you’re writing.

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 It Means to Read with Purpose appeared first on DIY MFA.

I think the thing that got me tied up in knots about dictation was the tech. I had this idea in my head that the only way to dictate my writing would be to use some fancy microphone or elaborate software. In actuality, right now I’m just using my phone—regular old smart phone—and a little app called Bear. (It’s a notetaking app that’s super bare-bones and doesn’t have all the bells and whistles other apps might have).

The other thing that had me hesitating about dictation was this idea that I had to get it right the first time. I’ll admit it, I am a major perfectionist. If I can’t do something right then I often give up and try something else. It’s uncomfortable to feel like you don’t know what you’re doing, but if you ever want to learn a new skill, you have to get past that hump.

Finally, this whole idea of dictating my work felt a little… weird. Not gonna lie. The idea of sitting around and talking out loud into my phone and then somehow ending up with a newsletter… that’s just bizarre. But now that I’m doing it—now that I’m on a roll—dictation’s actually pretty cool.

Let me share a few reasons why I’m enjoying dictation.

1) Anytime, anywhere.

The great thing about dictation is you can do it anywhere and you’re not stuck sitting at your computer. Right now I’m lying with my feet up, with office cat 2.0 curled up next to me, and I’m writing a newsletter all at the same time. How cool is that?

For a lot of writers this freedom can be game-changing. You can write while you’re walking . You can write while you’re doing dishes. You can write while you’re sitting with your feet up relaxing. This ability to write anywhere is especially important for writers who can’t sit at their desk for long periods of time.

By the time you read this newsletter I’ll be recovering from reconstructive surgery on my foot. At the time of this writing, I’m still a ways away from this surgery and I have no idea how I’ll be feeling when this newsletter goes out. Yet, now that I’m trying dictation, I have a hunch that I’ll be doing a lot more of it during those weeks when I can’t sit at my desk. Dictation may very well become my go-to during recovery.

2) It’s fast.

Dictating your work can go a lot faster than typing at a keyboard. For example, I’ve been at this dictation for about 10 minutes, and already I have almost 500 words on the page. This is mind-boggling. Keep in mind, I’m a reasonably quick writer at the keyboard. I can usually average about 1,000-1,500 words an hour, which I’ve been told is a respectable pace. But 500 words in 10 minutes? That’s almost twice as fast. I could never crank out this many words when I’m sitting at my computer.

I’ll admit, dictation does require some thinking. The words don’t just spill out on the page like magic. I have to pause from time to time to think about what I’m going to say next. Sometimes I lose my train of thought and have to backtrack. Even so, the writing still goes a lot faster when I dictate than it does when I type.

I’ve heard some pretty amazing stories of writers cranking out three, four, even five thousand words while dictating their work. But even if your word count doesn’t quite reach that level, there are some other big benefits of dictation. It’s easier on your wrists and your posture. It gives you flexibility to write whenever you want. Plus it exercises a different part of your brain, helping you to tap into other aspects of your creativity.

3) It’s easy.

Truth be told, dictation can be in some ways easier than writing on the computer. I don’t know about you, but I have a secret habit of talking to myself when I need to work out my thoughts. There’s something about hearing my thoughts out loud that gives me a different perspective and allows me to think more creatively than I would otherwise. Sitting at the computer is all silence. The thoughts stay isolated in my head, bouncing around kind of like they’re in an echo chamber.

Dictation is a way of tapping into that same creativity that comes from thinking out loud. You hear your ideas in a different way, and it helps you gain a new perspective on what you’re writing. So, here I am sitting with my phone, talking out this newsletter. Not only has it gone pretty smoothly and quickly, but I’ve also gotten ideas after the fact that I’ve been able to insert into this essay during revision. A lot of these insights have come from being able to hear my thoughts out loud.

4) It’s good practice at being a beginner.

Perhaps the best (and, in some ways, also the worst) part of dictation is that it forces me to sit with the discomfort of not doing things perfectly. Like I said before, I am a huge perfectionist, so this idea of being a beginner at something and having to learn a skill from scratch is really uncomfortable. And yet it’s only when we do uncomfortable things that we’re able to grow. If we stay perpetually in our comfort zone, we are never going to stretch ourselves and build new skills.

Here’s the funny thing about the comfort zone: it’s not a fixed space. When I think of the comfort zone, I think of a circle with me at the center. That circle represents everything that’s comfortable and familiar. If I want to stretch myself I have to move to the edge of the circle. That’s the edge of my comfort zone.

But here’s the weird thing about the comfort zone. If we stay by the edge of the circle long enough, that comfort zone expands and starts to look like a gigantic peanut. In other words, if we want to stay at the edge of our comfort zone, we can’t stay in the same place forever. We have to push ourselves constantly to the new edge, wherever that may be. We can’t stay complacent in the middle. We have to challenge ourselves to dance on that edge of discomfort.

One Caveat: It’s just the first draft.

As I’ve written this newsletter, I’ve gone back-and-forth between dictating portions of it, and then refining those segments on the computer thereafter. Sometimes I realize I’ve missed something, so I go back to my phone and I dictate a new segment. It’s been an organic process, moving from the computer to the phone and back again.

I share this because a lot of us have a misconception that when you dictate your work, it has to come out perfectly, with no revisions necessary. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. When we dictate, we stumble. We misspeak. We repeat ourselves. And that’s OK.

The whole point of dictation is to get the words down on the page so that we have raw material that we can come back to later. Dictation is where we crank out that messy first draft—Draft Zero. Then at the computer, we can go back and clean up what we have. It’s not supposed to be perfect. It’s just supposed to be. The whole point of a messy first draft is to exist. Nothing else. Every other refinement happens in revision.

Knowing that I could go back and revise my words took a lot of pressure off of trying this dictation experiment. Not only is it okay not to be perfect, but the whole point of trying dictation is just to get those words down as quickly as possible so that I can revise them later. That’s exactly how it has played out for me. 

I’m still getting used to this technique and it will likely be a while until I feel fully comfortable dictating my writing. Still I’m glad I tried it out this time. I might not use it in every circumstance, but having a new technique in my repertoire makes me a more versatile writer and that’s always a good thing.

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: Trying Out a New Technique – Dictation appeared first on DIY MFA.

I first saw this movie at a very pivotal moment in my life. I was in ninth grade and a total nerd who preferred reading to socializing. When I watched Beauty and the Beast, I felt seen. It was empowering to see a heroine who was more concerned with cerebral pursuits than pretty dresses or charming princes. This is probably why this film made such an impression on me—because I could see myself reflected in the main character.

Spoiler Alert! If you have not yet watched Disney’s Beauty and the Beast… What have you been doing with yourself? Seriously, this is an amazing film (the first ever animated film to be nominated for Best Picture in the Academy Awards) and you need to watch it. It’s part of what many call the “Disney Renaissance,” a period of time when Disney went back to making more animated films based on well-known stories.

Personally, I think Beauty and the Beast is the best film Disney has ever created and quite possibly one of the best films across the board. So, if you haven’t watched Beauty and the Beast yet, get thee to a streaming service! Trust me: it will be ninety minutes well-spent. (Also, if you’re like me and you cry during movies, bring tissues!)

Okay, let’s dive into our analysis of Beauty and the Beast.

PROLOGUE: The movie opens with a narrated sequence where stained glass windows depict the story of the young prince before he became the Beast. The music is haunting and shimmery (reminiscent of the Aquarium movement in Camille Saint-Saens’ Carnival of the Animals) and the stained glass images are striking and like nothing else in the entire movie.

In this sequence we learn how the young prince is spoiled and unkind. When an old woman comes knocking at his door seeking refuge from the cold, he turns her away only to discover that she is, in fact, an enchantress. This enchantress curses the prince (and everyone who lives in the castle), turning him into the Beast. In order to break that spell, he must fall in love, and the other person must also love him in return.

Like a true prologue, this one gives us backstory and sets the scene for what comes later, but it feels separate from the main action of the story. The movie could begin right in Act 1 and would not lose any meaning, though it would miss out on some of the best music and artwork in the entire movie.

ACT 1: We shift gears to a small provincial town where our protagonist, Belle, lives with her father, Maurice. She longs for adventure and spends most of her time either with her nose in a book or dreaming of faraway places. Maurice is an inventor and many of the townsfolk do not think kindly of his somewhat whacky ideas and inventions.

At the beginning of the film we also meet Gaston (who later turns out to be the primary villain). He is arrogant, boorish, but also handsome, and he wants to marry Belle because she is the most beautiful woman in the town.

The opening scene features the ensemble song “Belle” where we meet various villagers as well as Belle and Gaston. It sets the tone for the entire rest of the film.

Character: Because this is a romance, we have two protagonists: Belle and Beast. Most of the key landmark moments in the story involve both characters.

Voice: As with most films, there isn’t so much a voice here as there is a mood. In this case, the mood is whimsical and magical, though it also has moments where things get a little bit dark and spooky.

World: There are two vastly different worlds in this story: Beast’s castle and the provincial town. These two locations exist in stark contrast to each other.

Problem: Gaston wants to marry Belle, but she can’t stand him. She rejects him outright, but unfortunately, he refuses to take “no” for an answer.

Event: Maurice goes to the fair to sell his latest invention. On the way there he gets lost and then becomes stranded in the woods. After being chased by wolves, he comes to Beast’s castle and eventually becomes Beast’s prisoner.

PIVOT POINT 1:  When the horse and cart return without her father, Belle sets off at once to find him. She finds clues that point her toward Beast’s castle and eventually she locates Maurice locked away in the tower. Beast startles her and tells her to get out. Instead, Belle volunteers to take her father’s place as prisoner.

Struck by her sacrifice, Beast offers Belle a guest room instead of the tower. The external event at this pivot point is Belle finding her father locked in the tower. The internal choice is twofold: (1) Belle takes her father’s place as Beast’s prisoner, and (2) Beast is moved by her choice and begins to drop his beastly facade.

The pivot point ends with Beast inviting Belle to dinner. Unfortunately, it’s not a gracious invitation. He says: “You will join me for dinner. That’s not a request!” Belle in turn throws herself on the bed in her room and cries as a storm swirls outside her window.

ACT 2:  From here we move into Act 2. It kicks off when we find Gaston sulking in the local tavern. This is typical of Act 2, where often supporting characters become more central to the story.

Gaston’s sidekick, LeFou, tries to cheer him up by singing “Gaston.” At the end of the song, Maurice arrives at the tavern, raving about a horrible beast that has captured Belle. This gives Gaston an idea. He decides to pay off the head of the local asylum to commit Maurice, only releasing him if Belle agrees to marriage.

After that sequence of scenes, we move back to Beast’s palace and spend some time with the castle staff, a group of enchanted people-turned-to-objects. There’s Lumière the candlestick, Cogsworth the clock, Mrs. Potts the teapot and her son Chip, along with various other characters who play smaller roles. The West Wing of the castle is forbidden and we discover that this is where Beast keeps the enchanted rose that serves as a sort of timer for how long he has to break the spell before it becomes permanent.

After fighting with Beast and refusing to go down to dinner, Belle sneaks out of her room and makes her way to the kitchen. There she finds the castle staff, who are lamenting the waste of a good dinner. Lumière, with the help of the others, puts on a dinner show for Belle (“Be Our Guest”).

After the dinner show, Cogsworth and Lumière give Belle a tour of the castle. She wanders into the West Wing and Beast startles her. When he loses his temper and roars, she decides she’s had enough and gets on her horse to run  away.

MIDPOINT: This midpoint is a False Failure in that it seems like Belle is leaving for good and she and Beast will never end up together. After riding away from the castle, Belle gets chased by wolves, but Beast saves her, injuring himself in the process. When they get back to the castle, they argue about whose fault it was that Beast got hurt. Eventually, Belle says “Thank you… for saving my life” and Beast says “you’re welcome.” This is a moment of self reflection on both their parts because they both realize that they were partially in the wrong.

ACT 2 (Cont’d): This is where the courtship happens. Beast wants to do something special for Belle so he gives her the castle library as a present. They also play in the snow and start to see each other in a new light (“Something There”). Later, they have a romantic dinner and dance into the night (“Beauty and the Beast”). Beast is falling in love.

After dinner and dancing, Beast asks Belle if she’s happy at the castle. She confides that she wishes she could see her father again. He takes her to the West Wing and lets her use his magic mirror that will show her whatever she wants to see. She sees her father lost in the woods, struggling to walk through the deep snow, trying to come rescue her. When Beast realizes how worried Belle is, he lets her go to her father. But, the spell has not yet been broken. While Beast has finally learned to love, he has not yet earned Belle’s love in return.

PIVOT POINT 2: Belle finds her father and brings him home. There, Gaston and the head of the asylum are waiting to take Maurice away. Belle takes out the mirror (which Beast had given to her when she left) and shows everyone the Beast. She tries to convince the townsfolk that Beast is really kind and gentle, but Gaston will have none of it.

ACT 3: Gaston takes away the mirror and riles up the townspeople (“The Mob Song”). He locks up Belle and Maurice in the basement of their house but Chip (the enchanted teacup, who snuck into Belle’s satchel) helps them escape. The angry mob of villagers marches up to the castle and fights the enchanted castle staff. The castle wins!

CRISIS: Beast fights Gaston. They jump and dodge around the gargoyles and turrets of the castle. It seems like Beast has won, when suddenly Gaston pulls out a knife and stabs him.

CLIMAX: Gaston falls from the tower but Beast survives. Belle goes to him as he lies dying. Just as the last rose petal falls, she says “I love you.”

Suddenly the spell begins to break. Fireworks stream down like rain and Beast turns back into a human. At first, Belle isn’t sure he’s really Beast, but she looks into his eyes and recognizes him. Beast and Belle kiss.

Ending Type: This is a happy ending for Belle. She starts out the film wanting to leave the provincial town where she lives. She ends up getting exactly what she had hoped for and more. Not only does she leave that provincial life behind but she finds true love.

For Beast we have a change of heart ending. He starts out the film spoiled and only thinking about himself. By the end of the movie, he has shifted his priorities completely, focusing more on what makes Belle happy than what would make himself happy.

DENOUEMENT: The spell is broken and all the enchanted castle staff turn human again. They all live happily ever after. The film ends with Belle and the Prince dancing in the ballroom while all their friends and family look on.

CONCLUSION: Part of what makes this film so great is that it turns the Disney princess stereotype on its head. Up until this point, all of Disney’s princesses (e.g., Snow White, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty) are characterized by their goodness. They are sweet, beautiful damsels in distress who endure one injustice after another without complaint. In the end it’s their goodness (and also their beauty) that makes “prince charming” rescue and fall in love with them.

Belle is different. Yes, she’s beautiful, but she has a mind of her own. She knows what she wants and she’s not afraid to stand up for herself or to make her opinions known. She doesn’t let an oaf like Gaston or even a gigantic Beast push her around. In fact, she’s not a damsel in distress, and she rescues Beast, not the other way around.

You could argue that the “heroine with a mind of her own” really first appears with Ariel in The Little Mermaid (which is the film that marks the beginning of the Disney renaissance). Yet I would say that Ariel’s character doesn’t quite reach the same level of depth as Belle’s. While Ariel is headstrong and impulsive, Belle is thoughtful and confident. While Ariel becomes timid when she loses her voice, Belle grows with inner strength when she loses her freedom. Ariel might be the first headstrong heroine in the Disney canon, but that character type really solidifies in Belle, and later continues with characters like Mulan, Tiana, and Moana.

The original Disney princesses—Snow White, Cinderella, and Sleeping Beauty—don’t have much agency in their stories. They get pushed around by other characters and very few of the story events happen because of choices that they make. I think this is why Belle really resonates with me as a character. Everything that happens in Beauty and the Beast is a product of her choice. And while she never sacrifices her goodness or integrity to make those choices, she still has agency throughout the story.

This is one of the reasons why the three-act structure is so powerful. This story structure isn’t about making things happen to the main character. Rather, the plot events are a result of choices the protagonist makes. This means the character is the one driving the story. While sometimes plot events must happen where the main character has no control (think: the tornado in The Wizard of Oz), it’s how your protagonist reacts to those events that makes the story interesting.

As you work on your own writing, think about your characters’ agency, particularly that of your protagonist. Are story events simply buffeting your main character to and fro? Or is that character making active choices that shape the plot and move the story forward?

Agency is especially important when you have a character who is very meek or quiet. Just because they don’t have a big, bombastic personality doesn’t mean they can’t have agency. Belle, after all, is an introvert. She’s an avid reader who’s not particularly interested in making lots of friends or socializing with people. Yet, she still has agency and her choices shape the story, not the other way around.

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: Three-Act Analysis of Beauty and the Beast appeared first on DIY MFA.

Tip #1: Find your own “best practice.”

Once upon a time, when I was an itty-bitty baby writer, I read the book On Writing by Stephen King. This is a wonderful book, with a ton of great insights. I highly recommend it to any writer because it gives a window into the life and practice of one of our craft’s greatest giants.

But there is one spot in the book where I have to quibble with Mr. King. You see, about two thirds of the way in, he says that to be a writer you have to write 2,000 words per day and read 80-100 books per year. I don’t know about you, but I can’t rack up those words like clockwork. My process is a lot more erratic, with 500 words on one day, 3,000 the next, and so on. (Lawyer hubby lovingly calls this the “feast or famine” approach to writing.)

And when it comes to reading, I’m a ridiculously slow reader. I can read maybe 30-40 books in a year, but 80-100… there’s just no way. Plus, I’ve got two kids (Little Man and Lady Bug), a full-time job with DIY MFA, and—you know—other life stuff. For me, this advice was completely unreasonable.

But I didn’t know that at the time.

You see, when I first read that part of the book, I thought to myself: “Oh my gosh! Stephen King just gave me THE ANSWER. All I have to do is follow his advice exactly and I’ll be set for life.” After all, if Stephen King said it, it must be true. Right?

Well…

I’ll tell you how I lasted following Stephen King’s advice: three days. The first day, I knocked out those 2,000 words like a boss. The second day, it was a bit more of a grind. By day three, I could barely eke out 1,000 words, much less 2,000. After that, I quickly lost momentum and after another couple of days, I gave up altogether.

Here’s the problem with taking advice or hearing people spout “best practices.” Writing 2,000 words per day might be the best practice for Stephen King, but for me it was a disaster. In writing there’s no such thing as “best practices;” we have to find what works best for us.

The key isn’t to copy-paste someone else’s advice onto our own lives. Rather, it’s our responsibility to weigh out that advice, try it on for size, and then make adjustments accordingly. We need to find our own best practices, rather than simply following someone else’s.

Tip #2: Honor your reality.

This has become something of a catchphrase in the DIY MFA ecosystem. What it means is that we have to honor and respect both our writing life and our non-writing life (AKA “reality”). It’s very easy to beat ourselves up for not writing enough, or not reading enough, or not doing enough work for our platforms, and so forth.

But sometimes reality rears its ugly head and we have to shift our focus away from our writing. During those times, we have to give ourselves grace and recognize that “life stuff” needs to come first, and our writing will be there for us when we’re ready to come back.

A lot of people talk about how we have to “find our writing-life balance,” as if it were as easy as finding items on a scavenger hunt. Creating balance between our writing and our life is a complex, nuanced concept.

When we think of balance many of us imagine scales, like the kind that Lady Justice holds in her hand. This image implies that balance is all about rigid equality. The scale is in balance when the two sides are perfectly level, and to keep that balance we can’t move a millimeter.

But balance is fluid, not rigid. When I think of balance, I imagine being on a boat. Now, if you try to stand rigidly upright on a boat, what happens? You fall on your face. The way to stay upright on a boat is to lean from side to side. If the waves raise the boat on one side, we lean into that. Then, when the waves raise the other side of the boat, we lean in that direction. And we keep leaning to and fro until we achieve what appears to be balance but is actually kind of wobbly.

The same is true with writing and life. If writing and life are like waves outside our boat, we have to lean into whichever side is calling to us in that moment.

For example, sometimes an aspect of our life demands our attention. Maybe we have a sick family member we need to care for, or maybe there’s a big project for our day job, or maybe it’s summer and our kids are home from school, throwing a wrench into our usual schedule. During these times, we have to set our writing aside and focus our attention on the “life stuff” that’s tugging on our sleeve.

But there are other times when our writing demands attention. Maybe we have a big deadline looming from our publisher, or maybe we’re gearing up for an important book launch. In these moments, we forgo things like doing laundry or cooking meals. Instead, we rewear the same T-shirt and order take-out everyday for a week.

And that’s okay.

Honoring our reality and finding balance is about the ebb and flow. It’s not something rigid like Lady Justice’s scales, and it’s not a one-and-done proposition. Instead, we constantly have to choose between writing and life, and shift our attention from one to the other.

Tip #3: Move from instinct to intention.

If you’ve taken any DIY MFA course or workshop, you’ve probably heard me talk about instinct to intention, but this is such an important topic that I had to include it in my top three writing tips. The idea of instinct to intention is simple. DIY MFA word nerds already have good instincts. I say this with utmost confidence because I know the kind of writer DIY MFA attracts.

If you’re here, reading this email, you are likely self-motivated, focused on the craft, and driven to creating excellence on the page. You’ve also probably read a fair number of books in your lifetime and you’ve learned all those writing “rules” through osmosis, just by immersing yourself in stories.

Whether you plan your story down to every detail or you write by the seat of your pants, you know the essentials for how to put together a good story. And when you write by instinct, the result is probably pretty good.

But writing by instinct alone is not enough. Our goal at DIY MFA is to help you get to the point where every nuance, every comma, every turn of phrase is in your story because you put it there on purpose, not because it just happened to come out that way.

I believe that the purpose of a workshop is to move writers from instinct to intention. When you understand the craft concepts and you can identify components in your own work, you are much more likely to make that shift from instinct to intention.

This is why when we critique writers’ work in DIY MFA courses and programs, the focus is always on reflecting back to the writer what we see in their work and what our impressions are. This way, the writer can make an informed choice and go from writing on instinct to writing with intention and purpose.

One of the best ways to make that shift from instinct to intention is to get feedback on your writing, but be careful. Not all feedback is created equal. Many workshop environments ascribe to the notion that we should “tear writers down so we can build them back up.”

Poppycock.

Ripping a writer’s work to shreds is not an effective way to help them move from instinct to intention. All it will accomplish is letting that writer feel miserable and making it more likely that they will give up and stop writing altogether.

At the same time, if all a writer’s group does is wave pompoms and go “rah rah,” that’s not an effective form of critique either. Giving feedback isn’t about making value judgements about what’s “right” or “wrong” with the work. It’s about helping the writer see their work in an objective way.

An effective critique group or workshop is like a mirror. The group reflects back to the writer what it sees and helps the writer identify what’s going on in their work, both in terms of technique and meaning. Once the writer has that objective viewpoint, they can easily make intelligent decisions about what to change (or not change) in their work.

Ultimately, the purpose of moving from instinct to intention is not to force writers to “fix” their writing. A writer might decide not to change a single thing, and that’s okay because now that choice has been made with intention, rather than just through instinct. That’s the goal: to help facilitate those decisions and give the writer agency with their work.

So, there you have it: three top tips for writers. You might be surprised that all three of these tips are mindset-based. I didn’t include any craft techniques or talk about the importance of reading like a writer and building community. Yes—craft, reading, and community are important, but if we don’t have the right mindset around our writing, no amount of technical know-how will help us get those words on the page.

If you do nothing else in your writing practice but work on making these key mindset shifts, you will grow as a writer by leaps and bounds. That’s because mindset is the thing that differentiates the dabblers from the doers. Work on your mindset and everything else will fall into place.

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.

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