Spoiler Alert! As with all three-act analyses, it’s impossible to talk about a book’s structure without giving spoilers. This book in particular has something of a twist at the end, so if you don’t want this analysis to spoil it for you, grab a copy and read the book first. It’s super-short and has lots of illustrations, so it’s a very quick read.

Without further ado, let’s dive into our analysis of The Little Prince.

ACT 1: The book opens with an anecdote where the narrator tells how, as a child, he drew a picture of a boa constrictor eating an elephant. When he showed it to adults, they all seemed to think it was a picture of a hat and they could not see the terrifying truth that it was really an elephant inside a snake. This anecdote is meant to show us the contrast between how adults and children see the world.

Many years later, the narrator’s plane crashes in the desert and he is completely alone, until a little boy—the little prince—appears as if out of nowhere. The boy asks him to draw him a sheep but no matter what the narrator draws, nothing seems to satisfy the boy. Eventually the narrator draws a picture of a box with holes in it and tells the boy that the sheep is inside. The holes are so the sheep can breathe. This is the first moment when the narrator begins to think like a child, rather than an adult.

For the rest of Act 1, the little prince tells the narrator his story. He is from a tiny planet where he lives alone, tending to the plants and trying to prevent baobabs from taking root. (This is why he needs a sheep, so it can eat the weeds and dangerous plants.) As the days pass, the little prince tells the narrator more and more about his planet.

Character: The little prince is the protagonist of this story. He begins seeming very childlike but by the end he shows wisdom beyond his years.

Voice: This book is told through the point of view of a nameless first person narrator. Like the book’s author, the narrator is a pilot, and at the beginning of the story he has a very grown-up mindset. As the story progresses, however, the narrator begins to identify with the little prince and think the way a child would think.

As with The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Little Prince is written in the first person peripheral point of view. This means that the character narrating the story is not the protagonist but a supporting character.

Note also that the voice and tone of the story shifts. At first, we are very much in the voice of the narrator relaying to us what the little prince has told him. As the story develops, however, and we get more entrenched in the story of the little prince’s adventure, the narrator begins to disappear from the picture and we slide into what almost feels like a third person limited point of view. Toward the end of the story, the narrator resumes his more prominent role and we are back in the first person peripheral point of view.

Periodically, the narrator’s voice shifts into the second person, as though he is speaking directly to the little prince (though it is clear that we are in the narrator’s thoughts). While the second person can be hard to sustain for a longer book, these short bursts of this unconventional point of view work well sprinkled throughout the story. In these moments of second person narration, we feel as though we are right there, inside the narrator’s head.

World: There are two primary worlds in this story: the harsh desert where the narrator meets the little prince, and the fanciful world of the asteroids and planets that the little prince visits along his travels. Each planet he comes to has its own quirky inhabitant and these people are meant to represent different facets of society.

Problem: The little prince lives alone and he worries about dangerous plants (like baobabs) taking root and overwhelming his whole planet.

Event: The story begins off with the narrator’s plane crashing in the desert, which is where he meets the little prince.

PIVOT POINT 1:  The little prince tells the narrator of the arrival of his flower, whose seed blew to his planet “from no one knew where.” He immediately falls in love with the flower and does everything he can to take good care of her. Yet, she is vain and selfish, and she torments the little prince with her constant requirements. Eventually, he decides to leave his planet.

The morning of his departure, he puts everything in order on his small planet. He cleans out the volcanoes and says goodbye to his flower. She apologizes for her past behavior, but he leaves nonetheless. The external event at this pivot point is first meeting the flower. The internal choice is the little prince’s decision to leave his planet.

ACT 2:  The second act has two distinct parts to it, split almost directly down the middle. The first part comprises all the planets the little prince visits before he gets to the Earth, and the second part takes place after he has reached our planet. 

SUPPORTING CAST:  As he stops at different planets, the little prince meets different men who represent various facets of society. When he meets these characters, the little prince wonders at their odd behaviors and remarks that adults “are certainly very, very odd.” These characters include:

The King: This king sits alone on a tiny planet, barely big enough to hold his throne and extensive robes. He instantly assumes the little prince is a subject because to him “all men are subjects.” He also commands the little prince to do things that he would have done anyway, simply as a way to flaunt his power. For example, when the little prince decides to leave, the king tries to prevent him, but eventually lets him go, calling him an “ambassador.”

The Conceited Man: Just as the king views everyone as a subject, the conceited man thinks of everyone as an admirer. Both the conceited man and the king are alone on their planets, which is ironic because the conceited man has no one there to admire him and the king has no one to rule over. Yet, they both believe they are the best or highest rank on their respective planets.

The Drinker: The next planet houses a man who sits alone, drinking. According to him, he drinks in order to forget that he is ashamed of drinking. As it turns out, drinking to forget is a vicious cycle.

The Businessman: This man sits alone with his ledgers and counts the millions of “little glittering objects” in the sky (i.e., the stars). The businessman insists that he owns everything that he counts and makes a distinction between kings and businessmen—kings do not own, they reign over, whereas businessmen own the things they count. The little prince tells the man that he owns his flower and his volcanoes, and that in owning them he is also of use to them, but the businessman is not of use to the stars he supposedly owns.

The Lamplighter: On this planet stands a man, alone with a single streetlamp that he must light and extinguish over and over again. He does this because it’s what he has been ordered to do. While at first the little prince admires the lamplighter’s industrious calling, thinking it a useful and beautiful profession, he soon begins to realize the futility of the man’s role. He is simply doing as he is told. “Orders are orders,” after all.

The Geographer: This man sits alone on a planet, writing in voluminous books. While the man claims to be a geographer, he does not know where anything is on his planet because he is not himself an explorer. In other words, his job is to catalogue the information related by the explorers, but he does not acquire any of that knowledge for himself.

MIDPOINT: If we look at the exact halfway point in the story, that brings us to the lamplighter planet. This chapter has a somewhat of different quality to it than the other planetary visits. Even the little prince himself says of the lamplighter: ”he is the only one of them all who does not seem to me ridiculous. Perhaps that is because he is thinking  of something else besides himself.” He goes so far as to say that the lamplighter is the only man with whom he could have been friends.

This scene with the lamplighter has a different quality to it than scenes on the other planets and we do get some sense of self-reflection in that the little prince is considering the lamplighter’s beautiful occupation. That said, this scene does not really operate as a Temporary Triumph (or a False Failure). Yes, it seems as though the lamplighter is the only person among the planetary visits with whom the little prince can be friends, but the little prince is unable to stay on his planet because it is too small.

A bit later in the story (about 60% of the way through the book), we find a more significant Temporary Triumph when the little prince arrives on earth.

The Earth is not just an ordinary planet!  One can count, there, 111 kings… 7,000  geographers, 900,000 businessmen, 7,500,000  tipplers, 311,000,000 conceited men—that is to  say, about 2,000,000,000 grown-ups.

To give you an idea of the size of the Earth, I  will tell you that before the invention of electricity  it was necessary to maintain, over the whole of  the six continents, a veritable army of 462,511  lamplighters for the street lamps.

At first, it seems like the little prince has found what he has been looking for, but then he realizes that there are no people anywhere on the planet. His Temporary Triumph quickly dissolves into failure when he realizes that he has reached this significant planet and is still all alone.

ACT 2 (Cont’d): While the little prince meets various people on his planetary visits, when he comes to Earth, his interactions are at first with other creatures of the flora and fauna varieties.

First he meets a snake who tells him he is in a desert, which is why there are no people to be found. This interaction with the snake foreshadows the ending because while the little prince says the snake is “no thicker than a finger” the snake counters that he is “more powerful than the finger of a king.” The snake says it will send anything it touches back to earth, and that if the little prince should feel homesick for his own planet, the snake can help him.

Later, the little prince crosses the desert and meets a solitary flower with only three petals. The flower tells him there are no people because men have no roots and “the wind blows them away.” Eventually, the little prince comes across a garden filled with roses that look just like his flower back on his planet. He is distraught because he had thought his flower was unique and now he has found several just like it. He is overcome with grief and he cries.

PIVOT POINT 2: The second pivot point occurs when the little prince meets the fox. The little prince is very unhappy because he has just left the garden with all the roses and he asks the fox to play with him. The fox says it cannot play with him because it is not tamed. It asks the little prince to tame it and the little prince does.

When the little prince is ready to leave, the fox is very sad and the little prince realizes that in taming something you can both do it good as well as harm. The fox tells the little prince: “Go and look again at the roses. You will understand now that yours is unique in all the world.” When the little prince goes to look at the roses, he realizes that his own rose is, in fact, unique. The little prince tells the roses of the fox: “I have made him my friend, and now he is unique in all the world” and he realizes that the same is true of his rose. His flower is unique because she is his.

The event at this second pivot point is the little prince taming the fox. The choice that he makes stems from realizing that his rose is, in fact, unique and that he is now responsible for those he has tamed—the fox and his rose.

ACT 3: In Act 3, the little prince meets a few other adults: the railroad switchman, the merchant, and eventually our narrator. Like the men the little prince meets on his planetary visits, the railroad switchman and the merchant each seem to have a futile existence.

The railroad switchman simply sends people on their way, going left and right. All the travelers are never satisfied with where they are and they also don’t seem to pursue anything. Instead, they seem to move simply for the sake of moving. Only the children seem to be interested in the journey itself, pressing their faces against the train windows.

The merchant sells pills that quench thirst, and claims the pills will save people fifty-three minutes every week. The little prince says to himself “if I had fifty-three minutes to spend as I liked, I should walk at my leisure toward a spring of fresh water.” In other words, the pills the merchant sells don’t seem to have any significant impact or importance.

The third person the little prince meets is the pilot-narrator.

CRISIS: The little prince has told the narrator his story. The narrator has run out of water and goes looking for a well. They find the well and together they both collect some water. The little prince tells the narrator that he needs a muzzle for his sheep because he is responsible for his flower and does not want the sheep to eat the rose. The narrator realizes that the little prince has plans he is not telling him about. 

CLIMAX: The little prince tells the narrator that he is going back home, but that it is too far. He says he has the sheep (in the box) and the sheep’s muzzle. The narrator realizes that the little prince is becoming afraid and the little prince says that he is.

The narrator says he wants to hear the little prince laugh again and the little prince says:

All men have the stars… but they are not the same things for different people. For some, who are travelers, the stars are guides. For others they are no more than little lights in the sky. For others, who are scholars, they are problems. For my businessman they were wealth. But all these stars are silent. You—you  alone—will have the stars as no one else has them… In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of  them I shall be laughing. And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing, when you look at the sky  at night… You—only you—will have stars that can laugh!

The narrator does not want to leave the little prince alone. The little prince says that it is too far to get home and he cannot carry his body with him. They sit out under the stars and when the little prince stands up, there is a flash of yellow near his angle and he falls to the ground. 

Ending Type: This is a Tragic Ending because the little prince starts out wanting to take care of his flower, but after he travels, his planet becomes too far away. Instead, he gets bitten by the snake and it is the only way for him to get back to his rose and his planet.

DENOUEMENT: Six years pass and the narrator still mourns the loss of the little prince. He imagines him back on his home planet, sheltering the flower under a glass globe and tending to his sheep. He worries whether the sheep will have eaten the flower. The narrator says: “no grown-up will ever understand that this is a matter of so much importance!” 

CONCLUSION: Before we wrap up this three-act analysis, it’s important to note one thing about the little prince: he never answers any questions himself, but when he has a question he refuses to let go of it. In fact, we have a Rule of 3 where three times, the narrator says of the little prince that he “never in his life had let go of a question once he had asked it.”

The first time the narrator says this is when he is speaking with the little prince about the subject of thorns. The little prince wonders whether the flower’s thorns will be sufficient to protect it from the sheep and prevent the sheep from eating the flower.

The second time this phrase comes up is when the little prince is meeting the businessman and he wants to know what the businessman is counting. While the businessman is focused on owning everything he counts, the little prince later learns that what really matters is forging a connection with something (like his flower) and feeling a sense of responsibility for it.

The third time we hear that statement about how the little prince never lets go of a question, he is speaking to the geographer about the ephemeral nature of his flower. All three instances relate to his flower in some way—truthfully, everything in the story comes back to the flower, because she is the driving force behind the little prince’s motivations.

If we look at the order of the above instances as they appear in the book, it may seem as though the cadence is inverted. But if we consider the events chronologically, the first instance is actually the last one to happen (even though it appears first in the book). That instance is different from the other two because the little prince is actively trying to do something to protect his flower.

In this scene, the narrator responds to the little prince’s question with the first thing that pops into his head and says the thorns will not protect the flower at all. When the little prince pushes back, the narrator says he is busy with “matters of consequence.” The little prince replies:

If someone loves a flower, of which just  one single blossom grows in all the millions and  millions of stars, it is enough to make him happy  just to look at the stars. He can say to himself,  ‘Somewhere, my flower is there.. .’ But if the  sheep eats the flower, in one moment all his stars will be darkened… And you think that is not  important!

This is the moment when we realize just how important the flower is to the little prince. We also understand why the little prince never lets go of a question: because the matters he is asking about are truly of grave importance, even if they may not seem so to a grown-up. In this way, this inverted Rule of 3 underscores not just what the little prince is asking, but why his questions are significant.

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 The Little Prince appeared first on DIY MFA.

Character Backstory

This is perhaps the most common form of backstory and it relates to a character’s past. It includes things like childhood events, early traumas, successes and failures, or even secrets that the character might carry. Taken together, these all comprise the character’s history, giving us a sense for who they are and what their motivations might be.

In addition to lending context to motivations, character backstory also helps to shape character arcs. For example, a villain might have an event in their past that made them turn to evil (think Anakin Skywalker in The Revenge of the Sith). Or the hero might have experienced something that shaped their outlook on life and made them into the person they are now.

EXAMPLE: In The Hunger Games, Katniss’ father dies in a mine collapse. When that happens, her mother withdraws into herself, neglecting Katniss and her little sister Prim. From then on, Katniss is the one who has to support the family and keep them from starvation. This leads her to become especially protective of her sister and to take on a leadership role in her family.

World/Setting Backstory

Another common form of backstory shows the history of the world or setting in which the narrative takes place. This is where we learn about important world events like wars, political shifts, natural disasters, or other significant changes. Historical events, like technological revolutions, can also help shape the world. (Think of how the invention of the warp drive impacts the Earth in the Star Trek universe.) Through world/setting backstory we find out why the world is the way it is and what past events have influenced the present.

One reason why this form of backstory is so important is because it creates a sense of realism in the story world. By putting that world into historical context, it not only feels more realistic but also allows readers to understand various setting-related tensions and dynamics.

EXAMPLE: Military conflict is a subtle backdrop in Pride and Prejudice, with Colonel Forster hosting Elizabeth’s youngest sister, Lydia, in Brighton and Mr. Wickham joining the militia early in the book. While we never see any actual fighting, we are constantly reminded that the Napoleonic Wars are happening far off in the background.

Relationship Backstory

This includes past conflicts between characters, interpersonal drama, or romantic interludes. While this type of backstory is similar to character backstory, it is not specific to a single individual but rather involves the relationship between two or more.

This type of backstory adds emotional depth to relationships. When we know characters have a shared history, their present interactions take on more significance. It also opens the door for secrets and other unexpected tidbits to come to light, and it allows room for people both to have falling outs or perhaps to reconcile.

EXAMPLE: In The Great Gatsby, Jay Gatsby and Daisy Buchanan have had a romantic relationship in the past. This romance occurs before the action of the novel takes place and it is the primary motivation for why Gatsby pursues wealth in the attempt to win Daisy back (despite her now being married).

Incident Backstory

These are the events that have happened before the story takes place, like prophesies or past plot points. We see this type of backstory sometimes in mysteries and thrillers, where the crime might occur off the page, before chapter one. We also see incident backstory in speculative fiction, where a prophecy shared in the past reveals some aspect of the present storyline.

Incident backstory sets up the initial conditions for the plot. The story begins and it already has a certain set of “rules” or constraints attached to it. This type of backstory can also help to raise the stakes and create urgency because we know something has happened in the past that will affect the present timeline.

Be careful with prophesies, though. When done well, they can increase the sense of mystery, making the reader want to put the clues together and figure out how that prediction will come into play. But if it is too on-the-nose, that prophecy can squash the mystery out of the story altogether. Worse yet, it can feel unsatisfying to the reader when the prophecy gives us information we already know.

EXAMPLE: in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, a prophecy is revealed linking Harry to Voldemort saying: “neither can live while the other survives.” This prediction foreshadows what must happen at the end of the seventh book in order for Harry to vanquish Voldemort once and for all.

The problem with this prophecy is that it is a little bit obvious and doesn’t reveal anything new that the reader didn’t anticipate. It is clear from the start that eventually, Harry or Voldemort will have to defeat the other, and the prophecy does not add much information beyond that. In the end, we don’t need a prophecy to tell us something we already know.

Object Backstory

This type includes any lore surrounding an object, telling us why it is significant. This context might include the object’s origin story, who owned it previously, what events have transpired surrounding it, and why it is valuable, important, or dangerous.

Significant objects can play an important role in a story, adding symbolism and thematic depth. In particular, if an object becomes a thematic element—used to underscore the book’s theme—it can add substantial weight and cohesiveness to the narrative.

EXAMPLE: In The Hunger Games, Katniss’ friend Madge (the mayor’s daughter) gives her a golden pin shaped like a bird: a mockingjay. These birds are a cross-breed between a genetically engineered weapon (the jabberjay) and a mockingbird. The very existence of the mockingjay is an insult to the oppressive Capitol, which once tried to eradicate that species but failed.

We find out that, when he was alive, Katniss’ father had a special fondness for mockingjays. Later, in the arena, Katniss and her ally Rue use mockingjays to send messages through song. In the subsequent books of the trilogy, the mockingjay becomes the symbol for the revolution.

Cultural Backstory

Social norms, festivals, mythology, and ancestral lore—all these have a history explaining where they come from and why they exist. This is cultural backstory and it includes things like traditions, taboos, and anything else that shapes a society’s culture.

As with world-building backstory, this type adds a sense of realism and immersion, making the reader feel like they are there, in that world, with those characters. Cultural differences can also lead to conflict between groups, so this type of backstory can help to explain why certain tensions exist.

EXAMPLE: When Obi-Wan Kenobi first tells Luke Skywalker about his father and the Force (in Star Wars IV: A New Hope) we learn that a lightsaber is “an elegant weapon for a more civilized age.” We also discover that there are two sides to the Force, and Darth Vader was seduced by the Dark Side. All of these details—sprinkled throughout the dialogue between Luke and Obi-Wan—help to paint a picture of the Jedi culture.

Institutional Backstory

Some places or institutions—like a school, workplace, etc.—are so significant to the story that they have their own history. Institutional backstory includes any past events that occurred within an institution or organization. This might include traditions, successes and failures, secret scandals, and doctrine.

Like world/setting or cultural backstory, this type adds a sense of realism to the institution by giving it a history and context. Plus, this backstory can also help explain organizational policies or reveal hidden agendas.

EXAMPLE: In the Hunger Games trilogy, the Games themselves have a longstanding history. We learn at the Reaping in book one why the Games came into existence in the first place. We also discover the rules of the Games, like how each district must offer up two tributes (one male, one female) between the ages of 12 and 17, and once you win the Games, you are exempt from participating again in the future.

This context is important because in book two, the Capitol breaks the rules and decides to take tributes from existing victors of the Games. Without the institutional backstory of the Games themselves, that change in the rules would have much less significance.

Personal Mythology

This type of backstory includes all of those stories that characters tell themselves. This includes memories that might be re-interpreted, self-justifying narratives, or beliefs that have become ingrained in the character. This is similar to character backstory, but it focuses not on the actual events that occurred in that character’s past, but on their interpretation of those events.

EXAMPLE: In the Myrtle Clover cozy mystery series, the main character (Myrtle) has very strong views about herself and the people around her. As a former English teacher turned amateur sleuth, she thinks highly of her own cognitive abilities and is not particularly impressed with local law enforcement (including her son, who happens to be the police chief for their town).

Myrtle also firmly believes she is an excellent cook (even though her culinary experiments often take a terrible turn). Her high opinion of her own abilities means she often cooks disgusting casseroles to take to families of the murder victims—both as a condolence gesture and as an excuse to visit these suspects and try to extract information from them. 

There you have it: eight different types of backstory, how they work, and why they are important. Keep in mind that a book does not need to have all eight types represented in it. In fact, if you do include them all, you risk overloading your story with too much information and you may bore your reader. Instead, I recommend focusing on the present timeline and sprinkling in backstory as it is relevant. As I often like to say: keep the reader on a “need to know” basis. Give them only the information that they need to know, when they need to know it.

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 Types of Backstory Do You Need? 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.

For the last few months, we’ve been doing three-act analyses of various books and films. Today I thought I’d do an analysis of this fantastic short story. If you’re not familiar with the three-act structure (or want a refresher on how it works), check out this article.

Spoiler Alert! Thankfully, this time around I don’t have to warn you of spoilers because the story is so short that before you read this email you can click the link at the top and read it for yourself. There is a fabulous surprise twist at the climax of the story, so if you don’t want the analysis to ruin the ending for you, read the story first.

Alright, let’s dive into our analysis of “The Story of an Hour.”

ACT 1: The first act of this story is no more than two and a half paragraphs long. It begins with a line that hooks the readers and draws us in. “Knowing that Mrs. Mallard was afflicted with a heart trouble, great care was taken to break to her as gently as possible the news of her husband’s death.” This opening line is essential to the story, as it makes the stakes very clear.

As with most stories, “The Story of an Hour” makes five promises to the reader. These promises are: character, voice, world, problem, and event. Let’s look closer.

CHARACTER: Mrs. Mallard is the main character. Notice how she doesn’t have a first name, at least not at the opening. Her entire identity is wrapped up in being her husband’s wife and she has no identity of her own. As the story progresses, we eventually learn her first name is Louise, but at the end of the story, she goes back to being “his wife.”

VOICE: The voice here is typical of stories written at this time. It’s a third person narrator, who starts off feeling rather distant and omniscient in Act 1, but the author plays with narrative distance and eventually moves closer to Mrs. Mallard’s point of view in Act 2. That closer perspective continues until we get to Act 3, where we shift back into a more distant, omniscient narrator.

WORLD: The world of this story is not very expansive. We are in Mrs. Mallard’s house and the story begins with us downstairs in a parlor or some other such room. In Act 2, Mrs. Mallard retreats upstairs to her room where she sits and contemplates. We come back downstairs in Act 3 where the climax occurs just as she has descended the stairs.

PROBLEM: This is the substance of the opening sentence. Mrs. Mallard has a heart condition, making her fragile. This means that great care must be taken to break the news of her husband’s death.

EVENT: The event that kicks off the story is that Mrs. Mallard’s husband has died in a train crash.

PIVOT POINT 1:  After receiving the news from her sister (Josephine) and a family friend (Richards), Mrs. Mallard retreats upstairs to her room and she “would have no one follow her.” As with all pivot points, this one has both an external and internal component. The external factor is the breaking of the news; Josephine and Richards tell Mrs. Mallard that her husband has died.

The internal choice is how she reacts to the news. At first, she “wept at once, with sudden, wild abandonment.” The narrator makes a point of saying that she does not receive the news as many other women would “with a paralyzed inability to accept its significance.” She gives in to grief right away. Then, once she has composed herself, she chooses to go to her room alone.

ACT 2:  Most of Act 2 is Louise Mallard sitting alone in her room. Now I don’t know about you, but writing a character alone in a room is just about the most challenging thing there is. There’s no one else in the scene for the character to interact with, and they are confined to a small space so there is little room for exploring the story’s world. Yet, the bulk of Act 2—and of this entire story, in fact—is Louise Mallard alone in her room, contemplating her future.

This second act starts with some ambiance. The window in her room is open, with an armchair in front of it. She sits down and looks out the window. Even though it’s a quiet moment, there is a fair amount of activity. There is a feeling of anticipation, like something big is brewing.

She could see in the open square before her house the tops of trees that were all aquiver with the new spring life. The delicious breath of rain was in the air. In the street below a peddler was crying his wares. The notes of a distant song which some one was singing reached her faintly and countless sparrows were twittering in the eaves.

As she sits alone in her room, a thought begins to materialize. She realizes that without her husband, she will have a greater degree of freedom. Even though she at first tries to fight this notion “striving to beat it back with her will,” when she finally lets go of her self-restraint she says again and again “free, free, free!” She looks ahead to her future and sees “a long procession of years to come that would belong to her absolutely.”

The narrator makes it clear that it’s not as though Louise Mallard dislikes her husband. She would likely cry again at his funeral and she had even loved him at times in the past. But what matters to her in this moment is the realization of her future freedom. As the narrator says: “There would be no one to live for during those coming years; she would live for herself.”

MIDPOINT: Interestingly enough, we can look at this story as one giant midpoint. The majority of the narrative takes place during Act 2, where Louise Mallard is up in her room. And the bulk of that second act is taken up with her coming to grips with her future freedom. The midpoint begins with the section:

There was something coming to her and she was waiting for it fearfully. What was it? She did not know; it was too subtle and elusive to name. But she felt it creeping out of the sky, reaching toward her through the sounds, the scents, the color that filled the air.

Later, when she says the words “free, free, free!” under her breath, the midpoint realization comes into focus. Remember, the midpoint is a moment of self-reflection, a place in the story where the character examines their own life and asks themselves do I like what I see? Eventually, she recognizes that her husband’s death means her freedom. The pinnacle of that realization is when she whispers: “Free! Body and soul free!”

The end of Act 2 is rather interesting because we get the only piece of true dialogue in the entire story. Louise’s sister, Josephine, comes to her door and begs to be let in. There’s a nice rule of three where she says “open the door” three times. The first time she simply says “Louise, open the door!” The second time is a little more forceful, where she brings up Louise’s health: “I beg, open the door—you will make yourself ill.” Finally, the third iteration is the most forceful of all: “What are you doing, Louise? For heaven’s sake open the door.”

Of course, to all of this, Louise tells her to go away, saying she is not making herself ill. In fact, as the narrator says “she was drinking the very elixir of life.” Louise looks ahead at her life, at all the days in front of her that would be her own and the midpoint culminates with: “She breathed a quick prayer that life might be long. It was only yesterday she thought with a shudder that life might be long.” In other words, now that she has her freedom before her, she wants to enjoy it for as long as possible, whereas before, when her husband was alive, she shuddered at the idea of a long life.

PIVOT POINT 2: The second pivot point is a mirror image of the first. In the first pivot point, Louise Mallard walks up the stairs to her room, now in the second pivot point, she opens the door and, together with her sister, walks back down the stairs. As she descends the staircase, she carries “herself unwittingly like a goddess of Victory.” In other words, she is a very changed woman from the one who ascended the staircase at the first pivot point.

ACT 3: At this stage of the story, the point of view telescopes back out to a more omniscient, distant perspective. In Act 2, we are deeply entrenched in Louise Mallard’s thoughts, but now we are back with a more bird’s-eye-view perspective of the scene. There’s someone at the door. We find out it’s Brently Mallard, Louise’s husband, and that he had been nowhere near the scene of the train crash when it happened. Josephine screams. Richards tries to intercept Brently and Louise. All of this action happens in a single paragraph.

A note about Richards: Aside from Louise, I find Richards to be the most fascinating character in this story. In Act 1, he takes it upon himself to be the one to deliver the news, and “had hastened to forestall any less careful, less tender friend in bearing the sad message.” He seems to take a certain level of pride in his relationship to the family, and I can’t help but wonder at his motives. Is he really just a friend, or does he want to be something more now that Brently Mallard is out of the picture?

Interestingly enough, at the end of Act 3, when Brently Mallard arrives back at home, what does Richards do? He steps between Louise and Brently, trying to “screen him from the view of his wife.” Notice how that’s phrased. Is he trying to screen Brently from seeing Louise or the other way around? It’s deliberately ambiguous. The only thing that’s not ambiguous is Richards’ choice to step between them. If his motivations were open to interpretation before, they now seem a bit more clear. He tries to appear as a dutiful friend, but there’s more to his true motivations than first meets the eye.

CLIMAX: The climax of the story is fascinating because it’s the only beat that doesn’t happen on the page. Every other moment (the pivot points, midpoint, denouement) all happen within the compressed scope of the story. The climax, on the other hand, is merely implied.

At this crucial point, Louise Mallard dies. We don’t actually see her die on the page, but we know it has happened because of the final sentence: “When the doctors came they said she had died of heart disease—of the joy that kills.”

The fact that Louise Mallard’s death happens off the page creates all sorts of ambiguities. Does she die from the “joy that kills” when she learned that her husband is still alive? Does she die from a sudden pang of grief at losing her freedom? Does she throw herself down the stairs in a moment of sheer desperation? We don’t know. We can infer—based on everything that has passed in Act 2—that the most likely cause of her death is her lost freedom, but we can’t be absolutely certain.

DENOUEMENT: The denouement, of course, is that final sentence when the doctors arrive on the scene. We don’t need much beyond that sentence because the story ends when Louise dies. After everything the reader has seen of Louise in Act 2, we don’t really need to know how the other characters carry on without her. All we need to know is that she is dead. That is all that matters.

Notice, also, how that closing sentence pulls back into a truly omniscient point of view, almost as though the narrator is telling us all of this after the fact, after the action has already happened. This final sentence, by necessity, has to be distant and omniscient. This is because with our primary, focal character dead, there is no other way for the point of view to work. It would be too jarring to jump suddenly into Brently’s head (or Richards’ or Josephine’s for that matter). The only option is to pull back into an omniscient point of view. 

CONCLUSION: If you take only one thing away from this analysis, it’s that in only two pages, this story covers all components of the three-act structure. Sometimes, writers complain that they need more room to tell their story in full. And yet, this short piece manages to do it all in a compressed space. (In fact, the irony is not lost on me that this analysis is longer than the story itself.) So, when you struggle with word count and you need to keep your story tight, just think of “The Story of an Hour” and channel your inner Kate Chopin. If she could tell a full story in just two pages, you can do it, too.

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 “The Story of an Hour” by Kate Chopin appeared first on DIY MFA.

Justin Torres’ We the Animals (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt 2011) is a semi-autobiographical coming-of-age novella about a young boy and his two brothers growing up mixed-race (their father is Puerto Rican and their mother is Caucasian) in New York. Though the book is rather short, at just under 130 pages, it is written as a series of episodes, like a short-story compilation, and every episode packs a wallop.

As “the boy” and his two brothers, Manny and Joel, grow up, we see their hunger: hunger for food, for love, for attention, for something bigger, better, brighter. They are always hungry for more. They and their parents go through life in a torrent, sometimes smashing and breaking things (and each other) just to have something to do, to have some power over their out-of-control lives. They watch their parents’ violent love affair; they witness their father disappear and reappear; they see their mother working night shifts just to bring home enough food to keep the boys from starving, while she goes without most of the time. And the reader watches “the boy,” the narrator, as he slowly develops into a person different from his family, more intelligent, more sensitive. He is their one hope, and they are simultaneously encouraging and envious, until the world comes crashing down around them all and the family is changed forever.

Part of what makes this such a brilliant work is that, although none of these characters is particularly redeeming or heroic, it is impossible not to fall in love with each of them, just a little bit. The reason for this is that they are so believable; none of the characters is simply “the bad guy” or “the good guy.” These are human beings, a family. They are wildly, furiously passionate about and defensive of one another, but they also despise each other at times. The kids love and adore their parents for many reasons, but the parents also manage to disappoint in some way. Likewise, it is easy to believe that Ma and Paps would do anything for their kids, even die for them; but this doesn’t stop them from yelling, beating, or ignoring them at times. The most interesting and effective characterization, then, is not just in the development of the characters as individuals, but in the development of the family as a whole and how they live and interact with one another as the years go by.

The work is also stunningly written. The prose pulls its readers along effortlessly; it is as if the reader is a ship, the story is the sea, and Torres’ prose is the crew. Whether the story is raging and raving, or lapping gently at the boat, Torres’ prose guides the reader, pressing us onward, navigating us through the storms and allowing us to enjoy the voyage when the weather has calmed.

Torres also structures the book in an interesting way, through episodes rather than direct progression. Each short chapter is a scene from the narrator’s life that exposes a certain aspect of the narrator or element of his family. We learn about the boy by catching glimpses of various moments he finds important, such as dancing with his brothers and father, or playing messy games with his mother who never seems to tire of the boys’ wild antics. As the episodes move along, the brothers grow up and the glimpses into their lives become more complicated, more dangerous. Finally, in the last episodes, we see the narrator for who he has become and the family for what it is, and we are left to hope that all the pieces will someday come together again.

We the Animals is a book impossible to compare to any other, though it fits in well with similarly brilliant novels in the same genre, like Julia Alvarez’s We the Butterflies and Alexander Chee’s Edinburgh. It is exciting and sad, terrifying and funny. There is an honesty and reality to this book that is almost unbearable; the story cuts to the quick one moment and, in the next, is suckling at readers’ fingertips, dulling the pain. The raw emotion from the narrator is transmitted in one of the most uniquely genuine and effective ways I have ever experienced. The episodic structure allows readers to see what the narrator believes is most important, and this narrator is oddly fair, exposing the good and bad in each person, including himself.

This book tackles family, neglect, and poverty; it confronts adultery, pedophilia, and loneliness. It is a book of love and hate, dark and light, and, ultimately, a book of life and existence—a masterful retelling of the world as it is. We the Animals is riveting, gut-wrenching, and bittersweet.

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

The post Advocacy of Queer Storytelling and Memoir appeared first on DIY MFA.

In a previous post, The Messy Middle: Luna & The Rise of Trans Narratives, we examined the pitfalls of the young adult (YA) novel Luna, which provided a compelling “case study” for understanding the potential negative impact of misrepresenting trans communities in fiction. 

The Brown Sisters Trilogy

I’m super excited to offer an additional “case study” of inclusive writing from The Brown Sisters trilogy, written by best-selling self-published author Talia Hilbert. This romance series offers an excellent example of what readers can gain from holistic writing that holds space for inclusion and representation, without sacrificing the complexities of the heart, humor, and humanity that are the foundation of the romance genre.

The Brown Sisters trilogy adheres to the common principles of the genre by chronicling the optimistic and aspirational enemies to lovers journey of clever and stubborn female protagonists. What makes it stand out are the steamy sex scenes, witty and humorous dialogue, and clever meta-commentary on the romance genre. Hilbert’s contemporary take on romance, sexuality, and interracial dating feels like a breath of fresh air.

The books in the series include Get A Life, Chole Brown (2019), Take A Hint, Dani Brown (2020), and Act Your Age, Eve Brown (2021). Each novel has received positive reviews and enjoyed great commercial success, which is even more impressive when considering the ways that the publishing industry has excluded authors of color from the genre.

A “Whites Only” Genre?

Full disclosure, before reading this series, I would not have identified as a romance genre reader.  It wasn’t until I began doing research for this post that I realized that this was less about my actual preference and more about the effectiveness of the systematic racism constructed to exclude authors and readers of color from the romance genre.

In the mind-blowing article, “Fifty Shades of White: The Long Fight Against Racism in Romance Novels,” author Lois Beckett details how Harlequin and other publishing entities, have historically chosen to exclusively publish, promote, and award white romance authors, effectively limiting the genre to the experiences of able-bodied, white, Christian, middle class, and heterosexual women. 

Apparently, I had subconsciously been influenced by this message because it wasn’t until I happened upon the first novel, Get A Life Chole Brown, one day in a Barnes & Noble, that I started to consider the genre.

#Representation Matters

The cover of the book featured a curvy black woman, which got my attention immediately. 

What really convinced me to buy the book was the summary of the novel, which mentioned that the character had fibromyalgia. I was at the beginning of my Fibro diagnosis, and it felt like the universe had gifted me the opportunity to escape into another world where a curvy black woman with fibromyalgia finds her purpose.

Representation got me through the door with the first book. However, what led me to become a faithful reader and fan of Hilbert was her ability to effectively illustrate intersectionality. She expertly connects her inciting incidents to universal truths and enters through the side of marginalized identities of which she does not have direct experiences.

Show Us the Complexity of Humanity with Intersectionality

According to her website, taliahilbert.com, Hilbert writes “spicy diverse British romance because she believes that people of marginalized identities need honest and positive representation.” Hilbert provides that representation by masterfully illustrating the intricate humanity of intersecting and marginalized identities within the series. 

The trilogy provides a breadth of perspectives that are often underrepresented in mainstream romance, such as neurodivergence (ADHD and autism), body image, sexuality, immigrant experiences, interracial relationships, trauma, racism, sexism, chronic illness, religious intolerance, and mental health (anxiety, depression, and PTSD) just to name a few. These portrayals are masterfully woven into the plotline in a way that highlights the challenges and resiliency of each identity.

Anchor Those Inciting Incidents to Universal Truths

An inciting incident is an important storytelling element utilized in all writing genres. Most stories are crafted to build up to a specific incident or its aftermath; the impact of that incident. It is very important that characters are developed beyond their marginalized identity and that their identity is not used as the inciting incident for the story. 

Hilbert is an expert at pairing the complexities of marginalized identity with universal themes of human experience. I would argue that the series is essentially about the ways we hide out from life until we are ready to heal from past pain because all of the characters in the series must work to address universal themes of grief, loss, hitting rock bottom, and finding one’s purpose. These universal themes not only make the characters feel real but also offer the reader a perspective for overcoming or addressing their own struggles, which is a rare occurrence within the genre.

You’ve Got This!!!

Hopefully, reflecting on the positive representation of marginalized identity within The Brown Sisters trilogy has affirmed that it is possible to provide equitable and nuanced portrayals of marginalized communities when we are intentional with character development, world building, and plot. The Brown Sister series is an excellent reference point for understanding how to craft stories that hold space for inclusion and representation, without sacrificing the complexities of the heart, humor, and humanity.

Colice Sanders is a blogger and diversity, equity, and inclusion facilitator. Colice writes nonfiction, poetry, and memoir. Her blog, A Reason to Rise, chronicles her journey of radical self-acceptance through the lens of childhood trauma. 

You can also reach her on LinkedIn and Instagram.

The post The Messy Middle: The Brown Sisters Trilogy is #inclusivewritinggoals appeared first on DIY MFA.

That slope slid right through paranormal sexy detectives and into Ice Planet Barbarians. This speculative romance series, written by Ruby Dixon, is about a group of women crash landing on an Ice Planet populated by, you guessed it, Barbarians. The mostly male barbarians are humanoid except they are giant and blue with tails, horns, and ridges all over their body (all over). 

At first recommendation, I thought that no way was this series for me. But I soon caved and spent the better part of two months absolutely devouring ten to fifteen books out of the twenty-something book series (not to mention other series’ with other creatures in the same universe).

The Premise of Ice Planet Barbarians

The first book begins on a spaceship. A number of young women have been abducted from Earth with the intention of being sold into slavery, sexual or otherwise. Very luckily, before the ship can reach its destination, it crash lands onto a planet covered in snow and ice populated by the afore-mentioned aliens, known as sa-khui. 

Each book follows one of the girls and her big blue love interest, and along the way other human women find their way to the planet. The main plot device of the books is the khui, a parasite that each sa-khui and human must be implanted with in order to survive. 

The khui helps them stay warm in the constant snow and easily heal from whatever harm they might encounter on the dangerous planet. But, most importantly, the khuis know when two people would make perfect mates and are ready to make a baby — and tells their hosts so by vibrating in their chest.

The Plot

This “resonance” makes up the main conflict of most books. Whether the two newly resonating mates already hate each other, or two non-resonating lovers desperately wish to resonate already, there are a whole lot of half-human, half-sa-khui babies running around by the middle of the series.

Wait, you’re thinking, this sounds very heterosexual. And does each book end with babies? Well, yes on both counts. The romances almost always occur between a male sa-khui and female human, with a few male/female sa-khui stories to spice things up. There has so far not been a hint of same sex relationships, and every human woman who ends up on the planet is happy to only mate with males (I would actually love to see Ruby Dixon write a same-sex barbarian and/or human love stories). 

And yes, the khui’s goal is to make people make babies, which is particularly important to the sa-khui because a terrible disease wiped out most of their women several years back, leaving many horny, single men excited to welcome the human women.

The Verdict

So if extreme heteronormativity is your thing, or if you don’t mind it in your otherwise funny, well thought out, and super steamy romances, this series is for you. What I particularly appreciate is the books’ approach to consent. At first, the sa-khui don’t understand the humans’ hesitation to mate with them — their khuis are resonating, which means they must mate.

But the human women explain why consent is important (and, later, why slavery is bad) in clear terms that I think would be helpful for many human males, and even though the sa-khui don’t understand it, they do respect it. Even when they are resonating so hard they can hardly see straight, the sa-khui respect the word no.

And when consent is given — well. Female pleasure is prioritized, and the human women are able to introduce a number of sex acts to the sa-khui, including, extremely charmingly, kissing. It’s a nice change up of the archetypes to have a big strong protective man relinquish the sexual lead to the woman so fully. And the women are not afraid to take their pleasure.

My Takeaway from Ice Planet Barbarians

I was similarly pleasantly surprised at the characterization of the human women throughout the series. Even if they are nearly all thin, white, 20-something Americans with no one back home to miss them, they are all full, distinct characters. Some are more scared than others, some are excited to brave the snow and make a new life, some are solitary and prefer to hunt rather than stay close to the community.

As the series matures, more diversity begins to appear in race, body type, and ability (all the sa-khui learn sign language!), but there is not any in depth discussion of, for example, how a Black woman might feel about being kidnapped for slavery versus a white woman. 

There are certainly critiques to be made of this series, similar to critiques that could be made of a book in any other genre. But in a society that loves to see men overpower women physically and mentally in the name of romance and eroticism, Ice Planet Barbarian shows how consent can be extremely sexy.

Marina is a West Coast native living in Washington, DC. She loves writing anything, from sci-fi to creative non-fiction to romance, often drawing inspiration from the frequent travel required by her day job. Her work has appeared in such literary magazines as DistrictLit and Corner Bar Magazine. When she’s not writing, you can find her hosting bar trivia, baking something involving peaches, or bothering her extremely patient dog, Daisy. You can read more of her work at marinabarakatt.com and find pictures of Daisy at @marinabarakatt.

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Writers who learn how to read like writers inevitably improve their craft in immeasurable ways. The longer you read like a writer—and the more accurately you do this—the higher likelihood you notice what does and doesn’t work in a scene, while other scenes grip your attention with ferocious intensity.

In this article, I continue my series on analyzing first chapters with a deep dive analysis. To do this, I’ll breakdown the first scene in the bestselling novel, The Midnight Library, and then explain how it “works” using editing tools from The Story Grid and Robert McKee.

What is a Scene that Works?

When I coach writers, especially when evaluating the strength of a scene, I assess if a scene works. What I mean by this is: Does the scene advance the plot, or move the story forward, and develop the character by forcing one or more main characters to face a dilemma, or make a crisis decision. 

If a character makes a crisis decision, then they take action that results in negative or positive consequences for themself or someone or something else. Plus, readers learn who characters really are through action, or this act of decision making, which is why including a crisis moment—that isn’t necessarily spelled out on the page—is so important. 

Most importantly, a well-structured scene confirms that important changes have happened from beginning to end. 

And all scenes—and stories—are about change.  

Case Study: The Midnight Library

For today’s case study of a well-structured scene, let’s look at the second chapter of Matt Haig’s bestselling novel, The Midnight Library, which starts on page five, and is called “The Man at the Door.” I chose to analyze this chapter instead of the first chapter, “A Conversation about Rain,” because: 

1. The first chapter works as a prologue in disguise more than a first chapter established in the Nora Seed’s present time, and
2. I don’t think the first chapter is actually a complete scene—even though it hooks readers! 

If you’re curious to learn more about the first and second chapter analysis of The Midnight Library, you’re welcome to listen to my conversation with book coach Sharon Skinner on my podcast, Lit Match, here.

However, for now, let’s turn to that second chapter, which does model a complete scene. To do this, first review the scene synopsis (read it yourself here) and answer two Socratic questions adapted from The Story Grid’s scene analysis template:

• Confirm if there is a value shift, or change in the scene, on various layers. 
• Review how five commandments can subjectively confirm if the scene advances the plot and develops the main character(s) or not.

Scene Summary, The Midnight Library, “The Man at the Door”

Nora Seed, depressed, scrolls through the happy lives of other people on social media. Then Ash, a man who once asked Nora out years ago, rings her doorbell. Nora is self-conscious about answering the door, since she’s not put together. She answers the door anyway and tries to have a light-hearted conversation with Ash, but Ash shares some bad news: He thinks a car hit and killed Nora’s cat, Voltaire (Volts). Nora confirms Volt’s body and cries for him, while secretly confessing to herself that she feels envious of him.  

3 Socratic Questions to Evaluate A Value Change 

In order to determine if there is a change in a scene, you can ask yourself three Socratic questions about it. Each question identifies an important change that needs to happen in a scene.  

1. What are the characters literally doing? How does that change from beginning to end? (An external value change) 

Nora Seed scrolls through social media and has a conversation with a man she somewhat knows, and later confirms that her cat, Volts, is dead. 

Literal Change: In her house to on the road

2. What does the main character in the scene want, what is their goal? How does this change or evolve from beginning to end? (An internal value change) 

Nora Seed wants to scroll through social media alone—probably so that she can compare her unhappy lives to other happy lives on social media. She does this because she’s depressed, and later her envious feelings for her dead cat confirm her depressed feelings. 

Character Change: Sad to Envious 

3. How does the change in this scene impact the big picture, particularly the main value shift? 

This scene shows Nora Seed twenty-seven hours before she decides to die—it also presents her with the first of several losses (Volt’s death, which she realizes that she’s envious of) that push her to this decision.

Big Picture Value Change: Longing for Another’s Life to Longing for Death 

5 Commandments in a Well-Structured Scene 

To read like a writer and determine if a scene is well-structured, you can use five commandments, or elements of a scene, to determine if the plot moves forward and if one or more main characters change in the scene. I pull these commandments from editing tools seen in The Story Grid and Robert McKee. 

1. Inciting Incident 

This is a causal or coincidental unexpected disturbance that creates a character goal or forces the character to change their approach in achieving their goal.

This is when Ash rings the doorbell.  

2. Turning Point

This is an action or revelation (a type of conflict) that forces a character to make a crisis decision. 

This is when Ash tells Nora that her cat is dead.   

3. Crisis

This is a best bad choice or irreconcilable goods decision, two equally weighted decisions, that results in negative or positive consequences for either the main character or a third party. 

This is Nora’s decision: Should Nora risk emotional trauma to confirm her cat’s dead body, or reject Ash’s suspicion that it’s Volts who the car hit and killed?

4. Climax

This is the direct action that a character takes after they make their decision.

This is when Nora leaves her house to find Volts.   

5. Resolution

This is the aftermath of the scene, the denouement. 

This is when Nora finds Volts, cries, and secretly feels envious of his death.    

Why You Should Learn How to Read Like a Writer  

I firmly believe that there is no one way to learn how to write. However, using the tools shared in this article has helped me learn how to read like a writer well—and therefore, simultaneously has made it easier for me to pull out when I think a scene does or does not work. 

Like anything, with practice and more time spent reading, we all can learn how to read like a writer. When we do this, we learn how to take an implicit understanding of story patterns and turn it into an explicit awareness of how a well-structured scene works. We then can communicate why we think a scene does or doesn’t work, whether this is for a critique partner’s work or our own scenes.  

Writers who read like writers will elevate their craft! And I bet, the more that you understand how to read like a writer, the more fun you’ll have analyzing and editing your own stories, too. 

So have fun with this! Pull up one of your favorite chapters from a comparable title and use these tools to identify what you think works in that scene. 

And if you want to learn more about how to read like a writer, check out episodes like The Midnight Library deep dive analysis on my podcast, Lit Match, here.

How did you analyze this chapter in The Midnight Library? I’d love to hear from you in the comments!

Abigail K. Perry is the host of the podcast Lit Match and a certified developmental editor who specializes in Upmarket/Commercial fiction, Women’s Fiction, Historical Fiction, MG/YA fiction, and YA fantasy. Abigail holds a B.S. in TV, Radio, and Film from Syracuse University and a Masters in Secondary Education from Endicott College. Abigail worked as an editorial intern and the Agency Relations Assistant for P.S. Literary Agency, is fluent in book and movie quotes, and loves a long walk with good company, which includes audiobooks and two- and four-legged loved ones and buddies.  You can reach her on her podcast or follow her on Twitter or Instagram.

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But that’s all the sociopolitical side of things. The play is also simply good, wildly brazen, and a lot of fun, despite it also being incredibly painful and sensitive.

Two Plays Together

Tony Kushner’s masterpiece is two plays packaged together. The first play is called Millennium Approaches, and the second is titled Perestroika. The reason for each title is made clear, not just in the theme of each part, but in the very literal text. Part one deals with the awareness of “the plague” as told from one character’s perspective, as well as the other awakenings that are happening to the disillusioned post-Reagan. The second part deals with the managing, if not acceptance, of the many real problems that Americans in the early-1990s were facing. In this way, the two plays tell the two most important parts of a crisis — the recognition of it and the fallout from it.

A Masterpiece of Metaphor

One thing that stands out to me most upon this recent reading is just how fabulously genius the metaphors are; they seem very much “in your face” because they very much are in your face (one Act in the play is titled “Spooj.” I mean, hello!) And yet, behind the trumpeting and the camping and the filthy language and the wild, uncensored eroticism (orgasm in the arms of an angel? Oh boy!), there’s a subtle sensitivity, a deep root being strummed in a way that is both painful and almost cathartic.

A Classic of Characterization

Characterization and character struggle is also a strength. Whether the issue is romantic infidelity, drug addiction, religion (the falling from it or the falling toward it), politics, or disease, each character’s experience is developed in a way that is unusual for drama; they are given depth and personality, and the time it takes to deal with their problems. Drama is primarily about action, but Kushner, though using action to propel the plot, also relies on more traditionally narrative-like characterization to illustrate the play’s major themes and to help the audience feel more invested.

Complexity and Diversity

Something else I enjoy very much about the play, especially considering its time of publication, is how it outlines the complexity and diversity of gay experiences. In literature and the arts, where one might assume homosexuality is more known and accepted, it is homosexual stereotypes, not lives, that have been most often articulated and perpetuated. (A chapter in my book, From A Whisper to A Riot, deals with this, if you’re interested in learning more about this history.) Kushner, though, allows one of his characters to essentially call out that kind of stereotyping (literally, using the word) and then develops several diverse gay men who have extraordinarily little in common, opening the very idea of what it means, or could mean, to be a gay man in America.

The only prominent piece of literature to that point that had done something similar is Mart Crowley’s The Boys in the Band, but unfortunately, that play is far less complex and falls into the trap of its time, being filled with characters who mostly hate themselves and each other—not exactly inspiring, though understandable for a play written in 1968. In fact, I think an interesting exercise would be to perform a close comparative analysis of The Boys in the Band and Angels in America, to see just how much changed for gay men between 1970 and 1990.

In Conclusion

My thoughts on this one could run in so many directions, but to put it simply, I think Angels in America should be required reading. It is not just a staple of American drama and an important artifact in the history of that genre, but it is also an important historical artifact more generally. Kushner litters the play with references and allusions to classical mythology, Christianity, Mormonism, Judaism, atheism, American government, science, addiction, war, politics, and so many other factors, that one is sure to walk away from it not only having been entertained and challenged, because it is challenging in its themes, tone, and delivery, but also edified and, perhaps, with a great deal of new questions to consider.

And a final note: the play was beautifully adapted by HBO into a 6-part miniseries starring Meryl Streep, Al Pacino, Emma Thompson, Mary-Louise Parker, James Cromwell, Michael Gambon, and others of that caliber. It is well worth the watch.

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

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5 over 50 

Poets & Writers

“The twenty-five-year-old me would have written a different Khabaar than what a fifty-one-year-old me wrote. Don’t compare oranges with tandoori shrimp…look, what joy! We create worlds. How lucky are we? Why complicate it with lists, ‘expiry’ dates, and the pressure to look a certain way? Fill yourself with joy that you get to write magic.” 

-Madhushree Ghosh, 2022 awardee

We’ve all seen lists of the brilliant young people creating the future. Forbes has their 30 Under 30 list. The Thiel Fellowship used to be called the 20 Under 20 list, though the program has been expanded to be more like 25-30 Under 22 (i.e., time for a new name).

Lists like these often suffice for business and tech, but writing is different. Writing takes life experience. Writing requires synthesis, which may take years in and of itself. The best authors have seen human themes play out in the real world, over a number of years, within a society’s unique dynamics.

Poets & Writers recognizes that one’s writing career may only begin in mid to late life. As such, they’ve come up with a 5 over 50 list: 5 authors over the age of 50 making spectacular debuts. Check out these emerging writers who know of what they write.

Dickensian

(BBC series, US viewers can watch via BritBox, Vudu or AppleTV+)

In the same way that Edgar Allan Poe cannot be separated from October, Charles Dickens bears a similar association with December. In fact, this is only the first entry attributed to the author on this list alone.

If you have a few days of downtime, I highly recommend getting vicariously snowed in with a good handful of Dickens’ most memorable characters, one of whom has ended Jacob Marley’s life in a most unsavory manner. Dickensian is a mash-up TV series featuring several of Dickens’ characters, as if they all lived within walking distance of each other. Scrooge and Bob Cratchit keep track of debts down the street from The Old Curiosity Shop, with the Havisham’s brewery around the corner. Peek in the back and you’re likely to find Fagin’s gang lurking about.

The interesting thing about this collage of sorts is that audiences will be familiar with a good half of the characters via pop culture: Ebenezer Scrooge, Tiny Tim, The Artful Dodger, Fagin, and Oliver Twist, who hold prominent places. This element, along with the strong storyline for the series on its own (just who did kill Jacob Marley?), makes what could easily be inaccessible quite enjoyable. You don’t have to be well versed in Bleak House or Great Expectations to enjoy this 1-season series, but I’m willing to bet, you’re going to find one classic worth picking up because of it.  

(Disclaimer: One of literature’s most beloved characters, Pip, does not make an appearance, as the story takes place before his time. However, insight into how Ms. Havisham became Ms. Havisham is worth the trade-off.)

Jólabókaflóð 

• What it means: Yule Book Flood
• How to say it 

This is a lovely Icelandic tradition that is catching on internationally. Throughout early December, people exchange books, and then spend Christmas Eve or another night cozied up with chocolate, reading their new books. It’s a beautiful night of everyone introverting together and makes up for all of those books on hygge you’ve been meaning to get around to.

The tradition is a relatively new one, as it grew out of paper scarcity in post WWII Europe; the 2019 pandemic served only to popularize this charming holiday.

I shall leave you to your own book recommendations, but I would be remiss if I didn’t include these hot chocolate recipes based on fictional characters or literary inspired chocolate links: NomNom Old Books flavored chocolate, Li-Lac Chocolate Books, and book covers that turn Hershey’s miniatures into classics.

Little Women 

(Greta Gerwig adaptation, 2019)

Louise May Alcott’s coming of age book is one of the most popular literary works ever to be adapted for stage, screen and even anime. The largely autobiographical work that was written in under three months (though decades of experience) captures the vitriol sisters can have for each other, as well as the equally profound love, and documents the values of the March family while they are just making ends meet.

The story starts out on Christmas, with the March family foregoing some of their breakfast feast for a family in much greater need. As such, Little Women makes for nice seasonal fare. However, I am intentionally recommending Greta Gerwig’s 2019 movie adaptation to the DIY MFA audience. Not only was it nominated for the 2020 Academy Awards in all major categories (sadly, winning only Best Costume) and named one of the top 10 films by the American Film Institute that same year, this adaptation is a great example of how to update a classic in a way that revitalizes the material.

So many other adaptations have been done, and done well, yet there remains a disconnect. Emotions are kept at an arm’s length away. The audience finds the characters affable, poignant and politely humorous in all of the right spots, whereas Gerwig’s treatment is brimming with life. Her versions of Jo, Beth, Meg, and Amy are palpably spirited; they embody the young women we see running out of high school, working on the weekends, sneaking both in and out of windows, all in that mad rush of vibrant, young life, all in stunning period costumes. If you’ve found prior versions of Little Women too sedate, I recommend giving this one at least a shot. Besides, it’s worth watching even if just for the moment of comic relief when Saul (Bob Odenkirk) from Better Call Saul makes his entrance. 

The Man Who Invented Christmas 

(movie)

While it’s difficult to imagine December without Dickens, rarely do we take the time to consider the conditions under which A Christmas Carol was actually written. In the movie The Man Who Invented Christmas, a creatively blocked, down-on-his-luck Charles Dickens desperately searches for source material that will help his young family continue to manage comfortably while his elderly father continues to demand more of an allowance. This is a great movie to watch with your kids, their grandparents, and any in-laws who might be having an extended holiday stay at your own house. Why? Because this movie captures the heart and spirit of being a creator. The internal processes of character creation and arguing with them editing are portrayed with the light-heartedness writing has bestowed upon most of us at one time or another. Despite the overwhelming success of A Christmas Carol, few realize that Dickens needed to come up with some work; not only did he have to write it in a short time, he also had to illustrate and self-publish it. In short, it’s a fantastic way to explain to your family what you’re doing all of those hours locked away in a room.

Now, here it must be said that the movie is based upon the book of the same name, written by Les Standiford, a prestigious academic writer who specializes in classic Industrial Age subjects (e.g., Henry Clay Frick, Andrew Carnegie, the spectacle of the Big Top Circus). However, the movie is largely divorced from the book. The book gives a much more factual, socioeconomic account of how Dickens’ work, by including the underprivileged, along with his personal idea of charity, gave rise to how the holiday is celebrated today – as a season of fellowship towards each other. Prior to this, Christmas was a holiday celebrated about as much as Jolabokaflod has been here in the States. With the rise of machines, things weren’t getting any better.

Both the book and movie are highly worthwhile. It simply helps to know that the title for the movie is more of a misnomer, and that despite having the same title, the subject matter found in each presentation of this work is radically different. 

Melissa Haas is the author and illustrator of Catula: The Misadventures of Dracula’s Cat and The Night Before Christmas (NOW WITH CATS), among others. Follow Catula’s whereabouts on Instagram @CatulaTheCat. If you’re interested in downloading free coloring pages or seeing Margaret Atwood with a blowtorch, check out more Leisure Learning related content at www.MelissaHaasCreates.com.

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