Yes, that may be a loaded question. But as a writer, you have good reason to remember it while crafting your protagonist. Your character’s motivations often evolve into her goal for the story, which then determines the direction of the plot. But did you know that the protagonist’s motivations also indicate some of the story’s literary themes?

Think of it as a chain reaction. Once you decide the protagonist’s motivations, you’ll know what she wants to achieve by The End. You’ll also discover which strengths and weaknesses will help or harm her on her journey, how her motivations will inform her decisions, the obstacles she’ll face, and what’s at stake. And once you’ve figured out those elements and begun writing, the story’s themes will naturally emerge. In other words, once you know the protagonist’s motivations, the rest of the story’s thematic pieces will fall into place.

Sounds daunting, right? Don’t worry. In this edition of Theme: A Story’s Soul, we’ll go over four steps that can help you ensure your protagonist’s motivations will influence the story’s themes.

Step #1: Decide What Your Protagonist Wants and Why

A protagonist’s motivations are twofold: what and why. The what is the desire that the character longs for at the story’s beginning. Typically this desire is tangible and relatable, which will persuade the reader to believe the protagonist can achieve it and to connect with her on an emotional level.

The why unearths the meaning behind this desire. It digs into the character’s backstory and psyche to reveal the need that’s driving her want. (You can use Maslow’s hierarchy of needs to help you determine where your character’s motivations fall.) For example, a teenage boy may want to find new friends because his family moved to a new town, and he craves knowing he belongs somewhere. Or the heroine may want to trust a new romantic partner after being abused by another man, and she believes she deserves a healthy, loving relationship.

This layered approach to character motivations isn’t new to literature. Choose any book from your collection, and you’ll find what the protagonist wants and why they want it. Here are three different examples from books on my shelves:

• J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone: Harry wants to feel like he belongs somewhere. He’s been raised by his uncaring relatives ever since his parents were killed, so he doesn’t know what it’s like to have a loving family.
• Brandon Sanderson’s Skyward: Spensa wants to attend flight school and become a starfighter pilot, just like her father. It’s been her dream since she was little; and even though her father was branded a coward for deserting his team during his final mission, she’s determined to not let anyone stand in her way.
• Cormac McCarthy’s The Road: The unnamed father wants to ensure his son’s survival. With winter on the way in their post-apocalyptic world and few trustworthy people out there, he feels compelled to do everything he can so his child can live.

So as you explore your protagonist’s motivations, take some time to answer these questions:

1. What does the protagonist want?
2. Is this motivation tangible or achievable, given the character’s circumstances and/or the story world? Why or why not?
3. Is this motivation relatable? Will the reader understand and/or sympathize with the protagonist because of this motivation? Why or why not?
4. Why does the protagonist want this goal? What need is driving this yet-to-be-fulfilled desire?
5. What has transpired in the protagonist’s life and led to the lack of fulfillment of this need?

A person’s desires and needs aren’t cut-and-dried. Rather, they’re complex because of that person’s unique blend of values, dreams, attitude, and personal history. So by considering your protagonist’s motivation in layers, you’ll ensure their motivation is as complicated as that of any human being—and make your character seem even more real.

Step #2: Awaken or Threaten This Want with the Inciting Incident

The key to tying the story to the protagonist’s motivations begins with the inciting incident. This first major plot point, which happens during the first couple of chapters, draws the character into the main conflict through a single life-changing moment. So if this scene is going to shake up the character’s world and send her on a (figurative or literal) journey, why not shape that scene so that it plays upon—or preys upon—her motivations?

An inciting incident typically impacts the protagonist’s motivations in one of two ways:

1. It Awakens: The protagonist is aware of her goal or desire but hasn’t actively pursued it. Thus, the inciting incident entices the protagonist through an event that introduces the main conflict and increases the protagonist’s awareness of her motivations by giving her a taste of its fulfillment.
2. It Threatens: The protagonist is pursuing her goal/desire or appears to have already fulfilled it. Thus, the inciting incident acts as a threat to the protagonist through an event that introduces the main conflict and attempts to remove what the character holds dear from her life, compelling her to react so she can protect the people or ideals she loves or has been striving for.

To determine which direction your inciting incident should take, ask yourself, “How do I want the reader to feel when the inciting incident scene is over?” The awakening approach works best when the character’s circumstances are already less than ideal. That way, the inciting incident can offer a glimmer of hope, which can make the reader excited about the protagonist’s life changing for the better. 

The threat approach, however, can be effective no matter how promising or terrible the protagonist’s circumstances are. If the reader has connected with the character even in a small way when the inciting incident occurs, the reader will feel worried or concerned about whether the protagonist can save what she cares about. Which emotional response would fit your story best?

Let’s see how the inciting incidents in our three examples awaken or threaten each protagonist’s motivations:

• Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone: At the zoo, Harry is talking to a boa constrictor when his cousin, Dudley, and his friend push Harry out of the way. Harry then unknowingly uses magic to release the snake from its glass enclosure and set it after Dudley. This begins a chain of events that sends Harry to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the first place where he feels like he belongs.
• Skyward: On the last day of school, Spensa’s teacher tries to convince Spensa to skip the pilot’s test, implying that she would automatically fail per the flight school admiral’s orders. Later, a disheartened Spensa finds an abandoned starfighter in a nearby cavern. This discovery reignites Spensa’s desire to fulfill her dream, and she resolves to take the pilot’s test no matter what.
• The Road: The father’s motivation is clear from the beginning. His every thought and action revolves around keeping his son alive, including carrying a pistol for protection—which he uses when a stranger tries to abduct his son.

Step #3: Use the Protagonist’s Motivations to Influence Her Choices

Once the inciting incident occurs, the protagonist becomes more aware of her motivations than ever. She may not fully understand how high the stakes are yet, but she knows what’s important to her. She also knows she may have to make difficult decisions to make her goal a reality or to protect what she cares about. So as the story continues and the protagonist is forced to make those tough choices, she’ll fall back on her motivations and let them guide her decisions and actions, for better or worse.

At this point, you’ve already done most of the hard work. In Step #1, you determined your character’s motivations so you could craft an inciting incident that aligns with her goals or desires (or threatens to take them away) in Step #2. Now, for Step #3, keep the protagonist’s motivations in mind as you write each plot point. When it’s time for your character to make a new decision or take action, use these questions to ensure her next move is consistent with what she wants:

1. Which option aligns most with the protagonist’s motivations? If the decision is a choice between “the lesser of two evils,” which option does the character see as being in her best interest? 
2. How does the protagonist feel right now? How does her emotional state help or hinder her decision-making abilities?
3. How do the protagonist’s decision and its outcome raise the stakes even higher?

Will your protagonist always make the right decisions? Of course not. Sometimes emotions will cloud her judgment. Other times, the outcome will turn out differently (and adversely so) than she hoped. But through it all, her motivations should remain consistent throughout the story, and her decisions should hold true to those motivations. And by ensuring that her choices grow more challenging and the costs even higher, you’ll prove to the reader how much the sources of the protagonist’s motivations truly mean to her.

What kinds of decisions have our three example characters made since Step #2? Let’s take a look:

• Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone: Harry makes several of his decisions as a result of his desire to belong and be loved. He confirms his acceptance at Hogwarts because he wants to be with other children like him who perform magic. Later, he visits the Mirror of Erised to “see” his deceased parents because he misses the family he’s never known.  
• Skyward: Spensa clings to her dream despite the odds against her. After she’s denied entrance to flight school, she is offered a way in by one of the first-year instructors and accepts it. Toward the end, after Spensa is expelled from flight school, she chooses to join the effort to defend the starfighter base against an alien attack—and to learn more about why she can “hear the stars.”
• The Road: One doesn’t have to read too far to find more evidence of the father’s desire to ensure his son’s survival. He shows it during the story’s most pivotal moments as well as in his everyday actions, from providing the boy with food to choosing their shelter for the night. He also demonstrates it when he speaks to his son by offering advice, telling stories, and apologizing for yelling at him.

Step #4: Discover the Themes That Emerge from These Motivations

Notice what happens as you use Step #3 to craft the rest of the story. When each choice the protagonist makes aligns with her motivations, those motivations will remain consistent from beginning to end. And because you designed the main conflict to tie in with what your character wants (see Steps #1 and #2), the source of her motivation will constantly be on her mind as the story plays out.

This repetition is key to nurturing literary themes in a story, and not just from the protagonist’s motivations. That’s why repetition is part of our working definition of “theme.” In order for an idea to become a theme, it needs to be revisited throughout the story in an artful and nuanced way. Allowing your character’s goals and desires—her driving force since Page 1—to influence some of those themes is one of the most salient ways to achieve this repetition.

Review the work you’ve done in Steps #1 through #3. What concepts emerge through the protagonist’s motivations, the inciting incident, and the character’s choices afterward? It’s perfectly fine to list a couple of themes instead of one. As I mentioned earlier, our own motivations are complex, so we can’t expect ourselves to boil down our dreams and goals into one simple idea. Instead, ensure the themes you find align with what your character wants or is fighting for. And if they do, then you’re well on your way to creating a story that will be logically and thematically consistent—and that will make your reader feel endeared to the protagonist and invested in your story.

Below are the themes revealed from each protagonist’s motivations in our three examples. Do you have others to add to this list?

• Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone: friendship, family, home, belonging
• Skyward: courage versus fear, dreams and hopes, coming of age
• The Road: love, mortality, isolation

What are your protagonist’s motivations? How does the story’s inciting incident awaken or threaten them? What themes emerge from the story as a result of those motivations?

Sara Letourneau is a freelance editor and writing coach who lives in Massachusetts. She’s also a poet whose work has appeared in Mass Poetry’s Poem of the Moment, The Aurorean, The Avocet, The Bookends Review, Golden Walkman Magazine, Soul-Lit, and other journals and anthologies. She can often be found performing her poems at local open mic nights, reading good books, roaming the shores of Cape Cod, and enjoying a cup of tea. Learn more about how Sara can help you with your writing at Heart of the Story Editorial & Coaching Services. You can also connect with her at her writer website, Twitter, Goodreads, or Instagram.

The post How Your Protagonist’s Motivations Influence Your Story’s Themes appeared first on DIY MFA.

If you missed our previous posts on this theme, why not read those first? Start with our case study on man and the natural world if you’d like an introduction to the theme. Or check out our recommended reading list of books about man and the natural world or our five reasons for why this theme matters. Otherwise, let’s get writing!

Make the Setting Integral to the Plot

Setting is already one of your story’s central elements. So when man and the natural world is one of the themes, the setting becomes an even bigger player in the game–so big, in fact, that it can influence the plot.

Think of stories you’ve read where the plot relies on the setting. How do the unique natural elements of the setting make the story’s events possible? In Frances Hodgson Burnett’s The Secret Garden, for example, Mary’s transformation from sickly and selfish to healthy and caring happens as a result of her nurturing her uncle’s abandoned garden back to life. The friendships she develops with the other residents of Misselthwaite Manor contribute to this as well. But how would the story change if Mary was sent to live in a downtown orphanage that had no garden? The theme of man and the natural world would probably disappear—and the plot of this classic children’s tale would be drastically different.

So as you determine how the setting influences the plot, consider the following six keys to connecting these two building blocks of storytelling:

1. Location: Where does the story take place? Ensure you think about the macro (country, state, town / city) and micro (neighborhoods, buildings, landmarks) elements of the location.
2. Time: When does the story take place? Consider the time period, season, and (for certain scenes) the time of day. Whether it’s daytime or nighttime can significantly impact how a scene plays out.
3. Natural Elements: What are some of the unique natural elements (e.g., topography, climate, bodies of water, weather conditions, wildlife) of this location at this time?
4. Goals: What is the character’s goal in this story? What conflict is he trying to resolve?
5. Connection: How does the character’s story goal or main conflict connect with the setting? In other words, how do the setting and its unique natural elements make the story possible?
6. Impact: How do the natural elements of the setting affect or influence the character’s ability to achieve his story goal or resolve the main conflict?

If you’re unsure of how to answer the final question, stay tuned for more insights and a related exercise in the next section.

Exercise #1

Choose a setting with natural elements that could play a big role in a story, and write down your answers to the six questions listed above. (This setting can be one you’ve written about before or one that’s brand new.) Then write a scene or short story in which the character’s story-goal pursuit or the main conflict relies on this setting and its natural elements. 

How does the natural world make the character’s struggles or the scene’s events possible? How would the scene / story change—or be rendered impossible—if it occurred in a setting with different natural elements?

Also, check out the writing exercises in our post on using setting to illustrate literary themes.

“Characterize” Nature as Your Character’s Friend or Foe

No story ever goes smoothly for the protagonist. Between the beginning and the end, she’ll run into complications and setbacks as she struggles to reach her goal or resolve the main conflict. And in stories where man and the natural world is a central theme, these complications include natural obstacles that hinder the character’s progress or threaten the safety of herself and others. In this way, nature acts as one of the story’s antagonists. It may not be a human character whose motives and actions oppose the protagonist’s, but the power it holds over the protagonist through changing weather, expected seasonal conditions, and natural disasters can just as easily throw her off course. 

It’s also important to consider how the natural world can help the protagonist. Sometimes it’s more like a friend or ally and assists the character through shelter, sources of food or water, and signals of danger. Elements like these can give the protagonist a sense of hope, relief, joy, and other positive emotions that can, among other things, rekindle their commitment to their story goal. They must also be carefully chosen based on what occurs or is available in the story’s setting.

If you need some examples on how nature can antagonist or assist your character, here are two excellent ones:

• Rae Carson’s Walk on Earth a Stranger: Leah Westfall rides in a covered wagon across the American plains and Rocky Mountains to reach the gold mines of California. Along the way, she braves whitewater rapids, a buffalo stampede, oppressive heat, and other natural elements that act as obstacles to her journey and overall safety. She also witnesses the beauty of natural landmarks and acknowledges her gratitude for off-road hiding spots and other ways that nature protects her.
• Andy Weir’s The Martian: After being left behind on the planet Mars, astronaut Mark Watney must find a way to survive until a rescue mission arrives. The planet’s harsh environment—marked by dust storms, frigid temperatures, dangerous terrain, and lack of oxygen—makes this the biggest challenge of his life. But thanks to his engineering ingenuity, Mark figures out how to grow a crop of potatoes inside his laboratory using technology, Martian soil, and (*ahem*) human waste, which stretches his food supply and increases his odds of living long enough to come home.

Exercise #2A

Create a two-column table on paper or in a word processing document. Label the columns “Antagonize” and “Assist.” Then, in each column, list the ways in which the story’s setting and its natural elements either antagonize or assist the protagonist as she works toward achieving her goal or resolving the main conflict. Don’t worry if you fill one column with more ideas than the other, but make sure you consider how the natural world can both hinder and help the protagonist in her efforts.

Exercise #2B

Return to the scene or short story you wrote for Exercise #1, and write two new scenes: one where the setting and its natural elements antagonize the protagonist, and one where they assist her. Or, if you’re up for a challenge, write a single scene where the natural world does both for the character. How does your character react to these events? How do they complicate or aid her progress? How does it all make her feel? Is it even possible for nature to be both friend and foe in your story? If so, what does the protagonist think about this duality?

Infuse Your Descriptions of Nature with the Character’s Mood

Stories about man and the natural world never skim the setting’s surface. The natural elements must be carefully considered and described appropriately. This doesn’t mean you need to write about every leaf, insect, or drop of water. Rather, focus first on the elements that the character would notice and that best serve the scene, and then phrase those descriptions based on how the character thinks, feels, or reacts at that moment.

Put yourself in your character’s shoes and imagine he’s in a natural setting. What kind of environment is he in? What time of day is it? What’s the weather like? What kinds of wildlife (flora, fauna, etc.) does the character notice? What other unique elements of that setting does he make note of? Then consider the character’s circumstances and emotions at that moment. What just happened or is currently happening in the story? What thoughts or emotions is the character experiencing as a result? How do the setting’s natural elements and current conditions exacerbate his situation and feelings? Or how do they make things more bearable for him?

Remember that the key here is to illustrate the character’s relationship with nature. This is why it’s crucial to frame the description according to his observations, circumstances, and attitude at that moment. Depending on what’s happening, the character might not pay much attention to the dry grass or the chirping of crickets, but he may be exhausted enough to notice the heat and lack of shade. Or maybe he’ll be so distracted by the beauty of the moon that he doesn’t realize how much the temperatures have dropped. By inhabiting your character fully in each scene, you’ll ensure your descriptions of nature are accurate, imaginative, and meaningful.

Exercise #3

Review the last scene you wrote for your story, and notice your character’s state of mind at the end. Then, imagine your character going outside immediately after this scene ends and into the closest natural environment. What is that environment like? How does that environment affect the character’s mood? Or how does the character’s mood influence what he notices about the natural setting? List various scenarios such as daytime versus nighttime, heat versus cold, rain versus sunshine, etc. and determine how the character’s reaction changes in each one. If the story’s next scene were to occur outdoors, which scenario would be most impactful? Why?

Use the Story’s Events to Demonstrate Humanity’s Impact on Nature

We’ve likely read stories where trees are cut down, animals are forced to leave their homes, and pollution dirties the water and air. These and other moments are meant to remind readers of the havoc humanity can wreak on the natural world and the potential consequences if no one takes action to stop it. This also creates the reverse scenario of Exercises #2A and #2B above. Instead of nature acting as an antagonist to a human character, this time the character is antagonizing nature.

When taking this approach to the theme, first consider why the destruction is happening. For example, if characters are razing a forest, what are their reasons for doing so? Do they want the land for farming or development for homes and businesses? Do they need wood and other natural resources for their use or consumption? Are they driving out inhabitants such as birds, animals, and people—or using them to further their goals?

Next, ponder the consequences of this devastation. How would the natural elements of this setting change forever if the antagonist’s plans are carried out to completion? Think about how the terrain, wildlife, climate, and other aspects of nature would be impacted. How would these changes affect the characters living and working there? (Food and water supply, weather conditions, options for shade or cover, and nature’s aesthetic qualities are just some of the things to consider here.) Maybe even the worst-case scenario has already become reality. Jay Kristoff’s Stormdancer is a harrowing example of characters living—and dying—in a country where deforestation and pollution due to industrialization have led to climate change, famine, and disease, among other problems. 

This angle on the theme doesn’t have to be all “gloom and doom,” though. In most cases, one of the characters—your protagonist, for instance—may be determined to fight back or counter the damage that’s been done. If so, then ask yourself why this character cares so much about the world she lives in. What is she willing to do to save what’s left of it? Most importantly, what steps will she take (perhaps with help) to achieve her goal? Once you’ve brainstormed this as well as the reasons for and consequences of the destruction of the natural setting, you’ll have in place the first puzzle pieces for an exciting and emotionally charged story.

Exercise #4

Brainstorm the ways in which the natural world of your story’s setting could be impacted by your characters. If it helps, create a table that lists different “man-made” scenarios, possible reasons for each one occurring, and its impacts on the environment and the characters. Where does your protagonist fit into the picture on any of these scenarios? Would she be assisting with the destruction? Or fighting to stop it? Make note of her motivations for engaging in either side, then write a scene or short story in which the character witnesses or participates in the devastation. What does she or other characters try to do to save the story’s setting?

How have you explored man and the natural world in your own stories? What other writing prompts or exercises would you recommend to nurture this theme?

Sara Letourneau is a freelance editor and writing coach who lives in Massachusetts. She’s also a poet whose work has appeared in Mass Poetry’s Poem of the Moment, The Aurorean, The Avocet, The Bookends Review, Golden Walkman Magazine, Soul-Lit, and other journals and anthologies. She can often be found performing her poems at local open mic nights, reading good books, roaming the shores of Cape Cod, and enjoying a cup of tea. Learn more about how Sara can help you with your writing at Heart of the Story Editorial & Coaching Services. You can also connect with her at her writer website, Twitter, Goodreads, or Instagram.

The post Writing Exercises for Exploring the Theme of Man and the Natural World appeared first on DIY MFA.

As a result, I’ve read a lot of stories that cover this theme—and I’m always on the lookout for more. Maybe you are too. If that’s the case, you’ll find a number of these books in our previous Theme: A Story’s Soul post on why the theme of man and the natural world is important. But as you can tell from the title of this post, I saved some of those recommendations for today. (*wink*)

Here are five of my favorite stories that involve this literary theme.

The Distance Between Lost and Found by Kathryn Holmes (YA Fiction)

In this thoughtful debut novel by YA author Kathryn Holmes, Hallelujah (a.k.a. Hallie) Calhoun refuses to speak about a traumatic night with the local preacher’s son. Even when she attends a youth group retreat in the Smoky Mountains months later, she endures the taunting and bullying from her peers in silence. During a hike, the humiliation pushes Hallie to her breaking point, and she and two other teens become separated from the rest of the group. Thus, The Distance Between Lost and Found is as much a story of survival in the wilderness as it is a tale of a girl finding the courage to speak up.

The setting is partly what makes Distance’s delving into this theme so rich. Through Hallie’s perspective, the reader experiences some of the dangers of the Smoky Mountains, from the unease of sleeping outdoors without a tent to the terror of a bear encounter. They also witness the beauty Hallie finds in a forest sunrise and the tiny joy she feels when eating dandelions and freshwater fish.

The theme also surfaces outside of Hallie’s time lost in the woods. In the opening scene, Hallie tries to distract herself from her tormentors (who, oddly enough, are throwing twigs at her) by focusing on the campfire and on spiderwebs and a bird’s nest in the gazebo where she’s sitting. And toward the end, when she sees the preacher’s son in the hospital, she imagines she’s “facing that bear all over again” and confronts him about their past. In this way, she finds comfort and strength in her experience with the natural world.

(Learn more about The Distance Between Lost and Found as well as the author’s tips on bringing your story’s setting to life in this episode of the DIY MFA Podcast.)

The Martian by Andy Weir (Science Fiction)

How about an “out of this world” spin on man and the natural world? Andy Weir’s The Martian is a perfect sci-fi choice for this theme. It begins when the Ares 3 mission to Mars is aborted during a dust storm and the crew leaves behind botanist / engineer / astronaut Mark Watney, fearing him dead. Mark, however, is very much alive—but how will he survive with limited food supplies and damaged technology on a planet with a much harsher environment than Earth? That third and final challenge is partly what makes The Martian such a gripping read and an excellent addition to this list of “nature stories.”

During his extended time on Mars, Mark encounters one environmental danger after another. Dust storms, frigid cold, craters, lack of water—and that’s just for starters. But being the resourceful (and wise-cracking) botanist that he is, Mark draws on his knowledge of biology, plant life, and other sciences to improve his chances of survival while he waits to be rescued. For example, he figures out how to grow potatoes inside the Ares 3 habitat using a blend of earth and Martian soil, frozen potatoes, a water-producing system he builds himself, and (ahem) human waste. Yet Mark also knows he can’t hunker down inside the habitat forever. He ensures that each of his trips into the great Martian outdoors has a purpose, and each one reminds him of the planet’s unique beauty and perils. It goes to show that the natural world of any planet, not just Earth, can challenge a story’s characters.

The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett (Children’s Fiction)

No list of books about man and nature would be complete without this classic tale featuring one of literature’s most beloved gardens. But The Secret Garden isn’t just a story about children bringing a neglected garden back to life. It’s also about the children themselves: ten-year-old Mary Lennox, who comes to England to live with her often-absent uncle after her parents die of cholera in colonial India; and her cousin Colin, who rarely sees his father (the aforementioned uncle) and has been told he’s too sick to walk. As the cousins learn how their lives have both been marked by isolation and a lack of parental love, Mary wonders if she should tell Colin about the walled garden she’s been tending at the manor where they live—and her decision produces miracles for everyone involved.

The theme of man and the natural world blossoms early in The Secret Garden. Twice in the first two chapters, Mary plays with a pretend garden, pushing cut hibiscus blossoms into the ground. Not only does this foreshadow her later interest in the garden at Misselthwaite Manor, but it also symbolizes Mary at that time in her life. Without water or nutrients, the pretend garden won’t survive, just as Mary isn’t able to thrive in India without love and nurturing from others.

Once Mary arrives at Misselthwaite Manor and learns about the garden, the theme continues to flourish. Mary befriends Dickon Sowerby, who frequents the local moors and rescues animals, and Ben Weatherstaff, the manor’s gardener. She also meets Dickon’s pets, Captain the fox and Soot the crow, and finds companionship with a robin who helps her find the key to the garden door. Most importantly, as Mary takes care of the secret garden, she develops healthier relationships with the people around her and learns the value of kindness and compassion. In a way, her relationship with nature allows her to grow into a happier, more confident person and to heal from her past. The same can be said for Colin, who becomes increasingly optimistic about his health—and eventually learns to walk—as he engages with the garden.

Wesley the Owl: The Remarkable Story of an Owl and His Girl by Stacey O’Brien (Memoir)

Let’s be honest: That adorable cover makes you want to read the book, right? Fuzzy cuteness aside, Wesley the Owl is a fantastic example of the human-and-animal “love story” approach to this literary theme. It begins on a fateful day in 1985 when the author, biologist Stacey O’Brien, meets a four-day-old barn owl with nerve damage in one of his wings. One of O’Brien’s colleagues at Caltech’s owl laboratory offers her the chance to raise the owl, since the injury compromised the owl’s ability to fly and survive in the wild. O’Brien says yes, of course—and her decision changes her life forever.

O’Brien spends a fair amount of Wesley the Owl teaching the reader about owls. Their diet, types of calls, hunting and mating habits—you name it, O’Brien covers it as she recalls various experiences from her and Wesley’s twenty years together. She also points out some of his behaviors that we humans can relate to on an emotional level. For example, when Wesley hisses and refuses to look at O’Brien after a failed attempt at flying, O’Brien realizes it’s because she was laughing at him and thus made him feel embarrassed.

So why is Wesley the Owl a memoir and not a reference book? Probably because the reader learns how the natural world has been an integral part of the author’s life. O’Brien recounts childhood memories of her dog Luddie, her trips with her father and her sister to the ocean and Angeles Crest National Park, and examining the tiniest of creatures under her microscope. With Wesley in particular, she shares evidence of how the owl viewed her as his mother (and, as he reached sexual maturity, how he sometimes viewed her as his mate). She also recalls how Wesley influenced her life, from scaring off the men she dated to giving her a reason to live despite a debilitating illness. In this way, Wesley the Owl reminds us of what happens when we allow the natural world to fascinate us and open our hearts to even a single baby bird.

The Wolf in the Whale by Jordanna Max Brodsky (Historical Fantasy)

The Wolf in the Whale imagines what may have happened when the Inuit and the Vikings first encountered one another in North America over 1,000 years ago—with a fantastical twist. Omat, a girl raised as a boy, is being groomed as a shaman who can commune with nature and animal spirits to protect her people. But soon the spirits stop listening, and her family is on the verge of starvation. When Omat is forced to become the wife of a second Inuit clan’s leader, it sets off a chain of events that leads Omat into the path of Norse explorers led by the ruthless Freydis Eiríksdóttir, sister of Leif Eiríksson—and to a mythic clash between gods and spirits that could spell the end of all Omat holds dear.

Like with other books on this list, the setting is integral to The Wolf in the Whale’s examination of the theme of man and the natural world. The climate and landscapes of the Canadian arctic impact the lives of the characters who live there; and the animals who also call it home—wolves, whales, and caribou, just to name a few—provide meat for nourishment, hides for clothing and shelter, and much more. In addition, nature is ingrained in the Inuit’s way of life. The spirits they pray to are tied to the moon, the sun, weather, and different animal species. (The same goes for select gods and goddesses from Norse mythology.) Omat also draws upon wildlife and the setting when using metaphors or making comparisons. These and other aspects of the story illustrate the Inuit’s deep respect for the natural world and their acceptance of the wonders and perils that are part of it. 

Need more suggestions for books about man and the natural world? Check out these book lists from BookBub, Early Bird Books, The Globe and Mail, and Goodreads.

What other stories featuring the theme of man and the natural world would you recommend?

Sara Letourneau is a freelance editor and writing coach based in Massachusetts. She’s currently taking clients with manuscripts in speculative fiction, literary fiction, or YA, though she’s open to other genres as well. She’s also a poet whose work has appeared in Amethyst Review, Canary, Muddy River Poetry Review, Soul-Lit, and elsewhere. A Massachusetts resident, she can often be found performing her poems at local open mic nights, reading good books, and enjoying a cup of tea. Learn more about how Sara can help you with your writing at Heart of the Story Editorial & Coaching Services. You can also connect with her at her writer website, Twitter, Goodreads, or Instagram.

The post Additional Reading on the Theme of Man and the Natural World appeared first on DIY MFA.

So it only makes sense that we give poetry its time in the spotlight here at Theme: A Story’s Soul. Because, like with novels and short stories, poems are teeming with literary themes. And since single poems can be analyzed in as much depth as entire books of poetry, that’s how we’ll approach this post: first by determining the themes in an individual poem, and then in a book of poetry.

Before we do that, though, let’s establish how we can identify themes in the poetry we read.

Four Questions for Identifying Themes in Poetry

As we defined here, a theme is an answer to the question, “What is this story—or any piece of writing—really about?” When we read a poem, sometimes its themes will be clear from the first read-through. Other times we have to ruminate on the piece before we find those themes, or study it in a deeper, analytical way like we might have in school.

As we read a poem, here are some questions we can ask to determine the poem’s themes:

• What are the explicit themes? In other words, what themes or topics do you see in the poem on the first read-through?
• What is the poem’s overall tone? What thoughts or emotions does the poet convey? What images are used? How do these reveal the poet’s feelings toward the subject matter?
• What is the poem’s overall mood? How does the poem make you, the reader, feel? What effect does the poem’s tone, setting, and word choice have on you?
• What are the implicit themes? Now that you’ve considered the poem’s tone and mood, what other, less obvious themes have you discovered?

Why should we consider a poem’s tone and mood here? Because emotions themselves can be literary themes. Happiness, sadness, anger, fear—these and other reactions are not only feelings that characters or readers can experience during a piece of literature, but also part of the piece’s overall thematic web.

With poetry in particular, every word must be carefully chosen for its literal meaning and emotional weight. Those words and the phrases, images, and atmosphere they create give additional clues about themes we might not notice if we rely only on subject matter. It’s almost like how, in novels and other longer forms of literature, a conversation between characters contains multiple layers (topics, details, and opinions) that need to be considered when using dialogue to identify themes. So by considering tone and mood to find a poem’s themes, we’re taking all of the poem’s elements and layers into account and digging to the heart of the message that the poet is conveying.

Identifying Themes in an Individual Poem

Let’s practice identifying themes in poetry using Mary Oliver’s “The Summer Day.” You can read the poem in its entirety here, but we’ll use excerpts as we answer each question.

What Are the Explicit Themes?

• Man and the Natural World: Oliver does more than name animal species or list outdoor activities. She describes a grasshopper’s movements in surprising detail (“… who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down – / who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes…”) as well as her own relaxed, almost worshipful motions of strolling through the fields and kneeling in the grass. From this perspective, the poem is about the small or everyday wonders of the natural world and the contentment that the narrator/poet finds in them.
• Spirituality: The reverence expressed in “The Summer Day” isn’t limited to the narrator’s kneeling. Oliver introduces this theme halfway through the poem with the line “I don’t know exactly what a prayer is,” then goes on to detail actions that, to her, are a way of showing adoration or thanksgiving to something she believes is sacred.  

What Is the Poem’s Overall Tone?

The tone could be described as inspired or amazed. Oliver depicts the grasshopper’s motions so clearly and reverently that it seems as if she’s watching another living creature eat for the first time. Her word choices such as “gazing around,” “blessed,” and “enormous and complicated,” as well as the other images her words present and the questions she asks, also evoke her sense of curiosity, deep respect, and compassion for the natural world and for herself.

What Is the Poem’s Overall Mood?

When I read “The Summer Day,” the poem makes me feel alert and alive. Its tone and detailed imagery create a vicarious experience of sorts. I can imagine being in the field with the narrator, walking through the grass in the same manner and observing the grasshopper and everything else around me with heightened awareness and delight. In addition, the questions that begin and end the poem compel me to pause and think about how I want to live my life. So I would describe this poem’s mood as uplifting, thoughtful, and meditative.

How would you describe the mood of “The Summer Day”? What do you feel as you read the poem?

What Are the Implicit Themes?

• Wonder & Amazement: These words aren’t mentioned in “The Summer Day,” but this emotion is absolutely part of the poem’s thematic makeup. Oliver’s wide-eyed observations demonstrate an openness to the wonders of the world and an appreciation for things great and small. The latter also emerges in the poem’s opening and closing questions. We may have ideas about how the world was created, but do we really know “Who made the world”? It’s an awe-inspiring thing to think about.
• Life & Existence: “The Summer Day” is a celebration of life in verse. The narrator’s observations of the grasshopper and mentions of her day’s activities are full of movement, so they’re not just examples of things that are alive but also embodiments of the state of being alive. The existential questions that bookend the poem also address life from a philosophical perspective, beckoning the reader to think about the creation of the world and the quality of her own life.

Identifying Themes in a Book of Poetry

With chapbooks and longer collections of poetry, you can take two routes for determining their overarching themes. You can answer the Four Questions listed above for multiple poems in the book, which can help you hone your poetry analysis skills. But if you’d rather do it more casually, you can read the book from cover to cover and take note of which topics, concepts, and emotions recur throughout.

This emphasis on repetition brings us back to our working definition of “literary theme.” Any given theme doesn’t have to appear in every poem in a poetry book. But it should recur often enough that you, the reader, notice its importance and sense the weight or emotive quality of that theme as you continue. And if that theme is delivered with the right amount of subtlety and eloquence, it can make your experience with the poet’s work all the more powerful and unforgettable.

Here are some examples of themes I noticed in poetry books I’ve recently read:

• Billy Collins’ Nine Horses is grounded in a wide range of everyday activities and events. Sketching, writing and reading poetry, listening to (and pretending to play) music, traveling to foreign countries, rescuing a sparrow from the housecat on Christmas Day—you’d have to read all of the poems to fully grasp the breadth of Collins’ subject matter. And once you do, you’ll find themes such as imagination, the power of literature, the natural world, and gratitude woven throughout.
• Jenny Xie’s Eye Level, on the surface, appears to be a collection of poems about travel experiences and Xie’s childhood as a Chinese immigrant in the United States. But her word choices and introspective, pensive tone cue you in on Xie’s feelings of restlessness and lack of belonging. Thus, the themes in Eye Level include exploration, isolation, self-discovery, and identity.
• Natasha Trethewey’s Native Guard is organized into three seemingly distinct sections. The first one features elegies to her mother, the second confronts the Deep South’s long history of racism, and the final third focuses on Trethewey’s own experiences as a biracial child growing up in Mississippi. Thus, the central themes of each section overlap so that, as a whole, Native Guard is as much about race, mortality, and loss as it is about identity, family, and the significance of the past and one’s memories.

Looking for more DIY MFA posts about poetry? Check out Gabriela’s DIY MFA Radio podcast interviews with Marilyn Singer, David L. Harrison, and Kallie Falandays, as well as this post on Gabriela’s “not-so-epic” journey into poetry.

What are some of your favorite poems or poetry books? Can you identify their themes, either from memory or upon re-reading them? Do you have particular themes you enjoy reading about most in poetry? If so, what are they?

Sara Letourneau is a freelance editor and writing coach based in Massachusetts. She’s currently taking clients with manuscripts in speculative fiction, literary fiction, or YA, though she’s open to other genres as well. She’s also a poet whose work has appeared in Amethyst Review, Canary, Muddy River Poetry Review,Soul-Lit, and elsewhere. A Massachusetts resident, she can often be found performing her poems at local open mic nights, reading good books, and enjoying a cup of tea. Learn more about how Sara can help you with your writing at Heart of the Story Editorial & Coaching Services. You can also connect with her at her writer website, Twitter, Goodreads, or Instagram.

The post Identifying Themes in the Poetry We Read appeared first on DIY MFA.

Today, it’s time for the “how”. The case study hints at this with five keys for exploring family in our writing. This post, however, goes even deeper. So if you’d like some new techniques or exercises to help you practice this literary theme, grab a pen (or open a new word processing document) and let’s begin!

Demonstrating Relationships through Dialogue and Interaction

When writing about family, the relationships within your focus family will be front and center. Many of your story’s scenes should show these family members—your characters, in other words—interacting in expected and unexpected ways. For example, they might bond over preparing meals, keep secrets from one another, or express jealousy over a relative’s accomplishments.

However these interactions play out, they should make sense for the characters in each relationship. They should also be influenced by the relationship’s complexities and the history between the characters. Do they openly show each other affection? Are they distant or abusive (either physically or emotionally) to one another? Who is the decision maker or authority figure, and how do they demonstrate their power? Understanding these relationships will help you accurately and effectively create them on the page, and allow the reader to experience the unique emotions or conflicts of each one.

To illustrate family relationships in a scene, keep these six elements in mind:

• Purpose: What happens during the scene? Are its events an everyday occurrence or an extraordinary circumstance? Why is it important to the plot/story?
• Subtext: What is the relationship between these characters? What attitudes do they have toward each other? What opinions and fundamental beliefs do they share or disagree on? How do these underlying factors influence their interactions?
• Dialogue: What do the characters say? How clearly do they communicate their thoughts and feelings to each other? How does this interaction evolve as the scene progresses?
• Behavior & Body Language: How do these family members behave toward one another? What body language do they use throughout the scene?
• Emotions: What emotions are revealed in each character’s dialogue, behavior, and body language? How do these emotions impact the interaction’s outcome?
• Outcome: How does this interaction end? What impact does it have on the characters’ relationship? For example, are they angry at each other? Do they come to a mutual agreement? Are both characters satisfied, or did one bend to the other’s will?

Exercise #1: Write a scene where two family members from your story discuss a responsibility or commitment (household chore, miscommunication on a school pick-up time, late bill payment, etc.) that one of the characters has neglected. How does this scene reveal their relationship’s layers? How do the outcome and the emotions expressed affect the characters and their relationship? Make sure you consider the six elements listed above as you go along.

Also, feel free to try the exercises in our post on using dialogue to demonstrate literary themes.

Cultivating Conflict through Opposition and Antagonism

Every family relationship has its challenges. Even if two siblings or a parent and child usually get along well, they’re bound to disagree on something. It could be over an everyday occurrence (a sister borrows clothes without asking, or a son is late for school) or a life-changing event (a spouse admits to infidelity, or parents disapprove of an adult daughter’s fiancé). In this way, family members can act as antagonists, either in a minor role or as the main adversary.

This is NOT to say that an antagonistic family member is a villain. Yes, a villain is a type of antagonist, but a villain typically has malicious or harmful intentions toward the protagonist and/or her goal. But what if a parent, sibling, or other family member is a good person, even if their motives or desires don’t align with the protagonist’s? Recognizing this crucial distinction and developing your characters accordingly can help you keep any conflicts within your story’s family grounded and realistic.

What does it look like when family members experience conflict despite their good intentions? Here are two examples:

• Katherine Arden’s The Bear and the Nightingale: Vasya’s family loves one another deeply, but their bond is fraught with tension. For example, Vasya is constantly scolded by her father and older siblings for her adventuresome, impulsive behavior. And when father Pyotr brings home a stepmother, most of his children aren’t excited about a new woman taking their deceased mother’s place.
• Markus Zusak’s Bridge of Clay: Life for the Dunbar brothers is anything but conflict-free after their mother passes away and their father abandons them, leaving the eldest son, Matthew, in charge. They argue about unwanted pets sleeping on their beds, engage in fistfights, and disagree about staying in school—and that’s just for starters.

Exercise #2: Make a list or table of your protagonist’s family relationships and the tension within each one. Which of the protagonist’s attitudes, opinions, or fundamental beliefs differ from those of her mother, father, significant other, etc.? How does each character act toward one another when a conflict arises? Consider each character’s unique personality, motives, and behaviors as you work on each relationship.

Reflecting and Contrasting Family Dynamics with “Mirror Families”

Stories often feature mirror characters to reflect differences in personality, circumstances, and much more. In family stories, this technique goes a step further by using entire families as mirrors to one another. Giving your protagonist a second family—maybe a friend’s family, or another group of characters that acts as a family—to observe and spend time with can give her a new perspective on the function or meaning of family and motivate her to make other changes in hopes of improving her own family situation.

Typically a mirror family and its impact on the protagonist falls into one of three categories:

• Bright: This mirror family demonstrates more love, trust, or other qualities that the protagonist finds desirable, usually because her own family lacks these qualities. It therefore shows the protagonist that positive examples of families, or more positive ways of being a family, really do exist.
• Broken: This mirror family shocks or horrifies the protagonist (who comes from a happy family or views her family as boring or unbearable) with power struggles, abusive behaviors, and other harmful dynamics. As a result, it teaches the protagonist to be thankful for her family and to change her attitude for the better.
• Distorted: This family appears to be a Bright mirror until the protagonist learns a shocking truth or secret about the family that explains the tension or awkwardness she’s witnessed within their unit. She then realizes that no family is perfect and readjusts her perception or behavior toward her own family.

Exercise #3: Create a three-column table, with headings for “Bright,” “Broken,” and “Distorted.” Then, list any fictional families who act as a mirror to the protagonist’s family in the appropriate column. If it helps, write down why you believe each family is Bright, Broken, or Distorted. How many of each type can you identify? Which categories do you have an easy or challenging time identifying?

Exercise #4: Free-write about your protagonist and her family, including any stressful circumstances that will impact this family during the story (a divorce, moving house, abuse, etc.) and the protagonist’s attitudes toward each family member and her family as a whole. Then brainstorm a second family who could act as a mirror. What kind of mirror family would work best? How does this family differ from the protagonist’s? What will she learn from them? Make sure you consider the mirror family’s purpose in the overall story, how the protagonist meets this family, and what events make it necessary for her to spend time with them.

Using Major Life Events to Heighten Conflict

Weddings, divorces, birth of a child, death of a loved one—these and other major life events can change a family forever in profound and sometimes surprising ways. Such moments are also prime opportunities for highlighting the theme in question.

The key with these milestones is that they’re high-stress events. This stress will lead to extreme emotions (joy, exhaustion, grief, etc.) that rely on the nature of the event and on each character’s attitude toward these circumstances. It can also increase any existing tension between the characters involved. So while it’s normal for a bride and her mother to argue about wedding-planning details, any ongoing conflicts between these characters (for example, if the mother has control issues, or if the daughter is careless with her finances) could exacerbate their situation.

Don’t be afraid of complicating things for your story’s family. Conflict gives a story momentum and enriches it with emotion. Plus, it’s a part of family life, no matter if the family is biological or “found.” By building conflict naturally into relationships, everyday occurrences, and major events, you’ll ensure the family you’re creating will function just as any real-life family would.

Exercise #5: Create a grid or table that outlines how each member of your story’s family would feel toward or act during different major life events and any strains this would place on the family as a whole. For example, would the older sister be jealous if her younger sister got engaged first? Which child would be more emotional over the loss of their father? Does the mother go overboard when planning parties for these milestone? Will certain characters remain clear-headed and even-keeled in these situations? Then, write a scene using one of the scenarios you’ve brainstormed, using the questions and elements from Activities #1 and #2 above.

How have you explored family in your own stories? What other writing prompts or exercises would you recommend to help nurture this theme?

Sara Letourneau is a freelance editor and writing coach based in Massachusetts. She’s currently taking clients with manuscripts in speculative fiction, literary fiction, or YA, though she’s open to other genres as well. She’s also a poet whose work has appeared in Amethyst Review, Canary, Muddy River Poetry Review, Soul-Lit, and elsewhere. A Massachusetts resident, she can often be found performing her poems at local open mic nights, reading good books, and enjoying a cup of tea. Learn more about how Sara can help you with your writing at Heart of the Story Editorial & Coaching Services. You can also connect with her at her writer website, Twitter, Goodreads, or Instagram.

The post Exercises for Exploring the Theme of Family in Your Writing appeared first on DIY MFA.

Maybe it’s because family is one of the values I hold dearest. Or, maybe stories about family relationships (either fiction or nonfiction) move me more than romances do. Whatever the reason may be, I have a long list of recommended books that explore the theme of family. Maybe you have one, too.

So let’s trade favorites today. Yes, we’ve already discussed a number of books on the theme of family, thanks to this case study and our previous Theme: A Story’s Soul post on why this theme matters to readers. But it never hurts to share more stories that accomplish the “how” and “why” so well, right?

Here are five books that, in my opinion, are excellent examples of the theme of family.

Alanna: The First Adventure by Tamora Pierce (MG / YA Fantasy)

What happens when a father pushes his tomboy daughter to become a lady-in-waiting? She switches places with her twin brother so she can train to be a knight! But as much as this first installment of Tamora Pierce’s Song of the Lioness Quartet is an entertaining, magical coming-of-age story, it’s also about family relationships.

Having grown up with an emotionally distant father and without a mother, Alanna and Thom of Trebond have learned to rely on and take care of each other. This is evident in their “sibling swap” and in their letters to each other throughout the book. Their family isn’t the only one that’s featured, either. Once Alanna begins training as a page in the King’s palace, she learns the value of choosing a “family” of friends and confidants and gains a father figure in Sir Myles of Olau. She also encounters examples of healthy family relationships (George Cooper and his mother) and how familial love can blind us to a relative’s flaws (Prince Jonathan and his cousin Duke Roger).

Alanna: The First Adventure may be geared toward younger readers, but Pierce’s exploration of family here is complex and endearing, and it continues to be that way as the series progresses.

The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemisin (Fantasy)

N.K. Jemisin’s The Fifth Season takes places in the Stillness, a fictional continent that’s constantly ravaged by earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, and other natural disasters. Oddly enough, the setting’s geologic volatility is symbolic of the instability found in the relationships of its residents. Essun, for example, embarks on a heartrending quest after coming home to discover her husband has killed their son and kidnapped their daughter. In a different village and time, young Damaya finds a father figure in her Guardian after she’s taken from her birth family for training on her orogenic (earth-shifting) powers; while Syenite, a highly skilled orogene, is forced to conceive a child with fellow orogene Alabaster.

These and other families in The Fifth Season are driven by tension, disagreements, and child abuse or death. But the book isn’t without its moments of tenderness between parents and their children, or of characters creating nontraditional and “chosen” families.

If anything, the one parallel between all three women’s experiences is that the bonds of any family are sometimes as complicated and precarious as the world they live in.

Practical Magic by Alice Hoffman (Magical Realism)

At first glance, romantic love and the supernatural appear to be Practical Magic’s two main themes. But like most stories that revolve around family, Alice Hoffman’s bestselling novel begins with—what else?—a family. Orphaned sisters Sally and Gillian want nothing more than to escape the house where their spinster aunts practice witchcraft and concoct love potions, and to live their lives free of romance and passion. And escape they do, but in opposite directions and with the pain of resentment and misunderstanding.

Thus, Practical Magic evolves into a story about the inexplicable “magic” of family ties. The night-and-day differences between steadfast, responsible Sally and impulsive, whimsical Gillian make them a fun pair to study as they reunite, reconcile, and learn all over again to balance tolerance for each other’s differences with unconditional love.

The relationships that Sally’s two daughters have with their mother, their aunt, and one another also act as mirrors of Sally and Gillian’s bonds with one another and the tension the older women feel toward their own aunts.

Three Weeks with My Brother by Nicholas Sparks and Micah Sparks (Memoir)

In 2003, author Nicholas Sparks and his older brother Micah embarked on a three-week trip around the world, starting in the Mayan ruins of Guatemala and ending in the Arctic latitudes of Norway. During each tour stop, they find themselves recalling memories about their boyhood adventures, their parents, and their sister Dana. Thus, Three Weeks with My Brother is much more than a travelogue. It’s also the story of two brothers in their late thirties who are the last surviving members of their family, and how their bond helped them grow closer through all the tragedies and struggles they shared.

Most chapters in Three Weeks with My Brother begin with the world-travel storyline, using the Sparks brothers’ impressions of each location to illustrate the differences between the exuberant, take-charge Micah and the more subdued, reflective Nicholas. Then, to transition to the flashbacks storyline, the brothers share brief dialogue about their parents, their wives, or other insights connected to the next set of memories that follow. And through these flashbacks, which focus almost exclusively on family, readers learn the historical context of Nicholas and Micah’s relationship, the bonds they shared with the deceased members of their family, and the families they created with their spouses and children. As a result, both storylines use different techniques to highlight the theme of family in complementary ways.

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith (Fiction)

Considered an American classic, Betty Smith’s A Tree Grows in Brooklyn is the story of the Nolan family, who live in the Williamsburg neighborhood of Brooklyn during the 1910s. It focuses mainly on the oldest daughter Francie as she persists in her efforts to get an education and go to college despite gender expectations and poverty. But in order to provide enough context about Francie’s growth, Smith incorporates the pasts and personalities of other members of the Nolan family, from her parents and siblings to her grandparents, aunts, and uncles.

Much of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn’s delving into this theme comes from the challenges that the Nolans endure together. Johnny, Francie’s lovable yet alcoholic father, struggles to keep a job. So most of the family’s income (and overall survival) depends on mother Katie, who works as a janitress, saves every possible penny, and ensures her children stay in school. Family relationships, including the sibling bonds between Francie and younger brother Neeley and Katie and her sisters Sissy and Evy, play important roles in the story, too. Through these characters and the bits of backstory Smith shares about relatives on the Nolan and Rommely sides, readers learn how Francie’s family has influenced her personality and values for better or worse—and how, just as we often do with our own families, she loves them all despite their flaws.

Looking for more suggested reading on the theme of family? Check out these recommended book lists from Book Riot, Goodreads, and Barnes & Noble.

What other stories featuring the theme of family would you recommend for this list?

Sara Letourneau is a freelance editor and writing coach based in Massachusetts. She’s currently taking clients with manuscripts in speculative fiction, literary fiction, or YA, though she’s open to other genres as well. She’s also a poet whose work has appeared in Amethyst Review, Canary, Muddy River Poetry Review, Soul-Lit, and elsewhere. A Massachusetts resident, she can often be found performing her poems at local open mic nights, reading good books, and enjoying a cup of tea. Learn more about how Sara can help you with your writing at Heart of the Story Editorial & Coaching Services. You can also connect with her at her writer website, Twitter, Goodreads, or Instagram.

The post Additional Reading on the Theme of Family appeared first on DIY MFA.

In today’s edition of Theme: A Story’s Soul, we’ll examine five reasons that explain the importance of the theme of family. If five sounds like a stretch, then you might be pleasantly surprised as this post goes along. Remember, no two books examine one theme in the same way—which means the reasons for why a theme is so significant are just as numerous and complex.

1) It can remind us of the importance of birth families

For many of us, our biological family is our first and primary social unit. Our relationships with our parents and siblings shape who we are and create the foundation for relationships with people outside the family. If those familial bonds are healthy, we’re more apt to demonstrate genuine love, loyalty, and selflessness as a result. This kind of nurturing is something we often find in the stories we read. The Murrys in Madeline l’Engle’s A Wrinkle In Time, the unnamed man and his son in Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, and the Alden siblings in Gertrude Chandler Warner’s The Boxcar Children are just a handful of fictional biological families who demonstrate the power of their love and the great lengths that characters and real people alike will go to maintain or save those relationships.

2) It can address broken families and show how people endure or overcome such circumstances.

Sometimes the happy family is an ideal, and the reality we grow up with is much different. Many authors recognize this; and as a result, some stories that explore the theme of family reveal how complicated, fragile, or painful these relationships can be. Infidelity, disownment, neglect, abuse—such trials and tribulations can shatter families, both literally and figuratively. In fact, the broken or dysfunctional family is a frequent topic in creative nonfiction and memoirs such as Jeannette Walls’s The Glass Castle and James McBride’s The Color of Water (specifically Ruth McBride’s chapters in the latter).

This angle on the theme doesn’t just stress the trauma that a narrator or fictional character can experience in these families. It also shows how these individuals endure and rise above their circumstances, sometimes by leaving their birth family for a more loving “chosen” family (which we’ll discuss shortly). For some of us, these stories resonate more strongly than those in Reason #1. When we recognize our own not-so-happy family on the page, we feel less alone in our struggles and might be compelled to use the book as a guide to repairing or changing our circumstances for the better.

3) It opens our eyes to different types of families

Not all literary families are comprised of a husband, wife, and children. Many books that delve into this theme feature different types of families, including single-parent families, blended families, and families with same-sex parents. It’s also common for grandparents, aunts, uncles, and other members of the extended family to play crucial roles. (Remember Grandma Lynn in Alice Sebold’s The Lovely Bones? Or Aunt March in Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women?) By highlighting characters and relationships outside the traditional family, the theme’s portrayal becomes more multi-dimensional and realistic. We can then develop empathy for characters who grow up in a family structure that’s different from ours, or feel included and respected because we’ve found a literary family that resembles our own.

Similarly, the theme often embraces “chosen families.” Characters might lose their birth family due to distance, death, or other reasons, and then form new bonds with other characters they meet. Sometimes these relationships form out of necessity, like with the refugees in Ruta Sepetys’s Salt to the Sea. Other times they form out of a common purpose or location, like with Ruth McBride and her friends, neighbors, and church community in The Color of Water. These families might not be related legally or biologically, but the kinship they create and nurture is undeniable and realistic. In this way, stories about chosen families help us remember and acknowledge the people we consider to be “as close as family.” They also emphasize the importance of looking beyond our birth families for love, companionship, and support.

4) It can teach us how the concept of family differs across time and culture, and which aspects of family are universal

Pick up a historical fiction book, or a novel or play written over a century ago. Chances are you’ll find stories from long ago that demonstrate the theme of family. Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility, for example, illustrate the impact of social status on a family’s future as well as common familial obligations of 19th century Britain, such as a child’s compliance with their parents’ wishes and the parents’ responsibility for their children’s education and manners.

William Shakespeare’s Hamlet and Romeo and Juliet present darker angles on the theme, but they still address family expectations of Shakespeare’s era, as well as loyalty, love, and other values that are woven into the familial fabric. These and other such stories do more than offer a glimpse into family life in the past. They also reinforce how family has always been a fundamental part of people’s lives, and help us realize how the concept of family has changed over time in some ways and how, in other ways, it hasn’t changed at all.

The same can be said from a cultural perspective. When we engage with stories about families of a different ethnic, religious, or other sociological background than ours, we discover how the character’s culture and beliefs influence the family’s dynamics—and how, despite any differences, our own family might have a lot in common with the family we’re reading about.

Where these stories take place or whether they’re historical (Michelle Moran’s Rebel Queen, Lisa See’s Snow Flower and the Secret Fan) or contemporary (Ibi Zoboi’s American Street, Erika L. Sanchez’s I Am Not Your Perfect Mexican Daughter) doesn’t matter. These family-centric stories teach us empathy by acting as a window into family life in another culture and as a mirror of the values, challenges, and relationships we experience in our own.

5) It can highlight a family’s ability to come together during difficult times

What happens when your family experiences a tragedy or other shared heartache? Do you, your parents, siblings, and anyone else make sacrifices so you can be together to support each other? This is often the case with both real-life and fictional families.

The Pevensie siblings in The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, Charlie’s family in The Perks of Being a Wallflower, the Rossignol sisters in The Nightingale are just some of the literary families who struggle to overcome their differences but eventually find a way to reconcile, reunite, or cooperate to achieve a common goal, even if that goal is a sense of restored peace within that family. And when a story’s examination of the theme wraps up in this way, it can be incredibly inspiring. These endings remind us of how vital the ties that bind really are to our existence and how, when we value family beyond measure, we’re willing to do whatever it takes to keep those bonds strong.

In your opinion, why is family an important literary theme? What other reasons would you add to this list? Which family-themed stories have you read that are compelling examples of any of the above?

Sara Letourneau is a poet and speculative fiction writer in Massachusetts who devours good books, loves all kinds of music, and drinks copious amounts of tea. In addition to writing for DIY MFA, she was previously a Resident Writing Coach at Writers Helping Writers, freelance tea reviewer, and music journalist. Her poetry is forthcoming or has appeared in Amethyst Review, Muddy River Poetry Review, Canary, Soul-Lit, The Eunoia Review, Underground Voices, and elsewhere. Visit Sara at her blog, Twitter, Instagram, and Goodreads.

The post Why Is the Theme of Family Important? appeared first on DIY MFA.

Writing an introduction for someone else’s book, however, is not without its challenges. You might wonder what the author’s or publisher’s expectations might be, what you should actually write, or whether you’re “qualified” for the task. So if you’re ever asked to contribute to a book in this way, here are five tips to keep in mind.

1) Ask for the author’s and/or publisher’s requirements

It’s important to know what the author and their publisher are looking for before you write your introduction. So in your initial correspondence, ask questions that will establish the ground rules. For example, what is the recommended word count? When is the deadline for submitting the introduction, and to whom? Most importantly, what are the other parties looking for in terms of content? In my case, I posed these questions to Alison, who then passed them on to her editor and ensured I received answers in a timely manner. Also, since my deadline coincided with Alison’s deadline for submitting her manuscript, I made sure to submit my introduction before that date to avoid delays on my end.

2) Make sure you’re familiar with the book’s contents

Writing an introduction requires you to be familiar with the subject matter as well as the book’s specific contents. You don’t need to read every word of the manuscript or go in depth about its chapters. Instead, ask the author if they can send you select pages or sections that are important, a table of contents, or other materials for the project that can guide you in writing an introduction that is informative, fits the book’s “personality,” and avoids redundancy. You may also need to do additional research on the topic or the author as needed.

Being a follower of Alison’s blog, I was already familiar with its niche (recipes for foods inspired by classic literature) and the cookbook’s twist on that niche (literary-inspired dishes for tea parties). So for my research, I revisited Wonderland Recipes and reviewed several recipes, Alison’s blog updates on her publishing journey, and some of the fangirling—I mean, enthusiasm—in comments that Alison and I had exchanged about books and tea. Alison also shared information with me about A Literary Tea Party, including her introduction text for each section.

As a result, I developed a better understanding of the cookbook’s structure and delightfully nostalgic tone as well as which stories and recipes would be highlighted. This informed how I should write my introduction and what supporting or personal examples I could include that would be appropriate but not repetitive.

3) Study the introductions of similar books you’ve read

It often helps to study what other writers have done so you can see how they approached the same project and determine how to make yours unique. So before writing your introduction, read introductions for published books in the same or similar genre that you’ll be writing for. How does each writer begin their piece? How do they end it? What kinds of examples do they use? What else do you notice about each introduction? These were all things I considered while reading introductions and forewords in cookbooks and creative nonfiction books I own, including:

• The All New Good Housekeeping Cook Book (introduction by former Good Housekeeping editor Ellen Levine)
• So Easy: Luscious, Healthy Recipes for Every Meal of the Week (cookbook and introduction by Ellie Krieger)
• Gift from the Sea (written by Anne Morrow Lindbergh, introduction by her daughter Reeve Lindbergh)
• DIY MFA: Write with Focus, Read with Purpose, Build Your Community (written by Gabriela Pereira, introduction by Jacquelyn Mitchard—because, hey, why not? *wink*)

4) Demonstrate your knowledge of the book’s topic and your connection to the author

When brainstorming for your introduction, put yourself in the shoes of a potential reader and ask what you would look for in the introduction that could persuade you to keep reading. You can break this down further into questions such as:

• What examples can I include (either from research or personal experience) to show my knowledge on this subject?
• How has this subject impacted my life? How could it impact the lives of prospective readers?
• How can I summarize this book in one paragraph, and in my own words?
• How can I briefly explain my connection to this book and/or the author?
• What else can I say to entice the reader to keep reading?

With A Literary Tea Party, I started with a question: “Why do food and drink appear so often in great stories?” This question is integral to the cookbook’s paired topics and compels the reader to consider why this pairing makes sense. Plus, it created a natural path to other points I wanted to make: concise examples of food in literature and their significance, my love of reading (and my frequent habit of drinking tea while reading), and finally to the cookbook itself. I also briefly explained how Alison and I knew each other so readers would understand my personal connection to the cookbook and the author.

5) Overcome your sense of “Imposter Syndrome”

You know those moments when you feel like a fraud? When you’re convinced your writing isn’t good enough or your name isn’t well-known from your perspective, and other people will judge you for it? This is imposter syndrome in full force—and you bet I had a strong case of it with A Literary Tea Party. Even though I was thrilled to be writing the introduction, at times I still thought, “I’m not a published author. Yes, I’ve had plenty of other experiences as a writer, but do they make me qualified enough for this?” And once the cookbook was published, I wasn’t sure if, since I was “only the introduction writer,” I had as much reason to openly celebrate its release as Alison did.

Maybe you’ll feel the same way if you’re asked to write an introduction for another writer’s book. If you do, take a moment to consider your accomplishments thus far as a writer, your past and current writing projects, and any related experiences. Then see how they align with this latest task. Chances are you’ll discover that, yes, you are qualified enough. The author and the publisher clearly believe you’re the best candidate—that’s why they asked you in the first place.

So go ahead. Say “yes,” and write that introduction. Then, once the book is out in the world, celebrate its arrival as enthusiastically as the author does. You might end up persuading other people who might not have otherwise heard of the book to buy it.

Have you ever been asked to write the introduction of another writer’s book, or to contribute something similar to their project? What are some of your favorite introductions to books you’ve read? How did they convince you to keep reading?

Sara Letourneau is a speculative fiction writer and poet in Massachusetts who devours good books, loves all kinds of music, and drinks copious amounts of tea. In addition to writing for DIY MFA, she was previously a Resident Writing Coach at Writers Helping Writers and a freelance tea reviewer and music journalist. Her poetry is forthcoming or has appeared in Muddy River Poetry Review, Canary, Soul-Lit, The Eunoia Review, Underground Voices, and elsewhere. Visit Sara at her personal blog, Twitter, and Goodreads.

The post #5onFri: Five Tips for Writing an Introduction for Another Writer’s Book appeared first on DIY MFA.

But in other ways, my writing has suffered from it, and so have I.

Those times when I forced myself to write through scenes I was stuck on, just because I had to write first drafts sequentially? Or when I’d belittle myself for my “lack of speed” and slower progress compared to other writers? Or when I recently put aside a manuscript I’d lost the passion and vision for, then beat myself up for two weeks because I was convinced I was a failure? Yep. They’re all instances when perfectionism reared its ugly head, at my expense as well as that of my craft.

Today I’m here to urge you to never, ever be this hard on yourself. It’s not worth the pain, and it’s not the DIY MFA way. I’ll explain the latter shortly, but first…

How Does Perfectionism Affect Writers?

Perfectionism from a writer’s perspective isn’t always the expectation that whatever you write will be perfect as is. Rather, it can manifest in many ways. One writer might be disappointed if his first book doesn’t sell enough copies to hit the bestseller list. Another writer might struggle to stop editing one story and move on to something new. The possible sources—sky-high goals, a lack of confidence, a fear of failure—will differ from person to person. Regardless, if perfectionism affects you and your writing, it probably shows through in one or more of these ways:

• A narrow definition of success, based on unrealistic goals or the belief that your success depends on the approval of other people
• A hyperfocus on results and rewards (number of books published, accolades, positive reviews, etc.) over the actual creative process and your growth as a writer
• The tendency to compare yourself to other writers (published or not) frequently and unfavorably
• The need to constantly edit your work and delay completion of a draft or writing project
• Rigidity toward changing your writing process (adopting a new schedule, trying a new technique, etc.), even if those changes could lead to improvements
• A proneness to viewing all mistakes or setbacks, even minor ones, as failures
• A habit of punishing yourself harshly for perceived failures, usually through negative internal dialogue or self-questioning

Notice anything in common with these behaviors and beliefs? They hinder your writing more than help it. Any combination will usually lead to counterproductive habits, damaged self-esteem, and a general unhappiness with your craft. And in worst-case scenarios, they can stir up so much fear and anxiety that eventually you become convinced that nothing you write will live up to your or someone else’s standards…and you stop writing altogether.

This has happened to countless writers. It could happen to you, too—but only if you let it. That’s where some of DIY MFA’s most important principles come in.

The Importance of Remembering to “Fail Better”

What I’ve come to appreciate most about Gabriela Pereira’s DIY MFA teachings is that they acknowledge both the ambitious and human sides of a writing career. Yes, it’s good—essential, even—to have goals, strategies, and high standards. (And for perfectionists, our standards are head-spinningly high.) But things don’t always go as planned. Sometimes you won’t meet one of your goals. Sometimes you’ll face rejection from agents, publishers, and other people. Sometimes you’ll need to change your writing routine or take a break from a project because of real-life responsibilities.

And you know what? That’s OK. What matters is how you respond to each situation that triggers your perfectionism. Instead of focusing on how you haven’t met your standards, you learn from the experience and then move on. This is easier said than done, of course. But it’s ultimately the healthiest route for not just you, but for all writers—perfectionistic or not—to take in order to keep writing.

This is what I remembered when, after my recent battle with perfectionism, I found myself re-reading Gabriela’s DIY MFA book. I wasn’t sure why at the time, until I found two nuggets of wisdom that made me think, “Whoa. That’s exactly what I’ve been doing lately.” If you’re a long-time DIY MFA follower, you might recognize these insights as well:

• Fail Better (Pages 37 to 40): Why does Gabriela devote an entire chapter to coping with failure and rebounding from rejection? Because doing both is vital for your creative health. By facing your fears, finding allies, nurturing a “try again” attitude, and letting go of failure, you’ll grow as a writer and adopt new, more constructive habits that replace the perfectionistic ones.
• Do Not Compound Failure with Guilt (Pages 7 and 8): When you compound failure with guilt, you’re actually making your circumstances worse. This tendency to blame yourself for mistakes and setbacks manifests in some of the perfectionistic habits mentioned in this post. It also makes it more difficult to adopt the behaviors and mentality that allow you to fail better.

For more wisdom on failure, check out Gabriela’s “How to Make the Most of Failure,” Leanne Sowul’s “Learning Through Failure,” and this DIY MFA Radio podcast on Gabriela’s Mindfulness Manifesto for writers.

How to Let Go of Perfectionism the DIY MFA Way

Once I realized how harmful perfectionism has been for my writing, I began taking more active steps toward letting it go. This acknowledgement will be the first of many steps in making room for a healthier mindset and more fruitful and compassionate habits. If you want to do the same, try any of these suggestions that you think will help you work smarter, fail better, and feel more confident about yourself as a writer. It’s not an exhaustive list, but it’s a start.

Depersonalize Setbacks and Mistakes

What if you choose not to blame yourself the next time you experience failure with your writing? Instead of thinking “I failed,” think “This failed.” Then review the steps you took to get to this point and see how you can approach the next project differently. By replacing self-blame with objectivity, you’ll learn to accept and move on from mistakes and setbacks more easily—and without the emotional abuse that perfectionism carries.

Ensure Your Goals Are Realistic

Instead of setting goals for what you’d like to accomplish in a week, month, year, etc., look at your schedule and determine how much you can reasonably do within that timetable and at your own speed. If it helps, focus first on smaller, incremental goals that can act as stepping stones toward bigger ones.

Write Out of Sequence

Some perfectionists insist on writing sequentially, or from the opening sentence straight through to The End. But what happens if you get stuck along the way? Skipping to a different section that you’re visualizing or feeling more strongly allows you to keep writing while your subconscious processes how to move past that block. You might be pleasantly surprised with the results.

Let Your Rough Draft Be Rough

Do you frequently revise previously written scenes instead of working on new ones? As proud as you might be of those modified sections, you’re actually delaying completion of the first draft. Instead, let go of the notion that this draft should be “perfect”; and as you think of changes, make a list so you can save them for the revision stage. This will help you formulate a plan for Draft #2 while concentrating on the Draft #1 finish line.

Have a Conversation with Your Inner Critic

If that voice in your head starts criticizing you and your work again, try this journaling technique from writing coach Hillary Rettig. Let the inner critic express its thoughts, then respond with compassionate objectivity so you can rationalize its concerns and (if those concerns are valid) develop a plan to address them. You’ll feel less emotionally battered and more motivated to keep writing afterward.

Practice Flexibility

Change can paralyze perfectionists just as much as failure can. However, it’s an integral part of what we at DIY MFA call “iteration,” the process of figuring out what works for your unique writing process (or each writing project). So if some aspect of your process needs to change— your schedule, your approach to revisions, the environment where you write—think of it as an opportunity. Instead of fighting to keep what isn’t working, ask yourself what you can do to optimize or improve your process and then try it out.

Let’s be honest. Teaching yourself to let go of perfectionism, especially if you’ve resorted to those habits your whole life, is never easy. But don’t be discouraged by how long or bumpy that road might be. If you love writing enough to keep going through the ups and downs, then it will be worth the time and effort to become more mindful of your thoughts, be kinder to yourself, and change the way you approach your writing for the better. Think of it as taking the reins away from perfectionism and into your own hands. There’s real power in that attitude—wouldn’t you agree?

Have you suffered from perfectionism as a writer, either in the past or right now? Which habit(s) have been most damaging to your craft or self-esteem? Have you learned to let go of these habits or adopt new, healthier practices to replace them? If so, how?

Sara Letourneau is a speculative fiction writer and poet in Massachusetts who devours good books, loves all kinds of music, and drinks copious amounts of tea. In addition to writing for DIY MFA, she was previously a Resident Writing Coach at Writers Helping Writers and a freelance tea reviewer and music journalist. Her poetry is forthcoming or has appeared in Muddy River Poetry Review, Canary, Soul-Lit, The Eunoia Review, Underground Voices, and elsewhere. Visit Sara at her personal blog, Twitter, and Goodreads.

The post Letting Go of Perfectionism the DIY MFA Way appeared first on DIY MFA.

Then it hits you: I’ll be reading my work. Out loud. On a stage, in front of other people. What in the world was I thinking??

Yes, it’s daunting to sign up for your first live reading. But there are steps you can take before and during the event that can boost your confidence, calm your nerves, and—believe it or not—help you enjoy your performance. The list below is non-exhaustive, but these five tips are the ones that have proven most invaluable in my experience as an open mic poet.

1) Decide what to read, and practice it a few times

As the date for the reading comes closer, it’s a good idea to choose the piece(s) you’ll perform and become comfortable with reading them. You don’t need to memorize every word. Instead, print out a typed copy of each piece (or save a file containing all of the pieces on your smartphone) and rehearse it out loud once a day for two or three days prior to the event. As you read, pay attention to the overall tone of the piece so you can convey its emotions, and to points that require a pause or change in pitch. If it helps, underline words or mark up the piece so you can remember these inflections, and use a timer to check whether the reading fits the allocated time slot.

Also, make sure you know the maximum length of time your reading should be and if there are any restrictions (e.g., pre-established themes, no foul language or mature content if the event is kid-friendly). The event organizer will have these details, so don’t hesitate to reach out to them with questions.

2) Dress for success

What you wear for a reading might not seem like a big deal at first. But it can make a huge difference in your confidence onstage—and, of course, with the first impression you give the audience. The key here is to dress in a way that fits the ambiance and shows that you take yourself seriously as a writer and performer. If the venue is informal (most open mic nights and bookstore/café readings are), feel free to wear a good pair of jeans, a “business casual” top, and seasonal yet comfortable shoes. For a more formal setting, you might opt for your best shirt and slacks or a dress.

That being said, your outfit should also reflect your personality. Some poets, especially poetry slammers, view their clothing as part of their act. So if you want to wear bold colors and patterns, attire that’s representative of your culture, or your favorite hat, then go for it! And by feeling at home in your chosen threads, you’ll also feel less intimidated about your reading.

3) Maintain a slow, steady pace

It’s understandable if you’re so nervous about your reading that you want to rush through it. But the faster you read, the more likely your audience will have difficulty following what you say. So once you’re onstage, make every effort to pace yourself. Focus on one sentence or line at a time, and read each one slowly, carefully, and with just enough projection so you can hear each word through the speaker system. This will ensure your voice is loud and clear enough for your audience to understand you and to enjoy not just your performance, but also the quality of your writing.

4) Don’t judge yourself and your performance too harshly

Here’s a secret I’ve learned about open mic nights and public readings: Nobody will think poorly of you if your performance isn’t perfect. It’s human to feel embarrassed if you stutter, mispronounce a word, or briefly lose your place. But it’s also human to make mistakes, period. Ask a group of writers if they’ve flubbed up during a reading, and all of them will likely say “yes” (I know I have!). So if you stumble during yours, don’t dwell on it. Just smile, have a good chuckle, and keep reading. The audience will always clap for you at the end, and maybe even compliment you on your work later on.

5) Commend yourself for your courage

One of the most frequent comments I’ve received about my open mic performances is, “You’re so brave!” And it’s true—it takes a LOT of guts to go onstage and read your writing. But as I said in Tip #4, no one in the audience will criticize you for going up there. Chances are they’re there to enjoy the evening, support other performers, or maybe even read their own work. So, turn your focus to your growth as a writer. Think of this event as an opportunity to try something new (and a teeny bit scary) and connect with other creative people. Once your reading is over, congratulate yourself on a job well done—because, hey, you deserve it!

Have you ever read your work out loud to an audience? How was the experience? Would you do it again? What other suggestions would you add?

Sara Letourneau is a speculative fiction writer and poet in Massachusetts who devours good books, loves all kinds of music, and drinks copious amounts of tea. In addition to writing for DIY MFA, she is a Resident Writing Coach at Writers Helping Writers and is currently brainstorming / world-building two very different story stories. She also freelanced as a tea reviewer and music journalist in the past. Her poetry is forthcoming in Canary; and has previously appeared in The Curry Arts Journal, Soul-Lit, The Eunoia Review, Underground Voices, and two print anthologies. Visit Sara at her personal blog, Twitter, and Goodreads.

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