If stories are about change, and characters are the very symbols of this change, then writers must include a scene, if not the last scene, that proves such change has fruitioned. For better or worse.

What is Transformation? 

Whether or not you’re writing a prescriptive or cautionary tale, far and few (if any) readers like a story where nothing happens. Structure (or plot) and the complications that escalate throughout the beginning, middle, and end illustrate the exact forces demanding a character(s) transforms. Stasis is death. Stasis dooms any story to result in a flop.  

As writers, our job is to deliver the opposite. 

But it’s not enough to kind of change a character. Characters need to change in a significant way, and that’s what Signpost Scene #14 is all about: showing readers exactly how significant this change is. 

Don’t mistake change as synonymous with becoming a new person—although in some character cases, this happens. Characters can become stronger. Or, in a cautionary tale, fall far from their original status. In some cases still, a principled Protagonist who rises without compromise won’t change at all, but the surrounding characters supporting them most definitely will.

Regardless of the direction you take, your opening scene and your final scene—most likely the Transformation Signpost—will show the extreme character differences in a crafty way. Bell suggests that readers turn back to their Mirror Moment (Signpost Scene #7) to identify the exact kind of change your story needs, since the Mirror Moment shows us the Protagonist immersed in an extreme whiff of psychological, professional, or physical death. And based on this type of death, readers (and writers) can anticipate how that Protagonist (or their surrounding characters) need to change in order to get out of their story “alive.” (Or not, if you’re writing a story that ends with a tragedy.)

In the Mirror Moment, if the character “looks at himself, thinking Who am I?,” that character needs to become a different person by the end of the story. If he/she thinks they are going to physically die at the Mirror Moment (i.e. Midpoint), that character needs to “get stronger in order to live” (Super Structure, 109).

If the character is a principled character who rises without compromise, it’s likely the Mirror Moment will identify a conflict that truly threatens to break that character’s principles. And yet, by the end of the story, that character will become stronger than ever, without compromising, regardless of whether or not their actions lead to social betterment. (They will, however, have changed some characters around them.) The Protagonist Maximus in the movie Gladiator is a good example of this.

For a deeper look at how Transformation pays off in a big way, let’s turn to the classic novel and musical, Les Miserables.

Mirror Moment and Transformation Scenes in Les Miserables

At the Mirror Moment of Les Miserables, we have the beloved song, “Do You Hear the People Sing?” I wanted to pull this scene as the example for this post because it does a marvelous job at identifying both how 1) the characters need to change by becoming different people, and 2) the characters need to get stronger in order to survive.

Now, the Leading Protagonist and Central Character of Les Miserables is none other than Jean Valjean—who doesn’t appear in “Do You Hear the People Sing?” However, the funeral procession of General Jean Maximilien Lamarque and the forming of the barricade by the students (which occurs in this number) undoubtedly impacts Jean Valjean and the entirety of the story’s structure. In this moment, the rebelling students, led by another leading character, Marius, are posed with a major best bad choice: they can build a barricade while risking their lives (physical death), or they can remain “slaves” to the government (psychological death). They choose to risk their lives, therefore setting the stage that in order to get out alive, these characters need to get stronger to survive. 

Off Stage, Jean Valjean is desperate to protect his adopted daughter, Cosette, while also keeping his true identity secret. On the other hand, Cosette has fallen desperately in love with Marius, who is off for the revolution. For much of the musical itself, Jean Valjean’s character arc focuses on his war with the kind of man he was, is, and wants to be. The very lyrics in his solo “Who Am I?” pinpoint the transformation we long to see from Jean Valjean: he needs to become a different person in order to leave the audience/readers satisfied, if not deeply moved by the conflicts he overcomes in order to change. 

Now, let’s turn to the “Finale.” This is Signpost Scene #14: Transformation according to James Scott Bell in that this is the scene where we 1) see that Jean Valjean has become a different person, and 2) see how Cosette and Marius have become stronger in order to get married and survive (thanks to Jean Valjean). In these final moments, Jean Valjean is on his deathbed while Cosette and Marius comfort him shortly after their wedding. The action is equally simple and remarkably beautiful in that we see Jean Valjean, who started the story a prisoner, criminal, and broken man, taking his last breath with pride and peace in what he was able to nurture and save. He becomes a different person, for a big reason because of Cosette. And knowing that Cosette, now married to her love and a good man, is safe and happy allows him to die in peace. 

Even better, Jean Valjean’s death, while sad for Cosette and Marius, illustrates exactly how he is rewarded for the good life he led post his criminal days. He reflects on how “to love another person is to see the face of God” and leaves his physical world for heaven, accompanied with the spiritual beings of Fantine and Eponine. 

Likewise, thanks to Jean Valjean, Marius is the only character of his friends to survive the barricade. He’s been rescued and gains his strength—and a new wisdom—which allows him to take his place as Cosette’s husband, new provider, and family as Jean Valjean passes.

The Transformation of Jean Valjean ends his character arch with spectacular change. He knows who he is, and he parts this world transformed, whole and at peace. 

Final Thoughts

Structure is essential to a story’s success, and without change, readers/viewers will fail to find the story’s purpose or admire it long after the last line. Ultimately, what structure boils down to for the writer can be discovered with one essential question: what do you want your readers/audience to feel at the end of the story? Or, what lesson do you want them to learn?

How your character begins and ends is inevitably tethered to this beginning and final emotion. Imagine your Protagonist at the start of your story. Now, envision them at the end. Listen to your emotions. How were your feelings different? What did the Protagonist learn? 

Write this down.

Use the other 13 Signpost Scenes in James Scott Bell’s Super Structure to challenge and establish this change.   

Enjoy the structure process!

Abigail K. Perry is a Teacher-Turned-Certified Story Grid Editor with literary agency, publishing, and production experience. With a B.S. in TV, Radio, and Film from Syracuse University (Newhouse) and a Master’s in Secondary Education from Endicott College, Abigail created and taught three creative writing and film courses at the high school level for several years, and she continues to teach writers at her local bookstore and with her email list.Although trained in multiple genres, Abigail specializes in Scripts, YA Fantasy, Contemporary Fiction, Upmarket Fiction, and Women’s Fiction, many of which she reviewed (and loved!) as an editorial intern for P.S. Literary Agency’s VP and Senior Literary Agent, Carly Watters. She currently works at P.S. Literary as the Agency Relations Assistant. 

To learn more about Abigail, follow her on twitter @abigailkperry, Instagram @abigailkperry, or visit her website www.abigailkperry.com.

The post Transformation — Signpost Scene #14 (The Final Signpost!) appeared first on DIY MFA.

If you haven’t (I encourage you do!), here’s a quick summary: we’ve just left Act II and are entering Act III.

Mounting Forces is the beat that signals a shift in a dramatic way, immediately following a major loss for the main characters—an all-is-lost kind of loss—that we get in the last scene of Act II.

Mounting Forces

Mounting Forces, or Signpost Scene #10 in James Scott Bell’s Super Structure, is a trigger moment that reinforces the main character’s (and the reader’s) awareness that the Final Battle is just around the riverbend.

Main characters can’t return home or find peace or finish their story if they don’t take action. They must prepare for the Final Battle. The good news is they’ve gained companions up to this moment. And with any luck, they are loyal allies eager to gather at the main character’s side.

James Scott Bell says “mounting forces is perhaps the most logical beat in all of Super Structure…Act III is like going over a waterfall. You can’t stop it. The antagonist knows this, and gathers his strength.” AKA: The antagonist mounts his forces, too.

The combination is what makes this moment so powerful. Stakes are raised because one character doesn’t sit silently while the other arms themselves. They’re both aware—if not consciously—that their quarrel isn’t over yet. The antagonist would be a fool to expect anything less.  

This awareness motivates the antagonist to prepare for the Final Battle, which raises your main character’s external and internal stakes. The death on the line is obvious to both parties, and such a high stake isn’t taken on without preparation.

Aladdin: An Example

For today’s article, riding on the hype of Disney’s latest real-life adaption of Aladdin, I thought it would be fun to shift gears from books and look at the Mounting Forces in this Disney classic.

What do you think it is? Where does Aladdin gather forces for one last, crazy-difficult attempt to take out Jafar?

I’ll give you a hint: Aladdin’s All is Lost moment (titled Doorway of No Return #2 in Super Structure) is when Jafar, empowered by Genie, exiles Aladdin to the snowy abyss in no-man’s land thousands of miles away from Agrabah.

How does Aladdin deal with this? The rest of Act III unravels this question, and it starts with how he mounts his forces.

Aladdin had time to figure his problems out in Act II, but in Act III time has run out. If he is going to live with himself, he can’t give up. He needs to redeem his wrongs. He needs to return, imposter and all, to save Jasmine and the Sulton—Agrabah. He needs to free Genie.

With Abu and Carpet by his side, they enter the endgame. Stakes are higher than ever. And while Jafar only really has Iago as his companion, he’s stolen Genie and enslaved him to his power-hungry wishes.

Oh boy. How can anyone beat a genie?

Setting up a Mounting Forces Scene

To execute your Mounting Forces Signpost, go back to your main character’s death stakes (professional, psychological, and/or physical). Make a list of ten moments that challenge these stakes, preferably for each category.

Once you’re done, organize that list. Order them in a way that escalates danger. Skim it over. What are the deadliest stakes? Pick one that is undoubtedly deadly, but save the deadliest for the climax.

This might look something like:

• Aladdin is a “street rat” who scavenges for food (survival)
• Aladdin is sent to jail
• Aladdin is trapped in the Cave of Wonders
• Aladdin almost dies in the Cave of Wonders (high death stakes!) but is later saved by Genie
• Aladdin attracts Jasmine but as a “prince,” which is a lie. Jafar realizes this and things get really messy
• Aladdin is captured and thrown over a cliff (high death stakes!)
• Aladdin can’t wish for Genie’s freedom because he is living a lie
• Aladdin loses Genie and is revealed as a fraud
• Aladdin is exiled to a snowy wasteland without Genie
• Aladdin needs to fight Jafar without Genie (luckily he still has Carpet and Abu to help!)

Now plot out your own Mounting Forces scene and then put it into words. Have fun writing this thrilling, escalating moment!

Until next time.

Abigail K. Perry is a certified Story Grid Editor who specializes in stories that celebrate women with plots driven by the main character’s emotional journey, the Agency Relations Assistant for P.S. Literary Agency, an editor and outliner for Relay Publishing, a monthly columnist for DIY MFA, a proud member of WFWA, and most notably, a teacher for writers serious about leveling up their writing craft.

She earned her B.S. in TV, Radio, and Film from Syracuse University (S.I. Newhouse School of Publications) and a Master’s in Secondary Education from Endicott College. Abigail created and taught three creative writing and film courses at the high school level. She continues to teach writers with her email list Writer’s Weekend Workshop, vlog Scene Slayer, and podcast Slush Pile Survivor (vlog and podcast coming summer 2019).

Believing there is no greater connection between people than storytelling, it is her life’s aspiration to write, teach, represent, and sell stories that remind us of the importance to empathize with all people—and to cherish and share that unique spark that makes our manuscript special.

If you like Abigail’s work, you can support her by following her on twitter @abigailkperry and Instagram @abigailkperry. Or, check out her writing and editing services on her website www.abigailkperry.com

The post Mounting Forces — Signpost Scene #10 appeared first on DIY MFA.

One of the most well-known terms defines a moment essential for every story. It comes at the very end of your middle act and pushes your Lead into a new world where they can never go back. A sister to the Point of No Return, or James Scott Bell’s Doorway of No Return #1, Bell calls this important moment The Doorway of No Return #2. It’s signpost scene #9 in his 14 Signpost Scenes outlined in his brilliant book on structure, Super Structure.

You might know it as the All is Lost moment.

It’s importance? This action defines one of two of your Lead’s major decisions made in the story. It is when she is faced with the choice to go on, quit, or take a new direction.

And like any great heroine, it’s this moment where chaos tries to ruthlessly bolt her to the ground that she must dig deep and discover who she wants to be—how she will transform in order to take on the story’s climax.

With suffering comes opportunity for tremendous triumph. But without the Doorway of No Return #2—without the All is Lost Moment—readers won’t care about the exciting showdown that follows.

Here’s how you write it.

Tying Up Your Middle Act

The Middle Act, or Act II, is the meat of the hero’s journey. Consisting of a healthy 50% of your book’s bulk, this is where your heroine is challenged with tests and trials, where they make enemies and allies, where they face massive external and internal stakes—all of which are leading to the final outcome where your Lead wins, or loses, their primary “want.”

Joseph Campbell called this the “unordinary world,” in other words, your hero’s uncharted territory where they set out to achieve some external goal while challenged with obstacles that stretch their internal limits.

This is the part of the book where Luke Skywalker joins Obi One on the quest to become a Jedi Knight. When Scarlet O’Hara “has to get out of Atlanta with Melanie and her baby before the Yankees arrive.” When Harry Potter enrolls at Hogwarts to become a wizard. When Starr Carter navigates her two worlds with understanding and awareness.  

But at the end of your Middle Act, something unavoidably important needs to happen. James Scott Bell says that, “in a novel, the second doorway is a major crisis or setback, or some sort of clue or discovery.”

Whatever it is—action or revelation—this moment needs to be the biggest moment—the traumatic loss—in the second act. Without it, there is no final motivation to hurl your Lead into the Final Act of the book.

And let’s face it, that final showdown is what every reader has been waiting for, so don’t cut readers short.

Little Fires Everywhere — A Major Success

It’s no wonder Celeste Ng’s second novel Little Fires Everywhere (Penguin Random House) was a wild success. Filled with domestic suspense, complex and memorable women, and timely topics that initiate conversations including race, the ugly innards of pretty-pretty suburbs, and abortion, this book’s intense market strategies were only bite-size-bits of what ignited praise.

For a full look at Little Fires Everywhere’s plot, check out this New York Times review.

The book opens in the moment waiting for us at the climax: Izzy, the youngest Richardson daughter, is suspected of burning her house down. All her siblings—and her parents—think she did it. Plus, she’s missing. There’s nobody willingly left to defend her. Nobody in town who thinks otherwise.

With this mystery in place—paired with the riveting domestic tension binding the Richardsons—readers forge forward wondering if Izzy is indeed the culprit of the fires, and if she is, why she did it.

But what readers get is something far more than a fire-burning mystery: we experience a deep look at a quiet suburb in Ohio and the tantalizing family secrets exposed inside the town’s (too-finely) manicured walls.   

And while the cast is an ensemble that includes individual members from the Richardson family, it is Mia and Pearl Warren—the newcomers to the town—who are the Leads driving the story’s macro conflict. Mia in particular. Mia, the single-mother of Pearl, the artist, the unconventionalist, the one who understands what it’s like to live the life less-traveled, and the sacrifices that this choice often comes with.

Mia is the Lead and the heroine that the reader uses to witness and understand the corrupt events intoxicating the town of Shaker Heights. But at what cost? Mia’s “threatening” way of life—her meddling in a court case that infuriates nosey Mrs. Richardson—is what gives Mrs. Richardson the delusional belief that she is justified in exposing Mia’s skeletons. (Gag.)  

And it’s this confrontation, this searing tension, that delivers the All is Lost moment in the end of Act II.

Mia’s Doorway of No Return #2   

By the three-quarter mark (page 227) a lot has happened. Mia, single mother and artist, lives an unconventional lifestyle foreign to the fancy, privileged town of Shaker Heights. And for someone like Mrs. Elena Richardson, different (whether she’s admit this to herself or not) is a threat.

At its macro level, Mia finds herself center-stage in this tight-knit community: she avoids her past, she learns of the whereabouts of her Chinese friend Bebe’s baby, and she shares this information with Bebe—encouraging her to file to get her nearly-adopted daughter back. And during all of this, Mia freely lives on the outside; she observes the sticky interior tangled inside the conventions governing this tiny town at a small distance.

By the time Doorway of No Return #2 (end of Act II) rolls around, the truth of Mia’s mysterious past is revealed: (spoiler alert!) she ran away from her family while pregnant with her daughter Pearl, who she was under contract to give to another married couple (she was a surrogate mother).

Through backstory, we’ve learned that Mia has a poor relationship with her parents—the last line severed at an especially low time in her life: her brother Warren was killed in a car accident, and her parents disown her at the mere thought of her selling her baby to another couple.

Mia is familiar with disagreements between her and her mother, but usually her father steps in with some inkling of support. This is not the case at Doorway of No Return #2; the knife already piercing her heartbreaking wounds twists: her father rejects her decision—and her, too.

        Mia glanced at her father. She felt exactly as she had as a child, when she’d broken something or ruined something or spent on the film the money that her mother had meant for clothes: in those moments her mother would rage and scream and run to her room, leaving Mia with her father, who would squeeze her hand and let the quiet lap over them like milk, then say quietly, “Buy a new one,” or “Give her an hour, and go apologize,” or sometimes, simply, “Fix it.” This was how they’d always fought. But this time her father did not take her hand. He did not say to her, Fix it. Instead he looked at her belly, as if he couldn’t bear to look at her face. His eyes were wet and his jaw clenched.

“Dad?” she said at last. She would have preferred shouting to this protracted, knife-sharp silence.

“I can’t believe you’d sell your own child,” he said, and then he, too, left the room.

This. This is Mia’s lowest moment. While told in backstory, this scene is what sheds light on the events that have brought Mia to where she is in the story’s present, living in Shaker Heights with Pearl. Mia is happy with her life and decisions. Joyous, in fact, but the largest skeleton in her closet hangs on the reality that she’s never told Pearl the truth about her father.

Plus, Elena Richardson has done some seriously intrusive digging to find out the truth.

Knowing this All is Lost moment is what sets the reader up for the quickly approaching climax in Act III: Elena, the antagonist for Mia and another essential character in the book, is going to use this information to threaten Mia. As readers, we sit in anxious anticipation of how Elena is going to treat Mia, how Mia will respond, and what the outcome for this amazing heroine will be in the end.

But we wouldn’t care half as much if we didn’t know who Mia was and what she is up against.

Why Every End of Middle Act Needs a Doorway of No Return #2

As James Scott Bell points out in his novel Superstructure, “Unless there is a way to get to the final battle, Act II will go on forever. The natural rhythm, of the three-act structure dictates that this second doorway open up with about one quarter or a little less of the book left.”

If you don’t believe me, go examine some of your favorite masterworks and ask yourself this: when Act II comes to a close, do you see some earth-shattering, broken, all is lost moment? Does the world seem to crash down on your Lead, and if it does, does it force them to make a major decision?  

It’s this decision, to walk through the Doorway of No Return #2, that raises the macro story’s external and internal stakes. That prepares us, eyes glued to the page, for the final showdown quickly approaching.  

In life, it sometimes takes losing what’s essential to realize how much we cherish something else. In stories, this is brought into the light by an All is Lost moment awakened in the Doorway of No Return #2.

Put Doorway of No Return #2 into Practice

What’s waiting for your Lead at the end of the middle act? What kind of cataclysmic event resuscitates the reality of that Lead’s “All is Lost”—i.e. worst thing that could happen to them—in that moment? Knowing this is essential to elevating your macro story’s internal and external stakes.

Write 500-words on this idea. Talk it out in the comments! Draw a picture or make a vision board that mirrors your Lead’s emotions in this moment.

When you’re done, write the scene. Let it rest. Go back and rewrite. Rewrite again.

On the read it rips your Lead raw—stop.

Congratulations, you’ve written something unquestionably beautiful! And essential for a strong story’s structure.  

Abigail K. Perry is an editorial intern for P. S. Literary Agency as well as a women’s and fantasy/women’s fiction writer (she’s an aspiring literary agent, freelance editor, and published author). Abigail is getting certified in The Story Grid editing methodology in Feb 2019.

During her day job, Abigail teaches creative writing and film production to grades 9-12. She received her B.S. in TV, Radio, and Film from Syracuse University and her Master’s in Education from Endicott College; she has interned as a creative production intern for Overbrook Entertainment and as a marketing and sales (special projects) intern for Charlesbridge Publishing.

In other experiences, Abigail is a member of the DIY MFA street team and a loyal follower of Writer’s Digest and The Story Grid, where she has participated in a number of conferences, retreats, workshops, and webinars. She holds stories close to her heart, and she’s always looking for ways to help writers polish/sell their #WIP into a publishable manuscript. For more #WritingCommunity #WriteTip #AmWriting #WritingPrompt #AmEditing #AskEditor resources, follow Abigail on twitter @abigailkperry, Instagram @abigailkperry, and website www.akperry.com.

The post The Doorway of No Return #2 — Signpost Scene #9 appeared first on DIY MFA.

In order to avoid losing your readers, give them a Pet-The-Dog scene immediately before or after The Mirror Moment: this can be “as extreme as having the Lead save somebody’s life, or as small as giving a kind word to someone in need.”

Whatever it is, raise the stakes by making the Lead put his/her own interests aside in order to aid the needs of another. If nothing else, this illustrates potential for goodness within the Lead, even if we only mostly see their nasty, darker insides.

Pet the Dog Requirements and Examples

If you’re a screenwriter, you might think “pet the dog” sounds oddly familiar. That’s because it is. The screenwriter Blake Snyder coined the term “save the cat” back in 2005 when he published his book, Save the Cat: The Last Book on Screenwriting You’ll Ever Need. Basically, it’s a moment early on in a film when we’re still getting acquainted with the Lead; it’s a sympathetic action the Lead makes that influences our impression and likeability of him/her.

Some of these actions could involve helping/protecting the:

• Elderly   
• Weak
• Young/innocent
• Animals, particularly dogs (get it, pet the dog?)
• Underprivileged/oppressed
• Distressed

Ultimately, it’s a character/animal that the Lead puts above their own interests, even at the risk of losing their want/objective in the scene. (FYI: If you choose one of these examples for your #WIP, make sure you don’t create a melodramatic scene by throwing in something completely random. The strongest Pet the Dog moments will weave in a greater purpose, and probably will become a key player in the Lead’s ability to accomplish his/her story objective—i.e. wants, and needs.)

The Save-The-Cat moment in a film is, essentially, James Scott Bell’s The Care Package scene, signpost scene #2.

So if the purpose for The Care Package and the Pet the Dog scenes are similar, how are they different?

If I’m being honest, they’re more alike than not, but the trick is the scene’s placing in the plot: Pet the Dog occurs right after The Mirror Moment in order to show or reinforce that the Lead has a heart. (Bell admits that this could be a “reluctant heart,” depending on the character/genre you’re writing, but he/she “follows it nonetheless.”)

For today, let’s focus on a badass heroine with a more obvious Pet the Dog scene—yet an incredibly strong one.

Of course I’m talking about Katniss Everdeen and when she befriends Rue.

The Hunger Games: Pet the Dog

Katniss’s Pet the Dog scene occurs immediately after her Mirror Moment, when she was tied to a tree, injured, all while being stalked by Capital 1 and 2 tributes, along with Peeta and some others pulled into the gang of elites. And although Rue, hidden in a different tree, is the one who points out the Tracker Jackers, the girls are separated during the desperate escape. Katniss later wakes up from her hallucinated state, covered in leaves that work like medicine for her wounds. Meanwhile, Rue lingers near Katniss at a distance, not sure if Katniss will bring her into her inner-circle, or kill her. Rue is easy prey, after all, and Katniss could benefit from one less opponent in the games.

And yet, Rue is 12-years-old. So young! Not to mention she mirrors a less naive replica of Prim (foil character alert!).

So yes, yes of course Katniss chooses to join forces with Rue. This little girl is scared and alone. Yes, yes, a thousand times over yes.

Passage: The Katniss and Rue Scene

Why this Works

This scene shows Katniss helping somebody weaker than herself and risking her own neck in the process—during the Part II section of the story (Katniss does this for Prim in Part I, and her soothing Prim’s nerves while dressing her for The Reaping is The Care Package scene. Spot a pattern?).

“As seen with the Care Package, we are sympathetically drawn to characters who don’t only think of themselves.” – James Scott Bell, SuperStructure

Pet the Dog scenes intensify our love (or at least concern/curiosity) for the Lead, thus reminding us that there’s a whole lot more we have to learn about the Lead, and we have an entire second half of the book to figure that complex personality out.

If I’ve learned anything about storytelling over the years, it’s that a story is only as strong as our love for and/or interest in the main characters.

Don’t give us a reason to like your Lead, show us a reason to LOVE him/her.

Writing Assignment

Now that you understand the Pet the Dog moment, go back to your #WIP. Ask yourself:

• Do I want my Pet the Dog moment to come slightly before or after The Mirror Moment?
• How can I show my Lead’s concern for somebody while making it intentional for the plot—i.e. not random or melodramatic?
• Why will this action make my readers love my Lead?
• What is the Pet the Dog moment for other books in the genre I’m writing?

Once you’ve figured these out, give writing your Pet the Dog scene a go. Write a scene in Act II where your Lead sets aside his/her own safety and interests to help someone else, at the risk of hindering his/her personal interests.

You can do it. I have faith in you, and as always, I’m here to answer any of your questions.

Good luck!

P. S.

If you benefited from this passage, send it to another #WritingCommunity friend! It’s scary to share our work, but we can only grow when we gather the courage to put our work out in the world. Find a writing community that supports your values while maintaining honesty when giving feedback. I’ll be that person for you, or if you don’t want to share with me, go find a group in your local community or social media. They’re out there. They’re all around! And I bet they’re dying to meet you.

Abigail K. Perry is an editorial intern for P. S. Literary Agency as well as a women’s and fantasy/women’s fiction writer (she’s an aspiring literary agent, freelance editor, and published author). Abigail is getting certified in The Story Grid editing methodology in February 2019.

During her day job, Abigail teaches creative writing and film production to grades 9-12. She received her B.S. in TV, Radio, and Film from Syracuse University and her Master’s in Education from Endicott College; she has interned as a creative production intern for Overbrook Entertainment and as a marketing and sales (special projects) intern for Charlesbridge Publishing.

In other experiences, Abigail is a member of the DIY MFA street team and a loyal follower of Writer’s Digest and The Story Grid, where she has participated in a number of conferences, retreats, workshops, and webinars. She holds stories close to her heart, and she’s always looking for ways to help writers polish/sell their #WIP into a publishable manuscript. For more #WritingCommunity #WriteTip #AmWriting #WritingPrompt #AmEditing #AskEditor resources, follow Abigail on twitter @abigailkperry, Instagram @abigailkperry, and website www.akperry.com.

The post Pet the Dog — Signpost Scene #8 appeared first on DIY MFA.

What did Bell discover?

The Mirror Moment, otherwise known as Signpost Scene #7 in the 14 signpost scenes Bell outlines in Super Structure.

The Mirror Moment

Bell explains that at every midpoint, there is a moment where “the main character has to figuratively look at himself, as in the “mirror” and be “confronted with a disturbing truth: change or die.” In other words, the importance of reinforcing a whiff of death moment (be it physically, psychologically, or professionally) is thrust upon the Lead character(s) in a massive way: if they do not change, they die (sometimes metaphorically, sometimes actual death).

Taking this thought a step further, editor Shawn Coyne (author of The Story Grid and editor with over 25 years of experience)—defines the Mirror Moment (he calls this “the middle build crisis scene”) as a “moment of revelation where the character or characters decides that the way that they used to be is not going to work, and that they have to strive forward for something else.”

Now there’s a thought: every story’s midpoint, in order to save the middle from losing tension and slowing the pace, must involve an event that challenges the protagonist/characters to change, or else.

Or else what? There’s no story? I’d strongly argue not a very good one, at least not one that is likely to catch the attention of a publisher, agent, editor, or readers—unlike Andy Weir, who nails The Mirror Moment in his novel The Martian (a rags to riches story in itself).

From Rags to Riches: The Martian

Not only is Andy Weir’s The Martian an extraordinary example of how to weave fiction with science (driven by a witty, badass botanist), but it’s the perfect example of how a self-published book (one that Weir sold for 99 cents on Amazon, though he wanted to sell it for free!) snagged an agent (who contacted him, which almost never happens), and secured a book deal (with Random House) and film deal four days apart. (The print version of The Martian has now sold nearly a million copies.)

What makes The Martian so popular? All right, loads of reasons, but certainly solid plot structure hits the top of that list, including The Martian’s Mirror Moment.

(If you want to read more about Andy Weir’s rags to riches story, check Micah White’s awesome blog on Biography.)

The Martian’s Mirror Moment

A little backstory: at this point in the novel, Mark Watney (Matt Damon in the film), a botanist/astronaut who took part in NASA’s mission to Mars, has been accidentally mistaken for dead and left behind. A resilient science genius, he discovers a way to maintain oxygen and generate water, and by doing so he successfully grows potatoes, which he plans to survive off until the next mission to Mars can rescue him.

Meanwhile, back on Earth, NASA has figured out that Watney is alive. However, they can’t risk telling the crew on The Hermes (the spaceship), because to do so would risk the lives of the entire crew, instead of one man.

So here comes the big question: Is one man greater than the mission, or is the mission greater than the life of one man?

This is the conundrum that the Hermes crew faces at the Mirror Moment: after discovering the truth about Watney (that he’s alive), paired with a set of plans (secretly sent by someone in NASA since NASA’s director did not approve the plan), they need to decide if they’re willing to sacrifice a list of values in order to save their friend.

Naturally, there’s a big discussion between the crew members, since Captain Lewis (Jessica Chastain in the film) makes it quite clear that to follow the plan would mean committing mutiny. She votes for the rescue mission, but urges the crew to consider all they’d be giving up before they decide what they want to do. She says that the decision must be unanimous—since taking on the mission means adding hundreds of days in space, as well as risking anyone who is military to be court martialed—and the high probability that something goes wrong and they die.

Got it? Ok, awesome! Now let’s rewind a bit to the event that pushes the crew into this conundrum: when the first NASA plan—to send a ship with supplies to Mars for Watney to survive off until the next crew, a DIFFERENT crew, arrives four years later—fails.

It comes on page 185, and it’s nothing but terrible news for the crew, and NASA, and the world—and Watney, who is the foundation for everything that happens in this story—i.e. the prime reason we are reading this book, and the beating heart that influences all of NASA faculty’s missions and decisions:   

Millions of kilometers away, the crew of Hermes listened as they crowded around Johanssen’s station. The two-minute transmission time didn’t matter. They had no way to help; there was no need to interact. Johanssen stared intently at her screen, although it displayed only the audio signal strength. Beck wrung his hands. Vegal stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the floor. Martinez prayed silently at first, then saw no reason to hide it. Commander Lewis stood apart, her arms folded across her chest.

Now, before you tell me this has nothing to do with Watney or him looking in a mirror and contemplating his need to change or die, let me explain: this inability for the crew to do anything but listen and wait has EVERYTHING to do with Watney’s physical chance at survival vs. death. And while this part of the mission fails, and while it’s a bit longer before the crew plans for another rescue mission, it’s this moment that impacts everybody’s realization: if the crew doesn’t do something different than go home, Watney dies.

Simple as that.

The Crisis in the Mirror Moment

The crisis in the Mirror Moment is pretty straightforward: it’s a review from the crew about the costs and benefits of aborting their current mission (going home) and rescuing their friend (against NASA’s orders). At its simplest perspective, this is a really nice moment of camaraderie where the characters hash out the realities of undertaking the new (can they or can they not do it), which moves on to their evaluation of the consequences they could face (court marshal, be in space for another year and a half, won’t see families, death). And because the ultimate decision must be unanimous, this is a great example of a cast of characters who set out on a course to be better.

The characters must make a choice.

They must look in their figurative mirror and decide what they’re going to do next.

They face death, leading to a question involving physical and psychological survival: now that they know their friend is alive, can they live with themselves if they go home, or should they risk death (among other sacrifices and potential stakes) in order to save Mark?

Of course, they choose to save Mark.

And by doing so, readers have a handful of additional reasons to care about what happens next.

Why This Works

Bell argues that the Mirror Moment—in his humble opinion—is the “most potent of all the signposts.” This signpost scene takes you to the heart of your story, and it helps you define the type of novel you want to write.

What your characters decide to do at The Mirror Moment will change the trajectory of their lives, all while reinforcing the character’s (or story’s) need for change.

It reminds us that a story’s character is dealing with really tough, challenging decisions, and these characters—character we love—will die if they don’t do something.

So if you’re feeling stuck in the middle of your novel, ask yourself: does your midpoint involve a Mirror Moment? Are the stakes death stakes? What is the ultimate decision?

Try It

Dig up five of your favorite books and/or movies. Jump to the center of the book/movie and dissect the scene. Can you find the moment that the character(s) realize they have to change or die? What kind of death do they face? Why is it important that they change, and how do they change in this moment?

Note, often it’s “only when we must change that we do change.”

Now that you understand The Mirror Moment, try to apply the same need to change in your own Mirror Moment (midpoint) scene. When you’re done, share your work with the writing community. And if you want to talk more about The Mirror Moment, I’ll be here waiting!

Abigail K. Perry is an editorial intern for P.S. Literary Agency and a creative writing and film teacher. She received her B.S. in TV, Radio, and Film from Syracuse University and her Master’s in Education from Endicott College. Abigail has interned as a creative production intern for Overbrook Entertainment and as a marketing and sales (special projects) intern for Charlesbridge Publishing.

Abigail is an avid reader–sometimes reading up to two books a week– and she writes fantasy and women’s fiction. She’s taken multiple writing and editing courses, including Writer’s Digest workshops (Advanced Novel Writing, Build You Novel Scene By Scene, and more) and The Story Grid workshops (including the Level Up Your Craft workshop).

She hopes to become a literary agent and published author, playing her part in helping bring great stories to the world.

If you want to learn more about Abigail, you can follow her on Twitter @abigailkperry, Instagram @abigailkperry, and website www.akperry.com.

The post The Mirror Moment — Signpost Scene #7 appeared first on DIY MFA.

This is a problem because if we’ve hooked the reader, the last thing we want to do is lose their attention.

And we will—if we don’t give them a scene that reminds them about the unstoppable dangers waiting in Act II.

Signpost Scene #6: A Kick in the Shins

A Kick in the Shins is a signpost scene (or maybe succession of scenes) that occurs immediately after the Lead enters Act II. It creates an obstacle for the Lead—an obstacle that is the first real test of death stakes (remember that death stakes are how we create tension in a story, and whiffs of death are professional, psychological, or physical).

It is paramount that the Lead face something that threatens death soon after the point of no return, or else suffer the fate of a dragged pace and loss of concern for the Lead’s life.

A couple points concerning this signpost:

• Don’t wait too long before it happens. If you delay, the reader will start to wonder if things were as bad as suggested in Act I.
• The new trouble should relate to the big conflict of the story. Coincidental danger might annoy your reader.
• Studying examples of successful books is the best way to understand and imagine your own Kick in the Shins moment.

Let’s look at some examples.

The Hate U Give

There are thousands of reasons why every writer should read Angie Thomas’s masterpiece The Hate U Give, but one of them is because of its sound, structured plot.

The major complicating factor for Starr’s desire to feel safe and at peace (or to fit in without needing to be two different people) is Khalil’s death. When we met Kahlil in Act I, he is established as her best childhood friend, right before he is shot and murdered by a policeman for no liable reason.

A lot happens after that. Starr goes through her “fish out of water” life at Williamson High, sorting out boyfriend-troubles, her brother’s trouble with his mama, dealing with bad nightmares, speaking to the police (with questions that try to pin Khalil as responsible for his own death), and King (a gang leader in Garden Heights and one of the book’s antagonists) placing a bandana on Khalil’s coffin—a sign that Khalil was part of the gang he vowed never to join as a child.

Now Starr, a high school teen trying to figure out her place in her worlds, is forced to look at the “messed up” forces preventing her from living a peaceful life, and why things are the way they are. And how she can do something about them.

In this sad state, Starr is approached—at the end of Khalil’s funeral—by none other than a gathering of protesters demanding justice. At the same time, April Ofrah from Just Us for Justice approaches Starr; an attorney, she offers to represent her.

Whether Starr decides to work with April or not is irrelevant for the conclusion of this Doorway #1 moment. But one thing is for certain: Starr’s “normal” life can never go back to what it was (maybe she doesn’t want it to go back to what it was? Is it time to speak up about her experiences?). Oh, and the Harris family (the family of the policeman who shot Khalil) already found representation. Big problems are on the horizon.

The Kick in the Shins in The Hate U Give

Danger burgeones the further we go into The Hate U Give, particularly when Maverick (Starr’s father) scolds Starr and her younger brother Seven for playing basketball without asking for permission. Their neighborhood, Garden Heights, is a dangerous place to live, but trouble is worse than ever now that Khalil is dead and the King Lords are raising havoc. On page 148, we see a kick in the shins moment that gives us a taste of the challenges Starr faces, communicated through the watchful eye of her father.

The King Lords across the street burst out laughing. DeVante coughs into his fist like he wants to laugh too. Seven and I look at everything but Daddy.

“Oh, y’all wanna act like y’all don’t hear me? Answer me when I’m talking to you!”

The King Lords howl with laughter.

“Pops, we just came to play ball,” Seven says.

“I don’t care. All this shit going on, and y’all leave? Get in the truck!”

“Goddamn,” I say under my breath. “Always gotta act a fool.”

Shortly after this scene, tension continues to bubble with a momentous ferocity, unraveling in a fleet of riots so bad Maverick tells Lisa (Starr’s mom) to take the kids to Uncle Carlos’s house—a town away from Garden Heights.

We can see how all this chaos is quietly tearing Starr apart, with anxiety and underserved guilt twisting in an internal storm that she tries her best to keep locked inside herself.

As they drive past crowds of protests demanding “Justice for Khalil,” Lisa turns to her daughter, clearly distressed.

“You know none of this is your fault, right?” Momma asks.

How in the world did she know that? “I know.”

“But sometimes right’s not good enough, huh?”

Searching for a way to comfort her daughter, Lisa tells her the story about how, when she was pregnant with Starr, she quit all her unhealthy habits, but when Starr was born she wasn’t breathing. Lisa reflects on how she did everything right, but complications still threatened Starr’s life when she was born.

Momma grabs my hand again–looked me in the eye, and said, ‘Sometimes you can do everything right and things will still go wrong. The key is to never stop doing right.’”

She holds my hand the rest of the drive.

Phew! Well, if that’s not a tear-jerking, authentic, and heartfelt line-of-wisdom told in the heat of a kick in the shins moment, I don’t know what is.

Thank you, Angie Thomas, for giving us the words to talk about lives impacted by implicit bias and racial injustice.

And thank you for giving me a remarkable book that perfectly models Signpost Scene #6: A Kick in the Shins.

Exercises to Help You Write A Kick in the Shins Moment

It’s important to understand that a kick in the shins is not just another passing moment in Act II, but a real kick in the Lead’s reality that death (whatever whiff of death threatening your Lead is) is unavoidably and horrifically real.

James Scott Bell refers to A Kick in the Shins as an “emotional jolt, a deepening of the interior stakes.” An exercise that might help you brainstorm your kick in the shins moment from other tense scenes in your novel is by making a list.

Try this.

OPTION 1 (for Plotters):

• Make a list of obstacles and opposition characters that can be thrown in your Lead’s way—ones that affect the big picture conflict. Don’t judge your ideas. Write for ten solid minutes and try to get a list of at least 15-20 options.
• Choose the best ones and list them from bad to worse to worst. Hint: the “bad” one is your Kick in the Shins. Your worst is likely that moment that happens at the end of Act II, in a different signpost scene (post coming soon!).

OPTION 2 (for Pantsers):

• Identify the main whiff of death threatening your Lead: physical, psychological, or professional.
• Now, find a song that echoes this type of death. Listen to it with your eyes closed and imagine a terrible challenge threatening your Lead with this death. Don’t judge your ideas, just let your imagination roll; these may unravel big physical threats or more internal focuses—doesn’t matter as long as they threaten the Lead’s WOD.
  • For instance, Scout in To Kill a Mockingbird is threatened with psychological death (being turned into a woman with the Old-South way of thinking). Her Kick in the Shins moment is when Mrs. Dubose shouts that she is going to end up a waitress, and that she is just as bad as those N-words that her father is defending. Death is eminent!
• Open your eyes. Start writing this scene without stopping to edit. Or, if you like to talk out your scenes, tuck yourself in a quiet room and recite your scene to an audio recorder. When you’re done, try writing it out.

Now it’s your turn! How’s your WIP coming? Do you feel like the tension is falling off a scene or two after you’ve entered Act II? If it does, likely you’re missing this crucial KICK IN THE SHINS moment. Without it, Act II will lose momentum, which will lose the audience.

But don’t worry. I’ve provided you exercises to guide you out of your Act II hole. Enjoy! Take advantage! Forge forward!

And when you’re done, share your scene if you’d like. I’d love to chat about your work more.

Abigail K. Perry is an editorial intern for P. S. Literary Agency as well as a women’s and speculative fiction writer (she dreams of becoming a literary agent and published author).

During her day job, Abigail teaches creative writing and film production to grades 9-12. She received her B.S. in TV, Radio, and Film from Syracuse University and her Master’s in Education from Endicott College; she has interned as a creative production intern for Overbrook Entertainment and as a marketing and sales (special projects) intern for Charlesbridge Publishing.

In other experiences, Abigail is a member of the DIY MFA street team and a loyal follower of Writer’s Digest, where she has participated in a number of conferences, retreats, workshops, and webinars. She holds a deep passion for helping other writers tell their stories and shares a multitude of #WritingTip #AmWriting #WritingPrompt resources on twitter @abigailkperry, Instagram @abigailkperry, and website www.akperry.com.

The post A Kick in the Shins — Signpost Scene #6 appeared first on DIY MFA.

And it’s an awesome one.

The Doorway of No Return #1 is the decision your lead must make, the door that all leads must walk through, before the premise becomes “the story.” This is the decision that drops us “down the rabbit hole,” launching us out of our lead’s ordinary world and into the unordinary world of Act II.

But today I’m not going to take you down a rabbit hole (despite the saying’s fame). No, today we’re journeying to Tomi Adeyemi’s magical world of Orïsha. To the  Doorway of No Return made in her new beloved debut, Children of Blood and Bone.

How Trouble Brewing (Signpost #4) Builds Tension Prior to Doorway #1

If you read my last signpost scene article (Trouble Brewing), you might be wondering how the  Doorway of No Return is different than all the incrementally tense scenes building up to this major decision.

Looking at the big picture, trouble stirs excitement in the first third of a book, but unless something forces a lead (like the rabbit and Alice’s curiosity or Princess Amari and Mama Agba’s prophecy in Children of Blood and Bone) to fight for her life, the story stalls. Trouble gets old. We need new dangers. New threats and obstacles, everyday bad guys and a villain that makes life (and desires) difficult—if not seemingly impossible—for our Lead.

This is why James Scott Bell says trouble brewing is about: “thrusting” the Lead into the story.

The Doorway of No return is the decision that changes the Lead’s life as she knows it, that gives us an adventure like never before. A decision that takes courage, and we all love a lead who has courage.

Zélie Fights for Magic: The Doorway of No Return #1

What’s our aim for the Doorway of No Return #1? Simple. Create the feeling that the instant our Lead crosses door #1’s threshold, there is no turning back. Nada. None.

This is it!

Because to go back means instant death (whether physical, psychological, professional, or a combination of the three). And no Lead wants to die unless they want the premise to remain an idea—a cool thought that never grows into a story.

Take Zélie Adebola.

Here, in the deprived soil of Orïsha, lives the daughter of a murdered Reaper, one of the maji chosen by the gods to yield a special source of magic. As a child, Zélie cherished magic, a source of cosmic power controlled in a home where “Burners ignited flames and Tiders beckoned waves,” and Reapers like her mother summoned dead spirits.

But when the king demanded the death of the maji, he led a violent raid that slaughtered the maji (including Zélie’s mother) and her people’s hope. That is, until Zélie rescues the rebel Princess Amari, the princess who stole an ancient artifact that possess the power needed to save magic.

Now, Zélie has a choice to make, which will lead to greater challenges and a life-altering task.

Her Doorway of No Return: trust the gods and bring the artifact to the sacred temple, or die (along with the death of magic).

If you’ve read Adeyemi’s YA Fantasy bestseller, you know she takes the scroll, the princess, her brother, and runs. Of course she runs. To stay still is to die. To do nothing ends the story. To give up secures the death of magic. Forever.

And Zélie can’t let the king destroy her family and magic!

Read this passage from page 97 (Children of Blood and Bone) to see the Doorway of No Return Zélie crosses at the climax of Act I. Here, there is a clear establishment of death, physical and psychological. And Zélie knows that to turn back, to ignore her destiny, is to die:

You can stay down here, a small thought whispers. You don’t have to continue this fight…

I hold on to the world for a moment, grasping my only chance for escape. But when my lungs wheeze, I force my legs to kick, bringing me back to the broken world I know.

No matter how much I crave peace, the gods have other plans.

Your Turn To Jump Down the Rabbit Hole

Not every Doorway of No Return is the right one for your story. Usually this Doorway appears at the 1/5 mark of your book (in movies it’s usually the ¼ mark), and it should stand out from all the trouble pushing your lead to her decision.

Lucky for you, I have some helpful questions to help you assess if your Doorway of No Return is the best for your story. Ask yourself these questions about your Doorway of No Return, and if the answer is no, try revising and sharing it with your fellow writer friends.

1) Do you know the death stakes of your story (psychological, physical, professional, or a combination)? Does your Doorway of No Return save your lead from this kind of death?

2) Did you write a scene that forces your Lead into the confrontation of Act II?

3) Is your  Doorway of No Return strong enough? Can the Lead ignore the Doorway of No Return? Or will they die (see your answer to question #2) if they don’t make it?

4) Does your  Doorway of No Return occur at the 1/5 mark? On some occasions, the  Doorway of No Return can happen before this mark (as long as there’s enough trouble set up prior), but don’t go past it. If you did, look back at your story/outline. Is there a bigger decision before your assumed Doorway of No Return? Do you need to revise some decisions?

Start by commenting below in the discussions and sharing this link, using #LetsTalkBooks!

Abigail K. Perry is a speculative fiction writer living in Massachusetts where she teaches creative writing and film production. She received her B.S. in TV, Radio, and Film from Syracuse University and her Master’s in Education from Endicott College. She worked as a creative production intern in for Overbrook Entertainment and as a marketing and sales intern for Charlesbridge Publishing, and currently works as an editorial intern for P.S. Literary.

Abigail is a member of the DIY MFA street team and a loyal follower of Writer’s Digest, where she has attended various conferences, retreats, workshops, and webinars. You can read more about her work on her website www.akperry.com or follow her on Twitter @A_K_Perry

The post Doorway of No Return #1 — Signpost Scene #5 appeared first on DIY MFA.

Now, as we move forward with act one, we approach a crucial signpost scene that, though quick, makes a big difference escalating tension and exciting readers, even though it’s not the major conflict.

What am I talking about? James Scott Bell’s fourth signpost scene in, Super Structure: The Key to Unleashing the Power of Story: Trouble Brewing.

Is Trouble Brewing the Main Conflict in the Story?

Although Trouble Brewing does create an unsettled feeling in readers (and characters), it’s not the major conflict in the story. Not yet. Creating a sense of trouble while holding off on the main conflict is a smart tactic, because it hints at something bigger coming in the next chapter or two.

In Mary Poppins, the real conflict of the story (explored in act two) can’t occur until Mary Poppins herself appears on the Banks’s front doorstep. This doesn’t mean that everything before Mary Poppins is pointless or dull, and the scenes leading up to this major plot point most certainly are not. Why is this? Because there is a disturbance, a call to adventure, an argument against transformation, and (finally) trouble brewing.

“Trouble” that Bert draws our attention to in his song about the “winds in the east.” Right before the storm unleashes, Bert comments how something that’s “happened has happened before” — and with a smirk on his face!

The people surrounding Bert (and the reader) might not know what that “something” is, but you better believe that by suggesting something is coming, Bert’s audience (readers included) fall deeper into the story. We have to find out what Bert means!

Trouble Brewing in J. M. Barrie’s Peter Pan

Let’s look at another example. This one from J. M. Barrie’s beloved masterpiece, Peter Pan. Now, for those of you who have read the original tale of Peter Pan, you’ll remember that Mrs. Darling actually spots Peter in the nursery before he sweeps her children off to Neverland.

Peter’s first appearance is not the Trouble Brewing scene, but it does signal the potential trouble that Mr. and Mrs. Darling worry about before leaving the house.

Look at this passage following Mrs. Darling’s encounter with Peter. Here, Mr. and Mrs. Darling plan to leave for the evening while Nana, the Darling’s “nanny” (who happens to be a dog), is tied up outside. Usually, Nana resides inside the nursery and tends to the children, but not tonight. And why not tonight?

Because Nana’s relocation outside provides Barrie the opportunity to brew trouble in his scene, and hint at the big event that is about to come. A hint that grabs our attention with Nana’s bark:

“That is not Nana’s unhappy bark,” she said, little guessing what was about to happen; “that is her bark when she smells danger.”

Danger!

“Are you sure, Wendy?”

“Oh yes.”

Mrs. Darling quivered and went to the window. It was securely fastened. She looked out, and the night was prepared with stars. They were crowding round the house. As if curious to see what was to take place there, but she did not notice this, nor that one or two of the smaller ones winked at her.

Based on this passage alone, it’s safe to say Barrie is a brilliant storyteller. With such subtle dialogue and commentary, he accomplishes a few things:

• Directs the readers (and characters) attention to something unusual
• Shows us why we can anticipate trouble through sound and action (Nana’s bark, the stars winking at Mrs. Darling)
• Makes us uneasy by locking us into Mrs. Darling’s emotions, since she was the character who saw Peter the previous night and now the one who “quivered and went to the window.”

Why This Works

Act one dedicates time to introducing the Lead and the Lead’s everyday world following the Disturbance (signpost one).  Like chess pieces set before a match, authors orchestrate act one as a space that sets players and important tools (that will play an important role in the plot later) in motion. These decisions establish the tone of the book, promising readers the type of tension they can expect for the rest of the story.

Trouble Brewing establishes the least of the worst that is about to come, which will either grab the reader or encourage them to close that book. But if there is a Lead readers care about, and trouble on her horizon, they’ll keep reading. They’ll hunger for more.

Try Some Exercises

Now that you understand what Trouble Brewing is, try this exercise to help you write your own Trouble Brewing scene.

1. Identify the main conflict in your story (the conflict your character will explore more in act two).
2. Make a list of ten things that could disturb your Lead in act one.
3. Review your first three signpost scenes. Does the disturbance lead to a call to adventure? Does your call to adventure lead to your argument against transformation? Does each signpost scene create as much (maybe more) tension than the one before?
4. Now, make a list of five possible events (try to make one for each of the five senses — i.e. smell, sight, etc.) that could be considered “trouble” for your Lead. Make sure these could build to your main conflict. Some of these might include:
   • Someone says something that upsets your Lead, or makes her nervous (in Gone With the Wind, the men talk about war)
   • Something strange is happening with the weather (Mary Poppins)
   • Something a Lead takes extra good care of is misplaced
   • Something smells different than usual
   • Someone has a bad feeling in the pit of their stomach
5. Pick one of these events and write a scene where your Lead notices this “trouble brewing” right before the real trouble (or main conflict) actually does
6. Share this post and your scene with your fellow writers!

What kind of trouble is brewing in your story? Can you think of scenes from other stories that suggest the main conflict by brewing trouble in an earlier scene? Share your comments below using #letstalkbooks!

Abigail K. Perry is a speculative fiction writer living in Massachusetts where she teaches creative writing and film production. She received her B.S. in TV, Radio, and Film from Syracuse University and her Master’s in Education from Endicott College. She worked as a creative production intern in for Overbrook Entertainment and as a marketing and sales intern for Charlesbridge Books, and currently works as an editorial intern for P.S. Literary.

Abigail is a member of the DIY MFA street team and a loyal follower of Writer’s Digest, where she has attended various conferences, retreats, workshops, and webinars. You can read more about her work on her website www.akperry.com or follow her on Twitter @A_K_Perry

The post Trouble Brewing — Signpost Scene #4 appeared first on DIY MFA.

What is this signpost scene? The Argument Against Transformation, of course!

Novels cannot exist without a Lead’s transformation, and the stakes of a Lead’s transformation will not be high unless the Lead (at least at first) hesitates to face them. So let’s get into the argument against character transformation and why it is so important for a Lead to argue against change.

What is the Theme of a Novel and How Does It Show Transformation?

Now, you might be wondering why I want to discuss theme in a novel when I’ve proposed an article on a Lead’s argument against transformation. I’ll tell you.

Theme, or the main subject being discussed in a book (i.e. the book’s message) should directly relate to how your character transforms by the end of the novel. It should illustrate what your Lead learns (and what your readers will walk away feeling), because how the Lead changes directly relates to how he/she views something–the story’s message. The story’s theme. But first, the Lead needs to argue against that need to change.

What is the theme of a novel? How is it stated?

James Scott Bell defines theme in his book Superstructure as, “a life lesson learned. What is it that the character learns by the end of the story? What truth is it that she will live by from then on?”

Writers should take note of their theme, if not in the rough draft of a novel, then during the editing process. Without a Lead’s transformation, a reader has no reason to root for (or enjoy) the adventure. They won’t feel that the end of the story carries resonance.

We must have a reason to love the Lead. Transformation in a Lead means movement, it means a reason to care whether a Lead survives or not. Transform or die: professionally, psychologically, or physically depending on the type of story you’re writing.

So what is your story’s theme? Stop for a moment and really ponder this question. If you don’t have an answer, no need to freak out. You can try a few exercises like:

• Write an essay on your book. What is it you want readers to walk away feeling or thinking?
• Read some of your favorite works of fiction. Try to identify the theme and see if your story can reflect the same message.
• Write a letter to a friend about “the best book you just read” (pretending like that book was your book but writing in third person)—only substitute the word “theme” for “book.” Come up with a theme you didn’t realize you were writing? Or multiple?

Whether you’ve realized it or not, there is a theme to your story. And I’d bet a mountain made of ice cream that your theme directly relates to your character’s transformation.

Let’s Look at an Example

The theme in The Wizard of Oz is “There’s no place like home.” At the beginning of the story, Dorothy wants to escape from home, dreaming of a better place that lies somewhere over the rainbow. But by the end of the film, Dorothy wishes for nothing other than home. Home sweet home!

Sidebar: Do you know the theme in A Tale of Two Cities or To Kill a Mockingbird? Look them up if you don’t, and ask yourself: how does the Lead in each classic start in the beginning and how have they changed by the end? Did that change have something to do with the story’s theme?

So Why Argue Against Transformation?

Hold the cell phone! I bet you’re thinking that you can see how theme and transformation are assimilated, but isn’t Bell’s signpost scene called argument against transformation?

Absolutely. And here’s why: having a scene in Act One that establishes the character’s argument against transformation (i.e. something they do not want to do but find the courage to do) glorifies that moment of transformation, and exemplifies the grit in the Lead—all readers love a character with some grit!

What are some of these act one arguments?

• In The Hunger Games, when eating bread before the Reaping with Gale, Katniss Everdeen argues against having children. She sees a life with children as a life without hope because of President Snow’s tyranny. But what has happened to Katniss by the end of book three? Think about that one.
• In To Kill a Mockingbird, Scout needs to learn empathy for people who are different than her, even those she “regards with scorn.” When Scout mocks Walter Cunningham after having him home for supper, Calpurnia chews her out for behaving with such disrespect. Scout argues against feeling empathy for people different than her. But what’s happened to Scout by the end? How has she transformed?

And now for my final example, a recent bestseller about Islamophobia and a young Indian American, Muslim girl learning to fight for her passions despite her conservative family and their cultural expectations, Love Hate & Other Filters. If you haven’t read this debut, add it to your reading list! Here’s a preview:

Argument Against Transformation in Love, Hate, & Others Filters

In a #PitMad pitch, literary agent Eric Smith gobbled up Samira Ahmed’s pitch: “She (Maya) wants to make films & kiss boys–her Muslim parents forbid both. Will a terrorist & Islamophobia shatter her dreams? #pitmatch #YA #CON.”

So what do we have here? Maya Aziz, a high school senior who is crushing hard on Phil, her long-term crush, while trying to balance her passion for documentary films with the dream of attending NYU, despite her parents who want Maya to a) not date b) not pursue film at a college far away from them and c) marry a nice Muslim boy accustomed to their family’s culture. All conflicts that grow even more difficult for Maya after her family becomes the victim of various hate crimes following a terrorist attack.

Understanding how Maya feels conflicted between wanting to live the life she wants and being a good daughter, can you guess what Maya’s transformation might be?

To find true happiness, Maya needs to learn how to assert herself and forge her own path, even if her parents disagree with her choice.

But Ahmed doesn’t stop at the obvious; she follows Bell’s third signpost scene by challenging Maya with an argument against this need for transformation. The scene appears in act one, when Maya tutors Phil and—learning that Maya doesn’t know how to swim—Phil proposes he teach her.

Maya’s mother has a terrible fear of drowning after a bad experience in her home country. In this case, Maya is prevented from a skill (if not unknown want) because her mother (out of love for Maya, but grounded in her own fear) is scared her daughter might drown…like she almost did.

Phil’s proposal pushes Maya into an argument against transformation:

“I’m going to teach you.”

“No. No. I can’t. You can’t—”

“I can. Literally.” He’s not letting me off the hook. “You know, I lifeguard at the Y in summer, and swimming is a necessary life skill. I can teach you. I want to.”

I nod along, but regret every word that has slipped out of my mouth. I don’t even own a swimsuit, something Violet teases me about relentlessly.

From these lines alone, it’s easy to fall in love with Maya–a Lead trying to find her voice in the world while dealing with her emotions for a long-time crush. Why? Because Maya is relatable, and her stakes for transformation are high—and they’re set even higher when she soon agrees to swim lessons. Not only will Maya need to attend them behind her parents’ backs, but also they’re with a non-Muslim boy.

Maya’s rebellious act is only the beginning of a story about finding love and self amidst the terrors of racism she can’t avoid after a terrible terrorist attack. How will she survive both psychologically and physically? Transform, or die.

Do you know some other examples of transformation in other novels? What is the Lead’s transformation in your novel? Do you know your theme? Does it relate to your Lead’s transformation? Feel free to share your insights using the #letstalkbooks!

Abigail K. Perry is a speculative fiction writer living in Massachusetts where she teaches creative writing and film production. She received her B.S. in TV, Radio, and Film from Syracuse University and her Master’s in Education from Endicott College. She worked as a creative production intern in for Overbrook Entertainment and as a marketing and sales intern for Charlesbridge Publishing, and currently works as an editorial intern for P.S. Literary.

Abigail is a member of the DIY MFA street team and a loyal follower of Writer’s Digest, where she has attended various conferences, retreats, workshops, and webinars. You can read more about her work on her website www.akperry.com or follow her on Twitter @A_K_Perry

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But readers won’t care about a disturbing event if they don’t care about who the event is upsetting—the protagonist. So how do we get readers to like our protagonist? Solution: the care package, Bell’s second signpost scene in his super structure.

The Care Package vs. Pet the Dog

First, I’d like to point out that the Care Package is not the same as the Pet the Dog beat, an event that occurs in Act II. So what’s the difference?

According to Bell, the Care Package is “a relationship the Lead has before the story begins.” In other words, this is a person, place, or thing that the protagonist cares about prior to the events in Act I. Such a concern gives readers a glimpse of the protagonist’s bond to someone or something other than her struggles and personal feelings. We will explore examples of such care packages later in this article.

Meanwhile, Bell describes the Pet the Dog beat as an event that happens in Act II when “the Lead takes a moment out of her own troubles to help someone weaker than herself.” Screenwriters might tag this beat the “save the cat” beat, coined by Blake Snyder in his screenwriting book Save the Cat! The Last Book on Screenwriting You’ll Ever Need.

Both the Care Package and the Pet the Dog scenes tug on the emotional strings of the reader. The difference is that the Care Package drives the protagonist (or Lead) before a story starts, whereas the Pet the Dog is a decision a protagonist makes during an external event in Act II.

Make sense?

The Care Package in Madeleine L’Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time

Considering the exciting buzz revolving around A Wrinkle in Time after the recent film release, let’s take a look at Meg Murray’s Care Package in Madeleine L’engle’s bestseller A Wrinkle in Time.

Remembering that the Care Package is a story element in Act I that enhances the reader’s connection to the protagonist, we needn’t look further than page four in the first chapter. Troubled by a stormy night, Meg sits awake in her bed replaying some of the ugly events that happened earlier that day. Such brief reflection gives the readers deeper insight on two people Meg cares about: her father, who has been MIA for some time, and her younger brother Charles Wallace. Careful not to dump too much information on us, L’engle describes why Meg participated in a fight earlier that day. The description is brief, but reflective of the kind of sister Meg is to Charles Wallace. This is the excerpt:

“And on the way home from school, as she walked up the road with her arms full of books, one of the boys had said something about her “dumb baby brother.” At this she’d thrown the books on the side of the road and tackled him with every ounce of strength she had, and arrived home with her blouse torn and a big bruise under one eye.”

What’s happened here? We have Meg, a twelve year-old girl who feels like an alien among her peers, reflecting on why she attacked a boy at school. And why was that? Because some pompous hotshot called Charles Wallace her “dumb baby brother.” Meg, known for her impatience and short temper, literally lunges at the boy to defend her brother’s reputation. Even though Charles Wallace doesn’t care about what other people say about him, Meg desires to protect her brother’s honor. Notice how this description suggests that the boy said nasty things about Meg, but she didn’t react until he targeted Charles Wallace. This establishes Meg as a loyal and protective sister, even if she doesn’t stand up for herself. Her impulsivity and warrior-like actions give us a reason to root for her.

Later on, we see Meg’s second Care Package factor: her father. Although Mr. Murray is not physically present for most of the novel, he is the reason Meg takes on the story’s adventure. Readers are aware from chapter one that Mr. Murray went missing after a secret government mission, and Meg’s distress over his absence is obvious in the way she sympathizes for her mother, and admits she wishes her father were “here.” Without knowing why her father is missing—and with his absence in general—Meg feels lost. She longs for Mr. Murray’s presence, which is why she later finds the courage to take on a dangerous mission in order to rescue him. But for now, in Act I, readers know Meg has a deep love and respect for her parent. This sense of love and longing makes her a protagonist readers can empathize with.

Why This Works

A protagonist with a Care Package relationship prevents them from seeming selfish, if not completely self-centered or unlikeable due to overpowering weaknesses. Readers don’t like selfish or whiny characters; the Care Package gives readers a reason to root for the protagonist—because they are fighting for something or someone bigger than the Lead.

Don’t believe me? Think about why Breaking Bad was such a blockbuster hit despite the unspeakable, unforgivable things Walter White did.

Walter White had a Care Package—two, in fact. The whole reason he gets into the meth cooking game is to earn enough money to support his wife and disabled son when he thinks he is dying from cancer. And then, after Walter survives cancer and falls deep within the drug world, he has a second Care Package in his concern for Jesse, Walter White’s former student and later meth-cooking-comrade.

Now, Walter and Jesse might appear like they want to tear the other’s heads off a good amount of the series, but let’s face it: no matter how terrible situations get, Walter goes out of his way to protect Jesse. Jesse becomes his number one Care Package after his family disowns him. Without his concern for Jesse’s well-being, we would hate Walter White.

Now It’s Your Turn!

Writers, now that you know what the Care Package element is, go back and read your first couple of chapters. Does your protagonist have a Care Package? Who or what is it? Do you create some sort of event that shows how your protagonist cares about this person, place, or thing?

If you do, fabulous! Go back to this section and see if you can increase tension in the scene by raising the stakes—i.e. make the event even harder for your protagonist to protect this Care Package.

If you don’t, no worries! Take the time to make a list of thirty potential Care Package factors for your protagonist. Then, go take a short walk. Come back and review your list. Pick your top two and write a short scene for each that shows how an external event unveils your protagonist’s Care Package.

For example, maybe your protagonist Cindy is a farmer’s daughter who loves cows, especially Maggie Moo. But when her father needs to sell Maggie Moo to a butcher, Cindy must step in to protect her favorite friend. What does Cindy do?

And last but not least, don’t judge your ideas before you write them. You never know what your creative mind is begging to get out. Don’t let your inner critic prevent you from exploring your best creative ideas! Let your imagination run wild! Find the joy in this exercise. Know your characters, and your Care Package will rise to the surface.

What is your Care Package? Did you notice another Care Package for Meg Murray? What are some other ways you can make your characters relatable? Share your thoughts in the discussion board using the #LetsTalkBooks

Abigail K. Perry is a commercial fiction writer living in Massachusetts where she teaches creative writing and film production. She received her B.S. in TV, Radio, and Film from Syracuse University and her Master’s in Education from Endicott College. She has worked as a creative production intern in for Overbrook Entertainment and as a marketing and sales intern for Charlesbridge Publishing.

Abigail is a member of the DIY MFA street team and a loyal follower of Writer’s Digest. You can read more about her work on her website www.akperry.com or follow her on Twitter @A_K_Perry.

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