The catch, of course? Developing that list of questions can be HARD. Even if you’ve worked on your book for years and know it inside out, you may wonder which ideas or questions will prompt deep and insightful conversation among readers . . . or where to even start with making your list.

But here’s the good news. You already have an excellent place to start: your book’s literary themes.

Yes, knowing your book’s big ideas is key to creating a fantastic list of thought-provoking questions. Don’t worry if you haven’t thought about the themes before, though. In this post, we’ll offer suggestions on which storytelling elements (a.k.a. sources) to review and what questions you can ask yourself so you can identify the themes and figure out what, in your opinion, is most important for your audience to talk about.

Review Your Book’s Plot or Structure

With fiction books and some memoirs, the plot can be a treasure trove of discussion question possibilities. The big events that move the story forward are often the juiciest ones to analyze, especially if the protagonist’s choices or actions cause those events to happen. But sometimes, other plot points that seem less significant are just as noteworthy because of the themes they unearth. Chances are those themes will be the same ones that are explored in the more major events.

How you tackle your review of the plot for discussion question ideas is up to you. You can start with the main plot points, such as the inciting incident, the end of Act I, or the dark night of the soul. Or you can focus on your favorite moments of the story, including game-changing revelations or meaningful exchanges of dialogue or interactions between characters. However you approach this process, use the suggestions below to brainstorm potential discussion questions based on the plot (thought don’t feel obligated to create a question for each of these):

• How is this event significant or meaningful to the overall story? What theme(s) is demonstrated in this event?
• What do the protagonist, the antagonist (if one exists), and supporting characters do during this event? How does this tie into the theme(s) explored?
• What scene(s) may draw conflicting opinions from readers? Could readers have different thoughts on the theme(s) emerging from this event?
• What events may shock or surprise the reader? If so, how and why? How does this impact the way in which any theme(s) is explored?
• How might the reader be able to relate to certain plot events based on their own experiences with the theme(s) explored?
• What else is interesting or important for the reader to consider regarding this event?

Now, what if you’re writing nonfiction that has a clear structure but no plot, so to speak? (A great example of this is Susan Cain’s Quiet.) Instead of looking for plot events, choose the most salient moments in the book—arguments you make, examples or anecdotes you share, notable facts or quotes from other sources—and see what themes emerge. Then determine which of the above questions you can reframe for your purposes. At the same time, remember that your discussion questions aren’t meant to quiz your audience about the details of your book. Rather, invite them to consider how the information you share impacts them and the world at large, as well as why it’s worth discussing in the first place.

Revisit Your Characters

If there’s one storytelling element that readers LOVE talking about most, it’s the characters they “meet.” We can’t help but gush about who our favorite characters are and why, or share memorable snippets of that character’s dialogue. So why not encourage your readership to talk about your characters by means of your discussion questions?

Just as the plot’s events illustrate your book’s themes, your characters—especially the protagonist—will be moving, breathing examples of those big ideas. Each character’s actions, decisions, motivations, thoughts and speech, and lessons learned don’t just reveal the themes. They influence those overarching concepts from the very beginning. So as you look to your characters for possible discussion questions, ask yourself—or maybe the even the characters themselves—any of the following:

• What is the protagonist’s motivation or goal? What theme(s) does it demonstrate?
• What kind of journey does this character take (externally and internally) during the book? How does the character change between Page One and The End? What theme(s) emerge from this arc?
• How do the protagonist’s relationships with other characters (e.g., love interest, mentors, family members, friends, the antagonist) influence the book’s themes? What about these relationships or interactions is critical for your readers to talk about?
• What attributes, actions, or choices from the protagonist or other major characters could draw conflicting opinions from readers? How could this create an in-depth group discussion, regardless of whether it reflects a specific theme?
• What character revelations may shock or surprise readers? If so, how and why? Do they reflect any of the story’s themes? Regardless, how could this foster an interesting discussion between readers?
• What are the most important pieces of dialogue from the book? Why is each quote significant? What theme(s) does each quote reflect?

Other Storytelling Elements

Plot and characters aren’t the only sources of theme in your book. Nor are they the only seeds that can inspire discussion questions. Other crucial elements can reflect the themes and lead to engaging discussions among your readers. So as you review your book for possible questions, consider what else influences your story’s themes besides the first two elements we covered. Here are a few suggestions:

• Setting: How does the book’s setting (location, time period, etc.) influence the themes? What events, characters, etc. are featured specifically because of the setting? (If you’re writing fiction or nonfiction that’s historical in nature, setting-related questions are a must for your questionnaire.)
• Worldbuilding: If you’re working on speculative fiction, what aspects of the story world (e.g., government/power structures, religion, magic system, culture) influence the story’s themes? How do these aspects play a pivotal role in the story? What will readers remember most about this world when they finish reading your book?
• Symbolism: What objects act as symbols? What theme(s) does each one represent?
• Title: Why did you choose your book’s title? Does it hint at any of the themes?
• Other Repeating Elements: What ideas or elements appear repeatedly throughout the book? Why are they important? Which theme(s) do they influence?

Here’s a great example of repeating elements: When I was editing Julie Jacky’s memoir On the Other Side, one aspect of the book that moved me was how Julie’s journey of healing and forgiveness after childhood sexual abuse was full of mentors, from mindset coaches and therapists to spiritual mediums and even her chiropractor. Sometimes Julie had sought out their help and guidance. Other times, she had serendipitously received what she needed at the time. So when Julie later asked me to develop book club questions for On the Other Side, I included a question about mentors, asking readers to talk about the impact Julie’s mentors had on her and to consider the mentors in their own lives.

Meaningful Questions Lead to Meaningful Discussions

Obviously there’s more to consider than the book’s themes when creating discussion questions. For example, how should you phrase your questions? And how many should you include? No matter what, it’s a good idea to check the books you own (especially ones in the same genre as yours or that explore similar topics and themes) to see how the author or publisher handled their questionnaires. This can help you gauge how long you’d like your list to be and how to write your questions in a way that sparks the reader’s curiosity.

Above all, remember that your goal with discussion questions is to get your audience thinking about your book in deeper ways than a simple reading would. So how many questions you ask and how you word them isn’t as crucial as what you ask your readers to think about. Using the book’s themes to help you craft your questions will help you ensure that they touch on topics or ideas that are meaningful to you and your characters. And by doing this, you’ll increase the chances of nurturing equally meaningful conversations among your readers.

Have you created discussion questions for your book(s)? If you have, how did you develop those questions? If you haven’t, what plot point(s), character(s), etc. would you ask your readers to talk or think about? What themes would they discuss as a result? 

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 Creating Discussion Questions Using Your Book’s Themes appeared first on DIY MFA.

This doesn’t mean you have to lock yourself in a creative box. Great structure comes in many shapes and forms, and can emerge from plotters and pantsers alike! However, there are certain red flags that will crop up if your structure is less than optimal, and these are what you need to look out for — especially if you’re a first-time author.

Though I know it’s hard to appraise your work objectively, I implore you to look for these five signs that your book’s structure isn’t working, so you can fix it before readers realize the same thing. To help you identify them, I’ve included titles that I feel demonstrate these structural defects, at least to some extent; they’ll show you how even the most experienced authors can falter, and why we all need to be vigilant with our own work.

1) Your plot peaks too soon

Picture this: you’re a reader halfway through a novel. You know something big is coming, whether through foreshadowing, increasing tension, or open acknowledgement that a major event is about to occur. Then it happens — and as it turns out, the remainder of the book is more or less falling action. There’s nothing significant left to reveal to readers or change the fates of the characters; in other words, the plot has peaked far too soon.

It might sound easily avoidable, but this is a surprisingly common issue, especially among authors who don’t outline. And even for those who do outline, the compulsion to get to the “exciting part” may cause them to rush through the buildup, resulting in a climax that arrives many pages earlier than intended… and which often means filling the subsequent pages with drawn-out resolution or total fluff.

In my opinion, this is the essential structural flaw that undermines Elizabeth Gilbert’s recent novel City of Girls. (Spoilers ahead for this and all other books discussed here!) The plot follows a young woman named Vivian who gets involved in the sparkling show biz and social scenes of 1940s New York City. She’s surrounded by fascinating characters, ever-changing relationships, and potent drama, all of which makes for an excellent story.

However, about two-thirds of the way through the book, Vivian gets caught up in a scandal that forces her to leave her life of glamor behind. And while I know some readers found Vivian’s post-NYC existence interesting and narratively fulfilling, I was disappointed by the abandonment of the plot up to that point — especially once I realized nothing else was really going to happen.

If you suspect your book may suffer from this problem, think about how you might extend the buildup and/or the post-peak plot in a worthwhile manner. For example, Gone Girl has a major reveal in the middle that easily could have made the rest of the book seem lackluster! But Gillian Flynn ensures the story doesn’t end there, keeping readers hanging on with plenty of additional drama and satisfying twists.

2) You have too many threads to tie off

Another unfortunate structural issue is having too many character arcs, subplots, and other details you initially intend to be important, but which feel superfluous as you approach the end of your book. Fortunately, these threads aren’t hard to identify: if you’re wrapping up the main plot and you have more than one minor storyline still to resolve, you have too much going on.

There are two ways to handle this, structure-wise. The first is to simply remove the plot and character threads that don’t add anything substantial. For example, if you have a character who only appears a handful of times and doesn’t impact the plot, you can reduce or eliminate them entirely. (For authors with series aspirations, this may even be a blessing in disguise; a character you want to write more about, but who doesn’t have much bearing on the story you’re currently telling, could be perfect fodder for your next book.)

The second method is to try and resolve some of those minor threads earlier, so they don’t pile up and become overwhelming. This requires more thoughtful restructuring than scrapping whole subplots and characters, but it can be extremely rewarding, especially if the resolutions of those earlier threads contribute to the reader’s understanding of the “big” resolution later.

As for a concrete example of what not to do, you might look at some of Dickens’ works as having far too many threads. Of course, many would argue that this is exactly what makes Dickens great — the epic number of characters and subplots, the extreme level of detail. But, as I imagine anyone who’s read Bleak House would concede, a bit of pruning is sometimes necessary to make a book more comprehensible (and tolerable) for readers.

3) Your timeline jumps around too much

We’ve all read books with time jumps, and I won’t deny that flashbacks in particular are a great way to build narrative suspense. However, some time jumps can be more confusing than compelling, and may even cause readers to lose interest completely; this is why a jumpy timeline can be a sign that you need to restructure your book.

Continuing in my vein of controversial examples, Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut is a quintessential case of too many time jumps. To be fair, the chaotic structure of this somewhat dystopian novel does accurately reflect the story — that of a man “unstuck in time” — and over the course of reading it, I’ll admit that I came to respect Vonnegut’s unorthodox approach.

However, I’ve since realized this is a case of the exception proving the rule. Even upon rereading the book, each time jump was still quite disorienting; I only remained invested and entertained because of Vonnegut’s immense skill as a writer. Needless to say, if Kurt Vonnegut can barely get away with this kind of time-jumping, the rest of us probably shouldn’t attempt it.

That said, if you find your story’s timeline jumps around too much (especially if you, the author, have trouble keeping track!) the best thing to do is go back to square one. What did you intend to accomplish with this structure, and might the same goals be attainable through fewer time jumps — and perhaps fewer perspectives, if that’s a complicating factor as well?

If you end up re-outlining your entire book, it might help to use a writing app to keep track of different elements. This way, even if you continue to use time jumps, you’ll have a clear visual sense of your chronology. (Scrivener 3 with Label View is the one I have in mind, but any writing tool with outlining functionality should greatly improve your use of time in a narrative.)

4) Your late-stage “revelations” are unsatisfying

This is perhaps the most irksome structural flaw I’ve come across as a reader, because it’s almost impossible to identify until you’ve read the book in full. In a way, it’s the opposite of the first issue I mentioned: rather than peaking too soon, the story builds and builds, dropping tantalizing hints and drawing out every bit of tension, and then… it fails to resolve in a satisfying way.

Sometimes the “big reveal” is glaringly obvious, or it’s not much of a reveal at all. Or sometimes a late-stage twist will arise with no foreshadowing whatsoever, which has the added “bonus” of making the reader frantically flip back through the book to scan for signs that were never there.

Whatever the form, it’s incredibly frustrating to invest so much time and energy in a book, only to be cheated out of a satisfying resolution. Once again, I speak from experience; I recently picked up Tangerine by Christine Mangan, a book claiming to be “The Girl on the Train meets The Talented Mr. Ripley.” High praise!

But despite an atmospheric start, Tangerine quickly devolves into a sort of suspenseful endurance test, doling out promising information without ever doing anything interesting with it. In the end, as one reviewer put it, “everything is exactly as it seems” — what’s perhaps intended to be a twist is just a slightly clearer iteration of information that was already provided.

Of course, to pinpoint this kind of structural problem in your own book, you have to be extremely honest with yourself. Consider your ending and what you’ve done to build to it. If there’s a reveal or dramatic ending of any kind, have you hinted at it without being too obvious? If there’s not, or if it’s intentionally out of left field, might readers feel that you led them on? Any doubts should prompt you to take another look at your structure, and potentially rework it for a more satisfying outcome, whatever that might mean for your readers. Speaking of which…

5) Your readers become confused

This is an undeniable catch-all for any author worried about their book’s structure: if other readers have trouble following it — even if it’s crystal-clear to you! — you have a problem. This could be due to any number of reasons, including any or all of the issues outlined above. But whatever the culprit, if a third-party reader tells you the structure doesn’t make sense to them, you’d better trust their objective opinion.

This is why, if you’re planning to publish your book, you should seek out beta readers and other trusted commentators to provide feedback as early as possible. Hire a professional editor if you have to; just get some eyes on your book that aren’t your own.

And even if they tell you to burn everything and start over, that’s still much better than releasing a book with a structure no one can understand. Plus, the next time you write a book, you’ll know exactly what tends to go wrong with your structure… which some might say is the first step toward making sure everything goes right.

Savannah Cordova is a writer with Reedsy, a marketplace that connects authors and publishers with the world’s best editors, designers, and marketers. In her spare time, Savannah enjoys reading contemporary fiction and writing short stories.

The post #5onFri: Five Signs Your Book’s Structure Needs Work appeared first on DIY MFA.

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.

The post The Care Package — Signpost Scene #2 appeared first on DIY MFA.

When I plot a romance, I plan for not one, not two, but three main character arcs. The main characters–the lovers–are arcs one and two. And then there is the relationship. The relationship gets its own arc, as though it’s a third main character.

The hero’s journey plot structure almost works for the relationship arc — just replace “the quest” with “the relationship.”

1) Call to Adventure / The Meet Cute

Here’s where the lovers meet. Where the seeds of their relationship are sown. There’s both attraction and conflict. The groundwork for the potential to reach an HEA (happily-ever-after), along with enough conflict to last the length of a novel, is set.

2) Refusal of the Call / Rejection of the Relationship

One or both of the main characters are in denial about the attraction, or there’s some external reason in their way, so that this cannot possibly work out. Here the relationship is still very much at odds. We learn the reasons why the relationship won’t work, and the external plot reasons why they cannot be together. But also… there are hints that they can’t quite stop thinking about each other, and something big is going to happen between them. It’s usually a situation of “they doth protest too much.”

3) Acceptance of the Quest / Giving the relationship a chance

This is the “First Threshold” or the beginning of Act Two. For some reason, despite their attempts to stay apart, they’re forced to work together, often toward a common goal, sometimes as a reluctant agreement to date. There’s often some challenge that cannot be overcome without the other. They must accept some sort of relationship is developing, though they are still adamant HEA is not in the cards for them at all. There’s still conflict and resistance to permanence and no mentions of love, but they must face the truth: in order to continue on their journey, they will need to work together.

4) Trials and Temptations / Three Dates

This is the first relationship development section. Usually there’s a first date that happens here, and other challenges. I’ve heard Liz Pelletier of Entangled say there’s usually three dates in this section, if there are dates, which not every romance has per say. But the lovers are together for a period of time, interacting in a get-to-know-you scenario demonstrating relationship chemistry in at least three major scenes. Each scene both deepens their affinity but also reaffirms the reason they cannot be together. It’s a “three steps forward two steps back” pattern.

5) Midpoint Crisis / I-need-you-but-can’t-have-you

In many romances, this is where some major form of physical intimacy takes place. A first kiss, a first love making, a first uninhibited admittance of, “I really like having you in my life.” There’s an intense moment of believing or seeing a glimpse of how meaningful this relationship could become. But it’s quickly dashed to pieces, often by one or the other getting scared by the growing intimacy and some external plot force tearing them apart.

6) The Road Back / Pulling Back Together

Something most likely in the external plot forces them back together for some reason. They’re forced to work together, and the attraction is stronger than ever. The relationship development that had begun in the first half now deepens. Often their deepest fears are confessed, they’re left vulnerable and open to each other, and real intimacy builds.

7) The Fall

They fall for each other, hard. There’s usually another big moment of physical intimacy here, often lovemaking in a way that is meaningful. In romances where the couple has been engaging in casual sex, usually the love scene here is truly making love for the first time. They will separately admit they’ve fallen for the other, though not necessarily acknowledging it to each other. Sometimes one will declare themselves, but the other doesn’t reciprocate for some reason related to their internal flaw or wound.

8) Dark moment / The Break Up

They’re done. They’re over. The relationship is never going to happen. Their lives are in crisis. They try to go back to their ordinary world, and it’s a dismal fail. They’re irrevocably changed by the other person. They’re lost and miserable in their loneliness.

9) The Sacrifice

There’s a decision made by one or both of the lovers. Their clinging to the fear of the wound/flaw is overcome. There’s a letting go or sacrificing of the misbelief they’ve been carrying around this whole time, and giving up on the external plot reason for them not being together. The realization that whatever fear was stopping them is insignificant to their love for the other person.

10) Declaration

There’s a declaration of love, a communion of the relationship. This is where the magic of the HEA comes to completion. It’s usually at first met with some trepidation. This is their first big leap of faith and giving of their hearts to each other. The trust circle between them is complete.

11) Denouement / The HEA.

The romance reader has to have their denouement. They want a glimpse of the lovers in their new HEA world, to make sure that everything is going okay. There’s usually a scene including friends and family, gaining an acknowledgement of the new relationship from important people in their lives. There’s a renewed promise of forever.

That’s not everything. There’s so much more to it. But that’s the broad stroke of what I’m thinking about when I plot the romance relationship of my romance novels. There’s separate work that goes into each character’s internal arc, and then there’s the planning of the external plot as well.

I’m sure you do it differently. Feel free to share what works for you!

Robin Lovett is a romance writer for Entangled Publishing and St. Martin’s Press Swerve. She writes some sci-fi erotic and some dark romance thrillers–but always intense sexy books. She loves to chat on Twitter @LovettRomance and every Sunday evening you can find her with other romance writers at #RWChat. She is represented by Rachel Brooks of BookEnds Literary Agency.

The post The Structure of Romance appeared first on DIY MFA.

Stuart is someone who is as excited about connecting with writers and helping them reach their goals as I am. We’ll be talking about planning your novel and how to plot without a formula.

But first, a quick introduction. Stuart is the founder and principal of Book Architecture, a firm of independent editors based in Providence, New York, and Boston. He developed the Book Architecture Method over fifteen years of helping writers get from first draft to final draft. He’s also a super-smart guy whose work I really admire, and good friend.

His first book, Blueprint Your Bestseller: Organize and Revise Any Manuscript with the Book Architecture Method (Penguin/Perigee) was named one of the best books about writing in 2013 by The Writer magazine. Now his second book, Book Architecture: How to Plot and Outline Without Using a Formula, is being released in a few short weeks.

In this episode, Stuart and I talk about:

• Common struggles that writers face
• The three big elements that shape your draft: scene, series, and theme
• Geeking out over Harry Potter
• How to tackle your work as opposed to tinkering with it
• Non-formulaic plotting/outlining and the tools that can keep you organized
• The importance of finding a neutral audience
• How to work with beta readers

Plus: Stuart shares his #1 tip for writers.

Resources:

Here’s the link where you can grab your signed limited edition pre-release of Stuart’s new book, Book Architecture. Stuart is doing an awesome, special discount for DIY MFA readers, so use this link first.

If the limited editions are sold out, you can order a regular copy here.

Link to Episode 38

(Right-click to download.)

If you liked this episode…

Head over to iTunes, leave a review, and subscribe so you’ll be first to know when new episodes are available. Also, if you know anyone who might enjoy this podcast, please share!

Until next week, keep writing and keep being awesome.

The post Episode 38: Plot Without a Formula – Interview with Stuart Horwitz appeared first on DIY MFA.

Lately, though, I’ve been asking myself another question: does it really matter?

Nothing is more frustrating to me than having a great idea you can’t execute. You just can’t get right. Maybe you’re on draft fifty of the first fifty pages. Or you’ve bogged down somewhere in the middle and can’t seem to get out of the midgemarshes. Or you’ve gotten through a full draft and won’t let anyone read it. You’re in the trenches. I’m in the trenches. It’s miserable in the trenches.

And I think I’ve found a way out.

If you’ve got a great idea–and I know you do–I don’t think you need talent. I don’t think you need voice. I don’t think you need experience. I don’t think you need characters.

I think you need a plot.

This sounds a bit crazy. Of course, a great plot does help make a book great, but it’s all about the characters, right? Wrong. Well, not wrong. It is about the characters. And the voice. And the world. And that one monologue at the end where you just kill it. It’s about the little moments that lead to the big moments. It’s about the perfect metaphor. A great book is great on many levels, and a great writer will weave all these elements–voice, character, pacing, world–together.

But none of this matters if you don’t have a plot (and you’re not Jack Kerouac).

I was a consummate pantser and have been forever converted to a plotter. Plotting your novel–even loosely–saves you heartache, angst and time. Here’s why:

1) No One Else Cares That Writing is Hard

The western cultural perception of art has drastically changed in the last few hundred years. In ancient Greece and Rome, medieval Europe and early America, artists were not considered special. Art, music and writing was a job. People went to school to study it the way people go to school to study medicine now. There were rules that had to be followed. And most artists worked for a wealthy patron, and they had to meet deadlines and write to the explicit taste of their patron.

Consider Beethoven. Brilliant. Famous. Unfortunately, going deaf. Much of what we know of him–his brooding personality, his aloofness–was part of a carefully cultivated persona intended to keep people from knowing he was going deaf in order to keep working. 

Consider Handel. A composer. The name of the game was opera, but it was Lent and you can’t perform operas during Lent. Handel still needed money. Thus, we get The Messiah.

Deflated yet? What about Hemingway? We all like to think of him drinking it up with ex-pats in Paris. We all know he did his fair share of drinking. He also did his fair share of journalism, in order to pay the bills.

One of my favorite quotes about writing comes from Stephen King. “Talent,” he said, “Is cheaper than table salt. What separates the talented individual from the successful one is a lot of hard work.”

We can’t wait for inspiration, or for the elements of a story to simply come together. We have to work at it.

2) A Plot is a Necessary Evil

Don’t get me wrong — I love writing. It’s a joyful kind of work, even when it’s difficult. But it is still work. And just like you sit for a yearly review at the office, writers ought to review the way they write — and what might not be working.

I’ve been a lifelong pantser. I’ll start with a vague idea of a beginning and a vague idea of an ending, then just go. This is how I wrote my first book. I was fourteen. I considered Christopher Paolini my personal nemesis. And I would defeat him by being the youngest fantasy writer there ever was. I had an idea, and I ran with it, let the characters take me where they would. Two years later, I had a 300,000 word middle grade fantasy adventure.

Yes. You read that right. My  fantasy novel for twelve-year-olds was the length of Game of Thrones. 

And its story ends the same way — carnage. Rejection upon rejection upon humiliation that my nemesis was now on the New York Times bestseller list with a movie deal and I was sitting at home in Texas with seven hundred fifty pages of scrap paper.

The next time around, I tried an outline. I ended up with a tighter, leaner story that hit all the right points and meant nothing. I felt like I was performing CPR on it, just thumping against the paper to force it to have a heartbeat. But it didn’t. And I thought it never would. And I would never plot again. I put that manuscript, along with the first one (now cut into two books) in the drawer. 1,000 pages of proof that I was doing something wrong.

I just didn’t know what.

3) There is Another Way

I would like to try to think of some ridiculous celebrity-couple name-mashing of Plotter and Pantser, and here’s what I came up with — planter. It’s a combination of plotting and pantsing that gives a writer structure without taking the story’s heart.

Consider this, from Mr. George R.R. Martin:

“I think there are two types of writers, the architects and the gardeners. The architects plan everything ahead of time, like an architect building a house. They know how many rooms are going to be in the house, what kind of roof they’re going to have, where the wires are going to run, what kind of plumbing there’s going to be. They have the whole thing designed and blueprinted out before they even nail the first board up. The gardeners dig a hole, drop in a seed and water it. They kind of know what seed it is, they know if planted a fantasy seed or mystery seed or whatever. But as the plant comes up and they water it, they don’t know how many branches it’s going to have, they find out as it grows. And I’m much more a gardener than an architect.”

But it’s not as if the man didn’t plan at all. George RR Martin worked in films for years as a script doctor. He understands the necessity of structure. And it’s evident in his books which are almost perfectly paced, and yet never lose the heart of the story–the characters. In fact, it is only by way of his perfect plot that his characters are able to shine–and die–with such grandeur.

All you need to be a planter is an outline. Not a set-in-stone-puppies-will-die-if-you-deviate-from-it outline. Just an outline. A plan that encompasses more than “This is how the book will begin” or “this is who will die.” A plan that charts your book from beginning to end and sets it against a broader structure.

In my next article, I’m going to go over several different outlining methods, with examples from a few of the great writers. No writer is the same, but you might find something that works for you.

Bess Cozby writes epic stories in expansive worlds from her tiny apartment in New York City. By day, she’s an Editor at Tor Books, and Web Editor for DIY MFA. Her work is represented by Brooks Sherman of the Bent Agency. Tweet her at @besscozby, contact her at bess@diymfa.com, or visit her website at www.besscozby.com.

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Are you already withering up a little and looking for an escape? The idea of being fenced in by rules and structure can feel stifling, but it shouldn’t.

Adding structure can actually be freeing.

In one famous experiment, preschool children were observed playing at a playground without a fence around it, and later the same children were observed playing at a fenced-in playground.

Were children wildly running into the street when they had no boundaries? Nope. Without a fence, the children stayed close to the teacher. With a fence, the children freely played and explored the area. Boundaries make us feel safe. With them, we’re not kept guessing just how far we should go in each direction. And we’re not frozen in place by uncertainty.

In a writer’s life, this fear and uncertainty can manifest as writer’s block. The blank page is daunting, and the idea that you could write anything can overwhelm you so that you write nothing. Writers might not want to try a structured technique due to fear that writing that conforms to a structure will end up sounding trite and contrived. However, we have ample evidence that creativity can thrive within bounds.

Take a Cue from the Experts

Shakespeare wrote 154 sonnets. Robert Frost famously stated that “writing free verse poetry is like playing tennis with the net down,” and he wrote amazing and timeless formal poetry. In their book Beyond Heaving Bosoms, Sarah Wendell and Candy Tan (Smart Bitches, Trashy Books) give us a great quote from romance author Lisa Kleypas:

“But after twenty-two years of being published, I’ve come to realize that what makes a romance novel successful…is to think inside the box. The constraints, the limits, the structure of the romance novel is what allows a good writer to soar creatively.”

In his Poetics, Aristotle explains the various structures of the tragedy, what works and what doesn’t. The structure of the reversal and the recognition hasn’t stopped stunning readers. For a contemporary example, read Karin Tidbeck’s short story “Beatrice” in her book Jagannath.

Let’s take a look at some ways you can work structure into your writing.

1) Try writing a sonnet, a villanelle or a nonet.

Even if you’re not a poet, this type of exercise may be just the way to get your brain going. And it’s a good way to build facility with language; it can force you to think of different ways to arrange words and to use words you don’t normally pull out when you write.

2) Make up your own poetic constraint.

For example, in Bob Perelman’s “Chronic Meanings,” he wrote with the self-imposed constraint that each line would have only five words. This created unfinished sentences that worked as an analogy of a life that ends early. Create a constraint for your own poem. It can be meaningful or arbitrary.

3) Copy Sentence Structure

Pick a sentence you like out of a book. Take a look at its structure. Write your own sentence using the same structure. For example, in Call It Courage, Armstrong Sperry wrote: “His voice, cracked but triumphant, shattered the dead air.” My son and I wrote these sentences:

Her son, fat and pleasant, ate the sweet chocolate. (mine)

Her mind, broken but dark, burst the glass forest. (his)

4) Re-plot your current story.

Take a look at some of the common plot patterns listed in a book like James Scott Bell’s Plot & Structure. Does your current story fit into any of these molds? Consider how your story would change if you put it into a different plot-pattern mold.

5) Don’t Sweat It

After you’ve done an exercise with structure, you can keep the format you used or change it. Maybe you wrote a nonet that you almost love. When you revise it, you can leave it in its original structure or find something else that better suits what you’re trying to say. If you’ve written an interesting sentence that turned into a story, you can get rid of the initial sentence if it no longer fits the completed story.

Remember that a self-imposed structure or constraint is a tool you can use to help your mind work freely and in new ways, but you don’t want to give it control of your writing. Make good use of it, but when it stops working for you, ditch it.

Structure, constraints and boundaries are not to be feared or rejected. Learn them. Use them. Create your own even. They are important tools every writer can use to create writing that flows logically, generate ideas, improve writing skills and rework current projects.

Robyn Groth is a writer for Info-Forage.com. She believes education is a lifelong pursuit that should be personal. She uses writing to help people become passionate, empowered learners.

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She blogs at Mystery Writing is Murder which was named by Writer’s Digest as one of the 101 Best Websites for Writers for 2010—2013. She also manages the Writer’s Knowledge Base–the Search Engine for Writers. You can find her on her website and on Twitter as @ElizabethSCraig.

For most writers a book a year is a great goal. It’s difficult, sure, but still manageable. After the release of  Quilt Trip in December, Elizabeth Craig will have released four books just this year. In addition to that she writes an award-winning blog, tweets links to some of the best writing info on the web, and manages the writer’s equivalent of Google. Oh, and did I mention she also has a family and a life, and even finds time to drive the carpool?

As a parent, writer and entrepreneur, Elizabeth is one of my  personal role models. How does she balance it all? I was thrilled to get the chance to sit down with her and ask her.

Balancing Writing Life and Real Life

Yesterday I got the chance to speak with Elizabeth and record her Lit Loft bonus interview. We had a blast talking about the writing process, the research process behind her books, and more. At one point, I asked her how she does it all. Here’s what she said:

“I write first thing in the morning (5 a.m.), before waking my children up for school. I usually knock out the second half of my word count goal in the afternoon…frequently in the carpool line outside the middle school.”

I have to tip my hat at the first part of her answer because the only way I could ever be awake at 5 a.m. is if I stayed up from the night before. The part about writing on-the-go, on the other hand, totally resonated with me. While I don’t drive a carpool, I do carry a notebook with me everywhere and write when I’m on the bus or subway around New York City.

Elizabeth is  great example of a writer who finds ways to fit her work into her busy life, instead of putting life on hold in order to write. This, of course, is one of the core beliefs at DIY MFA, which is one of the reasons I’ve been such a huge fan of Elizabeth’s work over the years.

But sometimes writers need a little extra help. This is where tools and techniques can help us maximize our productivity and stay focused, even when life throws a curve ball or two.

Techniques for Staying On Task

Elizabeth hasn’t always been big on outlines. In fact, she’s recently moved from an organic writing process to one that is much more outline-focused. She blogged about this shift here, here, and here. This is one of the reasons why I was so thrilled to interview her for Lit Loft and get to ask her about her process for planning both her series as a whole, and the individual books.

She gave some excellent tips about outlining and planning books, which are in the Lit Loft interview, but she also shared one great insight that I wanted to pass on to you now. I myself am often guilty of trying to leap too far too fast with my word goals, so I loved Elizabeth’s advice on this topic.

This advice applies not just to writing but to all of life. When we make goals that are too ambitious, we set ourselves up for failure but if we set our goals at a reasonable level we create a climate of success. Every time we reach that goal, our confidence in our abilities will increase, making us more likely to make those goals again in the future. As someone who always sets my goals too high then scrambles to catch up–there was a time that I’d write myself word count IOU’s–I found Elizabeth’s advice encouraging. After all, here’s a writer who’s clearly produces a TON of work on a consistent basis, but she still keeps it all in balance.

Where Does She Get Her Inspiration?

As a writer who loves crafting puzzles on the page, it’s no surprise that a lot of Elizabeth’s inspiration comes from beloved protagonists of mystery series. She told me about the book that first inspired her to be a writer. “It was a Nancy Drew mystery that I read when I was 7… The Clue of the Dancing Puppet. I wanted to be a writer from that point on. I loved the way the author crafted the story, developed the characters, and created a puzzle for the readers to solve along with Nancy.”

When asked which literary character most resonates with her she responded: “[If I were a literary character] I’d be Miss Marple. I love that she got so much out of her life and kept her mind sharp by solving mysteries. And that she used the fact that she was constantly underestimated to her advantage.” Someone solves mysteries and gets a lot out of life… sounds a lot like what Elizabeth has carved out for herself. The only difference between her and Miss Marple is that I don’t think anyone’s going to underestimate Elizabeth.

Her newest book, Quilt Trip, comes out in December, 2013. You can learn more about it and her other books on Elizabeth’s website.

I’m delighted to announce that Elizabeth is one of the speakers for Lit Loft. Check out event details by clicking below. Sign up and you’ll hear Elizabeth’s interview, plus interviews with eleven other writing and publishing experts. Hope to see you there!

Elizabeth Craig will be speaking at LitLoft 2013
Registration closes soon so sign up today!

The post What I Learned About Balancing Writing and Life From Elizabeth Craig appeared first on DIY MFA.

This technique is especially useful when you need to give a short excerpt of your WIP to a critique partner who has never seen the project before.  In the writing class where I first learned this technique, all the students were submitting from novels-in-progress so the Rough Sketch (as our teacher called it) was essential for bringing the rest of the class up to speed.  Since taking that class, I made some adjustments to the Rough Sketch, renamed it as “Story Sketch” and added several of my own touches.

Here’s how to create a Story Sketch for your WIP.  First, download a Story Sketch Worksheet by clicking the link and fill it out.  Read on for an explanation of the worksheet.

Title:

This one is obvious, but worth mentioning nonetheless.  Make sure the title of your WIP is at the top of your Story Sketch.

Flap Copy:

The flap copy is the description you would find on the inside flap of your WIP if it were a printed book.  It’s like a short teaser enticing readers to want to pick up your book and read it.

Important Characters:

Choose five.  Yes, just five characters out of your entire cast.  I know it might be tough, but narrow the choices down to the five most important players.

World:

Briefly describe the setting or world where your story takes place.

Narration:

What is the point of view for your piece?  1st Person?  3rd Person?  Who narrates the story?  What words capture the voice of the narration?  Formal?  Conversational?  Snarky, perhaps?

Fortune Cookie:

The rectangle represents the fortune inside a fortune cookie.  In this rectangle, write a fortune cookie saying that captures the theme of your story.  (E.g. The Wizard of Oz might be summed up by “There’s no place like home.”)

Music:

What song or piece of music captures the mood of your piece?

Images:

Collect a few images that communicate the essence of your story and attach them to your rough sketch.  You can also include a paint chip or fabric swatch.  If you have artistic tendencies, you can also include doodles or sketches.

Using this worksheet, create a Story Sketch for your Work-In-Progress.

The post How to Create a Snapshot of your Work-in-Progress with a Story Sketch appeared first on DIY MFA.

Delaying or changing these elements on your reader will create tension.  While that might get the reader’s attention, it will also mean you’ll have to work that much harder to gain back the reader’s trust during the rest of the story.  Here are the five essential promises you make to your reader right at the beginning of your piece.  Most writers will fulfill these promises within the first five pages of a novel (or five paragraphs, in a short story).

1) You promise a character.

From the start your readers will want to know who they’re supposed to root for.  Sometimes writers will artfully delay the appearance of the main character in order to create anticipation or to reflect the character’s personality, but this is very unusual.  In most cases, the protagonist usually appears in the first chapter, and is often the very first character the reader sees.

A great example of a delayed main character from children’s literature is The Wainscott Weasel by Tor Seidler, in which the protagonist does not appear at all in the first chapter.  Another example, of course, is Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, in which Elizabeth’s ultimate love interest–Mr. Darcy–doesn’t appear until well into the story.  In the case of both books, these characters are introverted and shy.  By holding the characters back and making the reader wait for them, the authors show us this facet of their personalities.

 2) You promise the voice.

The voice of the narration is central to establishing the mood of the story.  Compare the opening sentences to the following novels and notice the different moods that they convey.

“Everyone thinks it was because of the snow.  And in a way, I suppose that’s true.”
~Gayle Forman, If I Stay

“We went to the moon to have fun, but the moon turned out to totally suck.”
~M.T. Anderson, Feed

“If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you’ll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don’t feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth.”
~J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

Point of view is also central to the voice and mood.  Notice that in the three above examples, all of the narrators were in the first person, which allows us to hear the character’s voice directly.  There are other scenarios where the narrator is not the protagonist, but the voice of the protagonist still comes through loud and clear in dialogue.  And, of course, there are instances when the narrator herself has a distinct and unique voice, as in this example.

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”
~Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

The ironic tone of this opening line shows us right away that this is no passive narrator.  She’s spunky and has as much spark and wit as the protagonist.

3) You promise the world.

Promise the world?  As in the whole world?  It might sound huge but it’s not just any world you’re promising, it’s your world, the world of your book.  It doesn’t matter what genre you’re writing, you have to let the reader into your world and it must feel real.  This applies whether you’re writing a contemporary story set in a average suburb, or some elaborate fantasy story set in another dimension.  The reader needs to believe in your world and the best way for you to make that happen is for you to believe in it yourself.

Another thing to remember about promising your world is that when it comes to detail, a little goes a long way.  Writers are often tempted to give as much detail about setting as possible, thinking that the more details they share the more real the world will become.  This is especially true for fantasy stories, where the writer may worry that the reader won’t “get” the setting if they don’t describe every last inch.

The truth is, readers are smart and often a few well-placed details will carry more weight than long passages of description.  Just as readers trust the writer to give them a world that feels real, the writer must trust the readers to suspend their disbelief and invest in that world.

4) You promise a problem.

From the first page, your reader has to know that there’s a problem the character is facing.  Whether that problem is explicit (like the family’s financial state in Pride and Prejudice) or a mystery (like in If I Stay) we know from the first moment that the character is facing some difficulty, some problem.  This promise is essential because whatever this problem is, it will be crucial in establishing the central conflict for your story.

Note that while this problem that appears early in the story does not necessarily have to be the central conflict.  In Pride and Prejudice, the initial problem is the family’s financial situation, but as we read on we discover that the central conflict actually lies in the relationship between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy and that initial problem merely contributes to the conflict.  The initial financial problem sets events in motion and eventually we discover the central conflict.  After all, if the Bennet family were not in such a serious financial position, Mrs. Bennet would not have pushed her daughters to meet husbands and most likely Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy would not have been thrown together, thus leading to their romance.

5) You promise an event.

Every book or story opens with some sort of event that kick-starts the story.  In If I Stay, the event is huge and turns the characters’ lives upside-down.  In Catcher in the Rye, Holden leaves boarding school and that sets off the chain of events from where the story unfolds.  In Feed, we start by going to the moon to have fun and the story unravels from there.  In Pride and Prejudice, the wealthy bachelor Mr. Bingly moves to the neighborhood, raising all sorts of gossip among the neighbors.  Whether the event simply nudges the story into motion or gives it a sharp shove, there must be an event early on that gets the story started.

Your reader will be waiting for that event, so as a writer you need to follow through.  If you delay that event for too long, your reader might lose interest or, worse yet, stop reading altogether.  The sooner you set your story in motion, the sooner you can hook your reader.

In the end, it all comes down to building a level of trust with your reader.  When you deliver on these promises, you’re showing your readers that they are in good hands and that you know what you’re doing.  Then when you take risks in your writing with an artful purpose, you’re also letting the readers know that you trust them as well.  Ultimately, the reader-writer relationship is one of trust.  Readers trust writers not to go back on their promises or play tricks on them and writers must trust readers to be smart and understand what they’re doing.

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