Jeff grew up in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, where he spent two of his high school years at a boarding school much like the one depicted in his debut novel Attachments, which we’ll be discussing today.

In the ’70s, he studied film/tv/theater production at Emerson College in Boston and then moved to LA, where he worked as a concert lighting designer and toured the country with national rock and reggae acts while teaching himself to write screenplays on the side.

Years later, he was teaching high school English and running a martial arts school when heard the call to write again. In 1989, he sold the school he’d built, rented a small office, and gave himself one year to write three screenplays. 

The second of those―a quirky romantic comedy where the two lovers don’t even meet until the very last page―sold almost immediately, and Sleepless in Seattle became a surprise megahit worldwide. 

For his screenplay, Jeff was nominated for an Oscar, as well as for Writers Guild and BAFTA awards, among others. His other credits include the Disney adventure film Iron Will, New Line’s romantic comedy Sealed With a Kiss, and the independent comedy Dave Barry’s Complete Guide to Guys. His script for Saving Milly, based on Mort Kondracke’s searing memoir, earned the 2005 Humanitas Nomination, an honor he treasures. 

Jeff is a father, stepfather, father-in-law, and grandfather and is based in Malibu.

In this episode Jeff and I discuss:

• His method for moving characters with their own agendas through the plot.
• How to avoid the dreaded info dump and his advice for what to do instead.
• Why you shouldn’t focus on the theme, but should worry about the story instead.

Plus, his #1 tip for writers.

About Jeff Arch

Jeff Arch grew up in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, where he spent two of his high school years at a boarding school much like the one depicted in his debut novel Attachments. In the ’70s, he studied film/tv/theater production at Emerson College in Boston and then moved to Los Angeles, where he worked as a concert lighting designer and toured the country with national rock and reggae acts while teaching himself to write screenplays on the side. Years later, married and with a young family, he was teaching high school English and running a martial arts school when heard the call to write again; in 1989, he sold the school he’d built, rented a small office, and gave himself one year to write three screenplays. 

The second of those―a quirky romantic comedy where the two lovers don’t even meet until the very last page―sold almost immediately, and Sleepless in Seattle became a surprise megahit worldwide. For his screenplay, Jeff was nominated for an Oscar, as well as for Writers Guild and BAFTA awards, among others. His other credits include the Disney adventure film Iron Will, New Line’s romantic comedy Sealed With a Kiss, and the independent comedy Dave Barry’s Complete Guide to Guys. His script for Saving Milly, based on Mort Kondracke’s searing memoir, earned the 2005 Humanitas Nomination, an honor Jeff treasures. Jeff is a father, stepfather, father-in-law, and grandfather and is based in Malibu. Attachments is Jeff’s first novel.

You can follow Jeff Arch on Facebook and Twitter.

Attachments

At a boarding school in Pennsylvania, a deathbed request from the school’s dean brings three former students back to campus, where secrets and betrayals from the past are brought out into the open―secrets that could have a catastrophic effect on the dean’s eighteen-year-old son.

Told in alternating points of view and time frames, Attachments is the story of best friends Stewart (“Goody”) Goodman, Sandy (“Pick”) Piccolo, and Laura Appleby, the girl they both love. The friends meet in 1972 at a boarding school in coal-country Pennsylvania where they encounter Henry Griffin, the school dean, whose genuine fatherly interest and deep human bond with them is so strong that when he has a severe stroke almost twenty years later, he uses what could be his last words ever to call out their names.

Attachments is a puzzle―and the only one who knows how all the pieces fit is in a coma. In the process, longtime secrets are unearthed, revelations come out into the open, and Young Chip Griffin is about to learn something he may or may not be able to handle.

If you decide to check out the book, we hope you’ll do so via this Amazon affiliate link, where if you choose to purchase via the link DIY MFA gets a referral fee at no cost to you. As always, thank you for supporting DIY MFA!

Link to Episode 359

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The post Episode 359: Trust, Threat, and Truth: A Journey Through the Craft of Writing – Interview with Jeff Arch appeared first on DIY MFA.

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Martian by Andy Weir (Science Fiction)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If you think about it, our relationship with the natural world is as ripe with conflict as the relationship between two characters. Maybe that’s why so many writers have explored it as a literary theme in their work. But why exactly is this theme important? Let’s explore five of those reasons in today’s edition of Theme: A Story’s Soul.

1) The Natural World is One of the Reasons Why We’re Alive

Nature isn’t simply part of the world we live in. It provides us with food, water for drinking and bathing, and air we can breathe. It nurtures our crops and gardens with rain and sun, offers shade on hot days, and abounds with herbs and botanicals that have medicinal properties. Essentially, the natural world enables us to survive.

Books such as Ernest Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea, Scott O’Dell’s Island of the Blue Dolphins, and C.S. Lewis’s The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe remind us to accept and be grateful for the sustenance and protection that nature offers us. Calling this theme “man versus nature” would be unfair and inaccurate for this reason and others we’ll discuss shortly. The point is, since we live in and are alive because of nature, it’s important for us to appreciate nature for all its beauty, nourishment, and lifesaving relief.

2) It Compels Us to Reflect on Our Relationship with Living Things

If you’ve read The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe or watched its film or TV adaptations, you might remember that several of its characters – Aslan the lion, the Beavers, even Mr. Tumnus the Faun – are animals or mythological creatures with animal-like features. Now, what other stories have you read where animals are part of the cast of characters? I can think of Yann Martel’s Life of Pi, Stacey O’Brien’s Wesley the Owl, Anna Sewell’s Black Beauty – and that’s just for starters.

Indeed, our relationships with other living things are highlighted in stories where man and the natural world is a central theme. With animals in particular, we often see them portrayed as characters with human-like traits and qualities that we can relate to or see in ourselves. Sometimes, these characters are treated with love and respect. Other times, they’re neglected or mistreated in violent and heartbreaking ways. Both approaches underscore how humans and animals (and the natural world at large) depend on one another, for better or worse, in order to survive—and, more importantly, how the love between us and an animal can be one of the most nurturing and life-changing bonds we’ll ever have.

3) It Teaches Us to Reconnect with Ourselves on a Spiritual Level

Why else would Mary Oliver have compared death to “the hungry bear in autumn” in her poem “When Death Comes”? Or Robert Frost have used the famous “[t]wo roads diverged in a yellow wood” to symbolize choice in “The Road Not Taken”? Whether we realize it or not, our connection with the natural world goes deeper than survival. In fact, it takes us to the deepest parts of ourselves that find joy or solace in the calm that nature offers.

Hermann Hesse’s Siddhartha is an excellent example of the spiritual side of this theme. As Siddhartha embarks on his quest for enlightenment, he experiences both the beauty and brutality of the natural world, and his feelings toward it seesaw between scorn and admiration until he learns to see nature as a source of healing and reconnecting with himself. He also meets Vasudeva, a ferryman who views the river he paddles across as a source of contemplation and mysticism. Thus, stories like Siddhartha that delve into this theme help us remember our place in the natural order of the planet. If fictional characters can remember who they are by spending time in the stillness of nature, so can we.

4) It Demonstrates the Power that Nature Holds Over Us

Of course, nature isn’t always calm and quiet. We see this in N.K. Jemisin’s Broken Earth trilogy, where select people have the power to control the earth’s energy and prevent earthquakes, tsunamis, and volcanic eruptions—or cause them. We also see this in Rae Carson’s Walk on Earth a Stranger, where young Lee must endure drought, extreme heat, buffalo stampedes, and the Rocky Mountains before she can join the California gold rush. And let’s not forget how the crew of the fishing boat Andrea Gail was lost at sea during a massive nor’easter in Sebastian Junger’s The Perfect Storm.

In other words, we (and living things in general) are often as nature’s mercy. The challenges that the natural world can present through its weather, landscapes, and geological phenomena can threaten our ability to travel, our means of electricity, our homes, and even our survival. So when a story demonstrates how nature can be an obstacle to a character’s goal—or, in some instances, can serve as part of the main conflict—it illuminates how nature can be violent, unpredictable, and deadly. And when it is, we should respect its power just as we respect its gifts.

5) It Reminds Us to Take Better Care of the Natural World

It’s true that mankind’s impact on the natural world is one of many hot-button political issues right now. But it’s equally true that, just as nature affects our lives, we affect nature in return—and usually not to nature’s benefit. Look long enough, and you’ll also find plenty of stories that show characters tipping that balance in their favor and the natural world suffering as a result.

Take Jay Kristoff’s Stormdancer, for example. After an industrial revolution, the story’s fictional setting has become so polluted that its people are sick or dying, and so much of the land has been deforested that many plant and animal species—including the arashitora, one of the country’s mythical creatures—have become or are believed to be extinct. The planet Athshe in Ursula K. Le Guin’s The Word for World is Forest faces a similar crisis. Colonists from Earth enslave the Athsheans and begin clearing the mostly forested land for timber, which has become scarce on Earth. In each story, the destruction of its setting plays a major role in the plot and compels the characters to interact with nature—and to consider the beauty of what’s been lost and how to save what’s left. So when we read about this take on the theme of man and the natural world, we can’t help but think about our own planet’s environmental issues and how we can take better care of the place we all call home.

In your opinion, why is man and the natural world an important theme? What other reasons would you add to this list? Which stories have you read that are compelling examples of this theme?

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

The post Why Is the Theme of Man and the Natural World Important? appeared first on DIY MFA.

Writers often confuse the terms “topic” and “theme” and, as a result, use them interchangeably.

The truth is, topic and theme are not the same. Each has a distinct role and function in the craft of writing – and one of them, oddly enough, is a means of infusing the other into our work. So today we’ll learn how to distinguish the differences between theme and topic and what we should keep in mind about both terms when we’re writing.

What Is a Theme? And What Is a Topic?

In our first Theme: A Story’s Soul post, we offered this working definition for “theme”:

An idea, concept, or lesson that appears repeatedly throughout a story, reflects the character’s internal journey through the external plot, and resonates with the reader.

In other words, a story’s themes are part of the story’s central message. Themes allow readers to look at the main conflict from a broader perspective. They reveal the universals that help readers connect with the characters. They raise questions and evoke emotions that cause us to laugh, cry, or say to ourselves, “I know exactly what this character is going through.”

So what, then, are a story’s topics? And how do they differ from themes?

In our recent post on identifying themes in the poetry we write, we introduced topic as the facts that explain what a poem – or a piece of writing in general – is about. It’s another word for “subject matter”; and it tends to be specific and concrete, while theme is more conceptual. As a result, a story’s topics are clearly stated and can be identified more easily than its themes.

Think about the difference between topic and theme in terms of the five Ws and one H (who, what, where, when, why, and how). We’ve already established that a story’s topics answer the question, “What is this story about?” Theme, on the other hand, explores a story’s big picture and universal ideas, which reveal why these struggles matter to the characters and why they might matter to the readers as well. As a result, theme answers the question, “Why is this story important?”

The most important difference between topic and theme, however, might surprise you: Topic is a vehicle for illustrating theme. When you demonstrate the facts of the story in action through the main conflict and character interactions, you don’t simply state those facts. Instead, you infuse deeper meaning into those facts by showing the challenges that your characters face during the story and their reactions and emotions along the way. In this way, the story’s “what” makes the “why” possible. The writer just needs to give it the right amount of attention and nurture throughout the process.

Questions to Ask When Identifying a Story’s Topics

Even though it’s easy to spot a story’s topics, it’s good to know what questions you should ask to help you identify them. So before getting started, here are some questions to keep in mind:

• Who is the story about?
• What is the main character’s story goal?
• What happens to the main character(s) during the story?
• What kinds of struggles, conflicts, or challenges are suggested by the title or jacket copy?
• What does the main character(s) do that’s important to the story’s outcome?
• How does the main character’s ethnicity, geographic location, passions, hardships, and other distinctive aspects influence what the story is about?
•  What words or phrases repeatedly come up in the jacket copy or the story’s text?

Notice anything about these questions? Several of them require information about the characters and the setting, since some of the story’s facts will answer the three remaining Ws: who, where, and when. In this way, these Ws provide additional context for the story’s topics that the “what” can’t always provide on its own.

Distinguishing Topic from Theme Using a Book’s Jacket Copy

Believe it or not, you can identify most (if not all) of a book’s topics by reading a book’s jacket copy. The trick, of course, is knowing what to look for – but that’s where the above list of questions comes in handy. (*wink*) So let’s try it using the jacket copy of this edition of Ruta Sepetys’s Between Shades of Gray:

Lina is just like any other fifteen-year-old Lithuanian girl in 1941. She paints, she draws, she gets crushes on boys. Until one night when Soviet officers barge into her home, tearing her family from the comfortable life they’ve known. Separated from her father, forced onto a crowded and dirty train car, Lina, her mother, and her young brother slowly make their way north, crossing the Arctic Circle, to a work camp in the coldest reaches of Siberia. Here they are forced, under Stalin’s orders, to dig for beets and fight for their lives under the cruelest of conditions.

Lina finds solace in her art, meticulously–and at great risk–documenting events by drawing, hoping these messages will make their way to her father’s prison camp to let him know they are still alive. It is a long and harrowing journey, spanning years and covering 6,500 miles, but it is through incredible strength, love, and hope that Lina ultimately survives.

Concise as this example may be, it reveals these four topics of Between Shades of Gray:

• The Soviet Union’s genocide of the Baltic peoples of Eastern Europe during World War II, as implied by the year, location, and references to Joseph Stalin, the Soviets, and labor camps
• The separation of families during times of war, which is one of the challenges Lina will endure based on the jacket copy’s contents
• The hardships of life in labor / prison camps, another of the challenges that Lina will face as implied above
•  Art as a means of communication, thanks to Lina using drawings to deliver messages to her father

More topics will emerge as you read Between Shades of Gray. But once boiled down to their essences, these four facts hint at several of the book’s themes: war, morality and integrity, family, the power of art, and survival. They don’t hint at all of the themes (love and sacrifice are also major themes in this story), but that’s to be expected. What is expected is that these topics tell the reader what the story is about – and they do, accurately and effectively.

What to Keep in Mind About Topic and Theme as You Write

The main thing to remember about topic is that it pertains to the story’s “what.” It’s driven by facts and specifics, whereas theme deals with the big picture and overall meaning that reveal why the story matters. So as you determine the topics and themes in your own work, ask yourself the questions that we posed earlier. What are the facts of your story? Who is it about? What kinds of conflicts does the protagonist face? How do the setting, time period, and other defining characteristics influence what happens?

Chances are you’ll identify your story’s topics just by reviewing your pitch, synopsis, or other summary that explains what your story is about. And once you do, you’ll find it easier to dig into the meat of your story – the characters, dialogue, plot points, and so on – and recognize the themes you’ve been cultivating all along.

How do you distinguish the difference between topic and theme? What are the topics of your current story? How do these topics usher in the story’s themes? And, of course, what are your story’s themes?

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

The post The Difference Between Topic and Theme appeared first on DIY MFA.

Mark is an author and has an MFA from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, where he was a Michener-Copernicus Fellow, and holds a PhD from the University of Denver. He was also the Robert P. Dana Emerging Writer-in-Residence at Cornell College’s Center for the Literary Arts from 2012-2014.

His stories have appeared in American Short Fiction, Kenyon Review, Guernica, Colorado Review, and Mid-American Review.

Mark’s debut is a short story collection titled Aerialists, in which classic circus figures become ordinary misfits seeking grandeur in a lonely world. In this collection, Mark examines familiar tropes—like the strongman, the elephant keeper, the clowns—and reinterprets these myths by placing them in everyday contemporary life.

So listen in as Mark and I chat about this amazing book and how to gain a deeper understanding of a story by falling into its world over and over again. 

In this episode Mark and I discuss:

• The intimacy of a short story.
• Creating a unique reading experience in your writing.
• How to use the theme of your book as a marketing tool the right way.
• Advice on how to approach short stories of literary fiction as a reader.
• How to use language and imagery to anchor readers in your story.

Plus, Mark’s #1 tip for writers.

About Mark Mayer

Mark Mayer is a Colorado author currently living in France with his wife and two rabbits. He has an MFA from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, where he was a Michener-Copernicus Fellow, and holds a PhD from the University of Denver. From 2012 to 2014, Mark lived at Cornell College’s Center for the Literary Arts as the Robert P. Dana Emerging Writer-in-Residence. 

His stories have appeared in American Short Fiction, Kenyon Review, Guernica, Colorado Review, and Mid-American Review.

Mark’s debut short story collection Aerialists, which takes a look at classic circus figures as ordinary misfits in the world, is now available.

To connect with mark check out his website at www.markgmayer.com.

Aerialists 

Aerialists, the Michener-Copernicus winning debut from Mark Mayer, is a fiercely inventive collection of nine stories in which classic circus figures become ordinary misfits seeking grandeur in a lonely world. 

The circus has always been an assortment of American exaggerations—the bold, the beautiful, the freakish, the huge. In this impressive collection, Mayer reinterprets these myths and locates them in everyday contemporary life, finding reincarnations or inversions of familiar tropes such as the strongman, the elephant keeper, and the clowns. 

Under the luminous tent of Mayer’s prose, we meet an unforgettable caravan of deftly drawn characters: A heartsick teenager finds a new mentor in a tough-talking female bodybuilder. A navy recruit grapples with the impending loss of his childhood by building an exact replica of his neighborhood in code. A wilderness expert seduces his love interest with the promise of showing her an elusive mountain lion. A peach farmer, alone in a former boomtown, conducts a burial for an elephant.

Throughout, Mayer renders his characters’ attempted acts of daring and feats of strength with humor, generosity, and uncommon grace. 

As Merritt Tierce, author of Love Me Back, observes, “Mark Mayer has built a circus of the normal, has somehow infiltrated the ordinary to reveal the freak inside…Cynicism and doubt and loss [are] writ so small, then deftly magnified, blown up by tenderness.”

If you decide to check out the book, we hope you’ll do so via this Amazon affiliate link, where if you choose to purchase via the link DIY MFA gets a referral fee at no cost to you. As always, thank you for supporting DIY MFA!

Link to Episode 260

(Right-click to download.)

If you liked this episode…

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Until next week, keep writing and keep being awesome!

The post Episode 260: Reading and Re-Reading Like a Writer — Interview with Mark Mayer appeared first on DIY MFA.

Interestingly, the more and more I read of the submissions, the more similarities I found between creative nonfiction and fiction. Many of the most successful nonfiction pieces utilized certain elements from fiction, which made for more compelling narratives and, ultimately, were the pieces that I flagged with a “Yes.”

So, what makes a creative nonfiction piece stand out in the slush pile? Simple: the same elements that make a fiction piece stand out.

When I read fiction, I want a strong sense of conflict (plot) and a cohesive theme throughout the piece (i.e. what am I supposed to take away from this story?). Of course, those aren’t the only elements that make for a fantastic story, but they’re the ones that I find most lacking in a lot of submissions.

Plot: Conflict and Tension

I know what you’re thinking: real life is messy; it doesn’t have a plot! And you’re right. 99.9% of the time, our daily routines are not fraught with riveting conflict (unless I count the time I got pulled over on my way to work one morning). However, the moments you choose to write about in your creative nonfiction typically have had a profound impact on you and/or the people around you. Those are the moments that can be filled with conflict and tension.

Much like fiction writers are encouraged to come up with an “inciting incident” for their characters, the inciting incident in your creative nonfiction is the moment that forces you personally to take some kind of action and, as a result, changes you in some way. Without conflict and tension, this change can’t really occur.

For a good example of conflict and tension in a nonfiction piece, check out Jaclyn Gilbert’s “Core Being,” which was published by Tin House. In her essay, Gilbert discusses the way her body and her relationship with her father slowly deteriorated during her time in college. These dual conflicts push the narrative forward in a way that is heartbreaking, but ultimately hopeful. Gilbert’s essay spans years, however, the memories she chooses to include each serve a purpose: they show how certain moments in her life forced her to take action and change, for better or worse.

So, as you draft your creative nonfiction piece, keep this idea of plot in mind. While it’s true that many of our life experiences don’t have clear cut plots (like in fiction), there are still moments that are ripe with conflict and tension. And, in my opinion, it’s those moments that make for compelling stories—fiction or not.

Theme: The Takeaway

When you’re writing fiction, it’s always a good idea to keep a theme (or multiple themes) in mind; this can create a sense of cohesion throughout the piece. Ideally, a strong theme doesn’t leave your readers confused by the end of the story; instead, they should have a clear takeaway (for example: “This story was about love.” or “This story was about grief.”).

Theme is equally as important in creative nonfiction. There could be several moments from your life that have had a profound impact on you, however, if they are not linked in some way, they can seem disjointed or disorganized on paper. One way to fix this issue is by asking yourself: What is the main thing I want readers to take away from my experiences? Your answer should give you a good idea of the theme of your work, or at least point you in the right direction.

As I mentioned above, Gilbert’s Tin House essay spans years, yet it still feels cohesive. I think this is largely due to her focus on one or two major themes. Relationships played a big role in her past—with her father, with exercise, with her body—and it’s a theme that is present throughout the entire piece. Gilbert doesn’t just haphazardly hop from one memory to another; rather, each memory hearkens back to that one specific theme and they each lead up to a satisfying conclusion.

Over To You, Writers!

If you’re a writer of creative nonfiction, I would love to hear from you in the comments. How do you craft compelling essays? Do you use any techniques from fiction writing? Let me know!

Manuela Williams is a Las Vegas-based writer and editor. She is the author of Ghost In Girl Costume, which won the 2017 Hard To Swallow Chapbook Contest. Her second poetry chapbook, Witch, is forthcoming from Dancing Girl Press. When she’s not writing, Manuela is busy drinking coffee and spending time with her blind Pomeranian, Redford. You can connect with her on LinkedIn and Pinterest.

The post Using Fiction Writing Techniques to Enhance Your Creative Nonfiction appeared first on DIY MFA.

Thankfully, there are a few tricks to incorporating theme into your first draft that don’t involve ignoring theme and don’t have you rubbing your reader’s face in it either.

1) Make sure your theme is the foundation of your overarching plot

The best way to make theme an integral part of your story is to build it right into the foundation. You can do this by asking yourself some questions that explore the connection between your plot and your theme: Why does this plot captivate me? Why do I want to write this particular story? What message does this story communicate? Is that the message I want it to communicate? If not, how can I adjust my plot to reflect the right message?

Say I’m writing a story about Brenda, a thirty-year-old spinster who believes she is too ugly to ever find true love. Say I really want to write a transformation story–I’m captivated by the idea that Brenda gets a makeover and finds true love. But if I just stop at Brenda getting a makeover and finding true love, the theme is scary close to something like  being beautiful is the only way to really be loved. Ew!

So I return to my plot, and I add a few elements. First, she will have a geeky best guy friend who secretly loves her. She will find true love with a man who loved her before her transformation. That’s better, but the theme is still not where I want it. So I decide that Brenda will transform and finally appear beautiful, but she will still not feel beautiful, which is where she learns that in order to feel beautiful, you have to love yourself exactly as you are. Bingo! That’s my theme. Feeling beautiful is more about your internal perspective of self than anything external.

2) Connect your main character’s transformation to the theme

As you plan out the character arc of your protagonist, ask yourself what s/he will learn, and how she will change. If your plot is already grounded in your theme, your character’s growth will automatically connect to your theme. If not, tweak it until the character transformation relates to your story’s theme.

In Brenda’s case, she will learn that being beautiful isn’t what she thought it would be–in fact even when she is objectively beautiful, she feels ugly. This will send her down the path of learning what it takes to feel beautiful (which, she will discover, comes from loving yourself, flaws and all).

3) Add symbolic objects to your story based on your theme

Another way to incorporate theme is to include symbolic objects in your story. These could be anything from small trinkets to elements of the setting. Play around with various objects that might be important and meaningful to your character and see if they might relate to your theme with a bit of tweaking.

In Brenda’s story, her bedroom mirror would be symbolic. I’d make the mirror somewhat flawed, maybe a little bit of a blurred image or with a scratch on it so what is seen in the mirror isn’t what is real. This could develop a few themes of it’s own, but would also be the proof that Brenda has grown and changed when she finally looks in the mirror and believes that she is beautiful no matter what the mirror shows her.

If you’re stumped for what symbolic objects you might include, brainstorm a list of objects related to the big ideas in your theme. See which ones spark your imagination and fit with your story.

4) Use other characters to compare and contrast with your theme

From minor side characters to major sidekicks, your main character is surrounded by other humans bumbling through the story alongside her. Put them to work bringing out your theme by highlighting their character traits, backstories, and subplots as they compare and contrast with what your main character is struggling through.

For example, in Brenda’s story, she’d have a gorgeous sister who is everything Brenda wants to be — attractive, confident, and sought after by men. But she would be missing something. Maybe she is happily married to a Ken Doll but part way through the book, Brenda finds out they are divorcing, calling into question Brenda’s theory that beautiful people find true love and live a “charmed” life.

I’d also add a spry older woman, maybe a grandma, who is completely confident and happy in her body even though she is ninety and not the cookie-cutter beautiful that Brenda longs for.

These characters would support the theme in their own right, but would also be like sandpaper for Brenda, slowly scratching away at her misbelief about external appearance and love.

5) Use imagery to illustrate your theme

If you know your character and theme well, you will naturally start including imagery that points back to your theme as you write. If you are still fleshing them out, however, you can start by putting yourself in your character’s shoes. Think about what they might notice in their surroundings. Jot down all of your ideas and then go back and highlight the ones that connect to your theme, then be sure to add that imagery to your scenes.

For example, say Brenda is visiting the spry old lady mentioned above and she notices the peeling wallpaper in her house, the outdated furniture, and the dinginess of this old lady’s home. Obsessed with external appearances, Brenda would notice these things and would probably make some sort of judgment or assumption based on it. She’d assume that the old lady was miserable looking at that every day.

Now you don’t have to explain the significance of peeling wallpaper to the reader, but explained or not, the image works to support Brenda’s character (she cares a great deal about external appearances) and connects to theme.

The basic trick to avoiding beating your reader over the head with theme is to work it into the blueprint of your story until it looks like it was always part of the original structure. Afterall, we don’t notice the insulation in the walls of our house, but we sure do feel it keeping us warm and dry.

And that’s all we want from theme in our stories–to feel it as we read like the warm sun on our faces, so soft and subtle that we don’t notice the source but only the pleasant warmth it gives us.

Ashly is a book coach and editor who believes that stories give us much needed hope–and we need as many stories in the world as we can get. She lives with her husband and daughter in the magical lands of the Pacific Northwest and spends her days supporting writers and working on her fantasy novel. Visit her website, www.InkandGraceEditing.com, for free writing resources.

The post #5onFri: Five Ways to Inject Theme into Your Story (Without Being Obvious) appeared first on DIY MFA.

Sounds ominous, doesn’t it? But as we’ll see in today’s edition of Theme: A Story’s Soul, revenge makes for a fascinating case study. So let’s dive into the first of our two example novels and discover which storytelling elements and techniques can help us illustrate this dark, complex theme in our own work.

Revenge as a Theme in Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights (Gothic / Romance)

Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights is the tempestuous tale of Catherine Earnshaw and her lover and foster brother Heathcliff. After enduring years of abuse under Catherine’s biological brother Hindley, Heathcliff runs away – only to return to Wuthering Heights three years later and find Catherine married to another man. He then begins a decade-long revenge scheme to try to bring down both the Earnshaws and their neighbors, the Lintons. But does his plan help him get what he truly wants in the end?

The cycle of revenge doesn’t begin with Heathcliff, though. Instead, it ignites with Hindley. As a boy, Hindley grows increasingly jealous of the fondness Catherine and their father show the orphaned Heathcliff. Eventually Hindley views his father as “an oppressor rather than a friend” and Heathcliff as “a usurper of his parent’s affections and his privileges” (48) – a perceived threat, in other words, to Hindley’s inheritance of Wuthering Heights, the family estate. So when Hindley returns from college after his father’s death, he uses his new role as patriarch to debase Heathcliff, from denying him an education to forcing him to work in the fields, and to separate him from Catherine. His revenge appears complete when Catherine accepts Edgar Linton’s marriage proposal, explaining that “‘[i]t would degrade me to marry Heathcliff now’” despite how much she loves him (100).

So it’s no surprise that Heathcliff begins making his own plans. His desire for revenge often surfaces in the joy he experiences from his victims’ suffering. His delight in Hindley’s descent into alcoholism and gambling is apparent (82), and he uses those habits to his advantage by driving Hindley into debt. Heathcliff then shows the same merciless pleasure during his vengeance on Catherine’s husband Edgar Linton. At one point, he tells the Lintons’ daughter Cathy, “‘I shall enjoy myself remarkably in thinking [your father] will be miserable; I shall not sleep for satisfaction’” (337). This marks the moment when Heathcliff’s obsession with revenge pushes him beyond any hope of redemption. His lack of concern over harming the next generation of both families, including his own son, also proves how revenge affects anyone who cares about the vindicator or the victim, especially those who are used as pawns in the overall plot.

While Hindley and Heathcliff execute the two grandest schemes, other characters find equal satisfaction through smaller acts of vengeance. Catherine, for example, rebels against Hindley by becoming Heathcliff’s childhood co-conspirator, escaping with him to the nearby moors and contriving “some naughty plan of revenge” whenever they could (58). The most moving comeuppance, however, comes from young Cathy Linton, after she learns how Heathcliff has used her in his revenge against her father: “‘[Y]ou have nobody to love you; and, however miserable you make us, we shall still have the revenge of thinking that your cruelty arises from your greater misery’” (353). Even though Cathy’s anger is perpetuating the novel’s cycle of revenge, she still makes an excellent point: Despite all of Heathcliff’s maneuvers, he’ll never have Catherine’s love, the only thing he’s ever wanted.

Revenge as a Theme in V.E. Schwab’s Vicious (Fantasy / Superhero)

In V.E. Schwab’s Vicious, two college roommates, Victor and Eli, experiment with the idea that near-death experiences can give someone ExtraOrdinary abilities. Their shared obsession soon lands Victor in jail and Eli on a mission to rid the world of all super-powered people except himself. When Victor escapes from prison 10 years later, his actions and choices for allies set him and Eli on a collision course that’s fueled by – what else? – revenge.

Through flashbacks, readers learn that Eli turned in Victor to the police after Victor’s near-death experience results in, among other things, the accidental death of Eli’s girlfriend. Thus, the motivation for Victor’s revenge becomes clear, as well as the intensity of his desire. He rarely stops thinking about his target, even when trying to sleep (“… [W]hen he closed his eyes and searched for silence, a word rose up to meet him, a reminder of why he couldn’t afford to break, a challenge, a name. Eli.” [69]). He also views his accomplices (especially his fellow ExtraOrdinaries) as “weapons with minds and wills and bodies, things that could be bent and twisted and broken and used” (289). These and other instances in Vicious prove how the need for vengeance can border on obsession and erase a person’s humanity.

As for Eli, one could make the case that he avenged his girlfriend’s death by putting Victor in prison. But he also seeks a different kind of retribution as he hunts other ExtraOrdinaries. His falling-out with Victor convinces him that, apart from himself, ExtraOrdinaries are “an affront to nature, to God,” and that his rapid healing abilities are a sign that he is “stronger” than the others and must rid them from the world (220). Thus, Eli takes on what Victor later calls an “avenging angel” (353) role. Like the Biblical angels, Eli carries out what he perceives as divine justice through violence – in his case, by killing ExtraOrdinaries for the greater good.

Small acts of vengeance also punctuate the larger scheme in Vicious. Sydney, a teenage ExtraOrdinary, joins Victor’s cause after Eli almost kills her, and eventually finds herself hoping that Eli feels “sick” upon learning that she’s still alive (275) and says, “‘I hope Victor hurts him…. A lot’” (276). Victor also sees Sydney’s survival as a victory over Eli, explaining that her power of resurrecting the dead is valuable and that “‘[Eli’s] loss is my gain’” (225). Also, before his conflict with Eli, Victor enacts revenge against his neglectful parents, a pair of world-renowned spiritual teachers, by redacting lines of text from their self-help books for academic credit as well as for fun (14). All of this illustrates how seemingly insignificant moments can enhance the revenge theme – and how some characters develop their vengeful habits long before the story’s events take place.

Keys to Exploring Revenge as a Literary Theme

As you can see, stories that explore revenge as a theme typically make that theme central to the main conflict. Wuthering Heights would be rather boring if Heathcliff had forgiven Hindley and Edgar or moved on from his love of Catherine. The same goes for Vicious, if Victor had opted not to make Eli pay for his betrayal. So what other techniques and elements can reinforce the revenge theme, based on our new understanding of both novels? Here are a few to start with:

• “Revenge Cycles”: Wuthering Heights and Vicious use multiple examples and repetition – both of which are integral parts of exploring theme – to reinforce the infectious nature of revenge. As Heathcliff and Victor plot and pursue their vengeance, their actions spur their victims to retaliate, spawning a cycle of revenge in which characters go on hurting one another until they are unable or unwilling to continue for one reason or another.
• Character Motivations: Readers don’t simply know that Heathcliff and Victor want revenge. They also witness the events that spark each character’s desire for it. Making the birth of this motivation part of the story helps readers understand why a character is seeking vengeance while creating strong roots that allow the theme to keep growing.
• Grand Schemes vs Smaller Acts: Both novels feature a main revenge storyline punctuated with other acts of vengeance such as verbal threats or “ill wishes,” childish pranks, and small or symbolic victories prior to the climax scene. These seemingly less significant moments not only bolster the theme, but also fuel the revenge cycle between characters and enhance the overall grim tone.
• Impact on Other Characters: Did you notice how Heathcliff’s schemes against Hindley and Edgar include using their children as pawns? And how Victor’s plan to ruin Eli’s reputation also spells danger for their accomplices? Exploring revenge as a theme means showing how other characters get wrapped up in the pursuit (either by choice or by force) and how they are forever changed as a result of their involvement.
• The Cost of Revenge: A convincing examination of revenge as a theme will include evidence of the price one must pay for choosing revenge. Both V.E. Schwab and Emily Bronte use dialogue, internal thoughts, and interactions with other characters to show how their respective “heroes” have lost touch with their humanity. The end of each novel also shows whether the protagonist gets what he wants (in Heathcliff’s case, he doesn’t) and what that pursuit has cost him (in Victor’s case, his own life).

Now It’s Your Turn!

• What are some of your favorite revenge stories? How do they explore revenge as a theme and not just as a type of plot?
• Write a story in which the protagonist seeks vengeance. Why does the protagonist believe he’s been wronged? What could his obsession cost him in the end? How might his actions spur other characters, including his victim, to retaliate against him?
• Revenge doesn’t only happen in fiction and movies. What real-life examples of “getting payback” can you think of? How would our Keys to Exploring Revenge as a Literary Theme apply to each case?

What topics would you like to see featured at Theme: A Story’s Soul? Share your thoughts by commenting below or tweeting me at @SaraL_Writer with the hashtag #DIYMFA.

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

The post A Case Study on Revenge as a Literary Theme appeared first on DIY MFA.

So how do short stories present their themes convincingly despite their restrictions? And what tips should writers keep in mind in order to nurture themes in this type of fiction? The best way to find those answers is by studying how other authors have done the same in their short stories and see what techniques those pieces have in common.

Themes in Alethea Black’s “That of Which We Cannot Speak” (Romance / Contemporary Fiction)

“That Of Which We Cannot Speak,” from Alethea Black’s I Knew You’d Be Lovely, follows Bradley, a British expat still reeling from his divorce, as he attends a New Year’s Eve party in New York City. There, Bradley meets a young doctor named Samantha, and his immediate attraction to her (as well as other moments during the party) forces him to accept how his struggles with expressing himself may have caused his marriage to dissolve – and how he’ll need to overcome his fear if he wants a second chance at love.

How does Black successfully cultivate her themes in this story? Let’s highlight the three most prominent ones and the techniques she uses:

Isolation:

When the story begins, Bradley is sitting alone on a park bench. This moment of solitude acts as a prelude to Black’s delving into her protagonist’s physical and emotional isolation. Through dialogue with Samantha and Bradley’s unspoken thoughts, readers learn why Bradley left England for the U.S., and how his fear of being misunderstood makes it difficult for him to share his feelings (19). Flashbacks also illustrate the painful barrier his reticence forged between him and his now ex-wife, and how it led to him feeling “fundamentally alone” (12). Other moments from the party further underscore Bradley’s emotional separateness from others, while the ending, where Bradley and Samantha leave the party together, offers hope that he may have found the courage to overcome his isolation.

Communication:

Bradley and Samantha’s first conversation is memorable in that half of it is written because Samantha (a pulmonary specialist, oddly enough) has temporarily lost her voice. It’s a playful yet symbolic introduction to the theme of communication before it takes a solemn turn. Like with isolation, Black uses on-point dialogue and flashbacks to reveal Bradley’s struggles with communicating with others, and how it led to his divorce (thus connecting communication and isolation). The theme resounds even more deeply due to Bradley’s internal conflict over whether he should call his ex-wife. When he does call her that night, he stammers until he finds, in his opinion, something meaningful to say (20).

Love:

It’s no surprise that love is a prominent theme in “That of Which We Cannot Speak.” It infuses every scene, from Bradley’s reminiscing about his marriage and the reasons he loved his ex-wife, to his immediate attraction to Samantha during the party. It also interweaves seamlessly with the isolation and communication themes. In fact, these lines from Samantha’s written dialogue strike at the heart of Bradley’s internal conflict, and tie all three themes together: “You shouldn’t be afraid to speak your heart. Not to a woman you love” (19).

Themes in Ted Chiang’s “Division By Zero” (Speculative Fiction)

“Division By Zero,” from Ted Chiang’s collection Arrival (originally titled Stories of Your Life and Others), is about much more than mathematical equations. Written in a nonlinear structure, the story reveals how Renee, a math professor, suffers a mental breakdown after unintentionally proving that mathematics is inconsistent. Her anguish eventually compels her to attempt suicide and damages her relationship with her husband Carl, who tries desperately to understand her pain since he, too, had once been suicidal. The ending might stun some readers, but it also shows Chiang’s mastery at reflecting complex ideas through character relationships and universal conflicts.

And what about themes? Here’s how Chiang explore these three in “Division By Zero”:

Inconsistency:

Chiang introduces this unusual theme by offering historical examples of discoveries that questioned the consistency of mathematics. He then uses Renee and Carl’s scenes to show everyday examples of “consistency versus inconsistency.” Renee in particular has been fascinated with precision since age seven, when she was “spellbound at discovering the perfect squares” of a relative’s tiled floor (74). She later finds spiritual meaning in the consistency of mathematics’ problem-solving methods – until the formalism she develops contradicts everything she believes about her field. Chiang also touches on the inconsistencies of human behavior, from Renee’s concern of being seen as “flighty or unstable” after her suicide attempt (85) to Carl’s desire to leave Renee despite his initial promise to support her through her recovery.

Mental Health / Illness:

Thanks to Chiang’s use of dual POVs, readers see how Renee and Carl are each other’s mirrors into mental illness. Carl, for example, reflects on his past suicide attempt while watching Renee’s downward spiral. His memory of a friend convincing him not to take his own life strikes him just as he pleads with Renee not to throw away hers (85), and he visits Renee daily at the psychiatric ward because it’s “what he would have appreciated” from his family during his own recovery (74). Renee, however, initially rebuffs Carl’s support. Her callousness toward him, along with a lack of focus and nightmares about mathematical formulas (82), is a symptom of the depression she plunges into after discovering the formalism. It’s only after her attempt that Renee realizes Carl was trying to help her, and that she’d never once thought of asking for his advice.

Love:

Yes, “Division By Zero” is a love story – or, rather, a story about the dissolution of romantic love. Readers witness this mainly through Carl’s scenes, as he gradually realizes his feelings for Renee have diminished. Chiang illustrates this change by contrasting examples where Carl shows his affection for Renee with his staggering moment of revelation near the end (“…[S]he had changed, and now he neither understood nor knew how to feel for her” [87]). Empathy, or the ability to understand and share another person’s feelings, also plays a crucial role in exploring love. Carl understands the transformative power of empathy, having received it from a (now former) girlfriend during his recovery (75). His attempts to practice it with Renee, however, fail because of her rejections. Thus, the final line of the story (“[T]his was an empathy that separated rather than united them, and he couldn’t tell her that” [90]) emphasizes how Renee and Carl finally arrive at a shared understanding, but at the cost of their love.

Four Keys to Nurturing Themes in Short Stories

In essence, short stories and novels don’t differ in how they explore theme. Short stories, however, require more care and finesse for those explorations to succeed. Here are four keys to nurturing themes effectively in short stories, based on our examples from Alethea Black and Ted Chiang.

Key #1: Keep the story simple, which will lead to fewer themes.

Since short stories are, of course, shorter and less complex than novels, they also explore fewer themes. (Case in point: “That Of Which We Speak” and “Division By Zero” highlight three themes apiece.) Your short story will also touch on only a few themes as long as it’s brief enough in length and limited enough in scope. If the big picture involves more than a few themes, though, you may want to simplify the story to decrease the word count or consider a longer form (novellete, novella, etc.) that will better serve the tale you want to tell.

Key #2: Don’t be afraid of thematic “mirroring” and repetition.

Because of a short story’s length, any repetition of elements that establish themes might be more noticeable to readers. So will any mirroring between characters. Don’t worry about whether this will make your story boring or predictable, though. By focusing on a few themes and using the right techniques to develop them, you’ll make the piece stronger and more memorable.

Key #3: Use the elements of story-telling effectively.

Every word matters, especially in short stories. So as you write your own, make sure all dialogue, flashbacks, symbolism, and other aesthetics serve a specific purpose. This will help you stay focused on what matters most in the story, and prevent you from adding redundant or unnecessary elements.

Key #4: Ensure your story’s themes are connected.

Did you notice how love, isolation, and communication interlink in “That of Which We Cannot Speak”? And how inconsistency, mental illness, and love do the same in “Division by Zero”? These connections likely didn’t happen because Alethea Black and Ted Chiang planned them. Rather, they happened because each author kept the main plot or conflict tightly focused (Key #1), chose their storytelling elements carefully (Key #3), and used repetition appropriately (Key #2). (This occurs in novels as well, though it’s less noticeable due to the novel’s length and complexity.) By capturing those first three keys in your own short story, you’ll ensure the completed piece fits within the recommended word count, presents literary themes that harmonize with one another, and lingers in the reader’s memory long after they finish reading it.

What are some of your favorite short stories and the themes they cover? How do they successfully examine those themes despite, or because of, their word count? If you’re writing a short story or have written short stories before, what are their themes and how are they examined?

Sara Letourneau is a speculative fiction writer and poet in Massachusetts who devours good books, loves all kinds of music, and drinks copious amounts of tea. In addition to writing for DIY MFA, she is a Resident Writing Coach at Writers Helping Writers and is hard at work on a YA magical realism novel. She also freelanced as a tea reviewer and music journalist in the past. Her poetry is forthcoming in Canary; and has previously appeared in The Curry Arts Journal, Soul-Lit, The Eunoia Review, and Underground Voices. Visit Sara at her personal blog, Twitter, and Goodreads.

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