That’s what this essay is all about: how to make the most of the resources we have, and how to know what to invest in next. Today, I’ll walk you through my signature “double-take” method for absorbing materials, so you can multitask while you learn, but still zero in on the things that matter. I’ll also give you some suggestions on how to vet resources before you invest in them, so you can make sure your time and money are well spent. Let’s dive in.

The Curse of Being a “Good Student”

I don’t know about you, but I’m a “Hermione” through and through, so when I take classes I go all in. I do all the assignments (including extra credit!) and I turn my schedule upside down so I can attend as many class sessions as possible. I take school very seriously.

But being a good student like this can take its toll. Sometimes, we get so caught up in cramming all that knowledge into our heads that we forget to make sense of it and implement what we learn. This is why at DIY MFA there is no such thing as “falling behind” in our courses. Wherever you are is where you’re supposed to be. The point of workshops and classes is to help facilitate learning and encourage implementation. It’s not about hoarding information while we pet it and whisper to it “my precioussss.” It’s about putting what we learn into practice.

So, if you’re a “good student” like me, I recommend shifting the paradigm. We need to recognize that it’s not the knowledge we acquire, but what we do with that knowledge that makes all the difference. Yes, being a “good student” can be a positive thing. (After all, Hermione and her smarts saved Harry and Ron’s backsides on more than one occasion.) But when that “good student” impulse overshadows implementation, that’s when things can become a problem.

This is why at DIY MFA, we place emphasis on practice rather than just learning the facts. Our courses have lots of implementation exercises, and our focused workshops include writing prompts. The goal is always to give writers ample opportunities to put what they learn into action. Many of us, after all, learn by doing, not just by studying.

We need to make the most of our writing resources—be they courses, books on the craft, webinars, summits, or anything else. But how exactly do we do that? This is where my “Double-Take” Method comes in.

Use the “Double-Take” Method

My daughter, Lady Bug, is in fifth grade and is learning how to annotate her reading. As part of her reading assignments, she’s tasked with highlighting her book in three different colors. One color indicates facts she wants to remember. Another color is for text that conveys the author’s opinions. The third color represents passages that she can relate to her own life. One of the skills she’s had to practice is learning not to highlight everything. After all, the whole purpose of highlighting is for some items to stand out over others, and that won’t happen if you highlight all the words on the page. 

The same thing is true when we take in information. It’s very easy to fall into the trap of trying to capture everything. Like good students, we take copious notes and we try hard not to let any details fall by the wayside. (As someone who is both a recovering “good student” and a perfectionist, this approach is totally my jam.)

The point of the “Double-Take” Method is to break you out of that pattern. With this method you let all the information wash over you and catch just one or two pieces that really make an impact. Here’s how it works.

You start by taking in the information via a format that allows the material to wash over you. For me, that’s listening to lessons in audio form, usually while I’m multi-tasking like riding the subway, out for a walk, or doing things around the house. I multi-task on purpose—not as a distraction, but rather to prevent myself from stopping every thirty seconds to take copious notes. While I’m listening, I’m paying attention and trying to capture 1-2 of the most important points conveyed in that lesson.

After listening, I let the lesson marinate in my brain for a little while, then I go back and revisit it, this time with a notebook in hand. (Hence the name “Double-Take.”) But this time, I don’t consume the entire lesson—I fast-forward through it and stop to listen only to those spots where those 1-2 most important points come up. That’s when I take notes, but I’m not taking notes on everything, just the most important things.

This “Double-Take” Method is based on the Pareto Principle (or 80/20 rule), which is the idea that 80% of results come from 20% of the input or effort. There’s debate about whether those percentages are exact, but the point of the Pareto Principle is that a small percentage of input will yield a large amount of output, while the rest of the input won’t lead to very much. So, when we use the “Double-Take” Method, we’re allowing a small percentage of the information gained to have a big impact on our overall learning.

But how do we know that we’ve picked the right 20%? What if we choose the wrong 20% and then we’re learning something that’s completely irrelevant?

The beauty of writing is that it’s subjective. The 20% of information that’s relevant to you might not apply to me, and that’s okay. The point isn’t to pick the “right” 1-2 pieces of information to focus on, but to prevent ourselves from getting bogged down in our learning. After all, while learning is great, it is time spent away from writing. We want to make sure that the time we spend building our craft is productive, useful, and efficient, so we can get back to writing as soon as possible.

Revisit Your Learning

One of the other habits that can be very useful to us as writers is to revisit things we think we already know. Periodically, I’ll pull up a learning resource I’ve already consumed (maybe a lesson from a course or a PDF download) and I’ll skim through it again. Inevitably, I’ll see something new in that resource, something I hadn’t noticed before.

That’s the great thing about learning. Some pieces of information might not be relevant right this minute, but if we come back and revisit that lesson down the road, those will be the pieces that stand out as most important. This is one of the reasons why we offer continuing access in our signature courses, because we know writers may need to come back to the materials again and again.

One of the things I’ve heard over and over from various course alums is “I skipped such-and-such module the first time I did the class, but now I’m taking it again and that module is exactly what I need.” In other words, different lessons or pieces of information will be relevant to us at different points in our journey. This means every so often we should revisit the writing resources we have to see what new insights we might gain from them.

Vet Resources Before You Invest

If you’re anything like me, your computer is probably overflowing with webinar recordings, writing summit replays, PDF freebies, eBooks on writing, and other learning materials. With so much information at our fingertips, it’s really easy to get overwhelmed, and when that happens most of us end up ignoring those resources altogether. So, how do we know where to invest our time (and money)?

The way I go about it is to find some trusted advisors. There are certain people in the writing space whose taste and judgment I trust, and when they recommend something, I’m likely to give it a second look. You need to find a couple of writing experts whose recommendations you trust. I hope DIY MFA can be that resource for you, but I also encourage you to look to other people so you can get a broader range of perspectives.

Now, I wouldn’t advise you to include too many experts in that inner circle of trust, because then the volume of recommendations and opinions will be dizzying. Choose 2-3 people whose work you really admire and follow them. Watch your inbox for their emails, and when they recommend something, give it a closer look.

Don’t get me wrong, you can still follow other experts and be on other people’s newsletter lists. That’s great! Just choose 2-3 people who really resonate with you and follow them more closely. Those are the recommendations you should really pay attention to, and when they share a resource, there’s a good chance that it may be one where you want to invest.

Again, it’s all about finding that small amount of input that will yield the most output for you. In this case, instead of paying attention to dozens or hundreds of experts, you choose two or three. You can still keep other experts on your radar, but those 2-3 “inner circle” experts are the ones where you’ll really focus your attention.

What you’ll find, when you emphasize a limited number of resources is you’ll actually make more progress than when you scatter your attention across the board. That 20% of effort and attention will yield 80% of your results, and by zeroing in on a few key resources or experts, you’ll actually have the bandwidth and energy to implement what you’re learning rather than simply stuffing your brain with information.

Make Time for Implementation

 The last thing I’ll share with you is about the importance of implementation. All that learning you do will mean nothing if you don’t put it into action. This is why at DIY MFA, we make a point of including implementation exercises in our courses and writing exercises in our workshops. We believe that in order to learn, we can’t just talk about writing, we have to do the writing.

Whenever you take a class, go to a conference, participate in a summit, or consume any sort of writing resource, make sure you schedule time for implementation. Put it on the calendar. Carve out 30-40 minutes after you’ve consumed the information and use that time to implement what you learned. Don’t just take notes, but spend time actually putting the concepts into practice.

There you have it, a series of tips to help you make the most of your writing resources. Use the “Double-Take” Method to zero in on the most important parts of any given lesson or resource. Also, go back and revisit different materials from time to time to see if you get new insights. Make sure you vet the resources you consume, and the best way to do that is to follow a couple of experts whose taste and judgment you trust. Finally, remember to schedule some time for implementation so you can put what you learn into action.

Until next time, keep writing and keep being awesome!

P.S. For more info on Gabriela Pereira, the founder and instigator of DIY MFA, check out her profile page.

The post Writer Fuel: Make the Most of Writing Resources appeared first on DIY MFA.

That’s the topic we’re going to tackle today. Since it’s spring, I’ve got spring cleaning on the brain and I thought I’d do a quick rundown on how to go from brainstorming ideas to planning out a concrete story.

This process works best if you have a manuscript started and have at least a few scenes already written. In other words, if you’re a “pantser” (i.e. you write by the seat of your pants) this approach could be a great fit for you. That said, if you’re a “plotter” and you like to pre-plan your story before you write it, you can also use this step-by-step system and use it to plan your story from scratch. And, of course, if you’re a mix of the two extremes, this process is also a great fit for that “plotter-pantser” middle ground. 

1) Take an Inventory

If you’re a pantser, and you’ve already written part (or all) of your story, this step will be easy-peasy. Basically, all you have to do is sit down with a blank sheet of paper and make a list of every single scene you’ve written. If you’re a plotter and you haven’t started writing yet, just sketch out the scenes you think your story needs.

As you do this exercise, don’t worry about including a ton of details, just jot down a few words for each scene that will help you identify which scene is which. You also don’t necessarily need to list all the characters for each scene, but in some cases you may want to include initials with the scenes so you remember which key characters are in play.

For example, your list might look something like this:

• Scene with B alone in the park
• Dinner party (B, V, C, P)
• Scene where B shares the bad news with V
• Etc.

Don’t panic if you can’t remember each and every last scene you’ve written (or plan to write) and don’t worry about listing things in order. The goal here is just to do a quick inventory so you get a sense for all the different scenes that are part of your story.

2) Make Scene Cards

Once you’ve taken an inventory of scenes, the best next step is to make scene cards. You can do scene cards with index cards or sticky notes (hooray for office supplies!) or virtually by using a program like Scrivener.

Here’s what I put on each card:

• Scene Name (usually taken directly from the inventory)
• Major Players (just the most important characters)
• What Happens (1-2 sentences max.)
• Setting (when/where the scene takes place)
• Purpose (why is the scene in the story?)

Make cards for scenes you’ve already written as well as scenes you think you might want to write in the future. The reason I love this method is because if you haven’t written all your scenes, you can use the scene cards almost like cue cards: pick one at random, then write that scene.

I personally like index cards the best because I love office supplies and they are the most portable option, but you should use whatever method works best for you. The goal here is for each scene to be its own separate unit (sticky note or index card) so you can move things around.

Some writers like to do a more detailed inventory (or outline) where they list out characters and events for each scene in a more granular way than just a list. If that’s the case, you can just print out your inventory and cut it up so that each scene is a separate piece of paper. Voilá! You’ve got instant scene cards.

3) Lay Out Your Scenes

After making scene cards, lay everything out on a table or other larger surface. The goal is to be able to see the whole story at a glance. The reason for doing this as scene cards (rather than a static outline) is that it allows you to move things around if need be.

Leave the scenes laid out for a couple of days and look at your story from time to time. If any scenes seem out of place, try moving them around to see if they work better somewhere else. Let the story “settle” for a few days before moving on to the next step.

4) Mark the Landmark Scenes

Once you’ve laid out your scene cards, it’s time to mark your story landmarks. This includes the three acts, two pivot points (where the acts transition from one to the next), as well as the midpoint, climax, and denouement. Use sticky notes or a brightly colored pen to mark those key points in your story.

Next, it’s time to consider pacing. How long are each of your acts? On average, Act 1 is usually around 20-25% of the story, Act 2 is 50-60%, and Act 3 is 20-25%. This is not an exact science, of course, and some books might have an Act 2 that is 80% of the entire story while others might be broken up almost into thirds. The goal here is to get an overall sense for where those transition points fall and how long each of the acts are relative to the size of the entire book.

You’ll also want to look carefully at the placement of your midpoint. Usually this point in the story falls right at the halfway mark, give or take a few scenes. Sometimes, though, the midpoint might actually span multiple scenes. For example, in Pride and Prejudice, the midpoint begins with the False Failure and Mr. Darcy’s failed proposal, then spans until Elizabeth reads Mr. Darcy’s letter, and finally culminates with her famous line: “‘Til this moment, I never knew myself.”

In addition to marking the midpoint, you’ll also want to note where the climax falls in your story. Usually, the climax falls around the 85-90% mark, though there is plenty of wiggle room. The key is that the climax must occur somewhere in Act 3 and there should still be a scene (or two or more) following it as part of the closure that follows. You don’t want the climax to be the absolute last scene because the story may feel truncated. You want to make sure you leave room for that “sigh of relief” that is the denouement.

5) Map Out Your Story

By the time you reach this point in the process, you should have a pretty good idea of the shape of your story and how everything fits together. Still, if you’re a visual person (like me) you may want to take this one step further and draw a story map. To map out your story you must first identify the Major Dramatic Question (MDQ), which is the main question that drives the primary thread of your story forward. You’ll also want to identify 1-3 Lesser Dramatic Questions (LDQs), which are questions that drive the subplots. Once you have the MDQ and LDQs identified, assign each thread a color and mark the scenes that belong to that thread with a dot in that color pen.

For example, if we were doing this exercise with The Hunger Games we might say the main thread of the story (“Will Katniss survive the games?”) is orange, while the subplots might be blue and pink. Then we mark the scenes with a dot indicating whether they belong to a particular thread. For instance, the Reaping scene, which belongs to all three threads, would have dots in each color: orange, pink, and blue. If a scene does not have any dots on it, then you need to consider seriously whether that scene belongs in the story at all, since it doesn’t contribute to any of the story threads.

After you’ve identified which thread(s) each scene belongs to, you can map your story out like a subway map. Each scene is represented by a stop on the map and each thread is a subway line. The “local stops” are scenes that only appear in one story thread, while the “express stops” are scenes that appear as intersections between two or more threads. You can map out your story like a subway, like this example from The Hunger Games. It might look something like this:

Why do we map out our stories in this way? Aside from making a pretty diagram, what’s the point? The reason we do this is because once you’ve mapped out your story, you can separate out the subway lines and look at each story thread individually. This allows you to make sure whether there are any places where a particular thread sags. When we tease apart the three threads in The Hunger Games map, we get something that looks like this:

As we can see, in the pink line there is a long gap where there are no scenes. Now, in the case of this particular story, it works because that stretch of the story is when Katniss is training for the Games and then the first part when she is in the Arena. For that section of the book, it makes sense that she’s not focusing on her family because her own survival is front and center. It’s only later in Act 2 of the story, where she connects with Rue, that the family story thread becomes more important.

What’s the purpose of this exercise? When we tease apart our story threads, we can see if there are places where a bunch of scenes lump together or if there is a long gap between scenes. Once we identify those places, we can make an informed, artistic decision. It’s possible that we decide to leave it exactly as is because it works for the story… and that’s okay. But the point is that this becomes an intentional choice, rather than a haphazard outcome that “just happened that way.”

Instinct to Intention

At DIY MFA, we talk a lot about making the shift from instinct to intention. If you’re part of our word nerd community, you’ve already got good instincts. I say this with confidence because I know that DIY MFA attracts writers like you, who are dedicated to learning the craft and becoming the best writers they can be.

But instincts alone are not enough. We can write stories on instinct alone, but that would make our process random. Sometimes, we’d get it “right” and other times we might miss the mark. But once we take the time to understand what’s going on in our story and really analyze the breakdown of all the parts, we can start to make intentional choices.

When we shift from instinct to intention, our process goes from random to precise. We are no longer making decisions through trial and error. Nothing in our book will be there by accident, but because we consciously put it there. This gives us artistic control over the outcome and allows us to make our book the best it can possibly be.

There you have it: a step-by-step process to help you get your manuscript organized. You can use this process whether you are a “plotter” and you like to pre-plan every detail of your book, or if you are a “pantser” and you write by the seat of your pants. The goal of this method is not to pigeonhole you or impose a set structure and squash the life out of your story. Rather, the purpose of this exercise is for you to gain clarity on what you’re already doing so you can make intentional choices about your book. 

Until next time, keep writing and keep being awesome!

P.S. For more info on Gabriela Pereira, the founder and instigator of DIY MFA, check out her profile page.

The post Writer Fuel: Spring Cleaning – Get Your Manuscript Organized appeared first on DIY MFA.

I’ve been working with writers for well over a decade and over that time I’ve seen again and again just how crucial the main character can be to make—or break—a story. After all, readers won’t remember every last detail of a story’s plot, but they’ll remember the characters and they’ll remember how those characters made them feel.

This is why I wanted to take some time today to talk about your main character (i.e. your protagonist) and why they are so important to your writing. In this email, I’ll dive into different facets of character development, so by the end of it, you will know how to craft a unique and engaging main character for your story.

Why Your Main Character Matters

Not everyone recognizes the importance of the main character. Some believe the thing that really matters is the plot and how gripping and interesting the story events are. But the truth is, events are only interesting insofar as they happen to a person.

If we don’t have a character then the story is nothing more than “this happened, then this happened, and then this happened….” Well, that’s not a story—it’s a newsreel. And while newsreels can certainly be interesting, those events take on much deeper meaning when we see how they impact a specific person.

The protagonist of a story provides a lens through which we readers experience that narrative, Without that lens the story falls out of focus. The main character makes the story feel personal, and that, in turn, makes us more invested in it.

Plot and Character Operate in Tandem

Some writing teachers focus on plot more so than character, while other story experts say the opposite and put all their eggs in the character basket. In fact, some people even go so far as to break it down by genre, saying that literary fiction is more character-driven and genre fiction (like thrillers, mysteries, or romance novels) tend to be more plot-driven. Truthfully, I think good storytelling requires both elements.

If you have a character, but nothing interesting happens to them, then there’s little opportunity for conflict and tension. Without conflict or tension the story will be boring. Characters need opportunities to misbehave and create trouble.

On the other hand, if all you have are events buffeting the characters to and fro, then these characters have no agency. Story events need to stem from character choices, not just random things that happen outside of their control. It is far more interesting to see a character make a choice that turns out badly than to have a random event happen for no reason whatsoever.

A good story is not just character or plot in isolation, but the two elements intertwined and working together to create an engaging narrative.

Understanding Character Archetypes

When you understand the type of character that you’re writing, you can craft your narrative around that character, creating story events that will cause conflict or force them into uncomfortable situations. Remember, we can’t just be nice to our characters. We have to cause trouble for them and create bad situations that make them act out. “No one wants to read about happy people in happy-land,” as my friend and colleague James Scott Bell has been known to say. People want to read about characters who are dealing with problems or facing trouble. Conflict is what makes the story world go round.

This is where it can be extremely valuable to understand the type of character you are writing. You see, not all characters are created the same. There are distinct types of characters and each type has particular qualities that will make them behave in specific ways. There are essentially two types of protagonists. Let’s take a closer look at each one.

Relatable Characters

The first type of protagonist is the relatable character. This is a regular person caught in extraordinary circumstances, where they need to rise to the occasion and do something amazing. Examples of this type of character are: Bilbo Baggins from The Hobbit, Luke Skywalker at the beginning of the original Star Wars saga, Anne Elliot from Jane Austen’s Persuasion, and Katniss Everdeen at the start of the Hunger Games trilogy.

Readers love these relatable characters because they can identify with them. Readers see a part of themselves in these characters, making them want to root for them. The goal with a relatable protagonist is to show their potential for greatness. When a relatable character does something extraordinary, the reader thinks: “Wow, if they can do that, maybe I can do something special, too.”

Aspirational Characters

The second type of protagonist is the aspirational character, and this character is almost the polar opposite of their relatable counterparts. Instead of being a regular person caught in extraordinary circumstances, the aspirational character is larger-than-life, almost like a superhero of sorts. With this character, it’s not about making them rise to the occasion and do something great (because they’re already great), but to show their humanity, some hint of vulnerability that makes this superhero-esque character seem more relatable, more human. Examples of this type of character are: Superman, James Bond, Sherlock Holmes, Jay Gatsby from The Great Gatsby, and Elizabeth Bennet from Pride and Prejudice.

Readers love aspirational characters because they show what’s possible. These larger-than-life characters may not reflect readers as they are right now, but they reflect what readers would like to become. The goal with these aspirational characters is to show their potential to be vulnerable, making them seem more human and relatable.

The Opposite Is Possible Theory

I have a theory that in order to show the potential for change and growth in a character, you have to show that it’s possible for the character to be the opposite of what they are. No, this does not mean you’re making your character behave out of character, but it does mean that you give a sense that the opposite is possible. With a relatable character it’s all about showing that hint of greatness while with the aspirational character needs to show some vulnerability or humanity.

If you think about it, relatable and aspirational characters are essentially two ends of the same spectrum. If a relatable character becomes extraordinary enough, they can eventually become aspirational, while the converse is true with an aspirational character.

This Opposite Is Possible Theory works in large part because the potential for change is baked right into the character. And we’ve all heard the writing class cliché that characters should change over the course of the story. This Opposite Is Possible Theory means that the change is woven right into the fabric of the story from the very start.

Think about the character you are writing and try to identify whether they are relatable or aspirational. Your character may not fit neatly into one box versus the other—remember this is a spectrum—but see if you can determine which category best fits.

Some folks object to categorizing characters in this way. “My character is a unique individual,” they say. “I can’t fit them neatly into a box.” Keep in mind, this is not an exact science and a character might be relatable in some respects but aspirational in others. The thing is, if we can fit our character into one of these two broad categories, then it makes it all the more straightforward to figure out how that character should change.

Of course, it’s a little reductive to pile characters into one of two categories, but when we know whether our character is relatable or aspirational, we know what direction their change needs to take. A relatable character will have to rise up and do something extraordinary, while an aspirational character needs to show their humanity. Having an overall sense of which type of character you have will give you an idea for how to craft that character’s emotional journey.

Until next time, keep writing and keep being awesome!

P.S. For more info on Gabriela Pereira, the founder and instigator of DIY MFA, check out her profile page.

The post Writer Fuel: Craft a Compelling Main Character appeared first on DIY MFA.

Fantasy

This genre relies heavily on creating a detailed world with intricate magical systems. World-building for this genre includes broad topics like the actual geography of the world as well as the structures and systems at play within it. This means considering the topography of your story world space. Are there lakes and rivers or mountains? Is there a desert? What does the terrain look like?

Any fantasy world that involves magic also needs to consider how that magic works. Does it involve wands or incantations, or is the magic something that people can wield simply by thinking about it? Also, who gets to have magic and why? Is magic associated with status in any way?

You also need to consider any magical creatures who might inhabit the world. What kinds of creatures are they? Are you basing them off of existing mythologies, or are you inventing creatures all your own? Also, are there ordinary creatures with extraordinary abilities, like the talking animals in the Narnia series?

Science Fiction

Whenever there is science and technology involved in a story, we have to consider where that tech came from and who gets access to it. Is technology something that is readily available to most everyone (as in the Star Trek universe) or is it something that only the people in power can have at their fingertips? You also need to consider whether technology is self-aware or not. Is it merely a tool used by humans and other individuals, or is it more “alive” like the Matrix in the Matrix trilogy or Skynet in the Terminator films?

When you consider world-building in sci-fi, you may also want to think about social structures like class or other societal groups. Are some people the “haves” and others the “have nots”? You also need to consider whether there are certain components of the world that relate to societal groups, for example districts in The Hunger Games trilogy that represent different social classes.

Finally, you also need to consider currency and the use of money. In a future world, has money become obsolete? If not, you need to think about what people use as a form of currency. Is it coins and paper money that we are used to, or is it something different?

Historical Fiction

This genre also tends to lean heavily on world-building, only now we are not imagining a fantasy or futuristic world, but crafting a story within a historical time period. Depending on the time period and the nature of your story, the scope of that world can vary wildly. If you are in a time period (say, the Middle Ages) where characters aren’t aware of several continents, the world-building will be more local, focusing on their immediate surroundings. If, on the other hand, you are writing about a big, sweeping war, the scope of the story will likely be far more global.

As with fantasy and sci-fi, historical fiction also must concern itself with certain mechanics of the world. Here are some questions to consider:

• What technology is available (or unavailable) in this particular time period?
• How do people communicate with each other over long distances, if at all?
• What does currency look like in this time period and how important is money to the way people navigate that world?
• What about class and societal groups—how do they impact the structures of the world?
• Who has the power in this time period and how does that power impact how the world operates?

Mystery

Depending on the type of mystery you are writing, there will be different types of world-building involved. If you’re writing a cozy mystery, then the world-building will concern itself primarily with the small town environment where your story takes place. This means most of the focus will be on your sleuth’s immediate surroundings. That said, many cozy mysteries often have themes to them: a hobby or activity that anchors the series. For instance, maybe the sleuth works at a yarn shop or has an interest in pottery making. These elements can become avenues for the writer to build out the story’s world and make it more intriguing to the reader.

If you’re writing a police procedural, then the world-building is completely different. In this case, the focus of the story is the investigation and the world-building is all about the world of law enforcement. In this case the world-building not only centers around the physical spaces of the story (precinct, crime lab, courtroom, etc.) but also the process of solving the case. The way the investigators pursue the criminal is all part of the world-building.

Thriller

In order to differentiate from other similar stories, a lot of thrillers tend to focus around a particular subject or location. For example, legal thrillers are set in the world of courtrooms and juries, giving us a window into that environment. Medical thrillers are set in hospitals or doctors’ offices and give us a behind-the-scenes look into that profession. Some thrillers emphasize a location, like a national park or particular city. And some thrillers take place in the world of international espionage.

Some thrillers or horror stories emphasize a specific locale, like a haunted house or a spooky cemetery. In these cases, the world-building is all about elevating the mood and making the reader feel that slow creep of fear as the events of the story unfold in that scary location.

Commercial or Literary Fiction

It might seem strange to think about world-building in our contemporary world, but it is still important. Think, for example, about the fashion world we see in The Devil Wears Prada, or the high-class stay-at-home-mom social circle we see in Happy and You Know It. If your story focuses around a particular job or industry, you need to develop that world the way you would world-build for any other genre.

This is because readers read not just as an escape, but as a way of satisfying their curiosity. They want to know what it’s like to work in a high-end restaurant kitchen or live in an exotic city. They’re also curious about seemingly mundane things. To a person who has never ridden a subway, that world of underground tunnels can be as exotic as a faraway locale.

With contemporary fiction, you don’t need to worry too much about certain types of world-building. We know how money works in the present day, and we know what cars, cell phones, and computers are. The one thing to be careful about is when it comes to technology, if it’s not central to your story, you may want to use a light touch. This is because technology will date your book. No one listens to CDs anymore or watches VHS tapes. If we read a book from the 80s today, details like this would make the book feel dated. So, be careful about going too heavy on the technology, or in a few years your story might seem out of date.

Romance

Just because it’s not obviously heavy on world-building doesn’t mean that romance is off the hook. Even if the romance occurs in a completely contemporary setting, there is still plenty of room to craft that story’s world. As with some thrillers and cozy mysteries, romance often has some element that holds the series together. Maybe it’s a particular sport that one of the characters play, or maybe it’s a specific location like a resort. Regardless, there’s often something that anchors the series and makes it feel unique. Whatever that theme may be, there is plenty of opportunity for world-building around it.

When it comes to world-building, romance tends to operate like commercial or literary fiction. People might read romance because they’re looking for that Happily Ever After, but they may also be curious about the world where the story takes place. This is why it’s important not to neglect world-building, even when that world may seem obvious or mundane.

World-building is an essential part of storytelling. In fact, I believe in a three-pronged system, where character, plot, and world are all essential components of a story. In order for something to be truly a story, it must have all three elements present, and if one of them is missing, the story falls apart.

Consider, for example, Dante’s Paradiso. Up until that point in the Divine Comedy, we have had concrete settings like the nine circles of the Inferno and the spiraling mountain of Purgatorio. When we finally get to Paradiso, the world becomes suddenly amorphous. It’s hard even to picture what that world looks like. It’s as though the characters are just suspended in mid-air. We have no sense of place, no grounding structure that allows us to imagine what this space looks like. This is why, in my opinion, Paradiso is the least effective installment of the Divine Comedy.

World-building is crucial if you want your story to come to life. Without it, the story will feel ungrounded and the narrative will fall flat. Whether your story’s world is elaborate and detailed or it is more subtle and subdued, it is still an essential part of your story and deserves to be crafted with care.

Until next time, keep writing and keep being awesome!

P.S. For more info on Gabriela Pereira, the founder and instigator of DIY MFA, check out her profile page.

The post Writer Fuel: World-Building and Genres appeared first on DIY MFA.

To understand the three-act structure, we need first to consider its origin. Aristotle wrote about this framework in his Poetics, using it to explain specifically how Greek tragedy was put together. Over the years, many other writers and thinkers (particularly in Western culture) have expanded on this structure, applying it more broadly to all types of storytelling.

At the same time, it’s important to acknowledge that there are many cultures where the three-act structure is not the predominant form, so we need to recognize that while this framework applies to a lot of fiction, it is far from globally universal. That said, this structure is compatible with a broad range of stories across many different genres, so it is useful to understand how it works.

In fact, I’m thinking of doing a series of newsletters where I analyze different films or books according to this structure, showing just how broadly it applies. I thought for today, it would make sense to start with a discussion of what the three-act structure actually is. Then we can come back and apply it to different works in later installments.

The Three-Act Structure

When I think of the three-act structure, I use a simple formula: 3 + 2 = 1. There are three acts, plus two pivot points (where one act transitions to the next), and together these components equal one classic story structure. Most stories have three additional components: the midpoint at the center of Act 2, the climax in Act 3, and the denouement at the very end of the story. Let’s walk through these components step by step.

We begin the story in Act 1. This section needs to accomplish a couple of things. First, it must establish the status quo, where we learn what “normal” looks like in the character’s world. Think of this as being like the “before” picture in an infomercial. Without it, the “after” picture has no context and we have no basis of comparison. The same thing is true with storytelling. If we don’t establish the status quo, we have no sense for the transformation that comes later in the narrative.

Act 1 is also where you make five promises to your reader. These are: (1) a character to root for, (2) the voice of the narrative, (3) the world where the story takes place, (4) a problem, usually hinting at the central conflict, and (5) an event that prompts the story to start at that specific place and time. Most stories establish these promises within the first chapter, but there are some cases where an author might delay one or more of them to create a specific effect.

For example, in the book The Wainscott Weasel by Tor Seidler, the main character doesn’t appear until chapter 2. In fact, during the whole first chapter, the reader comes to believe that a different character might be the protagonist. It’s not until we’re deep into chapter 2 that we realize who the main character really is.

I had the pleasure of having this author as my professor in the MFA program, so when I read this book, I asked him: “What was that about? Why did you delay the appearance of that main character?” He explained that the protagonist for the story was extremely shy, and it would not have been true to his personality to put him front and center in chapter 1. Instead, it made more sense to hold him back and wait to introduce him when the story was more underway. This is an example of a story that artfully breaks one of the five promises.

When we get to the end of Act 1, we reach the first pivot point in the narrative. This is a point where an external event occurs to shake things up for the main character, and then that character must make an important internal choice. Usually, that external event is easier to spot, but the internal choice is much more important. Think of it this way: a story is not a series of things that happen to your character. It’s a series of decisions your character makes in response to these external events. If the character is just buffeted to and fro, it does not make for a compelling story. Instead, the character should have agency and should drive the story forward. In the case of this plot point, it should operate as a “point of no return,” where—once the character makes their choice—there is no way back to the way things were.

After the first pivot point, we are now firmly planted in Act 2. This is often the longest of three acts and the hardest to get through, which is why many writers call it “the muddle in the middle.” One way to help keep Act 2 moving forward is to bring new supporting characters into play or build up subplots. Think of Act 2 in the film The Wizard of Oz, where Dorothy has landed in Oz and is exploring this magical new world. Here she meets her three new travel companions: the Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Lion. She also has several run-ins with her new nemesis, the Wicked Witch of the West. Had the film been nothing but Dorothy and Toto exploring Oz by themselves, it would have been horribly boring. Adding these supporting characters keeps Act 2 moving forward and gives the story momentum.

Another way to make progress through Act 2 is to use the Rule of Three. This technique groups similar elements together in threes. The number three is important because it is the smallest number where you can create a pattern and then break it. You can use the Rule of Three in any number of ways, for example: three supporting characters, three obstacles the protagonist faces, three different locations in the story’s world, or three significant items they discover on their journey.

The Rule of Three usually has two different flavors to it, and I call these the (1) Three Little Pigs and (2) Goldilocks. In the Three Little Pigs version, you have two similar things followed by a third that breaks the pattern. The first two pigs build their houses out of flimsy materials (straw and sticks) and the wolf easily blows them to the ground. The third house, however, is made of bricks, so it withstands the wolf’s huffing and puffing. In the Goldilocks version, you have two elements that are polar opposites of each other and a third one that is “just right.” The first two elements are similar to each other in that they are extremes, while the third element is the happy medium. When you find that Act 2 is beginning to stall, ask yourself: is there a way to use the Rule of Three to keep the momentum going?

Another important component of Act 2 is the midpoint. Often called the “mirror moment,” the midpoint is a moment of self-reflection where the protagonist looks inward and decides whether they like who they’ve become (and if not, what they’re going to do about it). The midpoint is different from the pivot points that occur where one act transitions to the next. It does not emphasize the character’s choice, but their inward state. If the character does make a choice at this juncture, it’s usually one that has to do with how they see themselves and who they want to be going forward. If the protagonist does not like who they have become, they can choose to make a change and the second half of the story becomes like a reversal—a mirror image—of the first. Not all stories have this mirror image structure, but many do have this moment of self-reflection at the midpoint.

At the end of Act 2, we come to another pivot point. Here the character comes to their lowest point, the moment where it seems like all is lost and nothing can possibly make things right. This is again a moment of choice for the protagonist, though in this case it is more subtle. The character must choose whether to continue on their current path, give up, or go in a new direction. Readers know the character is not going to give up. (It would be the world’s worst ending if they did!) Still, giving up must feel like a reasonable choice that the character could make. Just like with the first pivot point, there is usually an external event that drives this moment in the story followed by the character’s internal choice. Something must happen to make it feel like all is lost for the protagonist and then they must choose to keep going despite how bad things seem. The moment where they make that choice is often called the “dark night of the soul.”

Once we pass this second pivot point, we are solidly in Act 3 of the story. Here is where the tension rises until the story’s central conflict comes to a head at last. This moment is the climax and it is a scene (or sequence of scenes) where the major dramatic question of the story finally gets answered one way or another. The major dramatic question (or MDQ) is the question that drives the story. For example, the MDQ for Suzanne Collins’ The Hunger Games would be “Will Katniss survive the games?” and the MDQ for The Wizard of Oz film would be “Will Dorothy get back to Kansas?” Usually the MDQ is closely tied to the main character’s primary desire, the thing they most want in the story. Katniss wants to survive the Games and Dorothy wants to go back home, so it makes sense that the MDQs would focus on whether or not they achieve those things.

There are four possible ways in which a story can resolve at the climax, and these depend on the answers to two questions: (1) does the character get what they want? and (2) do they still want that thing? The diagram below shows the four possible endings based on the answers to these questions.

A happy ending occurs when the character gets what they want and they still want that thing (as in The Hunger Games or The Wizard of Oz). A tragic ending is when the character doesn’t get what they want, but they still want that thing (like in any Shakespearean tragedy). Where things get interesting is when the character doesn’t still want the thing they first pursued. If the character doesn’t get what they want but they don’t want it anymore, we have a “change of heart” ending (for example, Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen). If the character does get what they want, but they don’t want it anymore, it’s called a “be careful what you wish for…” ending, (example: Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton). Note that this last type of ending is relatively rare in novels. Often when a character gets what they want, it happens at the midpoint of the story (often called a Temporary Triumph), and then the character has that moment of introspection and realizes maybe what they wanted wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. We’re more likely to see this scenario as an ending in short stories and novellas than in novels.

Regardless of the type of ending, the climax is the moment where the central conflict of the story resolves, and after that happens, all we have left is the denouement. I’ve written about the denouement before. It’s that “sigh of relief” after the climax, that extra scene or two that wraps things up and gives the story a sense of closure. If the story were to end right at the point of the climax, it would be extremely unsatisfying for the reader. If the job of the climax is to answer the MDQ, then the job of the denouement is to answer the question: “So what?” At this juncture in the story, the reader wants to know what the point of this whole journey was. That’s the purpose of the denouement.

I once heard a writer explain that the best story endings are both surprising and inevitable. The reader shouldn’t be able to see the ending coming from a mile away, but when it gets there, it should feel like the story couldn’t have ended any other way. Sometimes the denouement also opens the door to more possibilities for where the story could go. This is especially true with books in a series, where one book’s ending might drop hints as to where the next book might go. Still, even in a series, the story needs to have a sense of closure, with each installment feeling like it has a true ending and not leaving the reader at a cliffhanger.

There you have it: an overview of the three-act structure. If you’re someone who loves plotting your story from beginning to end, this 3 + 2 = 1 formula can give you a basic framework, but you can fill in additional details to create your own unique story. If you’re a pantser, on the other hand (i.e. someone who writes by the seat of their pants), the 3 + 2 = 1 formula gives you a general direction without boxing you into a specific plot. You may not even use this structure while you’re drafting your book, and may only apply the concepts later in the revision stages. Regardless of your approach, I hope this format gives you some insights into story structure and that it helps you craft a compelling narrative.

Until next time, keep writing and keep being awesome!

The post Writer Fuel: The Three-Act Structure appeared first on DIY MFA.

Early Decisions with Long-Term Impact

When we write, we often have our eyes on what’s right in front of us: the current project or even the current chapter. What we often don’t realize is that decisions we make right now with one project might have a ripple effect long after that project is done.

For example, when I first started DIY MFA, I had the opportunity to submit my Masters thesis for a contest. I decided to opt-out of the contest altogether because I had too much on my plate getting DIY MFA off the ground. I can’t help wondering, however, whether that choice to put DIY MFA ahead of my fiction writing hasn’t had a long-term impact on my writing career, pushing me in one direction rather than another.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my work at DIY MFA, but I’d be lying if I said that it afforded me tons of time for writing. That early decision to put DIY MFA ahead of my fiction has had a ripple effect that has lasted until now and will probably continue well into the future.

The same is true with renovations. It boggles my mind that we haven’t even started on demolition yet and already I have had to make choices about what tiles go in the bathroom or what the lighting in the living room will look like. Of course, I understand that there are things that have to happen at the gut level of a living space (electrical and plumbing, for example) that have a ripple effect on everything else. Still, it blows my mind that I’m making choices now that I’ll have to live with for thirty or forty years. It’s a little bit terrifying, to be honest.

Similarly, at the draft level of a book project, we might make choices early on that will have an impact far beyond what we would expect. Suppose you decide to combine two characters into one, or you choose to have your character do one thing instead of another, those things can change the entire shape of a story. Think of the movie Sliding Doors, where the story explores what happens when one simple twist of fate—making a subway or missing it altogether—can have a huge impact on a story’s direction.

Realizing that small decisions can have a massive impact can sometimes leave us stuck in our tracks. We become so afraid of making the wrong choice that we don’t make any choice at all and our story flounders. In the words of Maimonides, “The risk of a wrong decision is preferable to the terror of indecision.” This means that sooner or later we have to take the leap and make a choice or risk being stuck in decision-making limbo forever.

The thing to remember is that unlike home improvements, that messy first draft is supposed to be in flux. Sure, we might make the wrong choice at first, but we can always backtrack, something that’s not quite so easy to do when it comes to construction. Rather than think we are locked into our choices, we must think of that messy first draft as an experiment, where we try out different ideas to see what works. Then we can always course-correct down the road.

Understand Gut-Level Structure

I’m not a contractor, an architect, or an engineer. I don’t understand the inner workings of construction, but with this renovation I’ve had to develop a basic working knowledge of how things are put together. This means being able to look at construction drawings and make sense of what I see. It means trying to visualize what the finished product might look like, even if I don’t have an example in front of me. It also means having a basic understanding of the timeline and what steps need to come at what different points in the process.

The same is also true with writing. We may not need to be experts on the three-act structure and know all the story beats down to the scene-by-scene level, but we need to have a basic sense of what comes first and what comes later in the story trajectory. Whether we are plotters and like to plan every inch of a novel, or we are a pantsers and write by the seat of our pants, there are certain fundamental storytelling elements that we need to know. These are:

Act 1: The Status Quo. Whether your Act 1 is only a few chapters long or takes up half the novel, the purpose of it is to establish the status quo. The idea is to give the reader a sense for what “normal” is like for your main character, so that when you shake things up, the reader will notice the difference. This is important because it bakes the idea of transformation right into the heart of your story.

Pivot Point 1: The Point of No Return. At some point in the story, some external event will happen that will force the character’s hand and push them to make a choice. That choice often operates as a one-way door, where once the character makes it, they can’t go back to how things were. Think of Katniss Everdeen volunteering to take her sister’s place in the Hunger Games, or Dorothy’s house getting picked up by the tornado and plunked down in Oz. Once these events happen, the character can’t go back the way they came, they can only move forward.

Act 2: The Quest. This part of the story is where you deliver on the premise. If your story is about a girl magically plunked down in a strange new world called Oz, then this is where you have her exploring that world and making new friends. If the story is about a girl fighting in a tournament called The Hunger Games, then this is the part where the games play themselves out. Act 2 can be as short as a third of your book and as long as 80-90%. Really it’s all about what you need to happen in your story and how much space those plot events will require. Just keep in mind that the longer you make Act 2, the shorter Acts 1&3 will have to be. Also, remember that it can feel like a long slog to get through Act 2—there’s a reason some people call it the “muddle in the middle.”

Pivot Point 2: Dark Night of the Soul. At some point, the character must hit their lowest point. Things need to get bad before they can get better, and this is the darkest moment before things turn around. At this point, the character must legitimately feel that it’s okay for them to give up. (Of course they don’t give up, but it has to feel plausible.)

Act 3: The Ending. This is the point where things start ramping up and building momentum toward the climax. The Climax is the scene where the central conflict of the story comes to a head and gets decided one way or another. Either Katniss wins the Hunger Games, or she does not. Either Dorothy gets back home to Kansas or she does not. The climax is where we get a sense of resolution.

This is the basic foundation of how stories are built, but this structure should not be constraining. Think of it as a basic framework… like a floorplan. Different apartments might have the exact same floor plan, but it’s the design and detail that gives a space its own unique flair. Similarly, this basic structure can serve as a guide while still giving the writer ample space to build their story their way. Just as in home improvements it’s important to understand basic structural concepts, the same is true with writing as well. The three-act structure can serve as a framework for us to build something magical.

Hurry Up and Wait

I’ve talked about the publishing process in the past and the realities of what it takes to get a book out on the market. One thing that cannot be stressed enough is that the pace of publishing is weird. One minute you’re scrambling to make a deadline, the next you’re stuck waiting for months before you get any updates. We can sum up the pace of publishing with one phrase: “Hurry up and wait.”

The same is true with home improvements. It can feel like the construction is dragging on forever, and then the next minute you have to scramble to make some fast decisions or else you’ll hold up the whole process. Publishing and home improvements both require us to become phenomenal jugglers, being able to hop from one task to another without missing a beat.

When I first published the DIY MFA book, I got flustered with this feast or famine timeline. Why couldn’t things get planned more slowly and methodically? Why did I always have to drop everything and rush? Of course, what I didn’t realize is that just as I was having to hurry up and wait on my side, everyone else who was part of the process also had to do the same thing.

When you have a lot of different moving parts to a project and each section is done by a different person, everyone has to hurry up and wait or the whole process would grind to a halt. Yes, it means that sometimes you have to drop everything and focus on that one thing that demands your attention right now, but once your step is done and you hand things off to the next person and take a breath… at least until you have to hurry up and wait again.

Everything’s a Mess… Until It’s Not

When I was 14, my parents decided to renovate their living room, dining room, and kitchen all with us still living in the apartment. It was a fiasco. If you’ve ever gone through a major renovation while still living in the place, you know exactly what I’m talking about. We ate nothing but takeout for months on end. Everything was covered in dust. Plus, my parents wanted to redo the living/dining room floors so we had to walk across those areas on planks like it was something out of a pirate movie.

Home improvements are messy and you have to make a mess before you can clean things up and make it all look beautiful. The same is true with writing. That first draft you write is going to be garbage. It will be embarrassingly terrible, and that’s okay because it gives you a starting point where you can build something wonderful. That first draft doesn’t have to be pretty. It just has to do one thing: Exist.

Other forms of art—like sculpture, pottery, even painting—have raw materials. You have stone and clay to shape or empty canvases to fill. In writing, we need to create our own raw material and this is our first draft or “draft zero.” The raw material doesn’t exist before we make it, and we have to embrace the fact that this initial draft will be a complete mess. The artistry comes from what we do with that mess, how we shape it and mold it and make it beautiful.

Remember, writing is a slow and steady process. A book doesn’t get written in a day and it’s all about putting in a consistent effort, one word at a time. So keep taking those baby steps and in a few months, you’ll see the miles of progress you’ve made. 

Until next time, keep writing and keep being awesome!

P.S. For more info on Gabriela Pereira, the founder and instigator of DIY MFA, check out her profile page.

The post Writer Fuel: How Home Improvements Are Like Writing a Book appeared first on DIY MFA.

Getting the Idea

It all started at graduation. I had completed my traditional MFA and was sitting in an uncomfortable wooden pew in a West Village church waiting to get my diploma. After two years of workshopping and dedicating myself to the craft, I expected that the skies would part, light would stream in through the stained glass, angel choirs would sing down from the heavens and a voice would whisper from on high: “You are now a writer.”

You see, I thought that in order to be a writer, I needed someone else to give me permission. What I didn’t realize until much later was that I had already given myself permission, and that was far more important than what anyone else said.

As I sat in that creaky wooden pew, my mind ran over all the things I had learned and accomplished in those two years of graduate school. I was so happy and grateful to have had the opportunity, but then my thoughts turned to my writing friends outside the MFA, talented writers who didn’t have the chance to go back to school. A wave of sadness flooded over me and I thought to myself: maybe I could share some of what I learned in the MFA program with them.

As I thought about this, I began to realize that a lot of the things I learned in the MFA program are things I could have learned on my own. For example, the program provided me with a workshop, but I already had a wonderful critique group full of talented writers who gave me valuable feedback. In the MFA program, I also took literature courses where I studied books in my chosen area of writing, but I was already doing that on my own by building a personalized reading list of books relating to my work-in-progress. The MFA also required that we attend readings and lectures by visiting authors, but I regularly went to readings at bookstores and attended conferences as well. In other words, all the things that the MFA provided I had already been doing in some capacity on my own.

That’s when a wild idea hit me: What if there was a do-it-yourself version of an MFA?

That night, I did what any self-respecting writer would do when they got a wacky idea: I went home and blogged about it. Now at the time, I had a teeny-tiny blog with 12 followers (one of whom was my mother), and I wrote up a post essentially asking: If there was a DIY version of an MFA in writing, would you do it? Given the microscopic size of my audience, I expected that blog post to fizzle out in the ether.

But that’s not what happened.

The next morning, I awoke to dozens of emails in my inbox and a bunch of comments on that blog post, all saying “YES! I’d totally do it!” So, that’s when I realized I’d hit a nerve. I’d landed on an idea that resonated with people.

Finding the Market

As writers, we often have lots of different ideas, some of them awesome and some of them not-so-great. One of the best ways to build our creative muscle is not to get too precious with one idea and instead focus on generating lots of them. Think of ideas like subways in NYC, there’s always another one coming. With DIY MFA, I knew from the get-go that there was interest in my idea, but that wasn’t true for many of the other ideas I’d had before.

What I didn’t share as part of this story were all the failed business ideas I had leading up to DIY MFA. There were many of them. For instance, did you know that at one point I had a jewelry-making business? I was fairly successful with it and even had some pieces on consignment in a Madison Avenue boutique. The trouble was, I liked using high quality materials, which were expensive, and it meant that to make any real profit, the markup had to be pretty high. Given the high-end nature of the product, it was difficult to find the right customers. I ended up pivoting my jewelry making to more of a hobby and using my skills to create gifts for friends and family instead of trying to sell my work.

There was also a time when I had a knitting blog, thinking maybe I could be the next Stephanie Pearl-Mcphee. The problem was, I couldn’t knit fast enough to post with any real frequency and a blog without regular content just flounders. Then there was that phase in the early 2000s when I thought I might want to pursue graphic design as a freelance business. I got a gig doing pro bono work for a nonprofit, which helped me build up my portfolio, but I had no idea how to grow the business past that point. Fun fact: those graphic design skills have come in handy at DIY MFA because I do a lot of the graphics for the site.

The truth is, I had tons of creative business ideas, many of which I tested and then decided not to pursue. It was only when I came up with DIY MFA that I realized I had hit on something that people wanted.

As writers, we have to remember that publishing is a business, and that in order for a book to be successful, there have to be readers interested in it. This means that you have to have a clear idea in your mind of who your readers will be. Perhaps the biggest mistake I originally made when I tried out all those other business ideas is that I focused on creating what I wanted and I didn’t stop to think whether other people would want it, too. So, think about your readers, even as you’re working on that very first draft.

Keep in mind, though, you don’t want to chase the market. Don’t write about vampires just because that’s what’s hot at the moment. Remember that it takes 2-3 years for a book to get to market (unless you indie pub) so what’s hot right now may not even be a thing when your book comes out. That said, if you love vampires and that’s your jam, write the story that’s in your heart. After all, you’re going to have to read and revise your story dozens of times before you publish, so you might as well write something you love.

Testing the Concept

After getting all those positive and encouraging messages about DIY MFA, I realized I needed to test the concept. Specifically, I wanted to test two things:

1. Did I have enough to say on the subject?
2. Did I really have an audience?

After thinking about it, I realized that the best way to test these two things was to pose a blogging challenge. Back in 2010, it was the heyday of blogging and there were all sorts of blogging challenges on the internet. I figured I would do a blogging challenge… on myself. The idea was simple, I would blog about DIY MFA every single day for an entire month. I figured by the end of the month, I’d have a pretty clear answer to each of the two questions above. Either I would have run out of things to say, or I’d still be brimming with ideas. And either I’d have gained a bigger audience, or my existing followers—all twelve of them—would have abandoned me.

I decided to run this DIY MFA challenge in the month of September because it was back-to-school time and that somehow felt fitting. Also, it gave me the whole summer (between graduation, when I first had the idea to September 1) to collect my thoughts and map out my posts. This way I could hit the ground running as soon as September rolled around.

Here’s what happened: I got to the end of September and I still had ideas for DIY MFA. In fact, 14 years later, I’m still coming up with new courses and workshops so clearly I have a lot to say on the subject. Not only that, my small group of twelve followers grew to four hundred, just in that one month. Now, that might not seem like a lot in today’s influencer-driven world, but at the time, gaining four hundred blog followers was a big deal, and it showed me there was an audience for my concept.

We writers often don’t test our concepts nearly enough. We often commit to a long project like a novel and we don’t take time to test and see if the concept lands with our audience, or if we have the stamina to see it through. Sure, many of us want nothing more than to hide away in our writing space and focus all our energy on creating The Big Project. But that does us no good if the project doesn’t have legs. This is why it’s so important to test our concepts.

One way to do this is to focus on writing short form work for a while and trying to get that work published. We have several members of our word nerd community who have chosen to focus on short form work and have had excellent success publishing their stories, essays, or poetry. The great thing about short form work is that you can start and finish a project in a much shorter span of time, and you can get feedback on it by submitting it for publication and seeing if it resonates.

For folks who are working on long form work like novels or memoirs, another way to test the concept is to take some aspect of your project and see if you can adapt it to a shorter piece. For example, if you’re writing a novel, what if you wrote a short story about one of the supporting characters? Or if you’re writing a memoir, how about taking an anecdote that doesn’t fit the memoir’s theme and making it into an essay? The idea is to try to test the market for your concept before you’ve committed a ton of time to writing that longer piece.

If your writing stamina is the thing in question, the best way to test it is with a challenge. Every November writers around the world dive headfirst into a new novel project and write with abandon until they hit 50K words. But you don’t have to wait until November to pose a similar challenge for yourself. Give yourself a word count goal and a window of time to see if you can stick to it. Maybe your goal is writing 2,000 words per day, 5 days per week for two weeks straight. Or maybe it’s writing 500 words every single day for a month, rain or shine. Come up with your own version of the challenge and use it to help you see if you have the stamina to get through a long project.

Developing the Structure

Structure is a huge factor, both in terms of developing a business idea and in writing a book. As I’ve shared on previous occasions, DIY MFA comprises three pillars: Write with Focus, Read with Purpose, and Build Your Community. But it wasn’t always this streamlined. In fact, that first month when I did the blogging series, I had something like ten different subcategories of DIY MFA. These categories were: productivity, motivation, creativity, craft, workshops, reading, literary analysis, conferences, platform, and publishing. When I did that first blogging series, I posted about all these different topics, assigning different themes to different days of the week, even doubling up some of the topics to make them fit the weekly schedule.

It was a mess.

And it took me a little while to put that mess in order. It was in 2012, when I decided to rebuild the website and have it professionally designed, that my web developer said we only had room across the header for three topics. Somehow I had to take those ten things and cram them down into three. Plus, I had to make them sound catchy so they’d look good on the website.

What I realized was that those ten topics could be grouped together into larger buckets of writing, reading, and community. Once I made that discovery, the solution was simple. Our header would be Write with Focus, Read with Purpose, Build Your Community, and those would be the three pillars of DIY MFA. Once I had those pillars figured out, the rest of the DIY MFA structure quickly fell into place.

Whether you’re a plotter or a pantser (someone who writes by the seat of their pants), sooner or later you have to think about structure. For plotters, structure comes into play early in the process, before they even start writing. For pantsers, on the other hand, structure often happens as part of the revision process. Personally, I recommend a “plantser” approach, where you write by the seat of your pants for a while (maybe 10K-20K words), and then you pause and take stock of what you have. Extract an outline by mapping out what you’ve already written, then figure out how to fill in the gaps. Then, when you get back to writing, you’ll have a direction for where you want your story to go.

So, there you have it: the background of how DIY MFA came to be, along with some insights you can apply to your own creative life. Remember, ideas by themselves are not all that useful. Instead, you have to test the ideas and see if there’s an audience for them. Once you’ve tested a concept, you also have to give it structure, so that it can take shape and become something great.

Until next time, keep writing and keep being awesome!

P.S. For more info on Gabriela Pereira, the founder and instigator of DIY MFA, check out her profile page.

The post Writer Fuel: How DIY MFA Got Started appeared first on DIY MFA.

Living the Author Life

The life of a writer isn’t easy. As you may recall from my last newsletter, publishing is a tough business and you have to be resilient to stick with it for the long haul. There’s a lot of rejection and heartache on the path to publication, and sometimes we lose sight of why we’re doing all of this in the first place.

It’s also a challenge to balance writing against all the other things we have going on in our lives. Most of us don’t have the luxury of writing full time and doing nothing else. Even if we are able to make writing our “day job” there’s a lot of other peripheral stuff we have to do, like marketing our work, building our platform, etc. And this doesn’t even take into account all of that personal life stuff that can sometimes get in the way of our writing dreams.

Many of us have families and home responsibilities. As you may already know, I’ve got two kiddos of my own, Little Man and Lady Bug. Little Man is now 12 (so turning into a “Big Man”) and Lady Bug is 9 (going on 19… yeesh!). Between music practice, school concerts and homework help, this spring has felt like a marathon of “kid stuff.” Don’t get me wrong, I love these kiddos more than anything, but all that love doesn’t make it any less exhausting. (If you’re a parent, you know exactly what I’m talking about…)

I know for a lot of folks in our community, caring for aging parents and relatives is a big part of their lives. Those responsibilities can take up a lot of time, energy, and mental bandwidth. And a lot of word nerds have extremely time-consuming day jobs that make it hard to work writing into their schedule. Many of them have to get their writing done in the wee hours of morning or night, or eke out a few words during their daily commutes.

All in all, we have a lot on our plates. And that’s life.

Honor Your Reality

At DIY MFA we have a saying: “Honor Your Reality.” This means that yes, life is part of our reality and sometimes it gets in the way of our writing. But we also have to acknowledge that writing is part of our reality. Without writing, we don’t feel complete. Our creative work is not just a luxury we squeeze into the off hours between items on our schedule. It matters. It’s important. When we are not writing, we are not being our authentic selves.

A lot of people talk about writing-life balance as though it were something rigid and precise. They act like our existence is a set of scales, with our life responsibilities on one side and our writing on the other. According to this model, the only way to find “balance” is if both sides of the scale are perfectly level.

But life isn’t like that. It’s messy. It’s weird. It’s constantly throwing things at us that we least expect.

I think of “balance” as being on a boat. If you try to stand rigidly upright, the rocking of the waves will knock you off balance and make you fall flat on your face. Instead, the way to stay on your feet is to rock with the boat. When a wave pushes one side of the boat up, we lean into that side. When the other side rises, we lean that way. We can’t fight the waves or make them go away, so the only way to deal with them is to lean in.

This means that we have to acknowledge the role that life plays in our reality, but we also have to attend to those writing “waves” when they come up. If we never address the waves on the writing side of our boat, then our lives will be lopsided and the boat will capsize. The way to find “balance” is to recognize that writing and life are a messy mix, but somehow we’ve got to fit both things into our reality.

One way to do that is…

Don’t Write Every Day

(At least, not unless you want to.)

A lot of big-name authors and writing experts say that in order to be a “real” writer, you have to write every day. Personally, I beg to differ. I don’t think that writing every day is necessary—or even healthy—for some writers. Sure, some writers might clock in a precise number of words every single day, but for others (like myself) writing is more like feast or famine. There are days when the muses smile down on me and I knock out thousands of words in one go, and then there are others where a hundred words feels like a slog. If I had to clock in an exact word count every single day, I’d probably have given up on writing a long time ago.

I’ve also heard of many writers who need thinking time before the writing can occur. One writer friend of mine says she spends a lot of time thinking through her book and mapping out each scene in her head. Then when she sits down to write, all the words pour out in a rush. For me, thinking time is also crucial. It’s where I work through different ideas—sometimes sketching them out on paper, sometimes just in my head—and it’s how I discover ideas for new projects as well.

For me, a lot of this thinking time is spent journaling, which I don’t really consider writing per se, even though I am putting pen to paper. I journal just about every day, in the morning before I get out of bed. Most of my journaling is whiny, boring, repetitive stuff, like me complaining about mundane things that probably won’t matter beyond that instant. Yet sometimes, in my journal, I hit on a random idea that I can mine for gold. If I didn’t spill all that whiny, boring garbage onto the page first, I probably never would land on that golden nugget of an idea.

But let’s get back to “write every day” and why maybe it’s not the best strategy. Another thing to consider is that there’s a certain luxury associated with writing every day. Many of us have messy, busy lives that make writing every day an unrealistic goal. Sure, for some writers, writing every day is doable, but we shouldn’t beat ourselves up if we can’t do it.

Let me tell you a story about writing every day. I remember reading the book On Writing by Stephen King many years ago when I was just beginning to take writing seriously. This was back in 2006 or 2007, and this book had a huge impact on my writing, but not in the way you would expect. Now, let me be perfectly clear: this is a wonderful book that paints a picture of what it really takes to be a writer. I love this book and constantly recommend it to new writers. But… there’s one tiny spot that I have to quibble with. This is the place where Stephen King says you have to write 2,000 words per day and read 80-100 books per year, or else you’re not a “real” writer.

When I first read that, I thought I had stumbled on The Answer. After all, if Stephen King said it, it had to be true, right? Well, the truth is, that method might work for Stephen King, but it didn’t work for me. I started out okay, writing 2,000 words per day for a couple of days. Then I had a major rush of inspiration and poured out 4,000 words in a day. Yay! But after that I hit the wall and had a bunch of 200-400 word days. That’s when I started to spiral.

You see, I had this idea in my head that I had to write 2,000 words, like clockwork. Every. Single. Day. But I couldn’t do it consistently. Some days I exceeded my goal; others I could barely eke out a tenth of the required word count.

So, I started to beat myself up. Thoughts popped up in my head, like: “Well, if you can’t do 2,000 words every day, you’re not a real writer.” Or “See? I knew you couldn’t do it. You’ll never publish anything.” Or “Sooner or later, people are going to find out you’re a fraud and you can’t write anything.”

Here’s the truth: Beating ourselves up for not writing does not make the words magically appear on the page. I know. I’ve tried. It doesn’t work.

Not everybody writes with Stephen King precision. I admire the people who do, but I’m definitely not one of them. And that’s okay, because the writing still gets done, it’s just a messier process.

So if we shouldn’t “write every day,” what should we do?

The key is to write some days. Maybe it’s not every day, but a few times a week. Or maybe your weekdays are a hot mess and the only time you have for writing is on the weekends. Some writers might clock in word counts with laser-like precision. Others (like me) may have more of a rollercoaster process. All of this is okay.

We all have different lives, with different goals and challenges. To assume that one method would work for every writer is shortsighted. Instead, the key is to find the method that works best for you.

What Makes an Author Life?

The author life consists of a lot of things—productivity, motivation, mindset, time management, and more—but it looks different for each person. Of course we have to write. If we never wrote anything, we’d have to reconsider why we’re even trying to do this in the first place. The writing itself is non-negotiable. If we want to be writers we have to write. The place where things get messy is in the “how.”

For a lot of us, it takes trial and error to find a process that works. When I first started writing the DIY MFA book, I had a newborn and a toddler at home, so I knew that the only way I would be able to do it was if I could get out of the house. At first, I thought the most efficient way to do this was to go to a hotel, check in early, check out late, and write write write for the hours in between. We had some points from a hotel chain so I figured I’d give it a shot.

The first time I did that, I knocked out over 7,000 words. I did my happy dance, went home, then came back a few weeks later to try a second time. That session didn’t go so well and I only made about 4,000 words. Not bad, but not as good as the first time. Then the third time I tried this I only managed about 1,500 words, plus the hotel points had just about run out. It became very clear that if I had to hide away in a hotel every time I needed to write, this was going to be a very expensive book.

So I tried a different method. Every weekday, after dropping Little Man off at preschool, I started going to the local coffee shop around the corner and writing for a few hours until it was time to go pick him up. Another mom from his class was also a writer, so we teamed up and started hanging out at the coffee shop together, working side-by-side. I didn’t knock out 7,000 words at a time, but I made respectable progress on the book five days a week, eventually getting it done. Plus, knowing that I only had that short, preschool-time window to do my writing motivated me to stay focused. Also, having a writing buddy also helped make the process less lonely.

Keep in mind, this approach worked back then because my life was the way it was at the time. Now, it would be a different story. The kiddos may require a lot less grunt work these days, but there are other challenges, like activities and schoolwork. Plus, DIY MFA is in a whole different place now than it was in 2015 when I was writing the book. Back then, the business was just getting started and we didn’t offer nearly as many courses or programs. Now, DIY MFA truly is a full-time job, and taking away an entire morning five days a week would not be feasible. Instead, I have to sneak in my writing during those nooks and crannies between other DIY MFA stuff.

I share all of this because I think it’s important to realize that there’s an ebb and flow to the writing process. You can’t just take writing advice at face value. You have to try different things out and see what works for you. You also have to recognize that what works at one stage in your writing career, may not carry over to a later stage. Your process for writing book one will be very different from the process for books two and beyond. In the end, we have to acknowledge that the author life is unpredictable and we have to embrace the wild, messy adventure that it is!

Until next time, keep writing and keep being awesome!

P.S. For more info on Gabriela Pereira, the founder and instigator of DIY MFA, check out her profile page.

The post Writer Fuel: Living the Author Life appeared first on DIY MFA.

But for some of us, it’s useful to understand the nuts and bolts of how things work, so I thought it might be useful to share a short primer on the publishing business. For some this subject may be review, but for others this may be completely new information. My hope is that it will help you make informed decisions about your own path to publishing, so you can build an author life that works for you.

Traditional vs. Indie Publishing

First things first: when folks talk about publishing, the conversation often breaks down into a debate between independent (indie) and traditional publishing. The truth is, there are certain factors that these two paths have in common. In both traditional and indie publishing, someone has to cover the upfront costs of producing the book. These costs include (but are not limited to) editing, cover design, book layout, marketing, and so forth. The main difference in these two models comes down to who covers those costs. In traditional publishing, all those costs are covered by the publisher, not the author. This is why the author usually makes a much smaller percentage from each copy of their book sold.

In indie publishing, on the other hand, the author gets a much larger percentage, but they also have to cover all of these upfront costs. On one hand, this means they have much more control over the final product, because as publisher, everything is under their purview. On the other hand, it does mean that indie publishing is an investment and author-publishers often have to spend some amount of money before seeing a nickel in royalties.

Think of it this way: indie publishing essentially means you have to take off your “author hat” and put on your “publisher hat” because now you are in charge of a publishing imprint of one author. That author just happens to be you. This means that an indie author has to juggle two separate roles. As publisher, they have to coordinate the production of the book, and as author, they have to manage the artistic side of creating a great story. For some authors, this approach is exciting and they love the idea of being completely in control of their book’s production. Other authors don’t want to juggle, so they prefer to go the traditional route and partner with a publisher.

When authors ask me for advice about whether they should pursue traditional or indie publishing, I always say the same thing. Indie publishing should not be treated as a second-best option. If you choose to indie publish, choose it proactively and with agency. Don’t default to it simply because you tried the traditional route and it didn’t work out. Indie publishing is a big commitment, and it deserves to be treated as a first-place option, not as the runner-up.

I will add that there’s also a third option called hybrid publishing, which falls in the gray area between traditional and indie publishing. Every hybrid publisher is different, so it’s hard to give an exact overview of how this works. In some cases, they provide certain services—like editing or cover design—a la carte. In other cases, the hybrid publisher splits the costs with the author in some way. The main things to consider with all three publishing models are twofold: (1) What percent of the profit does the author get? (2) Who retains what rights to the work? No matter which publishing path you choose, you need to be very clear about the answer to both of these questions.

Let’s Do Some Trad Pub Math

I think the best way to understand how different publishing models work is to put some numbers to it. First, let’s talk about traditional publishing. Some of the time (not always) the author receives an advance as part of their book deal. Let me make one thing very clear: the advance is not “free money,” it is simply the author being paid in advance for royalties they have not yet earned.

This means that in order for the author to start getting royalty checks for their book, they have to sell enough copies to pay back the advance they have already received. This is called “earning out” and only around 20-30% of books reach that milestone. This means that anywhere between 70-80% of books do not earn out their advance. In other words, the books did not sell enough copies for the author to pay back the advance they already received, meaning that the author gets no additional royalties on top of that advance.

The reason so many books don’t earn out is because a lot of traditional publishing operates in a manner akin to venture capital. For example, if a publisher acquires 10 books, they’re banking on maybe one of those books going through the roof and selling a bazillion copies. Another two might earn out, but maybe not by much. The rest of the books don’t earn out at all, but the book that sold the bazillion copies makes enough profit to cover the costs of producing those seven other books.

Because the publisher is not looking to make a huge profit on every single book, it does mean that some books—quieter or more niche books—still have a chance of getting published, even though their anticipated sales might not be super-high. Not earning out, however, does hurt the author’s chances of getting another book deal down the road. If an author’s last book didn’t earn out, it makes it that much harder for them to get their next book published because publishers may be concerned with their sales record.

Let’s get back to talking about advances (Note: these numbers are purely hypothetical.) Suppose you get a $1,000 advance, your book is priced at $10 per print copy, and your percentage is 10% of the list price. This means that for every print copy sold, you get $1, so you have to sell 1,000 books in order to earn out your advance. When you get to book 1,001, then and only then do you start seeing additional royalty checks.

Now, the numbers can get tricky pretty quick, because they depend on a lot of different factors. For example, if your royalties are based on net profit versus list price, your royalty comes from the profit the publisher makes after the costs have been factored in, rather than being a percentage of your book’s cover price. You might also have a variable royalty schedule, where your percentage grows once you hit certain sales numbers. (Like, you might make 10% for the first 1,000 copies, 12.5% for copies 1,001-3,000, 15% after that, etc.)

Keep in mind also that ebook sales have a different royalty rate—and a different price point—than print books. So, depending on the type of book, print books might be your primary source of sales, or it might be ebooks. Certain genres or categories tend to do better in one format over the other, so understand your market and get a good sense for where the bulk of your book earnings will come from.

What I always recommend writers do if they have a traditional book deal is to calculate their “magic number,” i.e. how many books they need to sell in order to earn out. Sit down, do the mathy-math, and figure out exactly how many books that is. When I got the DIY MFA book deal, I calculated my magic number and it gave me a manageable goal to aim for, so that within a year I had earned out my advance.

Indie Publishing Math Looks a Little Different

For indie publishing, the numbers work a little differently, but there’s still that same factor of the upfront costs. The main difference here is that the author covers those costs, because the author is also the publisher. In addition, unless you run a kickstarter or other crowdfunding campaign, you won’t get an advance, so the only money you make is after your book is already on the market. This means that the publication costs are an upfront investment and you’ll need to sell a certain number of books after the fact just to break even.

Here, again, you need to do the mathy-math. First, you have to calculate all your costs for producing the book. This includes all the editing costs (often for multiple rounds with more than one editor), as well as cover design and interior book layout. Depending on the type of book, you may be able to do some of the interior layout yourself using a tool like Atticus or Vellum, but in other cases—like if you have a lot of diagrams or illustrations—your book may require a more detailed layout and you may need to hire a designer to do it.

According to several sources, the average cost to indie publish a high-quality book is anywhere between $2,000-$4,000, but that amount can vary wildly depending on many factors. For example, some genres have higher costs. Nonfiction books require indexing which adds a whole other step to the publishing process and also increases the costs. Sci-Fi/Fantasy books are generally longer than novels in other genres, so the cost of printing will be higher as will the cost of editing. Historical Fiction novels require a lot of fact checking, and picture books have illustrations. All these costs can add up quickly.

Still, for the sake of an example, let’s suppose your book falls on the high end of that average range and all the publishing costs add up to somewhere in the neighborhood of $4,000. (Again, these numbers are hypothetical.) Your next step would be to figure out your “magic number,” which is the number of books you need to sell in order to break even and cover all of your production costs.

To calculate that number, first you need to figure out how much profit you will earn per copy of your book. Let’s say that number is $2. Then you just need to divide your total costs by the profit-per-book to get the total number of books you need to sell. In this case that would be 2,000 copies. Poof! You have your “magic number.”

Why the Numbers Are Important

The numbers make a huge difference when it comes to thinking about building a writing life and developing a sustainable career as a writer. Not only do you need to know your “magic number” so you can break even or earn out your advance, but you also need to consider what you need to earn in order to make a livable wage as a writer. For many writers, book writing by itself will not be sufficient to sustain a career. This is why so many writers write as a side hustle and have “day jobs” that pay the bills (or at the very least, jobs that provide health insurance).

The hard truth that most of us don’t want to admit is that it’s very difficult to make a living just by publishing books. Publishing one book is probably not going to be enough to sustain us. For most of us, we have to do something else that will supplement our writing.

In some cases, this means getting a regular 9-5 job, where you can clock in and clock out and spend the rest of your time writing. I know many people who write on their commutes. They have 30 or 45 minutes on a train each morning and evening, and instead of zoning out or listening to podcasts, they spend that time working on their books. Some writers teach writing as a way to supplement their incomes. For me, teaching has always been my primary work and writing has been something I do on the side, but for some writers it’s the other way around, and teaching is the thing they do to sustain their writing careers.

The truth is, unless you’re one of the lucky few, it’s very difficult to make a career as a writer doing nothing but writing.

Even if you’re one of the lucky ones and you get a big, splashy book deal, that still doesn’t add up quite as much when you consider how publishing works. Suppose for example, that you got an awesome $100,000 traditional book deal. Yay! Let’s do a happy dance!

Then let’s get down to reality and look at how the money gets parceled out. For starters, you’re not getting that $100,000 right up front. Most book contracts stipulate that the advance is delivered in parts, usually tied to specific deadlines. You might get one-third upon signing, another third when you’ve delivered your edits, and the last portion when your book finally gets published. It could be upwards of two years between when you first sign your contract and when your book is finally out in the world. This means that this advance could be spread out over three calendar years, amounting essentially to an income of $33,333 per year, a far cry from that original six figure number.

The math gets even stickier if it’s a multiple book contract. Imagine you got $100,000 for a two-book deal. This means you’re really only getting $50,000 per book, and that number will get divided up over multiple installments, as described above. This means you might be getting only around $15,000 per year while that publication journey plays out. Now, I don’t know about you, but while that’s a perfectly fine income bump, it’s not enough to sustain someone all by itself.

“But, but, but, Gabriela, what about all those indie authors who make tons of money every month and don’t do anything but write books? Can’t I be like them?” First off, let me be very clear, these authors are not just writing books. As indie authors, they are doing publishing-related activities, like getting their books edited and formatted, and they are also doing tons of marketing and promotion to build their network of readers. Many of these indie authors are also self-instructed experts at Facebook and Amazon ads and they spend as much of their time (or more!) building their brand as they do writing.

The other thing to keep in mind is that the authors who do well are also incredibly prolific, with many indie authors writing upwards of eight or nine books per year. These authors often have multiple series, each with several books already published, and it’s the cumulative sales of all these books (plus their new releases) that make them able to sustain a full-time writing career.

I share all this today not to be all doom and gloom, but because I think it’s important for writers to understand the realities of the business we’re operating in. For many writers, the key to career success is diversifying their revenue streams. This means having multiple irons in the fire and finding creative ways to bring in additional income. I know for me with DIY MFA, diversification has been an important part of our business strategy and it’s the reason why I’ve been able to do the work that I do.

So, to recap, you’ll first want to start by choosing the publishing path that most resonates with you. Next, don’t be afraid of the mathy-math. Get nerdy with those numbers and figure out exactly how many copies you need to sell either to earn out your advance or to cover your upfront costs. Finally, diversify your income streams so you’re not wholly dependent on only one thing. Basically, don’t put all your eggs in one publishing basket, but juggle a few different revenue streams.

Until next time, keep writing and keep being awesome!

P.S. For more info on Gabriela Pereira, the founder and instigator of DIY MFA, check out her profile page.

The post Writer Fuel: How Publishing Works – A Primer appeared first on DIY MFA.

Here’s what I realized: If we chop the story and cut off the narrative at the moment of the climax, we leave the reader with one very unsatisfying ending. The purpose of the climax is to answer the major dramatic question (MDQ) of the story, the question that drives the story forward and gives it momentum. The denouement, on the other hand, provides follow-through that gives context to the MDQ’s answer, in addition to giving the story closure. In other words, while the climax answers the MDQ, the denouement answers the question: “So what? What was the whole point of this story anyway?”

Consider the moment of the climax in The Hunger Games. This is the moment when we discover whether Katniss Everdeen manages to survive those horrific Games. Now imagine the story cut off right at that climactic moment when Katniss and Peeta are about to eat the poison berries. Think about how frustrating it would feel for the reader if the story ended at that moment and we didn’t get those few key scenes that follow. Sure, we would know that Katniss survives, but that survival doesn’t really mean anything if we don’t have the denouement.

The denouement provides follow-through. Different stories have different lengths of denouement. In cozy mysteries, for example, the denouement might only be one short scene after the sleuth reveals whodunnit. In some romance, the denouement may not even happen in the story proper, but may be included as an epilogue where the story flashes forward and we see the couple after they have been in the relationship for some time.

Consider our example of The Hunger Games above. In this book, we get one additional chapter after the scene with the berries. In this chapter, Katniss and Peeta are interviewed by the talk show host, Caesar Flickerman, in the Capitol and Katniss has to try her best not to anger President Snow more than she already has. This chapter gives us a sense of much-needed closure and raises the stakes for the ending, making us realize the potential consequences of Katniss and Peeta standing up to the Capitol. That chapter also ties up some—though not all—of the loose ends in the story.

Notice that though the book is the first in a trilogy, it still has a denouement. The denouement does not have to tie together every last detail and there are many questions still left unanswered, questions which get addressed in subsequent books of the series. The purpose of the denouement is to tie the story up enough so that we have a sense of closure. It also needs to make us feel as though the story and the characters extend beyond the pages of that one book. In other words, the purpose of the denouement is seemingly contradictory: while it provides closure, it also creates a feeling of expansiveness, as though the story could keep going on, even after we’ve put the book down.

The Meaning of the Denouement

If we look at the etymology of the word “denouement” we’ll find that it originates from the French verb “denouer” which means to untie or unknot. This is interesting because a lot of times when we think of endings, we think of tying up loose ends, but the truth is almost exactly the opposite. A true denouement is about release and expansion. It’s about untying the knots we’ve created in our story.

If you’ve ever watched Murder, She Wrote, you know exactly what I’m talking about when it comes to the denouement. At the very end of every episode, after Jessica Fletcher has revealed whodunnit and the case has been closed, there’s always one last quick scene where Jessica and her friends sit around and talk. Most of the time they’re not even talking about the case, but simply discussing other life-related things. And the scene always ends with a freeze-frame of Jessica throwing her head back and laughing. This short scene is what makes it clear that Jessica and her friends are regular people, who have lives beyond solving murders. It’s what makes the story feel like it expands beyond the scope of the show.

If denouement is about unknotting, then the reveal about whodunnit would be that first pull when you’re trying to undo a particularly tight knot. That first pull puts the resolution into motion, but it doesn’t untie the knot entirely. The purpose of the denouement is to finish slackening that knot, to give us that feeling of freedom, such that the story isn’t all tied up but, rather, has a sense of relaxation at the end.

This concept of a denouement may seem to be something of a contradiction. After all, how can you “tie up loose ends” and also “unknot” a story at the same time. To me, this all comes down to that feeling of expansiveness, that idea that the world and the characters extend beyond the edges of the page and continue on long after we have stopped reading. The denouement provides that feeling of loosening. It’s that “sigh of relief” that gives the story closure while also making it feel as though the world and characters can live on in our imaginations.

Denouement in Marketing

The denouement is not just something we see in storytelling; it happens in marketing as well. In any marketing campaign, the climax is that moment when the customer finally makes the purchase. In terms of book sales, this might be the point where a customer brings your book to the cash register and takes their credit card from their wallet. Or maybe it’s the moment when they pull your book from a library shelf, or click the “place order” button via an online retailer.

You would think the story ends there, but it doesn’t. Sure, the customer has made their purchase, so we may wonder why we need to worry about what comes next. The truth is that the story isn’t over at the climax or point of sale. In fact, that’s only the beginning. Just as your customer goes on a journey from when they first discover you to that moment when they buy your book, they also start a whole new journey once they’ve made that purchase. In other words, they go from being a prospective customer on their journey to the point of sale, to starting a new journey where they go from being a recent customer to potentially becoming a superfan of your work.

That start of the new journey is the denouement of the previous journey, meaning that the two journeys overlap slightly. Just as the denouement in storytelling gives us a sense of expansiveness and makes us feel like the story extends beyond the page, so too does the denouement in marketing create a similar feeling. In the latter case, we know the story keeps going because the customer is beginning a whole new journey.

Denouement in Life

In life, we often experience moments when one chapter ends and a new chapter begins. In early May, I shared that my beloved Office Cat had gone to what we in the DIY MFA household dub the “giant tuna buffet in the sky.” She was with me for almost twenty-one years (which is about 100 in “cat years”) and saw me through many life transitions, from the birth of both of my two kids to the start of DIY MFA. While I felt tremendous grief that the chapter with Office Cat had ended, I also held out hope that her story didn’t end then and that there would be some continuation “beyond the page” where I might see her again.

And although no other creature could ever take Office Cat’s place in my heart, I looked ahead with anticipation and hope to give another cat a forever home. To that end, we brought home a new member of our family.

This new kitty is super-sweet and affectionate. She clearly picked us, because when we came to her cage at the shelter, she practically jumped into my arms. We could tell right away that she was meant to be part of our family. She loves sitting on the windowsill, soaking up sunshine and watching the world go by. She also purrs constantly and has the cutest little high-pitched mew. As with all members of our family, this cat has an online nickname and we’ve dubbed her Office Cat 2.0. We’re still adjusting to our new family dynamic, and I’ll keep you posted on how that process develops.

Just as the denouement creates a sense of expansiveness and makes it feel as though the story extends beyond the page, so too does this new kitty open up new possibilities in our lives and make it feel as though a new chapter is beginning.

Until next time, keep writing and keep being awesome!

P.S. For more info on Gabriela Pereira, the founder and instigator of DIY MFA, check out her profile page.

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