Scenes are an essential component of storytelling because they are the fundamental building blocks of any story. Without scenes, all you have is a string of exposition (“this happened, then this happened, then this happened”). That does not create an immersive story experience for your reader. Scenes give readers the feeling that they are right there in the story, experiencing the events alongside the characters. If you imagine a story like a movie playing in your head, scenes are what create that feeling.

Why Scenes Matter

I like to think of scenes as the lowest common denominator of storytelling. A scene is the smallest possible unit that still contains all the essential elements of a story: character, plot, world, and theme. Any smaller unit than a scene—a paragraph or a sentence, for example—might contain a couple of those elements, but likely will not contain all four.

To me, scenes are the cellular component of the story organism. Just like an individual cell contains all the same DNA as the full organism, a scene contains all of the story’s “DNA” by representing all four storytelling elements. And just as different cells may manifest the DNA in different ways—a brain cell is different from a muscle cell after all—different scenes will highlight different aspects of the story, but they still contain all four of the basic components.

In other words, a scene taps into all of the five W’s: who, what, when, where, and why. The “who” is the character (or characters) present in that scene. The “what” is what happens, or the plot events of that scene. The “when/where” represents the world as it appears in that moment, and the “why” is the theme and how it is infused into the scene at hand.

I’ve had a lot of writers ask me: “How can I tell the difference between one scene and the next?” While this is not a hard-and-fast rule, I like to look at the 5 Ws, and when one or more W changes, that’s often a clue that the scene might be changing as well. For example, if a character enters or leaves the scene, if we change location, or if a new plot event comes into play, those are often possible indicators that we are shifting from one scene to the next. While this is not always the case, it’s usually a sign that we should take a closer look at the scene and see if it has indeed changed.

Scenes vs. Chapters

Another question that often comes up for writers is this distinction between scenes and chapters. For some writers, scenes and chapters are one and the same in that each chapter is a single scene. Still, it’s important to understand the distinction between the two, because they are, in fact, different.

If scenes are the smallest unit of storytelling, chapters are an artificial construct created by writers to deliver a particular experience to the reader. This means you can have many scenes within a single chapter or one scene spanning multiple chapters. Shorter chapters make the pacing feel faster while longer chapters can stretch out the pacing and increase suspense.

For example, in the novel Sweethearts by Sara Zarr, there are two timelines, one in the present and one in the past. The present-day timeline is paced with moderate-length scenes while the past timeline is one long scene stretched out over the entire length of the book. This creates a sense of suspense. The reader wants to keep turning pages to find out what happened in that intense scene in the past timeline.

Another example is the chapter break during the Reaping scene of The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. The first chapter of the book includes a few different scenes—Katniss and Gale hunting, Katniss and Prim at home getting ready, and the beginning of the Reaping scene. The chapter ends abruptly at the moment when Prim’s name is drawn from the tribute jar. The scene then continues into the second chapter, where Katniss volunteers to take her sister’s place. That chapter break (right at the height of tension) builds suspense with a cliffhanger at the end of chapter one. Readers want to keep turning pages to find out what Katniss will do.

As these examples show, while in some cases you might have scenes and chapters that are equivalent, chapters are an artistic choice and a tool that writers can use to create a desired effect in the story. Scenes, on the other hand, are a fundamental unit of storytelling, not an artificial construct. 

Scene vs. Exposition

If scenes are the “show” part of storytelling, then exposition is the “tell.” Many writing teachers hammer home the idea that you should “show, don’t tell” but I prefer to think of it as “show and tell.” The truth is that showing and telling are both essential parts of storytelling. Scenes and exposition both perform important functions and one is not necessarily better than the other.

Scenes, as mentioned before, have a certain immediacy to them. The reader feels like they are right there with the characters, experiencing the moment at hand alongside them. Scenes have an immersive feel to them and oftentimes we don’t even realize we are reading when a scene really pulls us in.

Exposition, on the other hand, is great for skipping time or zipping from one location to another. If scenes are like the basic cells in a story organism, I think of exposition as the connective tissue that helps to hold everything together. Exposition is what allows us to say “Five years later” or “The next morning in Timbuktu.” It allows us to skim over the less important (or less interesting) parts of the story, until we get to another section that merits a scene.

Consider this example. Suppose you have a character who walks to work every day by the same route. The reader doesn’t need to know about every crack in the sidewalk or every random stranger that crosses the character’s path. If it’s a regular, ordinary day, the story can just say “He walked to work that day” and then craft a scene when things get interesting.

But let’s suppose, on a particular day, something dramatic happens on the way to work, like they meet the love of their life. Now it makes sense to craft a full scene, so we can capture that dramatic moment. Exposition lets us skip over the mundane, everyday stuff, while scene lets us dive into an important moment for the character.

The Elements of Scene Structure

At DIY MFA, we consider scene structure as it relates to each of the four story elements: character, plot, world, and theme. I like to think of these story elements as mapping directly onto the four natural elements: fire, water, earth, and air. 

Plot, for example, represents water or the ebb and flow of the storytelling. The plot events are often a sequence of actions and reactions, where events happen and characters respond, prompting other events to happen, and so forth.

When you put the elements of a scene together, you end up with something akin to the image below. The bead-like shape is intentional because scenes are like beads on a string, each one building on the one before and helping the necklace take shape.

This four-pronged approach to scene craft is only the tip of the iceberg. In our signature DIY MFA programs (like Plan to Plot), we go much deeper into these story elements and how they intersect with each other. For example, key moments in the plot thread overlap with significant points in the character’s arc through the scene. This is not coincidental.

Do a Deep Dive!

If you’re curious about scene craft and structure, one of the best ways to understand the techniques is to do some close reading and analyze what you see on the page. Choose a scene from a favorite novel, memoir, or story and see if you can tease apart the four different elements.

What sections relate to the character’s arc through the scene? What components are the ebb and flow of plot events? How does the author ground the scene in place and time, and what symbols or thematic elements help bring the story’s theme to life? See if you can identify and analyze the different parts of a scene. After that, you’re well on your way to crafting great scenes yourself. 

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: Scene Craft: How to Create Stronger Scenes appeared first on DIY MFA.

But there’s more to writing than just the writing itself. There are many elements that touch our writing but are not necessarily writing-related. Still, these elements can have a huge impact on how we get words on the page.

There are a lot of experts teaching about the craft of writing, but not as many who talk about the “other stuff” like resilience, focus, overcoming blocks, setting boundaries, and other such topics. This is why I created the DIY MFA FLOW Framework.

The DIY MFA FLOW Framework has four parts to it. These four components represent four different aspects of our creative lives. In fact, the word FLOW is itself an acronym. (And if you’ve been in the DIY MFA ecosystem for more than five minutes, you probably know we love our acronyms!)

• F = Find Your Focus
• L = Live Your Learning
• O = Overcome Your Obstacles
• W = Work Your Words

The idea behind the FLOW Framework is that all these ancillary skills which surround our writing are just that: skills. This means that they are teachable and learnable, not esoteric, amorphous concepts that are impossible to figure out. At DIY MFA, we believe that you can practice specific skills related to your creative life. Then you’ll have these skills in your back pocket, so you can implement them at crucial moments.

Find Your Focus

Focus is the foundational aspect of the FLOW framework, because without focus, none of the other FLOW components are feasible. In addition, focus is essential for getting words on the page and is a necessary first step to be able to write. No matter how many creativity hacks we might try, if we can’t focus, we can’t do our creative work.

Find Your Focus skills include how to:

• Set effective goals
• Find the right project that lights you up
• Make empowered choices
• Eliminate distractions
• Discern when to emphasize life vs. writing

Live Your Learning

As writers we are constantly learning. We like to learn new craft-related techniques. We also learn about our own subject matter so we can write compelling and authentic stories. In terms of the FLOW Framework, learning is the day-to-day maintenance piece. These are the skills we will draw on most often as we are living our creative lives.

Live Your Learning skills include how to:

• Determine our best writing process
• Handle failure and avoid guilt
• Use deliberate practice to learn new skills and techniques
• Develop ideas through imitation, improvisation, and incubation
• Structure your ideas and give them a concrete shape

Overcome Your Obstacles

Sooner or later, all writers hit bumps in the road. Whatever we might call it—writer’s block, resistance, “The Wall”—the result is the same. Sometimes we face a creative crisis and we need techniques to help us get through it. These skills are ones we may not draw on every day, but we want to practice them and keep them handy so that we have them when the need arises.

Overcome Your Obstacles skills include how to:

• Side-step obstacles by acting “As If”
• Use your creative identity to anchor you during tough moments
• Identify your creative monster and take away its power
• Craft a creative survival kit in case of emergencies
• Put together a Peace Corner to keep you grounded

Work Your Words

This element is the interpersonal part of the FLOW Framework. While the other elements address more individual aspects of the creative life, we must also accept that creative work exists in an ecosystem, and we must learn to navigate that system. This FLOW component is all about communication and using our words effectively with others.

Work Your Words skills include how to:

• Reframe language that does not serve you
• Use language for problem-solving
• Set boundaries with strategic word choice
• Ask for what you need effectively
• Redirect and deflect verbal attacks

Skill-Based Learning and the Importance of Practice

One thing to keep in mind with the FLOW Framework, is that the emphasis is not on vaguely understanding amorphous concepts. When I teach this framework, the main task at hand is for writers to learn specific, concrete skills, then practice them in a safe space—a journal, a worksheet, a virtual workshop—so that when the need arises, they have that skill ready.

This is not unlike how I teach the craft. Yes, there are certain aspects of writing that are very cerebral and abstract, but the goal is always to translate those amorphous ideas into concrete techniques that writers can implement right away. This is why so many of our programs at DIY MFA include a live classroom component, where writers can participate in real time.

It is difficult to practice skills in isolation, though not impossible. If you find you don’t have the opportunity to join a life workshop or take a class in real time, you can still learn techniques and practice them on your own. The key is learning to look at the work you do in practice with an objective outlook. There is one DIY MFA technique I find particularly useful for practicing both the technical aspects of writing and those ancillary skills represented in the FLOW Framework. It is called the Petri Dish Technique.

The Petri Dish Technique

The idea behind the Petri Dish Technique is that you identify the skill you want to learn, practice it in isolation, then put the technique back into context after you have solidified it. For example, imagine you want to learn how to write better dialogue. First you identify that dialogue is, in fact, the problem you want to solve. Next, you find some dialogue exercises online or in a book of writing prompts and you do those exercises until you feel like you’ve nailed down the dialogue. Then and only then do you go back into your work-in-progress and fix the dialogue throughout.

The reason this technique works so well is because it allows you to practice a technique outside the context of your current project. This lowers the likelihood of you tinkering your story to death and making your voice feel stilted and artificial. This is not unlike how scientists might take a cell sample from an organism, run tests on it in a petri dish, then infuse the cure back into the organism once they’ve solved the problem. The petri dish allows for a safe space to run those tests and not kill the organism in the process. The same is true with your writing.

But what about those ancillary skills from the FLOW Framework? How can we use the Petri Dish Technique with those?

In this case, we have to get a little more creative. Instead of doing writing prompts, we need to find some other safe space where we can practice those skills. I find journaling to be especially effective for this purpose. If I don’t have a circle of trust immediately handy where I can try some of the skills out on real people, I find that writing about the skill in a journal can be an effective alternative.

This is why, when I teach the FLOW Framework I like to have worksheets handy so writers can practice the techniques on the page. This is especially helpful because I find many writers to be introverts, and introverts don’t often want to practice techniques through roleplay or other more extroverted activities. For writers, processing concepts through pen and page is often more compatible with their introspective natures.

Reclaiming Your Creative Flow

If you’re having trouble finding your creative flow, start by using the FLOW framework to identify which area of your creative life needs the most attention. Is the problem that you feel scattered and can’t concentrate on your creative work (Focus)? Is it something relating to your everyday writing process (Learning)? Are you perhaps struggling with a creative crisis like writer’s block (Obstacles)? Is the issue one of setting boundaries or communicating your needs (Words)?

Once you have a sense for the overall cause of this lack of flow, look at some of the skills listed above and see if you can find one that might help address the issue. (Note: the lists of skills are by no means exhaustive, so you might identify something that’s not on a list. That’s okay!) After you’ve selected a skill, grab a journal and spend a little bit of time writing about it.

A great way to journal about this is with the “So What?” Technique. Start by making some sort of statement about the topic at hand, like “I don’t feel inspired to write.” Then write “so what?” Answer with another statement, then ask “so what?” again. Keep doing this for five or six “so whats?” until you hit on the core reason behind the lack of creative flow. After that, write a few paragraphs about what you’ve uncovered. The purpose behind the five or six “so whats?” is that they allow you to go deep and not stop at the most obvious answers.

There you have it: a step-by-step guide to reclaiming your creative flow, using the FLOW Framework alongside practical tools like the Petri Dish Technique and the “So What” Technique.

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: Lost Your Creative Flow? Use this Framework to Get it Back appeared first on DIY MFA.

This is one of the reasons I am such a huge fan of the Pomodoro Technique. If you’re not familiar with it, this is a method designed to help you eliminate distractions and get your work done. It originated in Italy in the 1980’s, where a young college student, Francesco Cirillo, was struggling to get through his studies. Using a tomato-shaped kitchen timer (hence the “pomodoro” in the name) he broke his study sessions down into short sprints where he would focus on the subject at hand until the timer went off. After experimenting for several years, he eventually found that the optimal length of time for each “pomodoro” (i.e. sprint) was 25 minutes with five-minute breaks in between.

The idea behind the Pomodoro Technique is that you set a timer and then focus on one thing until the timer goes off. After this focus session, you take a break, then come back for another one. You can keep doing this for as long as you like or until you have finished the task at hand. Every four or five sprints, you can also give yourself a longer break.

Why the Pomodoro Technique Works

There are two primary reasons why the Pomodoro Technique is so effective. First and foremost, it enables focus and helps you avoid multitasking. It also forces you to take much-needed breaks, which can have major health benefits.

(1) It Helps Avoid Multitasking.

The main reason the Pomodoro Technique works is because it eliminates multi-tasking, since you have to focus on one thing at a time. Multitasking may seem productive, like you are knocking out multiple tasks at once, but that is actually not the case. When you multitask, your brain can’t focus on multiple things at once so it’s constantly toggling between the various tasks. This leads to context switching.

Context switching is the phenomenon where, when you alternate between multiple tasks, your brain has to “reboot” every time it makes the switch. This might only take a split second but if you switch tasks enough times, those seconds will add up. You lose time whenever your brain has to switch tasks, which means multitasking is actually less productive than focusing on one thing at a time.

In addition, multitasking can lead to errors and can affect your brain health. When you multitask, it requires using more of your brain, which means that multitasking is less efficient than doing focused work. Multitasking can also create other health problems, like increased blood pressure or stress. Even if these problems are short-term, they can still have significant effects.

When you use the Pomodoro Technique, it forces you to focus on one thing at a time. Each pomodoro sprint is only 25 minutes long, meaning that if any distraction comes up—phone message or email ping, you can easily postpone attending to it until the 25-minute sprint is over. After all, it’s only 25 minutes. Then, when you have finished the sprint, you can catch up on anything else that may have happened while you were working.

(2) It Forces You to Take Breaks.

Another reason why the Pomodoro Technique is effective is because it forces you to take breaks. Many writers (myself included) love to immerse themselves in their writing, working for long stretches of time. But if you work for too long, you can end up injuring yourself. I speak from experience.

When I was in grad school for my MFA, I spent so much time writing that I eventually gave myself “golfer’s elbow” and ended up with my right (dominant) arm in a brace for several weeks. That definitely put a damper on my writing. If I had been more careful and taken more breaks during my sprints, I would not have injured myself and wouldn’t have had to postpone my writing for quite so long.

With the Pomodoro Technique, you take breaks every 25 minutes. This gives you time to stretch and move around, as well as rest your eyes, wrists, and hands. It may feel like you are wasting five precious minutes of writing time, but prolonged typing or staring at the computer screen can have adverse health effects. If you take care of your body, you will be better able to keep writing for the long term.

Not only that, but sometimes a break is just the ticket to help you get unstuck when you’ve written yourself into a corner. A short change of scene or activity can help your mind recharge and when you come back to your writing, you’ll be refreshed and more creative.

How to Use the Pomodoro Technique

Here’s a quick step-by-step on how to use the Pomodoro Technique.

1. Choose a timer. This should preferably be a dedicated timer that you only use for Pomodoro sessions. There are several Pomodoro apps out there (I like an iOS app called Focus Keeper) but you can also use a good, old-fashioned kitchen timer.
2. Set the timer for 25 minutes. During that pomodoro session focus on nothing else except your writing.
3. Take a 5-minute break. When the timer buzzes, stop and take a 5-minute break.
4. Rinse and repeat. Every four pomodoro sprints, extend your break to 15 minutes. 

Just remember that while you are in a pomodoro session, you should not do anything but write. No checking your email, no sending a text message, no logging into social media. All of these things can wait until the pomodoro session is done and you are on your break. If something comes up that is truly important—for example, you have a brilliant idea for another story—jot down a quick note to yourself, then get back to your focused work.

The Pomodoro Technique works best when the task at hand is big and overwhelming. If you choose a task that’s too short, you run the risk of completing the task before the pomodoro session is done. Doing pomodoro sessions is especially helpful when you need to break down a big, scary task (like writing a novel) into smaller, more manageable chunks.

For example, let’s say you are working on a novel or a memoir. It can feel daunting to crank out those 80,000 words, but with the Pomodoro technique, you can break that project down into smaller parts. Let’s do a little back-of-the-envelope math and see how you might map out those incremental steps.

Suppose that in a 25-minute Pomodoro sprint, you can crank out 500 words.That means you’ll need 160 Pomodoros to reach your 80,000-word goal. This may seem like a lot, but if you can do two or three Pomodoros in one day, that brings the number of writing days down to around 64. If you can work on your writing three times per week, you could have your first draft reach “the end” in around five months! Suddenly, that 80,000-word goal might feel a lot more doable.

I would also recommend, when applying the Pomodoro Technique to your writing, that you keep a log so you can track your progress. At DIY MFA, we are big fans of iteration and the best way to tweak and improve your writing process is to log your writing sprints. After all, you can’t modify what you can’t measure.

Make Adjustments to the Technique

As we wrap up this discussion of the Pomodoro Technique, I want to encourage you to give it a try, but also make adjustments as necessary. I find, for example, that for my own writing process, a 25-minute sprint is far too short, but 45 or 60 minutes gives me more time to immerse myself fully in my writing. If I was writing for longer stretches, though, I would also give myself slightly longer breaks, anywhere from 7-10 minutes.

In other contexts, 25 minutes might be too long. For example, in the past I used the technique with my children while helping them practice their instruments. (Little Man plays the piano, Lady Bug the violin.) What I found, though, was that 25 minutes was far too long for them to sustain their focus, so we dropped the length of the sprints to 10 or 15 minutes instead of the typical pomodoro sprint. We took shorter breaks between sessions (sometimes just 2-3 minutes) but they were able to sustain their focus for longer.

This is why I encourage you to experiment with the method and find the format that works best for you. There are no hard-and-fast rules when it comes to the Pomodoro Technique, so try some things out and see which combination of sprint and break lengths are most effective for you. Track your writing sprints and use the data to help you identify which variations work best.

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: Why You Should Try the Pomodoro Technique appeared first on DIY MFA.

Character Backstory

This is perhaps the most common form of backstory and it relates to a character’s past. It includes things like childhood events, early traumas, successes and failures, or even secrets that the character might carry. Taken together, these all comprise the character’s history, giving us a sense for who they are and what their motivations might be.

In addition to lending context to motivations, character backstory also helps to shape character arcs. For example, a villain might have an event in their past that made them turn to evil (think Anakin Skywalker in The Revenge of the Sith). Or the hero might have experienced something that shaped their outlook on life and made them into the person they are now.

EXAMPLE: In The Hunger Games, Katniss’ father dies in a mine collapse. When that happens, her mother withdraws into herself, neglecting Katniss and her little sister Prim. From then on, Katniss is the one who has to support the family and keep them from starvation. This leads her to become especially protective of her sister and to take on a leadership role in her family.

World/Setting Backstory

Another common form of backstory shows the history of the world or setting in which the narrative takes place. This is where we learn about important world events like wars, political shifts, natural disasters, or other significant changes. Historical events, like technological revolutions, can also help shape the world. (Think of how the invention of the warp drive impacts the Earth in the Star Trek universe.) Through world/setting backstory we find out why the world is the way it is and what past events have influenced the present.

One reason why this form of backstory is so important is because it creates a sense of realism in the story world. By putting that world into historical context, it not only feels more realistic but also allows readers to understand various setting-related tensions and dynamics.

EXAMPLE: Military conflict is a subtle backdrop in Pride and Prejudice, with Colonel Forster hosting Elizabeth’s youngest sister, Lydia, in Brighton and Mr. Wickham joining the militia early in the book. While we never see any actual fighting, we are constantly reminded that the Napoleonic Wars are happening far off in the background.

Relationship Backstory

This includes past conflicts between characters, interpersonal drama, or romantic interludes. While this type of backstory is similar to character backstory, it is not specific to a single individual but rather involves the relationship between two or more.

This type of backstory adds emotional depth to relationships. When we know characters have a shared history, their present interactions take on more significance. It also opens the door for secrets and other unexpected tidbits to come to light, and it allows room for people both to have falling outs or perhaps to reconcile.

EXAMPLE: In The Great Gatsby, Jay Gatsby and Daisy Buchanan have had a romantic relationship in the past. This romance occurs before the action of the novel takes place and it is the primary motivation for why Gatsby pursues wealth in the attempt to win Daisy back (despite her now being married).

Incident Backstory

These are the events that have happened before the story takes place, like prophesies or past plot points. We see this type of backstory sometimes in mysteries and thrillers, where the crime might occur off the page, before chapter one. We also see incident backstory in speculative fiction, where a prophecy shared in the past reveals some aspect of the present storyline.

Incident backstory sets up the initial conditions for the plot. The story begins and it already has a certain set of “rules” or constraints attached to it. This type of backstory can also help to raise the stakes and create urgency because we know something has happened in the past that will affect the present timeline.

Be careful with prophesies, though. When done well, they can increase the sense of mystery, making the reader want to put the clues together and figure out how that prediction will come into play. But if it is too on-the-nose, that prophecy can squash the mystery out of the story altogether. Worse yet, it can feel unsatisfying to the reader when the prophecy gives us information we already know.

EXAMPLE: in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, a prophecy is revealed linking Harry to Voldemort saying: “neither can live while the other survives.” This prediction foreshadows what must happen at the end of the seventh book in order for Harry to vanquish Voldemort once and for all.

The problem with this prophecy is that it is a little bit obvious and doesn’t reveal anything new that the reader didn’t anticipate. It is clear from the start that eventually, Harry or Voldemort will have to defeat the other, and the prophecy does not add much information beyond that. In the end, we don’t need a prophecy to tell us something we already know.

Object Backstory

This type includes any lore surrounding an object, telling us why it is significant. This context might include the object’s origin story, who owned it previously, what events have transpired surrounding it, and why it is valuable, important, or dangerous.

Significant objects can play an important role in a story, adding symbolism and thematic depth. In particular, if an object becomes a thematic element—used to underscore the book’s theme—it can add substantial weight and cohesiveness to the narrative.

EXAMPLE: In The Hunger Games, Katniss’ friend Madge (the mayor’s daughter) gives her a golden pin shaped like a bird: a mockingjay. These birds are a cross-breed between a genetically engineered weapon (the jabberjay) and a mockingbird. The very existence of the mockingjay is an insult to the oppressive Capitol, which once tried to eradicate that species but failed.

We find out that, when he was alive, Katniss’ father had a special fondness for mockingjays. Later, in the arena, Katniss and her ally Rue use mockingjays to send messages through song. In the subsequent books of the trilogy, the mockingjay becomes the symbol for the revolution.

Cultural Backstory

Social norms, festivals, mythology, and ancestral lore—all these have a history explaining where they come from and why they exist. This is cultural backstory and it includes things like traditions, taboos, and anything else that shapes a society’s culture.

As with world-building backstory, this type adds a sense of realism and immersion, making the reader feel like they are there, in that world, with those characters. Cultural differences can also lead to conflict between groups, so this type of backstory can help to explain why certain tensions exist.

EXAMPLE: When Obi-Wan Kenobi first tells Luke Skywalker about his father and the Force (in Star Wars IV: A New Hope) we learn that a lightsaber is “an elegant weapon for a more civilized age.” We also discover that there are two sides to the Force, and Darth Vader was seduced by the Dark Side. All of these details—sprinkled throughout the dialogue between Luke and Obi-Wan—help to paint a picture of the Jedi culture.

Institutional Backstory

Some places or institutions—like a school, workplace, etc.—are so significant to the story that they have their own history. Institutional backstory includes any past events that occurred within an institution or organization. This might include traditions, successes and failures, secret scandals, and doctrine.

Like world/setting or cultural backstory, this type adds a sense of realism to the institution by giving it a history and context. Plus, this backstory can also help explain organizational policies or reveal hidden agendas.

EXAMPLE: In the Hunger Games trilogy, the Games themselves have a longstanding history. We learn at the Reaping in book one why the Games came into existence in the first place. We also discover the rules of the Games, like how each district must offer up two tributes (one male, one female) between the ages of 12 and 17, and once you win the Games, you are exempt from participating again in the future.

This context is important because in book two, the Capitol breaks the rules and decides to take tributes from existing victors of the Games. Without the institutional backstory of the Games themselves, that change in the rules would have much less significance.

Personal Mythology

This type of backstory includes all of those stories that characters tell themselves. This includes memories that might be re-interpreted, self-justifying narratives, or beliefs that have become ingrained in the character. This is similar to character backstory, but it focuses not on the actual events that occurred in that character’s past, but on their interpretation of those events.

EXAMPLE: In the Myrtle Clover cozy mystery series, the main character (Myrtle) has very strong views about herself and the people around her. As a former English teacher turned amateur sleuth, she thinks highly of her own cognitive abilities and is not particularly impressed with local law enforcement (including her son, who happens to be the police chief for their town).

Myrtle also firmly believes she is an excellent cook (even though her culinary experiments often take a terrible turn). Her high opinion of her own abilities means she often cooks disgusting casseroles to take to families of the murder victims—both as a condolence gesture and as an excuse to visit these suspects and try to extract information from them. 

There you have it: eight different types of backstory, how they work, and why they are important. Keep in mind that a book does not need to have all eight types represented in it. In fact, if you do include them all, you risk overloading your story with too much information and you may bore your reader. Instead, I recommend focusing on the present timeline and sprinkling in backstory as it is relevant. As I often like to say: keep the reader on a “need to know” basis. Give them only the information that they need to know, when they need to know it.

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: What Types of Backstory Do You Need? appeared first on DIY MFA.

Once I saw it, the obsession grew. I got the soundtrack (both Broadway and London Cast versions) and spent hours listening to my favorite songs over and over again, until the cassette tapes almost wore out. I would compare the different versions—who was the best Valjean? Which version was the best? Overall I preferred the London version (I mean, Patti LuPone as Fantine, who could beat that?), but I liked the Broadway Javert (Terrence Mann) better and his song, “Stars,” had a much better ending. The version in the London production was anticlimactic by comparison.

In honor of introducing my daughter to Les Miserables, I thought I would do a three-act analysis to see how the framework holds up with a musical. Note that I am basing this analysis on the original Broadway version, since that is the first one I ever saw. Note also that the three-act structure has three acts in it (obviously!) but the show only has two theatrical acts. I will refer to the acts of the musical as “parts” rather than “acts” so as to avoid confusion.

Spoiler Alert! If you haven’t seen Les Miserables, please be aware that there will be spoilers. You can probably figure this out just from the title, but things end badly for just about every character, with only a few minor exceptions. Unfortunately, the show is no longer on Broadway, but there will be a concert version coming to Radio City Music Hall later this year. You can also catch the film version, which is pretty close to the Broadway rendition in terms of songs and structure.That said, this musical is a hundred times better on stage than it is on screen.

Okay, let’s dive into our analysis of Les Miserables.

PROLOGUE: Part 1 of the show begins with Jean Valjean doing hard labor in prison, a sentence he received for stealing a loaf of bread. He has served time for 19 years as prisoner 24601. The first song (“Work Song”) is where he gets paroled and meets Inspector Javert (who is then a prison guard) for the first time.

As part of his parole, he gets a yellow ticket of leave, and everywhere he goes, no one will give him honest work. When he is about to despair, he is taken in by a Bishop, who gives him a place to stay. In the night, Valjean steals some silver and tries to run away but is caught. The constables bring him back to the Bishop, accusing him of theft. The Bishop tells them that he gave the silver as a present and even gives Valjean an additional two candlesticks, saying that he left so quickly, he had forgotten to take them.

Valjean has a conversion of spirit, realizing that the Bishop has given him his freedom. He decides he must turn his life around, so he abandons his identity and reinvents himself as a new person.

ACT 1: Here we flash forward several years, where Valjean—in his new identity—has become a factory owner and mayor of a city. We see the workers in his factory, who are poor and unhappy. Still, they consider themselves lucky to have any job at all.

In the factory, the foreman wants to seduce a young worker, Fantine, but she refuses him. The other factory workers think Fantine is stuck-up, so when she brings a letter with her to work, they steal it from her and read it aloud. It turns out, Fantine has a child who is living with an innkeeper and his wife in some country village. She sends money to help support the child. A fight breaks out between Fantine and the other women. As the factory owner, Valjean steps in and asks his foreman to sort the problem out. The foreman fires Fantine, and she laments the sorry turns her life has taken (“I Dreamed a Dream”).

To survive, Fantine sells her locket and her hair, but eventually must turn to prostitution (“Lovely Ladies”) to survive and send money to her child. When a customer tries to take advantage of her and she fights back, he accuses her of attacking him. Javert (now a Police Inspector) arrests Fantine but as mayor, Valjean intercedes and takes her to a hospital

In another scene, a man is pinned under a runaway wagon and Valjean is able to lift it singlehandedly, saving the man’s life. Javert sees this work of supreme strength and thinks he recognizes Valjean. But, then another man is captured and identified as Valjean, so Javert abandons his suspicions. The Prologue and Act 1 answer the five story promises as follows:

Character: Jean Valjean is our protagonist. He begins in the Prologue thinking only of his own survival, but after the Bishop gives him his freedom, his goal shifts to protecting his identity and keeping his past a secret. What he ultimately wants is his freedom and to stop running from the law.

Voice: While there is no voice because this is a musical, what makes this show so epic is the way the various different melodies weave in and out of each other. The music clues us in, showing us which parts of the story are connected.

World: The story takes place in France in the first part of the 19th century. It begins in a prison in 1815 when Valjean is released. Next, it jumps to 1823 in Montreuil-sur-Mer where Valjean is the mayor. Afterwards, the timeline skips forward yet again, this time to Paris in 1832.

Problem: Jean Valjean is a convicted felon who has skipped parole. In order to continue in his comfortable life, he must hide his identity. He must constantly be looking over his shoulder and running from his past.

Event: At first, Valjean is very hands-off in his dealings with his employees and the poor. Then he meets Fantine among the prostitutes and realizes the consequences of him being so passive.

PIVOT POINT 1:  When the innocent man is captured in his place, the real Jean Valjean is torn between two choices. He can let this man be accused instead of himself and finally have peace of mind that no one will come after him. On the other hand, he can reveal his true identity and be imprisoned all over again. Eventually, during the song “Who Am I?” Valjean decides to reveal his true self as prisoner 24601. The event at this pivot point is the innocent lookalike being captured. The choice is Valjean deciding to reveal his identity.

ACT 2:  Valjean goes to the hospital where Fantine lies dying. While there, he promises her that he will take care of her daughter, Cosette. Javert finds him in the hospital and after a confrontation, Valjean manages to escape. He goes to the countryside and finds Cosette living with the Thénardiers, an innkeeper and his wife. The Thénardiers are con artists, stealing from their customers (“Master of the House”). They treat Cosette like a servant while their own child, Eponine, is spoiled. Valjean pays them 1,500 francs to let him take Cosette away.

From here, we skip forward again, this time to Paris in 1832. The poor are barely scraping by and General Lamarque is the only source of hope the people have for a better life. Unfortunately his death is imminent and there is much public unrest. Students, including Enjorlas and Marius, are getting ready for an uprising.

The Thénardiers have moved to Paris, as have also Jean Valjean and Cosette. Marius and Cosette see each other for the first time and instantly fall in love. At the same time, Eponine, the Thénardiers’ daughter, also secretly loves Marius.

Here we get to a point in the story where multiple things are happening at once. In “Stars,” Javert vows that he will finally find and arrest Jean Valjean. In “Red and Black” and “Do You Hear the People Sing” we see Enjorlas and the other students planning for their revolution. Finally, we get to the midpoint of the story arc.

MIDPOINT: The midpoint of the show does not line up with the division between the two parts. In fact, it comes four songs before. After seeing each other for the first time, Marius and Cosette are in love. In “In My Life,” Cosette starts by singing about her love for Marius but eventually she shifts to asking her father about the past. This section of the song is the midpoint.

This is a Temporary Triumph in that it seems like Valjean has finally escaped his past and found something resembling peace. The moment of introspection is Valjean having to confront the questions Cosette has about his past. In the end he holds fast and does not reveal his secrets.

The song “In My Life” follows an ABA format, in that we have sections about love at the beginning and end, and the middle portion is where Cosette confronts Valjean. The song begins with Cosette singing about her love for Marius. Then she and Valjean sing the next part together until Valjean ends the conversation without revealing his secrets. The last portion of the song is where Marius and Eponine are singing together, him declaring his love for Cosette and her revealing her love for Marius.

ACT 2 (Cont’d): Eponine takes Marius to see Cosette, and they are finally able to meet (“A Heart Full of Love”). Then Thénardier and his gang attempt to rob Valjean’s home, but Eponine is there and sees him. She screams, warning the house of the robbers and Marius runs away. Valjean is terrified that they have been found. He makes plans to leave Paris with Cosette. She does not want to go because she has fallen in love with Marius, but she has no choice.

At this point, we come to the last song in the first part of the show, “One Day More.” This song brings all the characters to the stage and combines several musical themes from across the show, including: “Who Am I?,” “I Dreamed a Dream,” “On My Own,” and “Master of the House.”

Marius decides to fight alongside his friends at the barricade. The students are convinced that the people of Paris will rise up and help their revolution. After joining his friends, Marius sends a farewell letter to Cosette via Eponine (“On My Own”). Valjean intercepts the letter and realizes that Cosette is in love. He decides to stay and eventually makes his way to the barricade to fight. At the barricade, Enjorlas, the revolutionary leader, asks for a volunteer to spy on the military. Javert—who is disguised as a revolutionary—volunteers. When he returns, he tells the others that there will be no attack so they can drop their guard. Gavroche steps up and identifies Javert as an Inspector and they capture him. Valjean is given the opportunity to execute Javert but instead he lets him go.

At the first attack, Eponine is fatally wounded. She dies in Marius’ arms (“A Little Fall of Rain”). The men sing “Drink with Me” and Valjean realizes that Marius is the man Cosette loves.

PIVOT POINT 2: As the men go to sleep, Valjean sings “Bring Him Home,” asking for Marius to be spared. He is reconciled with the fact that he may die at the barricade, but for Cosette’s sake, he wants Marius to survive. The event at this pivot point is him discovering that Marius is the man Colette loves. The choice is Valjean deciding that he will do whatever is in his power to help Marius survive.

ACT 3: The third act of this story is surprisingly short. The second attack happens and the people of Paris do not rise up and fight. The students at the barricade are left to fight on their own and all (except Marius) die at the end of the battle. Valjean survives the attack and is able to rescue an injured Marius and take him down into the sewers to escape. He collapses and Thénardier (who is looting bodies) finds the two and takes a ring from Marius’ finger. When Valjean is finally awake again and is able to exit the sewer, he comes across Javert. 

CLIMAX: Valjean asks Javert to let him take Marius to a doctor. Though it is counter to everything he believes, Javert lets Valjean go. Javert is shaken both by Valjean’s act of mercy in sparing his life and his own act of letting Valjean go. He cannot live with himself and commits suicide.

It is significant to note that the melody we hear in Javert’s last song is the same melody from when Valjean decides to abandon his identity after the Bishop has given him his freedom. This makes sense because both are moments that give Valjean his freedom, though they do so in different ways. In the first instance, Valjean claims his freedom by rejecting his true identity. The second time, Valjean gets his freedom more permanently because Javert has killed himself so he won’t be coming after him any longer. The irony is, of course, that Valjean does not know this. He believes himself to be a fugitive still.

Ending Type: Ironically enough, even though just about everybody dies in this musical, this show actually has a Happy Ending. At DIY MFA we define a happy ending not by the emotion, but by whether the protagonist achieves their goal. A happy ending is one where the main character gets what they want and they still want that thing by the end of the story.

Jean Valjean wants his freedom and he wants to live in peace. At first, he thinks he will achieve this by changing his identity. Eventually, he realizes that freedom is not a matter of identity but of being true to his principles. He chooses to show mercy to Javert, even though that will mean Javert will never stop coming after him. He also chooses to save Marius over running away from Javert and securing his own freedom. In the end, Javert lets him go and eventually kills himself, leaving Valjean finally free. By this definition, the show has a Happy Ending.

DENOUEMENT: Marius recovers from his wounds and grieves his friends (“Empty Chairs at Empty Tables”). Valjean confesses his secrets to Marius, and says he must leave to protect Cosette. He still believes the law is after him.

Marius and Cosette get married. The Thénardiers crash the wedding and try to convince Marius that Valjean is a thief by showing him a ring Valjean supposedly stole from a body at the barricade. Marius recognizes the ring as his own and realizes that Valjean must have been the person who rescued him.

Marius takes Cosette to see Jean Valjean, who is on his deathbed. Valjean dies peacefully, finally getting the freedom he has craved for so long. Knowing that Cosette has Marius and will not be alone allows him to die in peace. As his soul slips from his body, Fantine and Eponine appear, and he goes with them to the afterlife.

CONCLUSION: One of the things that I most love about this show is how the various melodies weave together throughout, making us associate different parts of the show with each other. “One Day More” pulls themes from various different songs in the show (“Who Am I?”, “On My Own”, “I Dreamed a Dream,” and “Master of the House”) but it is by no means the only instance.

For example, the moment where the Bishop forgives Valjean for his theft uses the same musical theme as “Empty Chairs at Empty Tables.” This is significant because when Marius sings the latter song, he is effectively asking his friends for forgiveness because he survived and they did not. Both instances deal with the subject of forgiveness, though in different ways.

Similarly, Fantine and Eponine are linked by the theme of “On My Own.” While Eponine sings the famous song, Fantine sings the same melody with different words in “Come to Me.” Then, at the end, when Valjean dies, the two appear singing that same melody again as a duet. It’s significant that Fantine and Eponine would be thus linked. Both have unrequited loves and both suffered a great deal in their short lives. Most importantly, though, they both want things they cannot have. Fantine wants to be with her daughter, Cosette, and Eponine wants to be loved by Marius. In this way, the music of the show weaves various characters and significant moments together.

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: Three-Act Analysis of Les Miserables appeared first on DIY MFA.

The truth about time management is that it’s not actually about time; it’s about other skills like choosing priorities and setting goals. The majority of time management boils down to assessing which tasks need to happen when, and how those tasks fit into a broader project. Time management is also about understanding which blocks of time are most efficient for you, so you can use your time effectively. Time on the clock is only a tiny slice of time management as a whole. Ultimately, time management has little to do with time itself and more to do with making effective choices and being strategic with how you allocate your tasks.

For the next few weeks, I want to delve into different facets of time management. In particular, I see time management having four different areas:

• Choosing priorities (so you know what to tackle first)
• Setting goals (so you can see how small tasks fit the big picture)
• Assessing time quality (so you allocate your time effectively)
• Using the clock (so you can be more efficient with your time)

Today, I wanted to focus on the first topic—choosing priorities. I believe this is the most important element of time management, because it’s all about knowing which tasks to tackle and when to do them. If you get good at choosing priorities, your ability to manage your time will increase exponentially.

But, how do you choose those priorities in the first place? How do you know what tasks to tackle first, and which ones can wait until later? This decision comes down to a couple of different factors.

Task Urgency

Which task has the earliest deadline? What step needs to happen first, so other steps can come later? Which part of a project needs to be done right now? These are all questions relating to the urgency of a given task, and often this is our greatest motivator.

Most of us are driven by urgency. It’s hard to ignore a task when you have a big, glaring deadline hanging over your head. Yet, while urgency is an important factor to consider, we sometimes let it overshadow other factors, like a task’s importance or ease. In other words, we may sometimes get caught up working on unimportant tasks, simply because they are urgent and calling our attention.

Task Importance

Instead of focusing purely on task urgency, we must also consider task importance. This means looking not just at a task’s looming deadline, but also considering why the task matters. In particular, it’s important to think about how a given task contributes to your greater goals. For writers, for example, we might get caught up worrying about immediate deadlines (“Oh no! That newsletter has to go out tomorrow”) instead of giving priority to more important tasks (“I should spend some time writing my manuscript.”) This is where the Eisenhower Decision Matrix can come in handy.

Eisenhower Matrix

Developed by Dwight D. Eisenhower, this two-by-two matrix considers both task urgency and task importance together. To understand where a task falls on the matrix, all you need to do is ask two yes/no questions: (1) Is the task urgent? and (2) Is the task important? (See the diagram below.) You can use this matrix to figure out what course of action to take with a given task.

Depending on where the task lands on the matrix, you will handle it in a different way. If the task is urgent and important, you need to do it right away. If the task is important but not urgent, you need to decide on a time when you will work on it. Important-but-not-urgent tasks are most often the things that will move you closer to your long-term goals, but they are also the easiest tasks to fall by the wayside. If a task is urgent but not important, you should look for a way to delegate that task if at all possible. This will preserve your precious time for the things that really matter. Finally, if a task is neither important nor urgent, you can simply delete it from your to-do list and ignore it altogether.

There are two additional categories that I add to this model but do not appear on the matrix itself. You see, sometimes there’s just no way to delegate or delete a given task. You simply have to do it. In that case, see if you can delay or divide the task so you can buy yourself some extra time. For example, suppose you want to sit down and write but you also have to clean the house. You could hire a housekeeper to do the cleaning (delegate) or simply let the house get overrun with mess (delete), but for many, neither of those options is feasible or optimal. Instead, you could try to delay the cleaning for a few days, or divide the task so you do laundry on one day, clean the windows on another, and so forth.

If I were to recommend the one area of the matrix where you want to spend the most time, it would be the important-but-not-urgent or “decide” box, because those are the tasks that make the most long-term impact, but they are also the ones that are easiest to put off. Because they are not urgent, it’s easy for these tasks to fall to the bottom of the to-do list.

The area on the matrix where most people spend their time is the important-and-urgent or “do” box. This is because these tasks are important (so they can’t be easily delegated) but they are also urgent, so they require immediate attention. I call the “do” box the “swatting flies” box because when we spend too much time there, it often feels like we’re knocking out tasks as though we’re swatting flies. The problem with swatting flies, though, is that the minute we get rid of one, another one shows up.That’s why so many people who spend a lot of time in the “do” box tend to end up burnt out.

Task Ease

A third consideration which does not appear on the Eisenhower matrix is task ease. Sometimes the difficulty of a given task will affect the order in which we tackle it. For example, some people might prefer to knock out all the easy tasks first, to give themselves that fist-pump feeling of accomplishment and to help them build momentum. On the other hand, some folks might prefer to tackle a difficult task first, to get it out of the way and while their mind is still fresh. Regardless of which approach you take, it’s important at least to consider task ease when setting priorities.

This consideration is easily ignored, because it’s not as objective task urgency or importance. Yet I would argue that task ease might just be the most significant of all three components because it considers how you best handle your priorities. You see, priorities are highly personal and what might be nonnegotiable for one person might be less significant to someone else. This is why, when we choose our priorities, we have to allow for a little subjectivity and individuality. Task ease allows for some of that flexibility, as does task preference.

Task Preference

Let’s face it, some tasks are fun and don’t even feel like a burden. Other tasks are about as pleasant as getting a cavity filled. Just like task ease, task preference will vary wildly from one person to the next. Unlike task ease, however, I do think there is an optimal way to handle task preference.

While with task ease there are arguments for either doing easy or difficult tasks first, with task preference, I think the most effective way to do it is to tackle the most unpleasant task first. It’s easy to procrastinate on things we don’t like to do, but if we don’t get those unpleasant tasks done, they’ll just hang over our heads like a sword of Damocles. Instead, what I recommend is to knock out those unpleasant tasks and then reward yourself with the more pleasant ones.

What does this have to do with writing?

As writers, we often have to juggle competing tasks, both in the writing itself, and in the areas of our life that compete with writing. For many of us, life is continually at odds with our creative work and it’s filled with pragmatic responsibilities like going to a day job, cooking meals, cleaning the house, and taking care of kids or aging relatives. With all these things on our plates, we can’t magically make time appear out of nothing, but we can manage our priorities and find ways to put our writing higher up on that to-do list.

Ultimately, time management is not about creating more time—because that’s impossible. Rather, it’s about being more effective in how we use the time we have. This starts with choosing priorities and deciding which tasks you will do when.

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: The Truth About Time Management appeared first on DIY MFA.

The Importance of Reading with Purpose

When I used to interview guest authors on DIY MFA Radio, I used to end each episode with the same question: “What’s your #1 tip for writers?” Hands down, the most common answer to that question was: “Read, read, read,” and it’s no wonder why. Reading is one of the most crucial parts of a literary life. If writers want to improve their craft, they need to read.

A writer who doesn’t read is like a chef who doesn’t eat. They have no idea if what they’re creating is any good because they can’t put their work into context. Reading with purpose allows us to see how our books fit in the greater literary landscape and understand how to make our writing better. It also allows us to see how other writers solve certain problems and we can borrow those solutions and apply them to our own work.

Note that this doesn’t mean we are copying someone else’s writing, not by a long shot. Instead, think of it as like being a mechanic, looking under the hood of a car to see how it works. When we read with purpose, we analyze another writer’s work to see how they do things, then we apply the concepts to our own writing to make it better. We’re not copying the author’s actual words or ideas, but we’re looking at the way they do things and then borrowing some of those strategies.

What Reading with Purpose Entails

Reading with purpose means reading with an eye toward your writing. It means having a core set of books on hand—what I call “the essentials”—so you have ready resources when you need them. It means being strategic when you select books, so your reading will help you with your current work-in-progress. Most importantly, it means reading with an analytical perspective, so you can understand more fully how a piece of literature works, and apply some of those concepts to your own writing. There are three important components of reading with purpose:

1. Having a select group of essential books on hand
2. Compiling a reading list that servers our goals
3. Reading with a writer’s eye

Essential Books to Have on Hand

There are three books that I recommend every writer have in their library. I know what you’re thinking—only three? Yes, you only need three, and these three will be different for each writer. If you’re like most writers, you probably have more than one book in each of these categories, but at the minimum I recommend having one of each. To remember the three books, just think of your ABCs.

• A = Anthology of Short Form Work
• B = Book of Prompts
• C = Craft Reference

Anthology of Short Form Work: It’s useful to have an anthology of short stories, preferably in your chosen genre. If you write memoir, then look for an anthology of essays, and if you write poetry, get your hands on an anthology of poems. Make sure that what you choose is a true anthology with stories by a variety of authors and not a collection by a single author. This is because you want a book that represents the broadest possible range of voices. My go-to short story anthology is The Art of the Short Story, edited by Dana Gioia and R.S. Gwynn. It’s not super-new but it has the classics.

Book of Prompts: A book of prompts is always good to have on hand. I’m especially a fan of prompt books that are organized according to topic (dialogue prompts in one chapter, description prompts in another, etc.). The two prompt books I recommend are: The 3 A.M. Epiphany (and its sequel, The Four A.M. Breakthrough) by Brian Kiteley and the Now Write! series edited by Sherry Ellis and Laurie Lamson. Both series group the prompts by category, only in the Kiteley books, the prompts are by only one author, while in the Now Write! series, the prompts are from various different authors.

Craft Reference: It’s helpful to have a craft reference handy in case you run into questions you don’t know how to answer. Strunk and White’s The Elements of Style is, of course, the classic for matters regarding style and grammar. For broader craft topics, I love books by Donald Maass, Lisa Cron, and Steven James. For “small craft” (i.e., sentence-level stuff) check out Barbara Baig’s Spellbinding Sentences. And, of course, the DIY MFA book also gives an overview of general craft topics.

Building a Reading List

One of the most important parts of reading with purpose is compiling a reading list that truly serves your writing. I remember in the MFA program, reading some books that were completely irrelevant to what I was writing. I kept wondering “what’s the point?” It felt a bit like an exercise in futility. That’s why, when I started DIY MFA, one of the first things I did was develop a rubric so that writers could come up with their own reading list, their own syllabus. This rubric consists of four types of books:

1. Comps: Comparable books (i.e., comps) are similar to your book and would sit on the bookstore shelf next to yours. If a librarian were to recommend a book similar to yours, they would choose one of these comps.
2. Contextual: These are books you read for research. They may not be similar to your book in all respects, but they may have certain aspects in common, like the same setting, or a similar use of point of view. These books lend context to yours.
3. Contemporary: You need to keep your finger on the pulse of your genre or category. This is why it’s important to read a few contemporary books, so you can be aware of trends and know what’s new in your niche.
4. Classics: Everyone should read a classic at least once in a while. Keep in mind, classics don’t necessarily need to be hundreds (or thousands) of years old. Depending on your genre or category, books considered classics might actually be fairly recent.

Reading Like a Writer

I often call reading like a writer “reading like a revolutionary.” This is because when we read with a writer’s eye, we aren’t just passively taking in the story. Instead, we are actively analysing it, not just to understand, but to apply the concepts to our own writing. The key to reading like a writer is examining how the author does what they do on the page, and then considering which of those techniques you can borrow.

How to Read with Purpose

Reading with purpose is like swimming in the ocean: the swimmer is the reader and the ocean is the story. Like the ocean, the story has different layers of depth and reader-swimmers can explore some or all of those layers, depending on their inclination.

Ocean Surface: The WHAT

Most readers/swimmers skim across the surface, because that’s where the air is. At this surface level, they focus on the WHAT of the story (i.e., the logistics). At this level, the reader is con What’s happening? Who are the characters? What is the setting?

These basic, logistical considerations are what we focus on, particularly when we’re first developing as readers. These are the types of questions my kids would have to answer for homework in elementary school. They don’t require deep analysis, just a basic understanding of the facts.

There is nothing wrong with hanging out at the surface. That’s how most people read much of the time. This is the layer where you simply get carried away by a good story, and that’s a perfectly respectable way to read. But, if you want to read like a writer, you have to go deeper.

Coral Reef: The WHY

The second layer of reading is that in-between space between the ocean surface and the ocean floor. Imagine this layer as being like a coral reef with hundreds of colorful fish, lush corals, and brightly patterned shells. This reef represents the WHY of the story (i.e., the interpretation).

This is the layer where we consider deeper, more analytical questions. What does this story mean? Why did the author write this story? How does this story fit into the greater literary context? This is how we were taught to read in high school or college literature classes. We learned to go deeper than pure logistics, but still not quite all the way to the ocean floor.

Keep in mind, reading at this layer can be hard to sustain and you can’t do it indefinitely, just as a swimmer can’t stay underwater for hours on end. Instead, when we analyze literature in this way, we usually do so for contained, specific passages, rather than for the entirety of a book-length work.

Ocean Floor: The HOW

Finally, we get to the third layer. For this one, imagine you’re bobbing along on the surface of the ocean and then you spot a sparkling gem on the ocean floor. Then, you take a deep, gulping breath and you dive all the way to the bottom to retrieve it.

This is what we do when we read for the HOW. We look deep at another author’s work and we spot the gems, and we analyze what that author is doing to understand how exactly they managed to pull it off. Then, we take that gem and we see how we might apply it to our own work.

As with the coral reef layer, this deep dive is difficult to sustain for long passages. We can analyze a writer’s work at this profound level only for short passages. If we try to read an entire book at the ocean floor level, it will be very challenging. This is why reading like a writer is a delicate, aquatic dance, where we continuously shift up and down, from the surface to the ocean floor.

Personalized Anthology Project

One activity I often recommend to writers is to compile a personalized anthology. Whenever you read something and you come across a passage that captures your attention, make a photocopy and put it in a binder. Annotate each excerpt using the WHAT/WHY/HOW framework and once you have ten or more of them in the binder, sort them according to topic (character development, story structure, world-building, description, dialogue, etc.)

The idea here is that over time, you will amass a collection of excerpts specifically from books that are relevant to your writing—because they’re books you selected, not someone else like a professor. The fact that the passages are sorted by topic will make it easier for you to find what you need. Stumped by setting? Look at some of the world-building excerpts in your binder. Not only will they help you figure out craft-related techniques, but they will be directly relevant to what you’re writing.

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: What It Means to Read with Purpose appeared first on DIY MFA.

For today’s analysis, we’ll be looking specifically at episode 20 from season 1, titled “Murder Takes the Bus.”  In this episode, Jessica and her friend Sheriff Amos Tupper are on a bus to Portland, Maine when they get stranded at a diner because of a storm.

One thing I love about this episode is that it’s a closed circle mystery, where the characters are all stuck together in one place and the murderer is among them. Closed circle mysteries take place in locations where the suspects have no way to leave, like a country house in a snowstorm or a desert island. The key characteristic of a closed circle mystery is that there is a limited number of suspects, they are all stuck together, and they all have plausible motives for murder.

Another thing I love about “Murder Takes the Bus” is that it’s a nod to one of my favorite Twilight Zone episodes: “Will the Real Martian Please Stand Up?” The premise is the same: a bunch of people stranded together in a diner during a storm. The only difference is that the Twilight Zone version involves Martians.

Not familiar with the DIY MFA approach to story structure? No problem. Check out this article for a detailed rundown of the framework.

Spoiler Alert!  As with any cozy mystery, we all know that the sleuth is going to solve the case in the end. The key, of course, is figuring out who the murderer is. If you haven’t seen this particular episode and you don’t want the ending spoiled, look for it on a streaming service. (I recently caught it on Prime.) Otherwise, be forewarned, there will be spoilers in this essay.

Okay, let’s dive into our analysis of Murder, She Wrote — Season 1, Episode 20: “Murder Takes the Bus.”

ACT 1: Jessica Fletcher and her friend Sheriff Amos Tupper are going to Portland, Maine for a banquet. Amos is anxious to get to the banquet early because there’s a raffle and the grand prize is a big-screen TV. Before they can leave Cabot Cove, the car breaks down and they are forced to take the bus. They board the bus and we meet some of the supporting characters including fellow passengers and the bus driver.

As they drive, Jessica notices a car following them. The bus stops in front of a state penitentiary and a man gets on. When he boards the bus, he seems to recognize one of the passengers, but it’s unclear who.

The bus gets stopped by an emergency worker who says the power lines are down and there’s flooding up ahead. Nevertheless, the bus continues on. The car that was following the bus passes them, then breaks down and the driver also boards. As he is putting his bag on the overhead rack, Jessica notices he has a gun under his jacket.

In Act One of any story, we always have to fulfill five promises: the character, the voice, the world, the problem, and the event that kicks off the story. Here’s a breakdown of the five promises as they apply to this episode.

Character:  The main character in our story is Jessica Fletcher, a retired school teacher who is now a mystery author. She often stumbles across real life murders and uses her mystery-writing skills to solve them.

Voice:  As with movies, this show does not have a voice per se but a mood. The opening credits help to set that mood by showing a montage of scenes from different episodes of the show interspersed with clips of Jessica at her typewriter. The music is light and upbeat, starting with a tinkling piano and followed by a full orchestra, including bouncy tubas. This music and mood are perfectly fitting for a cosy mystery.

Note that once Jessica and Amos are on the bus and the storm begins, the music changes dramatically from the upbeat piano and tubas in the opening credits to strident strings, reminiscent of the music in the movie Psycho. This is typical of Murder, She Wrote, where the opening credits set the tone for the show as a whole, but each individual episode has a unique score that captures the mood and personality of that particular story.

World: The world of “Murder Takes the Bus” is fairly limited. We have two primary locations: the bus itself, and the diner where the passengers are stranded. 

Problem: The problem at the start of this episode is that the sheriff’s car has broken down and the only way Jessica and Amos can get to Portland is by bus.

Event: The bus has engine trouble and they are forced to stop at the diner.

PIVOT POINT 1: The bus driver needs to stop to check the engine. He pulls over at the Kozy Korner Kitchen and the passengers go inside to stretch their legs. Jessica forgets her book and goes back to the bus to get it. There she finds a passenger dead with a screwdriver plunged into his neck.

As I’ve mentioned in past analyses, the pivot points have two components: an external event and an internal choice. In this case, the external event is Jessica finding Stoner dead and her internal choice is to tell Amos, who is a sheriff after all (even though this is not his jurisdiction). Jessica thinks it’s obvious that one of the people on the bus must be the murderer and tells Amos as much.

ACT 2: This is the part of the mystery where we compile the clues and try to put the puzzle pieces together. We learn the identity of the victim (Gilbert Stoner) and that he had just been released from prison. Jessica says she remembers Stoner’s name from her research. He was part of a bank robbery where at least one of the three robbers was apprehended and an innocent bystander was killed.

SUPPORTING CAST:  At this point, we also meet our cast of supporting characters. Each of the characters introduces themselves and says where they were at the time of the murder.

Kent and Miriam Radford: Kent is a math professor who is fascinated by statistics. Miriam is a librarian. Kent claims to have been playing an arcade game when the murder happened and Miriam was in the diner the whole time.

Cyrus Sleffingwel: He is an older gentleman and a retired postal worker. Like Miriam, he has been in the main dining room of the diner the whole time.

Steve and Jane Pascal: Steve is a computer programmer traveling with his wife, Jane, who is expecting. He says he was outside on the payphone at the time of the crime, but Jessica says she saw him through the window, having an argument with Stoner on the bus.

Joe Downing: He says he is captain of a fishing boat and claims to have been at the bar having a drink during the murder.

Carey Drayson: This is the man who boarded the bus from the broken down car. He says he is a jewelry salesman and he carries a gun for protection because he has valuable jewels in his sample case.

Ben Gibbons: He is the bus driver and he says he was fixing the engine. He adds that he left his toolbox on the bus so anyone could have taken a screwdriver and used it to kill Stoner.

After the introductions, Jessica pulls out a photo that she found with the dead man and says Steve Pascal bears a striking resemblance to one of the men in the picture. Steve refuses to reply but Jane looks at the photo and says that one of the men in it is Steve’s father who died during the heist (along with the innocent bystander). Stoner was caught and the other robber got away. Police never recovered the money.

After this discovery, Jessica begins to explore the diner and figures out that several doors lead outside so anyone could have slipped out and committed the murder. She and Amos go back to the bus where Amos notices a light blinking on the dashboard. That light is for a damper switch. While Amos goes to the back of the bus to check the switch, Jessica looks around the diner to investigate the doors and finds Stoner’s open suitcase out in the rain.

MIDPOINT: Back inside the diner, Steve shares a newspaper clipping giving information about Stoner’s release. That clipping also reveals that the innocent bystander who was killed was named Julie Gibbons.

Amos makes a citizen’s arrest, saying that the driver threw the damper switch on purpose to stop the bus. It turns out that the driver is Julie Gibbons’ father. He confesses to stabbing Stoner with the screwdriver, but Jessica steps up and says that he is not the murderer. She gives proof that Stoner was already dead when Gibbons stabbed him and that he died of strangulation, not stabbing.

This midpoint is a temporary triumph because at first it appears like the murderer has been found, but soon thereafter we realize that there’s more to the case than we first expected.

ACT 2 (CONT’D): The phone lines are down but Ralph, the diner owner, says there is a CB radio in the back room. Carey goes to try to call for help, but he leaves his jewelry sample case behind. Jessica confronts him, asking why he would leave such a valuable case unattended. He reveals that he’s not a jewelry salesman, but that he works for the insurance company and his job is to recover the money that was stolen in the heist.

Jessica wonders why, if they found Stoner’s suitcase, they didn’t find his overcoat or the book he was carrying. She and Amos go back to the bus to look and find both items a few rows behind Stoner’s body. They go back into the diner.

PIVOT POINT 2: The power goes out. There’s a gunshot. When the lights come back on, Jessica rushes to the back room. Carey has been shot but is only slightly wounded. The CB radio, however, has been completely destroyed. Captain Downing helps to tie a bandage around Carey’s wounded arm.

Jessica conjectures that someone among the passengers wants to find something that Stoner had. She believes someone on the bus is the third man from the robbery. Somehow in those few minutes of darkness, Stoner’s book has disappeared.

The external event for this pivot point is the power going out and the possible killer taking Carey’s gun. The internal choice is that Jessica does not give up and continues trying to find the murderer, despite the heightened danger.

ACT 3: Amos starts to search everyone for the book and they eventually find it in Miriam’s knitting bag. Jessica examines the book and finds a key hidden in the binding. She turns and accuses Captain Downing, saying he’s not a real sailor because he used a granny knot to tie Carey’s bandage instead of a square knot.

CRISIS: Downing pulls the gun, but just as he is threatening everyone, the door blows open in the wind. Amos, Steve, and some of the others overpower Downing and take the gun. Downing admits that he had been looking for the key but insists that he did not kill Stoner.

CLIMAX: Jessica says she believes Downing. Amos was right all along when he first made a citizen’s arrest. Ben Gibbons was the killer from the very beginning. He strangled Stoner first, then stabbed him with the screwdriver later to hide his crime. Gibbons says that he didn’t mean to kill Stoner but got caught up in a rage when he confronted Stoner about his daughter’s death. He thought that by confessing to the screwdriver murder, he would draw suspicion away from himself when the coroner determined that it was death by strangulation. He reasoned that if he confessed to the stabbing, he would no longer be a suspect for the real murder.

Ending Type: This is a happy ending because Jessica wants to solve the crime, and she does indeed solve it.

DENOUEMENT: The storm clears and it’s the next morning. The police take Gibbons away and the passengers board the bus to continue on toward Portland. Jessica and Amos are getting ready to head back to Cabot Cove when Amos gets an update about the banquet. He says it was surely a shame that they missed that drawing. Jessica tries to console him but then he reveals that she’s the one who won the TV, not him.

This is a classic Murder, She Wrote ending, where we get a happy scene after the discovery of the killer, often ending with Jessica laughing at some sort of a joke.

ABOUT COZY MYSTERIES: These are among my favorite things to read. What fascinates me about this genre is that while they have to adhere to strict “rules” they are in no way formulaic. I’m always amazed at how authors manage to create variation and keep readers guessing, while still sticking to the format. Cozy mystery “rules” include:

No Death On the Page: While you can have other crimes in cozy mysteries (like robbery, blackmail, kidnapping, or fraud), murder is the most common. That said, we never see the actual murder on the page. The body is discovered after the fact and we never see any violence. (In addition to no violence, cozies also generally don’t have swearing or sex.) In the case of this episode, Jessica finds Stoner already stabbed. We don’t see the actual killing on screen.

Amateur Sleuth: The person doing the investigating is often not law enforcement, but an amateur sleuth. This person usually has some sort of special skill that makes them ideally suited to solving crimes. In the case of Murder, She Wrote, Jessica is a mystery writer so she knows how criminals think (because she has to write them).

Quirky Supporting Characters: While the amateur sleuth is usually a unique and interesting character, the supporting cast is no less fascinating. Often the supporting cast includes quirky personalities, particularly those of recurring characters (like the bumbling Amos Tupper, the witty Dr. Seth Hazlitt, and Jessica’s dopey nephew, Grady Fletcher).

Quaint Setting: Cozy mysteries typically take place in small towns or other quaint settings. You’re not going to find a cozy mystery set in a gritty city, though sometimes the sleuth might travel to other places and solve a crime on their trip.

Keep in mind, one of the challenges of cozy mysteries is what folks have lovingly come to call “Cabot Cove Syndrome.” This is the problem that when you have a small town and a lot of murders, you may eventually run out of possible murder victims (and suspects). Murder, She Wrote sidesteps this problem by alternating Cabot Cove episodes with ones where Jessica travels somewhere else for writing-related events or to visit friends and family. Yes, an inordinate number of murders still take place in that idyllic town, but they are interspersed with episodes that take place in a variety of other settings like a fancy vineyard, a luxurious cruise, or an archeological dig.

The key to cozy mysteries is that readers want some predictability while still being in suspense as to whodunnit. Readers love the quirky characters and the quaint setting, and they love following along with the sleuth, putting the pieces of the puzzle together. At the same time, they want variety. This is why cozy mysteries will play with different themes and sometimes branch out into new settings. “The same, but different” is the key to keeping cozy mysteries interesting.

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: Three-Act Analysis of Murder, She Wrote appeared first on DIY MFA.

I think the thing that got me tied up in knots about dictation was the tech. I had this idea in my head that the only way to dictate my writing would be to use some fancy microphone or elaborate software. In actuality, right now I’m just using my phone—regular old smart phone—and a little app called Bear. (It’s a notetaking app that’s super bare-bones and doesn’t have all the bells and whistles other apps might have).

The other thing that had me hesitating about dictation was this idea that I had to get it right the first time. I’ll admit it, I am a major perfectionist. If I can’t do something right then I often give up and try something else. It’s uncomfortable to feel like you don’t know what you’re doing, but if you ever want to learn a new skill, you have to get past that hump.

Finally, this whole idea of dictating my work felt a little… weird. Not gonna lie. The idea of sitting around and talking out loud into my phone and then somehow ending up with a newsletter… that’s just bizarre. But now that I’m doing it—now that I’m on a roll—dictation’s actually pretty cool.

Let me share a few reasons why I’m enjoying dictation.

1) Anytime, anywhere.

The great thing about dictation is you can do it anywhere and you’re not stuck sitting at your computer. Right now I’m lying with my feet up, with office cat 2.0 curled up next to me, and I’m writing a newsletter all at the same time. How cool is that?

For a lot of writers this freedom can be game-changing. You can write while you’re walking . You can write while you’re doing dishes. You can write while you’re sitting with your feet up relaxing. This ability to write anywhere is especially important for writers who can’t sit at their desk for long periods of time.

By the time you read this newsletter I’ll be recovering from reconstructive surgery on my foot. At the time of this writing, I’m still a ways away from this surgery and I have no idea how I’ll be feeling when this newsletter goes out. Yet, now that I’m trying dictation, I have a hunch that I’ll be doing a lot more of it during those weeks when I can’t sit at my desk. Dictation may very well become my go-to during recovery.

2) It’s fast.

Dictating your work can go a lot faster than typing at a keyboard. For example, I’ve been at this dictation for about 10 minutes, and already I have almost 500 words on the page. This is mind-boggling. Keep in mind, I’m a reasonably quick writer at the keyboard. I can usually average about 1,000-1,500 words an hour, which I’ve been told is a respectable pace. But 500 words in 10 minutes? That’s almost twice as fast. I could never crank out this many words when I’m sitting at my computer.

I’ll admit, dictation does require some thinking. The words don’t just spill out on the page like magic. I have to pause from time to time to think about what I’m going to say next. Sometimes I lose my train of thought and have to backtrack. Even so, the writing still goes a lot faster when I dictate than it does when I type.

I’ve heard some pretty amazing stories of writers cranking out three, four, even five thousand words while dictating their work. But even if your word count doesn’t quite reach that level, there are some other big benefits of dictation. It’s easier on your wrists and your posture. It gives you flexibility to write whenever you want. Plus it exercises a different part of your brain, helping you to tap into other aspects of your creativity.

3) It’s easy.

Truth be told, dictation can be in some ways easier than writing on the computer. I don’t know about you, but I have a secret habit of talking to myself when I need to work out my thoughts. There’s something about hearing my thoughts out loud that gives me a different perspective and allows me to think more creatively than I would otherwise. Sitting at the computer is all silence. The thoughts stay isolated in my head, bouncing around kind of like they’re in an echo chamber.

Dictation is a way of tapping into that same creativity that comes from thinking out loud. You hear your ideas in a different way, and it helps you gain a new perspective on what you’re writing. So, here I am sitting with my phone, talking out this newsletter. Not only has it gone pretty smoothly and quickly, but I’ve also gotten ideas after the fact that I’ve been able to insert into this essay during revision. A lot of these insights have come from being able to hear my thoughts out loud.

4) It’s good practice at being a beginner.

Perhaps the best (and, in some ways, also the worst) part of dictation is that it forces me to sit with the discomfort of not doing things perfectly. Like I said before, I am a huge perfectionist, so this idea of being a beginner at something and having to learn a skill from scratch is really uncomfortable. And yet it’s only when we do uncomfortable things that we’re able to grow. If we stay perpetually in our comfort zone, we are never going to stretch ourselves and build new skills.

Here’s the funny thing about the comfort zone: it’s not a fixed space. When I think of the comfort zone, I think of a circle with me at the center. That circle represents everything that’s comfortable and familiar. If I want to stretch myself I have to move to the edge of the circle. That’s the edge of my comfort zone.

But here’s the weird thing about the comfort zone. If we stay by the edge of the circle long enough, that comfort zone expands and starts to look like a gigantic peanut. In other words, if we want to stay at the edge of our comfort zone, we can’t stay in the same place forever. We have to push ourselves constantly to the new edge, wherever that may be. We can’t stay complacent in the middle. We have to challenge ourselves to dance on that edge of discomfort.

One Caveat: It’s just the first draft.

As I’ve written this newsletter, I’ve gone back-and-forth between dictating portions of it, and then refining those segments on the computer thereafter. Sometimes I realize I’ve missed something, so I go back to my phone and I dictate a new segment. It’s been an organic process, moving from the computer to the phone and back again.

I share this because a lot of us have a misconception that when you dictate your work, it has to come out perfectly, with no revisions necessary. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. When we dictate, we stumble. We misspeak. We repeat ourselves. And that’s OK.

The whole point of dictation is to get the words down on the page so that we have raw material that we can come back to later. Dictation is where we crank out that messy first draft—Draft Zero. Then at the computer, we can go back and clean up what we have. It’s not supposed to be perfect. It’s just supposed to be. The whole point of a messy first draft is to exist. Nothing else. Every other refinement happens in revision.

Knowing that I could go back and revise my words took a lot of pressure off of trying this dictation experiment. Not only is it okay not to be perfect, but the whole point of trying dictation is just to get those words down as quickly as possible so that I can revise them later. That’s exactly how it has played out for me. 

I’m still getting used to this technique and it will likely be a while until I feel fully comfortable dictating my writing. Still I’m glad I tried it out this time. I might not use it in every circumstance, but having a new technique in my repertoire makes me a more versatile writer and that’s always a good thing.

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: Trying Out a New Technique – Dictation appeared first on DIY MFA.

I first saw this movie at a very pivotal moment in my life. I was in ninth grade and a total nerd who preferred reading to socializing. When I watched Beauty and the Beast, I felt seen. It was empowering to see a heroine who was more concerned with cerebral pursuits than pretty dresses or charming princes. This is probably why this film made such an impression on me—because I could see myself reflected in the main character.

Spoiler Alert! If you have not yet watched Disney’s Beauty and the Beast… What have you been doing with yourself? Seriously, this is an amazing film (the first ever animated film to be nominated for Best Picture in the Academy Awards) and you need to watch it. It’s part of what many call the “Disney Renaissance,” a period of time when Disney went back to making more animated films based on well-known stories.

Personally, I think Beauty and the Beast is the best film Disney has ever created and quite possibly one of the best films across the board. So, if you haven’t watched Beauty and the Beast yet, get thee to a streaming service! Trust me: it will be ninety minutes well-spent. (Also, if you’re like me and you cry during movies, bring tissues!)

Okay, let’s dive into our analysis of Beauty and the Beast.

PROLOGUE: The movie opens with a narrated sequence where stained glass windows depict the story of the young prince before he became the Beast. The music is haunting and shimmery (reminiscent of the Aquarium movement in Camille Saint-Saens’ Carnival of the Animals) and the stained glass images are striking and like nothing else in the entire movie.

In this sequence we learn how the young prince is spoiled and unkind. When an old woman comes knocking at his door seeking refuge from the cold, he turns her away only to discover that she is, in fact, an enchantress. This enchantress curses the prince (and everyone who lives in the castle), turning him into the Beast. In order to break that spell, he must fall in love, and the other person must also love him in return.

Like a true prologue, this one gives us backstory and sets the scene for what comes later, but it feels separate from the main action of the story. The movie could begin right in Act 1 and would not lose any meaning, though it would miss out on some of the best music and artwork in the entire movie.

ACT 1: We shift gears to a small provincial town where our protagonist, Belle, lives with her father, Maurice. She longs for adventure and spends most of her time either with her nose in a book or dreaming of faraway places. Maurice is an inventor and many of the townsfolk do not think kindly of his somewhat whacky ideas and inventions.

At the beginning of the film we also meet Gaston (who later turns out to be the primary villain). He is arrogant, boorish, but also handsome, and he wants to marry Belle because she is the most beautiful woman in the town.

The opening scene features the ensemble song “Belle” where we meet various villagers as well as Belle and Gaston. It sets the tone for the entire rest of the film.

Character: Because this is a romance, we have two protagonists: Belle and Beast. Most of the key landmark moments in the story involve both characters.

Voice: As with most films, there isn’t so much a voice here as there is a mood. In this case, the mood is whimsical and magical, though it also has moments where things get a little bit dark and spooky.

World: There are two vastly different worlds in this story: Beast’s castle and the provincial town. These two locations exist in stark contrast to each other.

Problem: Gaston wants to marry Belle, but she can’t stand him. She rejects him outright, but unfortunately, he refuses to take “no” for an answer.

Event: Maurice goes to the fair to sell his latest invention. On the way there he gets lost and then becomes stranded in the woods. After being chased by wolves, he comes to Beast’s castle and eventually becomes Beast’s prisoner.

PIVOT POINT 1:  When the horse and cart return without her father, Belle sets off at once to find him. She finds clues that point her toward Beast’s castle and eventually she locates Maurice locked away in the tower. Beast startles her and tells her to get out. Instead, Belle volunteers to take her father’s place as prisoner.

Struck by her sacrifice, Beast offers Belle a guest room instead of the tower. The external event at this pivot point is Belle finding her father locked in the tower. The internal choice is twofold: (1) Belle takes her father’s place as Beast’s prisoner, and (2) Beast is moved by her choice and begins to drop his beastly facade.

The pivot point ends with Beast inviting Belle to dinner. Unfortunately, it’s not a gracious invitation. He says: “You will join me for dinner. That’s not a request!” Belle in turn throws herself on the bed in her room and cries as a storm swirls outside her window.

ACT 2:  From here we move into Act 2. It kicks off when we find Gaston sulking in the local tavern. This is typical of Act 2, where often supporting characters become more central to the story.

Gaston’s sidekick, LeFou, tries to cheer him up by singing “Gaston.” At the end of the song, Maurice arrives at the tavern, raving about a horrible beast that has captured Belle. This gives Gaston an idea. He decides to pay off the head of the local asylum to commit Maurice, only releasing him if Belle agrees to marriage.

After that sequence of scenes, we move back to Beast’s palace and spend some time with the castle staff, a group of enchanted people-turned-to-objects. There’s Lumière the candlestick, Cogsworth the clock, Mrs. Potts the teapot and her son Chip, along with various other characters who play smaller roles. The West Wing of the castle is forbidden and we discover that this is where Beast keeps the enchanted rose that serves as a sort of timer for how long he has to break the spell before it becomes permanent.

After fighting with Beast and refusing to go down to dinner, Belle sneaks out of her room and makes her way to the kitchen. There she finds the castle staff, who are lamenting the waste of a good dinner. Lumière, with the help of the others, puts on a dinner show for Belle (“Be Our Guest”).

After the dinner show, Cogsworth and Lumière give Belle a tour of the castle. She wanders into the West Wing and Beast startles her. When he loses his temper and roars, she decides she’s had enough and gets on her horse to run  away.

MIDPOINT: This midpoint is a False Failure in that it seems like Belle is leaving for good and she and Beast will never end up together. After riding away from the castle, Belle gets chased by wolves, but Beast saves her, injuring himself in the process. When they get back to the castle, they argue about whose fault it was that Beast got hurt. Eventually, Belle says “Thank you… for saving my life” and Beast says “you’re welcome.” This is a moment of self reflection on both their parts because they both realize that they were partially in the wrong.

ACT 2 (Cont’d): This is where the courtship happens. Beast wants to do something special for Belle so he gives her the castle library as a present. They also play in the snow and start to see each other in a new light (“Something There”). Later, they have a romantic dinner and dance into the night (“Beauty and the Beast”). Beast is falling in love.

After dinner and dancing, Beast asks Belle if she’s happy at the castle. She confides that she wishes she could see her father again. He takes her to the West Wing and lets her use his magic mirror that will show her whatever she wants to see. She sees her father lost in the woods, struggling to walk through the deep snow, trying to come rescue her. When Beast realizes how worried Belle is, he lets her go to her father. But, the spell has not yet been broken. While Beast has finally learned to love, he has not yet earned Belle’s love in return.

PIVOT POINT 2: Belle finds her father and brings him home. There, Gaston and the head of the asylum are waiting to take Maurice away. Belle takes out the mirror (which Beast had given to her when she left) and shows everyone the Beast. She tries to convince the townsfolk that Beast is really kind and gentle, but Gaston will have none of it.

ACT 3: Gaston takes away the mirror and riles up the townspeople (“The Mob Song”). He locks up Belle and Maurice in the basement of their house but Chip (the enchanted teacup, who snuck into Belle’s satchel) helps them escape. The angry mob of villagers marches up to the castle and fights the enchanted castle staff. The castle wins!

CRISIS: Beast fights Gaston. They jump and dodge around the gargoyles and turrets of the castle. It seems like Beast has won, when suddenly Gaston pulls out a knife and stabs him.

CLIMAX: Gaston falls from the tower but Beast survives. Belle goes to him as he lies dying. Just as the last rose petal falls, she says “I love you.”

Suddenly the spell begins to break. Fireworks stream down like rain and Beast turns back into a human. At first, Belle isn’t sure he’s really Beast, but she looks into his eyes and recognizes him. Beast and Belle kiss.

Ending Type: This is a happy ending for Belle. She starts out the film wanting to leave the provincial town where she lives. She ends up getting exactly what she had hoped for and more. Not only does she leave that provincial life behind but she finds true love.

For Beast we have a change of heart ending. He starts out the film spoiled and only thinking about himself. By the end of the movie, he has shifted his priorities completely, focusing more on what makes Belle happy than what would make himself happy.

DENOUEMENT: The spell is broken and all the enchanted castle staff turn human again. They all live happily ever after. The film ends with Belle and the Prince dancing in the ballroom while all their friends and family look on.

CONCLUSION: Part of what makes this film so great is that it turns the Disney princess stereotype on its head. Up until this point, all of Disney’s princesses (e.g., Snow White, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty) are characterized by their goodness. They are sweet, beautiful damsels in distress who endure one injustice after another without complaint. In the end it’s their goodness (and also their beauty) that makes “prince charming” rescue and fall in love with them.

Belle is different. Yes, she’s beautiful, but she has a mind of her own. She knows what she wants and she’s not afraid to stand up for herself or to make her opinions known. She doesn’t let an oaf like Gaston or even a gigantic Beast push her around. In fact, she’s not a damsel in distress, and she rescues Beast, not the other way around.

You could argue that the “heroine with a mind of her own” really first appears with Ariel in The Little Mermaid (which is the film that marks the beginning of the Disney renaissance). Yet I would say that Ariel’s character doesn’t quite reach the same level of depth as Belle’s. While Ariel is headstrong and impulsive, Belle is thoughtful and confident. While Ariel becomes timid when she loses her voice, Belle grows with inner strength when she loses her freedom. Ariel might be the first headstrong heroine in the Disney canon, but that character type really solidifies in Belle, and later continues with characters like Mulan, Tiana, and Moana.

The original Disney princesses—Snow White, Cinderella, and Sleeping Beauty—don’t have much agency in their stories. They get pushed around by other characters and very few of the story events happen because of choices that they make. I think this is why Belle really resonates with me as a character. Everything that happens in Beauty and the Beast is a product of her choice. And while she never sacrifices her goodness or integrity to make those choices, she still has agency throughout the story.

This is one of the reasons why the three-act structure is so powerful. This story structure isn’t about making things happen to the main character. Rather, the plot events are a result of choices the protagonist makes. This means the character is the one driving the story. While sometimes plot events must happen where the main character has no control (think: the tornado in The Wizard of Oz), it’s how your protagonist reacts to those events that makes the story interesting.

As you work on your own writing, think about your characters’ agency, particularly that of your protagonist. Are story events simply buffeting your main character to and fro? Or is that character making active choices that shape the plot and move the story forward?

Agency is especially important when you have a character who is very meek or quiet. Just because they don’t have a big, bombastic personality doesn’t mean they can’t have agency. Belle, after all, is an introvert. She’s an avid reader who’s not particularly interested in making lots of friends or socializing with people. Yet, she still has agency and her choices shape the story, not the other way around.

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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