Essentially, narration is a combination of the voice and the point of view. I’ve written about voice and point of view in the past, and today, I wanted to talk about how these two elements work to create a seamless story experience for the reader.

But first, we need to address the big question…

Why do we even care about narration? What’s the big deal?

In my opinion, narration is the single most important aspect of your story. It carries more weight than plot and matters more than your characters. Why is narration so crucial?

The answer is simple: narration forms a direct line between the story and the reader. It is the element of the story that draws the reader in and keeps them engaged long enough to fall in love with the characters or be intrigued by the plot. Without narration, we would have a stage play or a movie script, where all aspects of the story are conveyed by what the characters say and do. Narration is what makes reading different from watching a play or a movie. It’s the vehicle through which the reader engages with the story.

Most of the time, we don’t even notice the narration is there. We’re so focused on what’s happening to the characters that we don’t pay attention to the way the story is being told to us. But whether we notice it or not, there is still artistry in the telling. That artistry comes from choices the author makes with regard to the voice and the point of view. Let’s start by addressing some questions about point of view.

How do we choose the “right” point of view?

First and foremost, it’s important to acknowledge that there is no one “right” answer when it comes to point of view. You could choose any number of different options and they could all work. In fact, different point of view options have different advantages and disadvantages, and it’s important to understand all the choices so you can select the one that works best for your story.

Point of view is actually quite technical and a lot of choices the writer needs to make focus on the logistics of the storytelling. It all boils down to the sphere of knowledge—the pool of information and the worldview that a particular character or narrator has. Depending on what sphere of knowledge you need access to, that’s going to dictate which point of view choices you can use.

For example, suppose you are writing a thriller and you need to show the villain doing villainous things. In that scenario, you might need a multiple point of view option so you can show the hero being heroic in some scenes and the villain doing their evil deeds in others. Romance also tends to rely heavily on multiple points of view, with many books oscillating between the perspectives of each member of the couple.

When choosing the point of view, you need to ask yourself: “What sphere(s) of knowledge do I need access to? And what scenes do I need to be able to show in my story?” Depending on what information you need access to or need to show, that will impact your story’s point of view.

First person vs. third person… which one’s better?

The important thing to understand is that first and third person narrators relate to the story in different ways. The first person point of view (or “I” narrator) means that the narrator is a character within the story. This means that the narrator is experiencing the events of the story as they occur, and those events will impact how that narrator tells the story. If the narrator is also a character, they have skin in the game and the stakes of the story will influence that narrator.

The third person (or “he/she/they” narrator”) implies that the narrator is an entity outside the story. This means that the third person narrator may not actually be a person per se. In fact, in most stories, we don’t even know who that third person narrator is, we just know that someone (or thing) outside the story is recounting the events. This quality gives the third person an air of objectivity, like the narrator is observing the story but isn’t really involved.

Then, of course, there’s the second person (or “you” narrator) which presents its own set of challenges. This narrator is talking directly to the reader, pushing the reader into a role in the story. “You walk down the street and go to a bar where you sit on your usual barstool. You order your usual drink from Darryl, who’s been tending bar for as long as you’ve been coming here. Etc. etc..” In this type of narration the “you” isn’t necessarily the reader themselves but a character, except now the reader is being forced into that role. We see the second person a lot in self-help texts, where the author is instructing the reader about the topic at hand. In fiction, this point of view is hard to sustain, so we’re more likely to see it in short fiction than in book-length work.

So, if first and third person are the two main choices in front of us, how do we choose? First we need to go with our gut and try the point of view that feels right to us. Some writers love the first person (I happen to be one of them) because they enjoy the immediacy of it. It feels like the reader is hearing the story directly from the narrating character and that can pull the reader into the story in a very visceral way.

Third person, on the other hand, allows for more flexibility. You can play with narrative distance in a way that you can’t do with first person. In first person, that narrative distance is locked in and you’re up close and personal with the narrating character the whole way through the story. With third person, the narrative distance is more flexible and you can zoom in or out with more ease. Think of it like a movie camera, where you can zoom out to a panoramic view, or zoom in where you’re right up close to the focal character’s thoughts.

At the end of the day, there’s no better or worse option between first and third person, but each type of point of view accomplishes different things. We need to understand the pros and cons of both choices so we can select the one that will work best for our story.

What about voice? Where does that come in?

When I talk about voice, I refer to it as being your literary DNA. A lot of writing teachers say you have to “find your voice,” as if it’s loose change stuck between couch cushions. Voice isn’t something you find, it’s something you already have. You just have to hone it and make it fit the story you want to tell. I’ve said this before: just as you can’t grow roses from sunflower seeds, you can’t make your voice into something that it’s not. Yet, with a lot of sunshine and plenty of water and plant food, you can grow some pretty awesome sunflowers. Similarly, when you cultivate your voice, you can make it better and stronger.

What we have to remember is that voice isn’t one-dimensional. It has layers. The most fundamental layer of voice is that of the characters speaking in dialogue. At that layer, your primary concern is making sure your characters sound distinct, like different individuals.

The second layer of voice is that of the narrator. Here is where voice and point of view overlap. If you’re writing in first person, then the voice of the narrator will be the same as the voice of the character telling the story (because narrator and character are one and the same). That said, even though the character and narrator are the same person, the voice of the narration might be slightly different from how that character speaks in dialogue. This is because the narration in first person essentially amounts to the character’s thoughts, and we all know that people don’t always say and think the exact same things.

In third person, on the other hand, the narration comes from a different entity outside the story and that entity has a voice all its own. Sometimes that voice is very in-your-face and opinionated, sometimes it’s nearly invisible. Regardless, the voice of the narrator and the voice of the characters can range from very similar to wildly different. These are all choices that the author must make when crafting their story.

What if you choose the “wrong” voice or point of view?

If this happens, don’t panic. You can always reboot the scenes of your story in a new voice or point of view. The key is not to try and tinker with the text. Don’t just go in and change the “he/she/theys” to “I” and call it a day. If you do that, you’ll squash your voice and make the point of view feel stilted and artificial. Instead, I recommend doing what I call a “scene reboot.” Read the original version of the scene, then set it aside and rewrite it from memory. Don’t worry that you might forget some important detail. Your brain will hang on to the essential components of that scene and let go of anything else you don’t need.

The advantage of rebooting a scene is that it keeps your voice fresh. It captures that energy you feel when you’ve just written a draft, but because you already wrote the scene before, you’re now rewriting it with a direction in mind. Your brain will preserve the important parts while still capturing that just-wrote-this energy of drafting for the first time.

How do you get started?

When you first start drafting a story, don’t worry too much about voice and point of view. Work more by intuition than by method. Just write in the voice and point of view that feels right to you. This will give your narration energy and spark. Then, once you’ve got around 15,000-20,000 words, pause and assess. Ask yourself the following questions:

• Is the narration working? Does it hook the reader?
• Does the point of view accomplish what I need it to?
• Are there any logistical reasons why I might need a different point of view?
• Does the voice sparkle? Is it uniquely me, or does it feel derivative?

At this stage, you may want to experiment with the narration and write a couple of scenes in a different point of view or voice. Don’t just think through the options in your head, actually put words on the page and see if they work. If something works better, great. If it doesn’t, just go back to the previous version of the narration.

From here, keep writing forward until you get to the end of the manuscript. Don’t go back and tinker with the voice and point of view. Not yet. Instead, write forward until you get to “The End,” then go back and reboot any scenes that need it.

At the end of the day, narration tends to take care of itself by the end of the first draft. Your job during that draft is to try out different options and find the version of the narration that works best for your story.

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 Role of Narration in Storytelling appeared first on DIY MFA.

Fantasy

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

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

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

Science Fiction

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

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

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

Historical Fiction

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

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

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

Mystery

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

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

Thriller

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

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

Commercial or Literary Fiction

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

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

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

Romance

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

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

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

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

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

Until next time, keep writing and keep being awesome!

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

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

Have you gotten the DIY MFA Starter Kit yet? This is a two week email series full of worksheets to help you DIY your MFA, so you can get the “knowledge without the college.” You’ll learn more about how to write with focus, read with purpose, and build your community. You’ll also receive Writer Fuel, our newsletter full of words of wisdom and resources to help you keep the momentum going in your writing. And you’ll be the first to hear about other fun goodies we only share via email. Best of all, it’s free to join! You can sign up with your email at diymfa.com/join.

In this episode I discuss:

• My end-of-year process for taking stock and evaluating my progress.
• Why you need to understand your natural tendencies before setting goals.
• The importance of giving each year a theme or name.
• How to use that yearly theme to course-correct or keep yourself on track

Link to Episode 485

(Right-click to download.)

If you liked this episode…

Head over to Apple or Spotify and subscribe so you’ll be first to know when new episodes are available.

Also, remember that sharing is caring so if you know anyone who might enjoy this podcast, please tell them about it or leave us a review so other listeners will want to check it out.

Until next week, keep writing and keep being awesome!

The post Episode 485: Lesson 10 – Embrace the Journey appeared first on DIY MFA.

Spoiler Alert! Obviously, we can’t talk about the structure of a book without mentioning the ending and giving away spoilers. Given how long this book has been around, I think the statute of limitations on spoilers has long since passed. So, if you haven’t read this book and you want to do so without spoilers, stop reading now. Go read the book first, then come back to this newsletter for this deep dive into its story structure.

Okay, let’s dive into our analysis of Pride and Prejudice.

ACT 1: At the beginning of the book, we see what normal life is like for the Bennet family. We see them interacting with each other, going to events, meeting friends, etc. The five promises are very clear (though because the chapters are short, they tend to span more than just the first chapter).

CHARACTER: Elizabeth Bennet is our protagonist, though she does not appear until Chapter 2. (She is mentioned in Chapter 1 in a conversation between her parents, but does not actually appear as a participant in the scene until the following chapter.) This might be a similar situation to our The Wainscott Weasel example from my last newsletter, where the character is more reserved so it makes sense for the author to hold back and introduce them a little later into the story. That said, because the chapters are so short, it doesn’t feel like we have to wait very long to meet Elizabeth. In the same vein, Mr. Darcy—the other member of the central couple—does not appear until Chapter 3.

VOICE: The voice of the narrator is very clear and opinionated. Just look at the opening line: “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.” Right away we see the irony in that statement. It’s not the single man who is in want of a wife, but the other way around: a wannabe wife is in want of a single man with a good fortune.

WORLD: This story takes place in the English countryside of the early 1800s. While the first two chapters are mostly conversation between the characters, presumably taking place in a parlor of sorts, by the time we reach Chapter 3 we are out in the world at an assembly where the characters are interacting with each other and their friends. The story takes place in various different settings, from the great outdoors to the simple parlor of the Bennet estate, Longbourn. It also includes visits to lavish estates like Rosings Park (home of the antagonist, Lady Catherine) and Pemberley (Mr. Darcy’s home).

PROBLEM: There is a serious problem that overshadows the entire story and that is that in this period in England, women were not permitted to inherit land. Because Mr. Bennet had five daughters and no sons, the land is entailed away to his closest male relative: Mr. Collins. If Mr. Bennet were to die, his wife and daughters would be out of house and home… unless one of the daughters were to marry well. This is why Mrs. Bennet is so desperate to make sure at least one of her daughters marries a man of means. Keep in mind: while this problem may not be the central conflict of the book (MDQ:, Will Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy get together?) it does relate to that conflict and raises the stakes of the story.

EVENT: The event that kicks off the story is that a young, rich, and single man (Mr. Bingley) has moved into Netherfield, the estate next door. This event relates directly to the problem mentioned above. Mrs. Bennet is desperate to marry off at least one of her daughters and conveniently a young man of means has just come to the neighborhood.

PIVOT POINT 1: Elizabeth first meets Mr. Darcy at an assembly in Chapter 3, where he snubs her, saying: “She is tolerable: but not handsome enough to tempt me.” This is the external event that kicks off the first pivot point of the novel. The internal choice, however, does not come until Chapter 7, when her sister Jane falls ill while visiting the Bingleys. Immediately, Elizabeth pulls up her skirts and goes on foot to tend to her sister, “crossing field after field at a quick pace, jumping over stiles and springing over puddles…” Up until now she has been forced into Mr. Darcy’s presence simply because they are at the same social gatherings. This is the moment when, for the sake of her sister, she chooses to put herself in his presence even though she dislikes him.

ACT 2: This act can be summed up by two rules of three: “Boys, Boys, Boys” and “Road Trip!” Let’s examine how each rule of three works.

BOYS, BOYS, BOYS: There are three key suitors who pursue Elizabeth throughout the story. The first is Mr. Collins, her distant cousin who is set to inherit her father’s land. He tries to court her and when that fails, he turns around and marries her best friend, Charlotte Lucas. (So classy!)

The second suitor doesn’t really go anywhere, and this is Mr. Wickham. He starts out as a visitor in the nearby town of Meryton, then joins the militia. While he is staying in Meryton, he and Elizabeth cross paths multiple times and he confides in her, telling her the sad story of how Mr. Darcy wronged him. While Elizabeth is certainly attracted to him, this flirtation doesn’t go anywhere and eventually the militia leaves to go to Brighton, Mr. Wickham going with them.

The third suitor is Mr. Darcy himself. While Elizabeth is not interested in him in the slightest, he begins to develop feelings for her. At the center of the book he proposes (the worst proposal of all time) and she turns him down. He sends her a letter explaining himself and she begins to think maybe she misjudged him. They cross paths again later and his personality is much softer so Elizabeth starts to develop feelings for him. Eventually, they fall in love and get married.

As with any Rule of 3, the first two elements are similar—in this case they are relationships that don’t work out. The third element is different. The relationship takes a different trajectory, starting with animosity and ending with the two characters falling in love.

ROAD TRIP! There are also (sort of) three road trips that anchor Act 2 in Pride and Prejudice. The first is a trip that her sister Jane takes to London in the hopes of running into Mr. Bingley. The trip ends in failure, with Mr. Bingley’s sister snubbing Jane, leaving her demoralized and convinced that Mr. Bingley does not love her.

The second trip is one that Elizabeth takes to visit her friend Charlotte Lucas (now married to Mr. Collins). While there, she has the opportunity to visit Rosings Park, home of the pompous and imposing Lady Catherine and her sniveling daughter. Mr. Darcy also arrives at Rosings and it is on this trip that he makes the failed proposal.

The third trip is the one that Elizabeth takes to the Lakes with her aunt and uncle, Mr. and Mrs. Gardner. There they take a tour of Pemberley, Mr. Darcy’s home, thinking that he is away in London, only to have him arrive and surprise them. It is on this trip that Elizabeth’s opinions of Mr. Darcy begin to change.

Note: simultaneous with Elizabeth’s trip to the Lakes is her sister Lydia’s trip to Brighton at the invitation of Colonel Foster’s wife. While on this trip, she runs away with Mr. Wickam, thus cutting Elizabeth’s trip to the Lakes short. So, while there are actually four separate trips that take place in Act 2, they happen in three separate chunks of time, the third being different because that is where most of the drama happens.

MIDPOINT: A series of scenes make up the midpoint, starting with Mr. Darcy’s failed proposal, followed by his letter explaining himself, and culminating in that moment where Elizabeth says her famous line: “Till this moment, I never knew myself.” That line is in itself the embodiment of the classic midpoint. The main character looks inward and realizes they don’t like what they see and makes a choice as to how to move forward. That is precisely what happens when Elizabeth reads Mr. Darcy’s letter.

It is important also to note that this midpoint is what I like to call a False Failure. Most midpoints are a moment where it appears that the character is getting what they want, only to realize that it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. The latter type of midpoint is called a Temporary Triumph. A more rare alternative is the False Failure, where it seems like things have failed for the protagonist (in this case, her choice to reject the proposal and her realization that she has misjudged Mr. Darcy) and yet that supposed “failure” actually opens the door for the story to move in a more positive direction.

If Mr. Darcy hadn’t given the world’s worst possible proposal, they might not have argued and he never would have written his letter explaining his side of the situation. Without the letter, Elizabeth would never have had that moment of self-reflection and she would not have begun to have a change of heart toward Mr. Darcy. By that same token, if Elizabeth had not told Mr. Darcy off during the proposal, he likely would not have realized how big a jerk he was and he may not have mended his ways. For these reasons, the failed proposal was a necessary step in order for the relationship between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth to move forward.

PIVOT POINT 2: Elizabeth receives a letter (external event) from her sister Jane telling her that Lydia (their youngest sister) has eloped with Mr. Wickham. Worse yet, it appears Mr. Wickham has no intention of marrying Lydia, bringing tremendous shame to the family. Mr. Darcy walks in on her moment of shock, just after she has read the letter, and she confides in him (internal choice) and tells him the whole story. He then leaves abruptly and she thinks that he is rejecting her, wanting to have nothing to do with her now that her family is in disgrace. As we later find out, he’s actually leaving in order to try to help.

ACT 3: Elizabeth and her aunt and uncle return to Longbourn and the uncle continues on to London to help with the search for Lydia. It takes a while before they hear anything, but eventually, they learn that her uncle has discovered Lydia and Mr. Wickham, and that they will marry in London. Of course, the truth is that the uncle must have had to bribe Mr. Wickham with a sizable sum of money in order to convince him to marry Lydia.

Once the marriage has taken place, Lydia and Mr. Wickham stop at Longbourn for a visit on their way to Newcastle (where he will now be stationed). During that visit, Lydia lets slip that Mr. Darcy was present at her wedding. Elizabeth questions her aunt about it and discovers that Mr. Darcy was the one who set the whole marriage up and dealt with all the money. A few days after the situation with Lydia is resolved, Mr. Bingley proposes to Jane and it now looks like things are going in a good direction for the Bennet family.

CLIMAX: Yet there is still unfinished business. Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth still have not gotten together, and one major obstacle stands in their way: Lady Catherine. As Mr. Darcy’s aunt, Lady Catherine objects to the possible match and she comes to Longbourn to convey her displeasure. Of course, at this point Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy are not engaged, and Elizabeth isn’t even sure if Mr. Darcy likes her, given how he behaved back when she first told him about the letter. Still, Lady Catherine’s accusations get under her skin and Elizabeth stands up for herself, refusing to back down and comply with Lady Catherine’s demand that should Mr. Darcy propose she would not accept. Instead she says her other famous line: “I am only resolved to act in that manner, which will, in my own opinion, constitute my happiness, without reference to you, or to any person so wholly unconnected with me.” This moment is the climax and it is important because it is the moment when Elizabeth stands up for her own happiness.

DENOUEMENT: Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth go for a walk and find themselves separated from the rest of the group. They speak at length about their previous misunderstandings and (it is presumed) Mr. Darcy proposes. It is important to note that the proposal itself does not appear on the page, nor do effusive declarations of emotion. Instead, the proposal is understood based on what we see in the chapter that immediately follows, where Elizabeth confesses to Jane that she is engaged to Mr. Darcy. After that we also see a scene where Mr. Bennet questions Elizabeth on her choice. It is interesting that while Elizabeth does declare her feelings for Mr. Darcy in that scene, we see it only in exposition. We never see it in actual dialogue.

“Elizabeth, still more affected, was earnest and solemn in her reply; and, at length, by repeated assurances that Mr. Darcy was really the object of her choice, by explaining the gradual change which her estimation of him had undergone, relating her absolute certainty that his affection was not the work of a day, but had stood the test of many months’ suspense, and enumerating with energy all his good qualities, she did conquer her father’s incredulity, and reconcile him to the match.”

It’s significant that when the professions of love go wrong between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy—as in the failed proposal—we see the play-by-play through dialogue. Now in the denouement when they finally get together, all of the lovey-dovey moments happen either off the page or in exposition.

This makes sense because the story isn’t really about whether Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy get together. Yes, it seems to be so on the surface, but if we dig below the surface, we discover that the story is really about Elizabeth’s pursuit of happiness. She starts out thinking that her happiness will come from being single and eventually discovers that her happiness will truly come from being married to Mr. Darcy. The author drives that point home when Elizabeth writes to her aunt and tells her: “I am happier even than Jane; she only smiles, I laugh.” This shows us just how profound Elizabeth’s newfound happiness is.

ENDING TYPE: As I mentioned in my last newsletter, there are four possible endings in a story and they depend on the answers to two questions: Does the character get what they want? And do they still want it?

If we look at Pride and Prejudice on the surface level, it appears we have a Change of Heart Ending because Elizabeth starts out wanting nothing more than to stay single. She dislikes Mr. Darcy and rejects his proposal. Then, as the story evolves, she has a change of heart and ends up falling in love with him.

Yet, if we look at the story from the perspective of happiness, it turns out this is a Happy Ending (i.e. where the character gets what they want and they still want it). At the start of the book, Elizabeth believes staying single will bring her happiness, but by the end she realizes that this happiness will come from marrying Mr. Darcy. Considering how that the climax centers around Elizabeth’s pursuit of happiness, it makes sense to look at the story through that lens.

CONCLUSION: There you have it: a detailed analysis of Pride and Prejudice based on the three-act structure, and you can see how perfectly plotted this book is. There is one more detail I wanted to call your attention to: throughout the story, Elizabeth receives three proposals of marriage. The first is the horrible proposal from Mr. Collins, the second is Mr. Darcy’s failed proposal, and the third is the final, successful proposal where she gets her “happily ever after.” These proposals also form a Rule of Three where we have two proposals that are similar, both because they fail and because they happen on the page. The third proposal is successful but we don’t even see it on the page. We see the aftermath of the proposal when Elizabeth tells Jane and later speaks with her father, but the proposal itself is completely off-page. This means that there are actually three Rules of Three in the book.

Until next time, keep writing and keep being awesome!

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

The post Writer Fuel: Three-Act Analysis of Pride and Prejudice appeared first on DIY MFA.

Have you gotten the DIY MFA Starter Kit yet? This is a two week email series full of worksheets to help you DIY your MFA, so you can get the “knowledge without the college.” You’ll learn more about how to write with focus, read with purpose, and build your community. You’ll also receive Writer Fuel, our newsletter full of words of wisdom and resources to help you keep the momentum going in your writing. And you’ll be the first to hear about other fun goodies we only share via email. Best of all, it’s free to join! You can sign up with your email at diymfa.com/join.

In this episode I discuss:

• The importance of dreaming big but executing through small “baby steps.”
• How goal setting is a lot like climbing a mountain.
• The “plant the flag” moment, what it is and why it matters.
• Why it’s essential to reverse-engineer the action steps toward your goals.

Link to Episode 484

(Right-click to download.)

If you liked this episode…

Head over to Apple or Spotify and subscribe so you’ll be first to know when new episodes are available.

Also, remember that sharing is caring so if you know anyone who might enjoy this podcast, please tell them about it or leave us a review so other listeners will want to check it out.

Until next week, keep writing and keep being awesome!

The post Episode 484: Lesson 9 – Take Baby Steps appeared first on DIY MFA.

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

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

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

The Three-Act Structure

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until next time, keep writing and keep being awesome!

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

Have you gotten the DIY MFA Starter Kit yet? This is a two week email series full of worksheets to help you DIY your MFA, so you can get the “knowledge without the college.” You’ll learn more about how to write with focus, read with purpose, and build your community. You’ll also receive Writer Fuel, our newsletter full of words of wisdom and resources to help you keep the momentum going in your writing. And you’ll be the first to hear about other fun goodies we only share via email. Best of all, it’s free to join! You can sign up with your email at diymfa.com/join.

In this episode I discuss:

• Why it’s so important for writers to talk about and track money.
• The two “magic numbers” of publishing, what they are and why they matter.
• Five essential questions to think strategically about IP. 
• The trifecta of success, and how to consider ROI (return on investment).

Link to Episode 483

(Right-click to download.)

If you liked this episode…

Head over to Apple or Spotify and subscribe so you’ll be first to know when new episodes are available.

Also, remember that sharing is caring so if you know anyone who might enjoy this podcast, please tell them about it or leave us a review so other listeners will want to check it out.

Until next week, keep writing and keep being awesome!

The post Episode 483: Lesson 8 – Track the Money appeared first on DIY MFA.

Early Decisions with Long-Term Impact

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Understand Gut-Level Structure

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hurry Up and Wait

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

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

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

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

Everything’s a Mess… Until It’s Not

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

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

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

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

Until next time, keep writing and keep being awesome!

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

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

Have you gotten the DIY MFA Starter Kit yet? This is a two week email series full of worksheets to help you DIY your MFA, so you can get the “knowledge without the college.” You’ll learn more about how to write with focus, read with purpose, and build your community. You’ll also receive Writer Fuel, our newsletter full of words of wisdom and resources to help you keep the momentum going in your writing. And you’ll be the first to hear about other fun goodies we only share via email. Best of all, it’s free to join! You can sign up with your email at diymfa.com/join.

In this episode I discuss:

• The importance of a practice-based approach in writing.
• Different types of practice, and why “deliberate practice” is most effective.
• The four essential components of a writing practice and why they matter.
• Why it’s important to iterate on your practice to make sure it’s working for you.

Link to Episode 482

(Right-click to download.)

If you liked this episode…

Head over to Apple or Spotify and subscribe so you’ll be first to know when new episodes are available.

Also, remember that sharing is caring so if you know anyone who might enjoy this podcast, please tell them about it or leave us a review so other listeners will want to check it out.

Until next week, keep writing and keep being awesome!

The post Episode 482: Lesson 7 – Practice, Practice, Practice appeared first on DIY MFA.

Getting the Idea

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

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

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

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

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

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

But that’s not what happened.

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

Finding the Market

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

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

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

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

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

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

Testing the Concept

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Developing the Structure

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

It was a mess.

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

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

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

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

Until next time, keep writing and keep being awesome!

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

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