Workshop: Become Your Own Plot Doctor

I’m excited to be presenting at CANSCAIP‘s Packaging Your Imagination 2018 along with so many talented creators and industry experts. You can check out the full line-up here. The date is November 10, 2018. Hope to see you there!

I’ll be delivering a workshop on plot. Whether you’re outlining, writing, or revising, an analytical examination of your story will help diagnose and treat any plot problems. I’ll be discussing how to become your own plot doctor by asking yourself questions about your characters and story, and then intuitively answering those questions.

My MFA Journey (Part 4)

Note: I’ve been writing about my journey during my MFA at the Vermont College of Fine Arts (VCFA) in Writing for Children and Young Adults. You can read Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3 of my journey as well.

I’m just back from my second residency at VCFA, and I’m exhausted and inspired by days filled with lectures, workshops, readings, and so many conversations about writing. To tell you the truth, I was a little shocked when I arrived home and my family didn’t want to constantly discuss writing. At residency, I also delivered my very first lecture, which was about picture-book revisions.

In my lecture, I talked about revision as the heart of the writer’s craft. It’s the reason an editor might eventually be able to sense the pulse of my story. It’s the reason a reader might get to thrum to the beating heart of the story I’ve finally managed to infuse with life.

But how to revise well? I explored this question with a visit to the Osborne Collection of Early Children’s Books in Toronto to seek original manuscripts that became acclaimed picture books. My goal was to analyze how authors of both classic and recent books had revised their manuscripts. I thought of it as a game, where I could identify what questions the author may have asked when revising or what questions they answered through revision. I could then ask the same questions about my own works-in-progress.

Each time I revise a manuscript, I seem to go through the same painful bumps in the road. My hope is that, by analyzing and learning from others’ revision processes, I’ll be able to find the beating heart of my story more directly and with fewer bumps. Perhaps each of these questions I identified can become the basis for one pass through the manuscript. Perhaps I can infuse my intuitive process with some of this analytical knowledge.

My lecture was part of a panel discussion of picture books with four amazing students I studied with during the Picture Book Intensive (PBI) semester. Together we wrote, critiqued, and analyzed picture books in an online forum, as well as working one-on-one with our faculty advisor, the talented Liz Garton Scanlon. I found the PBI discussions to be more demanding and focused than monthly writing groups. It fostered deep thinking and valuable insights.

With my lecture done, I received a PBI certificate, since this semester can be taken separately from the whole MFA program. I was also thrilled to receive the Beyond Words Scholarship! It’s awarded to a student who demonstrates a passion and commitment to picture books. Now, to use my new knowledge of this genre, I’ll be reviewing picture books for Canadian Children’s Book News as well as continuing to write my own.

I’m now back at my desk and diving into my pile of second-semester work. In this semester, my advisor is a writer with great heart and instinct—Amanda Jenkins, author of the Printz Honor Book Repossessed, among others titles. I’m super stoked to dive into how to better connect to my characters and convey emotional depth on the page, which are my goals for this semester.

Taking this MFA program is the best gift I’ve ever given my writer self. It’s a transformative experience, and I’m so grateful for it.

Want more? You can read Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, and my final MFA post.

Ways to Grow as a Writer (Part 1): Critical Writing

I wrote an article for the Canadian Society of Children’s Authors, Illustrators and Performers (CANSCAIP) about one of my many mind-blowing take-aways from my first semester in an MFA in Writing for Children and Young Adults at the Vermont College of Fine Arts (VCFA). In it, I discuss how critical analysis of children’s books can give us insight into our creative writing.

The article first appeared in the CANSCAIP News Summer 2018 issue. Thanks to CANSCAIP, you can read the full article here.

To read more, go to “Ways to Grow as a Writer (Part 2): Critical Discussion.”

MY MFA Journey (Part 3)

Note: I’ve been writing about my journey during my MFA at the Vermont College of Fine Arts (VCFA) in Writing for Children and Young Adults. You can read Part 1 and Part 2 of my journey as well.

Credit: Vermont College of Fine Arts

I’m currently finishing up my first semester, which was a Picture Book Intensive. As an author of young-adult and middle-grade novels, I took a head-first dive into writing a new-to-me genre. My goal was to delve into craft aspects of picture books such as the sound of language, how to think in pictures, and economy of language. I also hoped that a rigorous focus on picture-book story structure and depth of characterization would also strengthen my novel-writing skills. Finally, I wanted to analyze the revision process to gain insights into how to improve my rewriting and polishing stages.

Here’s what I did over the last six months:

  • I read and analyzed over 220 picture books, seven picture-book manuscripts from the Osborne Collection of Early Children’s Books, 25 audio-recorded VCFA lectures or written critical theses, as well as a few young-adult and middle-grade books and many craft books.
  • I wrote short essays on topics like meta-fictive picture books and strategies for writing dark subject matter in picture books.
  • I wrote a long essay on an analysis of revision from early drafts to final versions of three acclaimed picture books — Red is Best by Kathy Stinson (illustrated by Robin Baird Lewis), The Road to Afghanistan by Linda Granfield (illustrated by Brian Deines), and Franklin in the Dark by Paulette Bourgeois (illustrated by Brenda Clark). My goal was to identify what questions the authors may have asked when revising or what questions they answered through revision so that I can improve my own revision process.
  • For my creative work, I wrote and revised 12 picture books, including metafiction, fiction, narrative non-fiction, concept books, rhythmic/lyrical, dark/difficult topics, and wordless. I also drafted several other fledgling ideas for picture books.
  • I rewrote my long essay into a lecture script, handout, and slides in preparation for a panel presentation at my July residency. I’m so excited to share my discoveries!
  • In an online forum with my wonderful faculty advisor, Liz Garton Scanlon, and four other students, I discussed picture-book craft daily, and I critiqued each of my classmates’ draft and revised manuscripts for a total of 20 critiques.

I emerge from this first semester with this big-picture takeaway: how a process of detailed and individualized critical analysis of children’s books through my annotated bibliography and critical writing gave me insights into revision of my creative writing. Over and over again, I was able to directly apply insights to my works-in-progress. Let me tell you – this process is huge and life-changing. I explored things like how to respect both the intuitive and analytical aspects of writing, the importance of concept as structure in a picture book, how to use rhythm in writing and ways to tackle the revision process. I also gained skills in critical analysis of my fellow-students’ manuscripts.

As I finish my first semester, I can see that I’ve gained insights into myself as a writer, my process and where to go from here. This MFA has been one of the best gifts I’ve given to myself. I can’t wait to see where it’ll take me next.

Want more? You can read Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, and my final MFA post.

Trying Not to Try: An Approach to Writing

I recently read a fascinating book called Trying Not to Try: The Art and Science of Spontaneity by Edward Slingerland. It’s an academic book about the Chinese ideal of wu-wei, which is loosely defined as strategic non-action or, paradoxically, the “action of non-action.” As I read, I found myself relating it to my approach to writing and re-writing the picture-book manuscripts I’m working on as part of my Picture Book Intensive semester at the Vermont College of Fine Arts (VCFA).

The idea is that body and mind are impressive to behold when they achieve effortless action – kind of like Luke Skywalker when he accesses the Force, or a jazz musician who is improvising. But how do we get into this flow? Through a blend of conscious and subconscious thinking.

Slingerland talks about how evolution has offloaded the bulk of our everyday tasks into our subconscious thinking, which he refers to as hot, automatic, fast, and reliable. We develop skills and habits that seep into this subconscious realm so we can think without thinking. The opposite of the subconscious is obviously conscious thought, which is cold, slow, and costly. When subconscious thinking hits a roadblock, conscious thought springs into action, assessing and trying to fix what is wrong. For me, this is the blend of the intuitive writing of a first draft and the analytical assessment of what I’ve written to figure out what to do next.

The book talks about how conscious control is crucial for civilized life. We need rules about how to live together in this world in order to keep our society functioning. I compare this to writing, which has “rules” we typically follow – and learn how to break when we need to.

Unconscious thought can be wild and untamed. Slingerland compares it to drug-induced writing in the 1960s, which seems brilliant when one is writing it but fails when one sobers. So unconscious thought needs conscious thought to domesticate it, like channeling flood waters. For me, this compares to “pantsing” versus plotting a story. I believe that pantsing only works for so long; at some point in the process, a writer needs to analyze a piece to see what she’s written and find its form.

In wu-wei, the conscious mind can acquire a new desirable goal (such as writing a first draft) and then download the goal onto the unconscious self, where it can be turned into habits and implemented without the need for constant monitoring. For example, learning to drive is a conscious task when we’re first learning it, but it becomes automatic.

How can we achieve wu-wei? Not through intentional effort. Slingerland refers to studies that show we get anxious when we’re trying to relax, depressed when we’re trying to be happy, etc. So we need to try not to try, desire not to desire, find contentment. It’s about keeping the conscious mind in check while being guided by the unconscious. It’s about putting some effort toward a goal without forcing it (trying, but not too hard). It’s about letting go of the goal and being open to the flow.

Of course, there’s a paradox built into wu-wei, which is: How can we try and not try at the same time? The idea is to think of the paradox as a design feature, rather than a problem to overcome.

For me, wu-wei relates to the process of writing and rewriting manuscripts. I have to chase my story idea, but not too vigorously. I have to cultivate beginner mind with each revision. I have to remember to play. I have to take none of it too seriously, even though it all matters to me immensely.

What about you? Does any of this strike a cord for you? Or do you disagree?

“Beginner Mind” and Revision

I’m a fan of post-it note reminders to myself. I like to copy down wisdom from life or writing-craft books. I post these messages at eye-level in my office, and I keep them there until they become part of my writing practice. Here’s my latest one:

This note came from an exchange with my current faculty advisor at VCFA, the insightful Liz Garton Scanlon, author of numerous books for children, including the Caldecott-honored picture book All the World, illustrated by Marla Frazee. In our conversation, I was sharing information about a manuscript that had gone off-track during revisions, and how I suspected that I had become too focused on smaller revisions and failed to see big-picture characterization and plot concerns. Basically, I didn’t approach each stage of revision with an open mind. I’d already decided that certain aspects of the manuscript were good enough. Liz said, “Yes, I think this can happen once we THINK we know what we’re doing. It’s almost better to go back to Beginner Mind each time.”

Thank you, Liz, for this insight.

“Beginner Mind” is a Zen term made popular by monk and teacher Shunryu Suzuki. It refers to having an attitude of openness and freedom from preconceptions. In his book, Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind: Informal Talks on Zen Meditation and Practice, Suzuki writes, “In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert’s there are few.”

How does this relate to writing? When writing our stories, we become the experts on them. It can be hard to put aside all our past experience with our stories and see them fresh. Author and speaker Natalie Goldberg says, “beginner’s mind is what we must come back to every time we sit down and write.” I’d add to that by saying that we need Beginner Mind for revision as well.

My post-it note is a reminder to let go of being an expert. To focus on what works in my story and what does not. To use the spirit of inquiry. To be open to radical and not-so-radical possibilities. To experiment and play. To embrace patience, and revise fully.

Do you write yourself post-it-note reminders? What insights are you trying to keep in mind?