Short Story Fiction: Writing Powerful Stories in a Limited Space
Class is in attendance. Take your seats. Today, I’ve been asked to discuss the art of short story fiction to craft compelling narratives in limited space. Please put down your hand, George. We haven’t even—what’s that? My credentials? It’s online. Everything’s online these days. But I suppose you’re right.
I’ve written several short stories in my time. Some of which have been published, most of which haven’t. That’s how it goes, you know. Writing short fiction is similar to taking photographs. You write a bunch of them but only use a few. In fact, I think it was Ray Bradbury who said it’s impossible to write 55 bad short stories in a row.
At any rate, you can find my published pieces sprinkled here and there. My Purpose in the House was the first flash fiction piece that Novel Noctule published, The Night Bazaar received the audio treatment over at Gallery of Curiosities, The Tailors of Crimson Lane was a runner-up for Nerine Dorman’s excellent annual horror anthology, Bloody Parchment, and Mortimer, Out of Place—well, you get the picture, don’t you, George? Now, let’s continue.
Table of Contents
The Writer’s Methods Regarding Short Story Fiction
Writing short story fiction—or any fiction, really—is esoteric. Some aspects are easier to explain than others. Spelling is easy to fix, but inorganic character growth is slightly trickier.
On top of that, you can’t just go to the store and buy a six-pack of ideas when writer’s block sets in or use a wrench to tighten your prose. You’ll need to build all your tools yourself—metaphorically speaking, of course.
Writer’s Exercise
Go online and search for writing tips by your favourite author. Look at their process and how they edit. Will that also work for you? Do you disagree with some of it? Test what works for you and what doesn’t.
Yes, Janet? Do you have a question? You want to know what you’re doing here if writing is so individualistic? Right, I’ll get to that in a moment.
Now, I can’t just give you a list of things you’ll need to do and suddenly, et voila, you’ve become skilled enough to write short stories. It doesn’t work like that.
Find Your Writing Method
Put two writers in a room; chances are you’ll be surprised at how differently they work. One might bring a 75-page outline, while the other had an idea that morning and decided to see where it took them. It’s all up to preference.
To put it another way, it comes down to what gets you writing in the first place. Here’s the thing, though: it’s easier to know what doesn’t work for you once you’ve tried it. For example, Barbara Cartland dictated her stories to a secretary, who’d write them down in shorthand and transcribe them later. I tried dictation because of Cartland.
Her output was enviously large—so much so that, in 1976, she wrote twenty-three novels. Yes, George, that’s right: twenty-three. It earned her the Guinness World Record for the most novels written in a year. Many people think her writing’s just fluff, but there’s a lot to be said for her work ethic.
Ahem, back to the point. Dictation didn’t work for me, unfortunately—but something else did. Like Cartland, I discovered that I wrote better when I was comfortable. You know, with my cat in the room and a cup of tea close at hand. This might seem like a no-brainer, but I can tell that some of you thrive on that last-minute sprint. That’s fine, too.
The point is that you all understand writing short story fiction is a constant give-and-take. Things that work for you now might not work for you in several years. Things that work for one short story might not work for another. You have to find what works for you and do that. There are only two rules that you can’t break and—
The Two Unbreakable Rules of Writing
Okay, you can all put your hands down. I already know what the question is: “But, sir, didn’t you just say that we should take what we can use and discard the rest?” I did say that, and it’s true, but when you’re a writer, you don’t have a choice about certain things, such as the Unbreakable Duo:
1. You Need to Read
Read everything, anything—the nutritional information on the milk carton, the pamphlets at the dentist’s office, the subtitles of a French film (I recommend Mademoiselle de Joncquières by Emmanuel Mouret for those interested).
If you say you don’t have time, listen to an audiobook. In one of his The Pop of King columns for Entertainment Weekly, Stephen King said: “Some critics […] claim that listening to audiobooks isn’t reading. I couldn’t disagree more. In some ways, audio perfects reading.” I want to add that they’re also great for the busy writer.
2. You Need to Write
I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how many writers tend to shy away from sitting their bums down and putting words on paper. Yes, Janet, a great many. Myself included. This often has to do with a fear of imperfection. We’re scared that we’ve fooled ourselves all this time, that we’ll never be able to write a good sentence, let alone a good short story. I come bearing good news—sort of.
Take the short story I’m working on at the moment. Do you want to know how much of the first draft made it into the close-to-final draft? About 20-30%. To paraphrase Hemingway, all writing is rewriting. Remember that.
Now, I’d like to suggest one more short story writing tip that’s not technically part of the Unbreakable Duo, but might be just as important:
Brewing Up Short Story Fiction
I wish that writing a short story was like baking a cake. You’d have instructions, a list of ingredients, and an estimate of how long it’ll take to make. As you’ve noticed, it isn’t that simple.
Contrary to popular belief, short stories are challenging to write. People mistakenly think they’re a breeze to craft because they’re faster to get down on paper. The truth is that because short story fiction is shorter, mistakes are much easier to spot. Think about that for a moment. Have you ever started reading a short story but couldn’t finish it?
I have—more times than I can count. Now, ask yourselves the same question about novels. I bet the number isn’t nearly as high. Why is that? Yes, George, the length does make an impact—but how many bad novels have you seen through to the end? And how many bad short stories?
Start with the End
Writer’s Exercise
Think about a short story that you want to write. Throughout the next day, I want you to think about its ending. How will it affect the rest of the story? Will you need to foreshadow something? How are you going to make it extra memorable? What’s going to carry readers from the beginning to the end?
Short story fiction writers almost always start at the beginning. It’s the logical thing—but it’s also, in my opinion, the most difficult. Going into a story like a reader is like driving without a destination. Sometimes, you’ll see a lovely little rose garden; sometimes, you’ll hit a roadblock.
I’d recommend starting your story with the end in mind. After all, it’s not how you start that people will remember. V.E. Schwab said it well: “I can’t start writing a book until I know how it ends. The ending is kind of the point of writing the book, both creatively but also practically.”
A Swamp in the Middle
Jim Butcher comparing the middle of a story to a swamp stuck with me because it’s so apt. He’s referring to novels, but you can apply it just as easily to short prose. “It’s like a swamp,” he says. “There are apparent paths all around you—but sometimes the ground that looks solid actually sucks you under and paralyzes you and strangles you.”
The middle is often where many readers—and writers, mind you—falter and put the story aside. Butcher says it’s because the middle has the most room for individual flair and choices, which can be daunting. This is true in my experience. Your story must keep the reader’s attention and carry them through to the end.
That’s more difficult than it sounds—and that’s why knowing the end will be so beneficial. You’ll have a place to move to. You’ll be able to navigate the swamp better and probably take your readers along. At any rate, Butcher recommends having something big happen in the middle—this is sound advice. It has the potential to snap readers back into attention.
Back to the Beginning
Most of you are probably already familiar with structuring beginnings. The beginning needs to set the stage, introduce the character, and establish the conflict—and a bunch of other stuff you’ve probably memorised. We’ll discuss that another time. Today, we’re going to look at first lines.
I’ve always loved the first sentence of stories. The best ones stick with you and give readers a sense of what will unfold. From the short story fiction I’ve published, I think my favourite opening line would be from The Night Bazaar: “It starts as a whisper.”
Yes, it might only be because of Nat Titman’s fantastic narration, but I think the line accomplishes what I wanted. It’s somewhat mysterious, leaves the reader wanting to know a bit more, and sets the tone of the story that follows.
Be mindful of the first line when it comes to your own stories. Make sure that your readers aren’t disappointed by what follows—
I can see you yawning, George. Don’t worry. Class is almost over. What’s that? Do you want some advice on writer’s block? Oh, I see a lot of nodding. Okay, but let’s make it quick.
The Truth and Lies of Writer’s Block
Chances are that you’ve been there. You’re sitting at your desk, ready to write, but it’s not coming. The more you reach, the more the words seem to slip away. And if you do manage to catch a few and write them down, they misbehave on the page.
The number of times I’ve sat and stared at a blank page until three in the morning would shock you. The anxiety and frustration of knowing what to say but being unable to say it—especially when you’ve got deadlines to meet—isn’t a pretty sight.
Luckily, I also believe it’s curable. Here are a few of my secret rituals for your perusal:
Eat Some Chocolate
I’ve always thought Professor Lupin had the right of it when he offered people chocolate after a dementor attack. It turns out that writer’s block is more similar to those ghastly things than you think. Chocolate helps me with the creative spark. And even if it doesn’t work its magic instantly, I’m always happier with a bonbon or two on my tongue.
Other Authors on Overcoming Writer’s Block
- Philippa Gregory packs a lunchbox and walks in one direction until she’s solved whatever problem she’s stuck on.
- Diana Gabaldon suggests writing anyway, focusing on one word at a time.
- Cassandra Clare believes writer’s block is the symptom of another problem. Find and fix that problem, and the block will probably disappear.
- Brandon Sanderson suggests turning off your internal short story editor, organising your thoughts before you start, and ensuring your block isn’t coming from the story itself.
Read Someone Else’s Short Story Fiction
This usually does wonders for my writer’s block. A piece of flash fiction, a short story, or even just a few passages from my favourites always leaves me ready to put pen to paper.
Get Yourself a Writer’s Block
A recent addition to the list. My friends got me a wooden block for Christmas symbolic of—you guessed it, George—my writer’s block. It’s become something of a habit now that, when I’m stuck, I pick it up and rub it like Aladdin’s magic lamp— as if a djinn might pop out at any moment. None do, unfortunately, but channelling my frustration into the thing is incredibly uplifting.
I hope that helps some of you, but—yes, George? You want actionable advice? Well, if chocolate doesn’t do the trick, you can always read Gail Carriger’s blog post. Okay, before I let you go, I want to send you all off with some work.
A Little Bit of Short Story Fiction Homework
Now, don’t look at me like that, George. I know you’ve got the time. Besides, it’s not the type of work you think it is. I’m going to quote Neil Gaiman to you and hope it strikes a cord:
Yes, that’s the homework, George. The art of short story fiction comes down to you and your way. So, go and write your horrible first drafts, navigate the swampy middles of your stories, listen to your audiobooks, choose your writing habits, and overcome writer’s block your way. Go make a few mistakes.
Shaun van Rensburg
Shaun van Rensburg lives in South Africa with his cat. Over the years, he has published several short stories in various anthologies. Most recently, his first novel was published through his imprint, Pink Dove Books.
info@pinkdovebooks.com