I’m working on short fiction just now, and boy, is it difficult! I’m a novelist by profession, happiest when working on something in the range of 110-160,000 words. But I got an opportunity I couldn’t turn down: to have a collection of my short fiction published next year by a specialist small press, Ticonderoga Publications. As well as the best of my previously published short stories, the collection will feature some new work. So in the next few months, alongside writing the current novel and editing the just-completed novel, I’ll be producing a couple of short stories and a new novella.
A writer friend commented that it would be hard to come up with enough ideas. For me, the challenge is not finding the ideas, it’s crafting them into the exacting form of the short story. The story I’m currently working on came to me in a dream while I was back in New Zealand earlier this year; it was a real gift. Somehow my dreaming mind put together elements from my NZ past with themes and ideas from more recent times, and wrapped them up in a cloak derived from my years of reading mythology to create something brimful with enchantment. Now I’m struggling for the perfect form and the perfect voice to capture that dream-magic in words.
Any kind of fiction presents its challenges, of course, but I find short stories especially hard. You can’t afford to waste words. The prose needs paring down to the length that will fit your story most effectively; the language must be tailored precisely to the emotional resonance you want to convey to your reader; the ‘voice’ must be perfect. A short story is not just a story with fewer words, it’s a distillation of meaning into a small container. Open the bottle, reveal a whole world. For a novelist, writing short stories can be daunting. It’s like tackling a miniature after years of painting murals.
While preparing for some writing workshops I’m presenting later this month, I looked at some common craft problems likely to get in the way of crafting a great short story. Here’s what I came up with.
Number one is overwriting – the tendency to use three sentences where one could do the job. Instead of ‘Susan bolted out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind her,’(11 words) we get ‘Susan could not contain her rage. Although she’d had the importance of good manners drummed into her as a child, this time she pushed the screen door wide and let it slam shut behind her. Never mind that her parents were probably wincing with embarrassment at the way their daughter had behaved. The crash satisfied a need within her.’ A hefty 59 words. That is an extreme example, written purely for illustration, but pruning excess verbiage improves pace and clarifies meaning. The strong verbs ‘bolt’ and ‘slam’ are enough to convey Susan’s mood.
Another manifestation of overwriting is being over-descriptive, larding your literary cake lavishly with adjectives and adverbs in particular. Let’s follow Susan and her bad mood outside:
‘Susan kicked the gravel violently as she marched down the long driveway, folding her arms angrily and blinking back furious tears. She swung her Slazenger tennis racquet randomly, coming close to swiping the blooms off a dozen assorted roses planted carefully in autumn by her elderly grandmother, whose green fingers were legendary in the market town of Midvale. A delicate aroma filled her nostrils, a dream-like, gorgeous scent that reminded her of…’ (73 words)
Enough already! What do we actually need from this wordy paragraph?
‘Susan marched down the driveway, kicking the gravel.’
One strong verb (marched) outweighs a bunch of adjectives. ‘Marched’ is strengthened by ‘kicking.’ 8 words convey where, what and how. Grandmother’s roses are extraneous.
Number two is crowding the story with too many characters and/or too complicated a story line. It’s all too common for inexperienced writers of short fiction to attempt to fit a novel-sized plot into 2000 words, or 4000, or 8000. A short story must achieve its aim – whether that’s to touch the heart, stimulate the mind, entertain, terrify, puzzle – within the confines of its form. It’s not a three-act epic; it’s an effective, concisely written piece with a distinctive voice. Stick to a small number of characters. Generally you’ll only use one point of view, perhaps two. Use dialogue only if it adds meaning or emotional heft to the story.
Number three is flying by the seat of the pants. You can’t write a great short story without a good framework. Structure is key to creating a satisfying story within a limited word count, and forward planning is a must even for the most died-in-the-wool pantser. Unless you really want to write thirty drafts.
Apply the same principles to long fiction and you’ll write a much better novel.
Do you write both short and long fiction? Do you have a different approach for each? Any great tips?
Photo credit: © Kadmy | Dreamstime.com
About Juliet Marillier
Juliet Marillier has written twenty-one novels for adults and young adults as well as a collection of short fiction. Her works of historical fantasy have been published around the world, and have won numerous awards. Juliet is currently working on a new fantasy trilogy for adult readers, Warrior Bards, of which the first book, The Harp of Kings, will be published in September 2019. Her short novel Beautiful, based on the fairy tale East of the Sun and West of the Moon, was released as an Audible Original in May 2019. When not writing, Juliet is kept busy by her small tribe of elderly rescue dogs.
Yes, yes and yes. My model is poetry which, in my definition, is saying the most with the fewest words. (Not that I write poetry or that what I write — novellas — are poetic but that’s the model). Brevity is a virtue.
Alex, I so admire people who can write good poetry. It’s the next step up in difficulty, with the message having to be concentrated in even fewer words. I can write ballad-style rhyming, scanning verse until the cows come home, but a real poem is another thing.
Great tips, Juliet! I think your advice on overwriting can be applied to novelists as well. And I am determined (determined!) to learn how to construct a rock-solid framework before I begin my next project. Best of luck with your many stories.
Thank you, Therese! There’s nothing like inventing examples of overwriting to make a person start seeing the same faults in her own work (though not on such an extreme level, I hope!)
Juliet,
Thanks for the great advice. I find short stories far more difficult to write than novels. Every word must count. Brevity is prized, as you point out. In addition to your great tips, a writer in Writer’s Digest advised, ‘Start as close to the end of the story as possible” when writing short stories. Thanks again.
CG, that’s a nice succinct way of getting the message across to those aspiring writers who try to cram a novel into twenty pages.
Thanks for sharing your expertise and practical tips. I think the picture you chose tells it all – nice choice.
I started with short stories, went on to newspapers, then to poetry and songwriting, and now I’m on my first novel. (at 115k).
I’ve always been driven to make the work work, so that when I let go of it, I can hope to come back later and see it still standing. In that respect, the novel is my biggest challenge so far. Wish me luck!
I do wish you luck! I’m sure all that work on short stories and poetry will have a positive influence on the novel.
I’m glad you liked the photo. I couldn’t resist – the miniature pinscher is so like my dear departed Gretel.
I have three novellas coming up and I’m really having to rein myself in. I love to follow the byways of story and characters in my novels. I’m putting a sign on my desk with those three reminders for the shorter works. Thanks.
Wow, Juliet, another of life’s mysteries solved! I’ve written several award winning short stories, and I’ve wondered why they seem so easy for me. But my blasted novel is taking me forever. I’ve been working on my novel, sending it back and forth to my NY editor for years now.
What I do with a short story follows almost exactly what you’ve written, except I’m sort of a random-abstract person, so my sparse framework consists of a dynamic beginning, a middle, and a zinger closing. The perfect voice cements it all together. I am a bit heavy on dialogue.
You’re so right–this information needs to transfer over to better novel writing. Thanks for spelling out the obvious for me–would loved to have seen this several years ago. (Big smile)
A ‘sparse framework’ with attention to good beginning, middle and end sounds perfect to me.
Thanks for the excellent advice and pointed examples, Juliet. I’m guilty of all three short story writing blunders. That’s why every short story I start either turns into a novel or goes nowhere. I really want to try my hand at short stories this year, so your advice comes at a perfect time for me.
I’m glad my somewhat basic advice was helpful!
Excellent guide to story composition. I agree that these same principles should be applied to novels–something I need reminding of constantly. Thanks.
Judith, I just wish choosing the perfect words didn’t take me so darn long.
I’m not writing short fiction, but I AM in the process of editing my ms, and your examples of how to sharpen verbiage are great. That’s exactly what I’m aiming for in my revisions.
Great tips, great post!
Thank you, Kristan! :)
I am just the oppostite–I published two collections of short stories and my first novel will be released in August. They are two completely different creations as you so aptly put it. I really enjoy your helpful tips for all writers.
Thank you, Barb, and congratulations on the up-coming release of your novel, how exciting!
I’m the opposite: I have no problem with short self-contained stories, but I’m still struggling on my first novel. I love seeing other writers’ viewpoints, and this was definitely a great insight into yours. Thanks!
Well, that’s a good future post for someone in the WU team – the challenges for a short fiction writer embarking on a first novel.
As a formerly trad published writer turned indie publisher, I would like to do some short stories to serve as prefaces to upcoming books, introduce the characters, etc. Like you, most of my novels are at least 90K words and are often over 100K. I’ve already figured out that I need to write tight and keep it simple, but it’s always nice to be validated!
Hi Juliet, what a timely article for me. I too struggle with short story. I find tales easier because I can blend a poetic beat to them. I agree with Alex, if I let me be in the mind of letting my poetry have a big, deep breath short story comes easier than if I’m trying to condense a novel story. Thanks so much for your thoughtful piece.
Jan, by ‘tales’ you mean stories in traditional mode, as opposed to more literary short stories? If so, that could spark an interesting discussion! I never have any problem writing those traditional-style stories; that seems to be my natural writing mode, I guess because of childhood reading. And yes, they have a poetic flavour. But a literary short story … like getting blood out of a stone.
I think the biggest mistake most people make with the two forms is that they think they’re the same thing. Yes, both are fiction, but the techniques to work with them are very different. I started out with short stories, and I really had to break a lot of short story habits to make novels work — I still write novels too short and have to add word count. But short stories also teach great editing skills. Where someone else moans about trying to find places to cut, I’m pulling out the weed whacker and mowing down the story at a rapid clip.
I have to disagree with #3. I’m an extreme pantser, which means that I can’t connect my creativity to an outline at all. I could do one, but if I didn’t kill the story outright, I would probably ignore it completely once I started writing. Outlining is NOT required to get structure — only understanding what structure is.
It’s always great for me to hear a pantser’s take on craft matters, Linda, since I am at the super-planner end of the spectrum. Obviously you know what works and doesn’t work for you, and I should acknowledge that where the overall approach to writing is concerned, one size definitely doesn’t fit all.
Also, I should probably have said that by planning (for a short story) I don’t necessarily mean outlining – just having an advance idea of the overall shape of the story, particularly where it’s headed.
I often don’t even know that much. I just throw paint at the wall and see what sticks.
This may come across as slightly facetious but it’s not intended to be. I write and when I’ve said what I have to say I stop. I never sat down to write a novel when I wrote my first book. I had written nothing but poetry for twenty years but as I was going through a dry patch I thought I’d try some prose. When I counted the words up I realised I had a novel. I’m not a plotter and so, some ten years later when I was going through a dry spell with my third novel I thought I’d take a break and write a ‘something else’. What I ended up writing were about forty short stories almost back to back and I’ve never written another once since, just a handful of flash pieces which also came out of the blue like that. So I’m possibly not the best person to seek advice from. I have a mantra though that has stood me in good stead: Say what you have to say and get off the page. That works for poems, plays, stories and novels. The idea of sitting down to consciously write a 2,000-word story is as alien to me as saying I’ll write a sonnet. Overwriting is not something I’m generally guilty of. Four of my five novels are under 60,000 words; I think of the 90,000 one as an epic and I just pray that my next book turns out to be a novella. As far as your comment on framework goes I have to disagree, for me at least, as I write, and prefer to read, stories that one would describe as a slice of life. I admire people who can plot and produce a work that doesn’t feel plotted but mostly I find the structure shows through reminding us that what we’re reading is an artificial construct.
I started out writing “creative non fiction” which is a short form, then short stories. I never thought I could write a novel –now everything wants to become a novel *laughing*
nice post with great tips!
Strangely enough, I’ve always felt it easier to write short stories than novels. Perhaps I have a short attention span? To craft 8000 words is a week’s work; a novel is a year.
One tactic for getting a novel finished, I’ve found, is to conceive it as a succession of short stories disguised as chapters. Each is self-contained but has page hangers that link to the next development in the plot. That way, one is in no danger of ‘plot drift’ – the habit of wandering into wondrous digressions that, months later, have to be round-binned!
Short fiction is a real challenge for me as well, because I am too wordy and because I make plots too complicated. (This is a problem with novels, too; I’m currently approaching the end of my WIP and wondering if the remaining story really is too convoluted.) Thanks for the useful tips on pruning verbiage. I’ve tried these things before, but word creep tends to undo my previous efforts, so it’s always good to see the tips repeated.
yes your advice on overwriting can be applied to novelists as well. And I am determined to learn how to construct a rock-solid framework before I start
I’ve been writing a lot of flash fiction lately, but most gets done at the last minute. It’s fun to do these under pressure, but some look more like fragments of a longer story, not as compact and packed as they could be. An editing job on my TBD list.
Ack! Description gone wild! I’m so glad you listed that for the #1 blunder because I truly think that’s the biggest qualm I have with “new” short fiction writers. I don’t really care that your character had a comely face with the blue eyes of his mother who came from Iceland in 1963. What’s going on in the story?!
The hardest thing for me is to switch gears between short story and novel. As you pointed out, they require such different hats that it takes me a while to adjust.
This post was such an eye-opener for me! I love great description in novels, but not when it detracts from what is happening in the actual story… Since first reading this post, I started reading a novel that is doing almost exactly what you recommended it shouldn’t! Reading about the path leading away from the house, or exactly how the character is fighting off panic (both physical and mental symptoms) is not what I am most interested in… It seems like it must be a very delicate balance.
Thanks for this. It’s great to see in the comments that there are others who find short stories easier. How do you novelists do it? If you could write that post – sharing the secrets with those of us foolish enough to follow Ray Bradbury’s advice (learn by writing short stories – it’s not the same skill-set, Ray! And short stories don’t sell. Gah!) that would be fantastic.
Thanks again
Louise
Ah, you are speaking about my favorite subject. There is no reason to fear the short story, because it makes you a better novelist. You cut out the dreck and move the story along.
And with so many things competing for entertainment, you must concentrate on something short to make sure you are recognized. Even the best novelists are struggling, especially if they are on the one book per two years pace.
Heck, some are trying to get on every three months, by keeping novellas handy and getting them to their editors ASAP!
Thanks for sharing, hope this piece helps out everyone who’s looking to write flash fiction or short short stories.