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Showing posts with label Short Story Craft. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Short Story Craft. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 6, 2024

The Writer's Craft: Modern Insights | Short Story | Chapter 13



The Writer's Craft: Modern Insights

(Short Story)


By Olivia Salter


CHAPTER 13


Fiction Writing: The Short Story

The short story is a distinct form of fiction, defined by its brevity, focused narrative, and ability to deliver a concentrated impact. While short in length, a well-crafted short story can evoke powerful emotions and lasting impressions through its tightly woven structure and economy of words. Here’s a breakdown of the elements that shape the short story form:

Definition

A short story is a work of fiction that is brief in scope, usually ranging from a few hundred to a few thousand words. It is designed to deliver a single, unified effect or emotional response in a compact form. Unlike novels, which allow for expansive plots and detailed character development, short stories focus on a specific moment, conflict, or theme, and rely on concise storytelling to engage the reader.

Two Types

1. Dramatic Short Story

The dramatic short story focuses on a tightly structured plot, often revolving around a single event or conflict that escalates to a clear climax. The story is driven by action, dialogue, and decisions, with characters revealing themselves through their responses to the central conflict. The pace is quick, and the story often revolves around moments of high tension or dramatic revelations.

2. Atmospheric Short Story

In contrast, the atmospheric short story emphasizes mood, setting, and tone over action or plot. The focus is on creating a vivid emotional or sensory experience for the reader, often through detailed descriptions and careful attention to language. The plot may be less significant, as the primary aim is to immerse the reader in a specific atmosphere or emotional state, rather than build to a dramatic conclusion.

Origins

The short story has roots in ancient storytelling traditions, from oral tales passed down through generations to early written forms like parables and fables. As a modern literary form, it gained prominence in the 19th century with the works of authors like Edgar Allan Poe, Nathaniel Hawthorne, and Anton Chekhov, who helped define its structure and potential for emotional intensity.

Assumed Unity and Singleness of Effect of the Dramatic Short Story

One of the key principles of the dramatic short story is its unity of effect. As Edgar Allan Poe emphasized, every element of the story—its plot, characters, dialogue, and setting—should work together to create a singular emotional or intellectual impact on the reader. This unity of effect is achieved through a focused narrative, where extraneous details are stripped away, and the story drives relentlessly toward its intended conclusion. In short stories, there is no room for digression or unnecessary subplots; the entire story must be cohesive and aimed at delivering one clear, resonant outcome.

General Technique of Form

The short story requires precision in its construction. Writers must master the art of compression, packing meaning into as few words as possible without sacrificing depth. Every sentence must serve a purpose, whether it’s advancing the plot, revealing character, or setting the tone. The overall structure tends to follow a familiar arc—exposition, rising action, climax, falling action, and resolution—though in some cases, this structure is altered for creative effect. What remains constant is the need for coherence and unity.

Characterization

Because of the limited length of short stories, characterization is often achieved through subtle means. Rather than long backstories or detailed psychological portraits, characters are revealed through concise descriptions, sharp dialogue, and key actions. A few well-chosen details can suggest an entire personality. Writers often rely on showing rather than telling, letting a character’s choices, speech, or interactions reveal who they are without needing extensive explanation.

Interest and Too Great Simplicity

While simplicity can be a strength in short stories—allowing for a clean, direct narrative—it’s important to strike a balance. A story that is too simple risks losing depth and failing to engage the reader on an emotional or intellectual level. The best short stories use their brevity to distill complexity, revealing rich insights or emotions within the confines of a small word count.

Limitation upon Complexity

Short stories, by nature, impose limitations on complexity, especially in terms of plot and character development. Writers must be selective in what they choose to explore, focusing on one or two central ideas or conflicts. This limitation is not a weakness; rather, it forces the writer to hone in on the most essential elements of the story. Complexity can still exist within the characters’ emotions, themes, or subtext, even if the surface plot appears straightforward.

Length

The length of a short story is a defining characteristic, and it’s what sets the form apart from novels or novellas. While there is no strict word count, most short stories fall between 1,000 and 7,500 words. The brevity of the form requires careful pacing and a focused narrative, where every word contributes to the overall impact. Writers must be disciplined, avoiding unnecessary exposition or filler, while still ensuring that the story feels complete and satisfying.

Coherence of Form

A successful short story maintains coherence from start to finish. All its elements—plot, character, tone, and theme—must align toward a unified effect. The narrative should feel seamless, with no abrupt shifts in tone or pacing, and the resolution should feel like a natural outcome of the preceding events. Coherence gives the reader a sense of satisfaction, even if the ending is ambiguous or open to interpretation.

Compression

Compression is the art of packing as much meaning as possible into the fewest words. In a short story, every word counts. Description, dialogue, and action must all be carefully chosen to convey the maximum amount of information and emotion in the shortest space. This economy of language challenges the writer to be precise, to imply rather than state, and to trust the reader to pick up on subtext and nuance. Compression allows the story to be brief yet impactful, delivering a full narrative experience in a condensed form.

In summary, the short story is a concentrated art form that demands both skill and restraint. Whether it takes the dramatic or atmospheric approach, a successful short story uses its limited space to create a unified, compelling narrative that leaves a lasting impression. Through careful attention to characterization, structure, and atmosphere, writers can craft short stories that resonate deeply despite their brevity.


CONTENT

Preface & Introduction

  1. Chapter 1:   Writers and Life
  2. Chapter 2:    Storytelling 1
  3. Chapter 3:    Storytelling 2
  4. Chapter 4:    Plotting
  5. Chapter 5:    Narrative 1
  6. Chapter 6:    Narrative 2
  7. Chapter 7:    Narrative 3
  8. Chapter 8:    Description
  9. Chapter 9:    Dialogue
  10. Chapter 10:  Characters
  11. Chapter 11:  Atmosphere
  12. Chapter 12:  Settings 
  13. Chapter 13:  Short Story
  14. Chapter 14 The Novel
  15. Chapter 15 Conclusion

Monday, October 21, 2024

How to Write a Short Story: A Guide for Today’s Writers



How to Write a Short Story: A Guide for Today’s Writers


by Olivia Salter


Writing a short story is like creating a miniature world—one that needs to captivate readers from the very first sentence and leave a lasting impression by the end. In today’s fast-paced, digital world, short stories offer a way to communicate powerful ideas in a compact form. Whether you’re a beginner or a seasoned writer looking to sharpen your craft, this guide will walk you through the essential steps to bring your story to life. Let’s dive into the art of short storytelling and explore how to make your work stand out in the modern literary landscape.


1. Find Your Inspiration  

Inspiration can strike from anywhere—your daily experiences, conversations, news headlines, or even a captivating image. The world around you is filled with stories waiting to be told. Something as simple as overhearing a conversation in a café, seeing an old photograph, or encountering a strange news headline can spark the seed of an idea. This is why it’s essential to stay curious and observant.

To ensure you capture these moments of inspiration, keep a journal or use a note-taking app on your phone to jot down ideas as they come to you. Don’t wait for a fully formed concept; even a single line or a random thought can evolve into a story later. Some writers even carry small notebooks everywhere they go, just in case an idea strikes while on the go. If you prefer digital tools, apps like Evernote or Notion can help organize your thoughts, combining text, images, and links all in one place.

Don’t be afraid to draw from personal experiences, as they can add authenticity and depth to your characters and plots. Your own joys, fears, and challenges can provide the emotional core of a story, allowing readers to connect on a deeper level. Remember, writing from life doesn’t mean you need to replicate events exactly as they happened. Instead, you can reimagine and transform them into something new. Fiction allows for flexibility, and the emotions and truths you pull from your own life can enhance even the most fantastic of tales.

If personal experiences aren’t sparking ideas, turn to external sources for inspiration. Read widely—novels, short stories, articles—and take note of themes or concepts that interest you. You can also find inspiration in visual mediums like films, photography, or art. A single painting or a fleeting moment in a film could inspire the setting or mood for your next short story.

Inspiration is everywhere; the key is to stay open to it and to capture it before it fades.


2. Know Your Audience  

Understanding who will read your story is crucial for shaping how you write it. Are you writing for young adults, literary enthusiasts, or genre fans? This knowledge will guide your tone, style, and themes, ensuring your story connects with the right readers. Every audience has different expectations, preferences, and interests, so tailoring your approach can make a significant difference in how your story is received.

If you’re writing for young adults, for instance, you may want to focus on coming-of-age themes, self-discovery, or identity, with relatable characters who face challenges typical of adolescence. The language should be accessible, vibrant, and reflect the experiences and dialogue of that age group. On the other hand, writing for a literary audience might require more nuanced language, subtle themes, and complex character development. Readers of literary fiction often appreciate stories that explore deeper psychological and emotional layers, with careful attention to prose and structure.

For fans of specific genres—whether it’s science fiction, fantasy, horror, or romance—there are certain conventions and tropes that resonate with them. If you’re writing a horror story, for example, you’ll want to focus on building suspense, evoking fear, and creating a dark, unsettling atmosphere. Genre readers also expect innovation within familiar frameworks, so understanding what’s popular or overdone in the genre can help you create something fresh and exciting.

Engaging with your audience through social media or writing communities is an excellent way to get a sense of what resonates with readers. Platforms like Twitter, Reddit, and online writing groups such as Wattpad or Scribophile allow you to interact with fellow writers and readers, giving you insight into what they’re currently interested in. Pay attention to discussions about popular books, trends, and the kind of stories readers are excited about. This doesn’t mean you should write solely based on trends, but understanding what excites your target audience can help you refine your own unique voice and style.

Feedback is another essential tool in understanding your audience. Share your work with beta readers, particularly those who are part of your target demographic. They can offer insights into whether your story is engaging, whether the tone fits, and how well your themes resonate. You can also participate in writing contests or submit to literary magazines that cater to your intended audience to see how your work is received.

Ultimately, knowing your audience is about balancing authenticity with market awareness. Write the story that excites you but do so with an understanding of the readers who will appreciate it most. By aligning your voice and vision with the expectations of your audience, you increase the chances of your story being not only read but remembered.


3. Develop a Strong Concept  

A concise story often starts with a powerful concept or theme that serves as the backbone of your narrative. The concept is the "big idea" that drives your plot and shapes your characters, giving your story purpose and direction. To develop a strong concept, ask yourself: What message do I want to convey? What universal truth or human experience do I want to explore? This guiding idea will help you stay focused as you write and ensure that your story resonates with readers on a deeper level.

One of the most effective ways to develop a concept is to use a “what if” scenario to spark your imagination. This technique encourages you to think creatively and explore different possibilities for your plot. For example, “What if a character discovers a hidden talent that changes their life?” or “What if two strangers meet in a dream and fall in love, only to wake up and not know how to find each other in real life?” These questions can serve as the foundation for your plot, giving you a clear starting point while leaving room for further exploration.

A strong concept is not just about an intriguing premise, though—it also needs to explore a theme or idea that resonates with readers. Ask yourself, “Why is this concept important to me?” and “Why should it matter to my readers?” Themes like love, betrayal, fear, identity, and redemption often form the core of compelling stories because they reflect fundamental human experiences. Your concept should not only be exciting or thought-provoking but also provide a lens through which these deeper themes are explored.

To strengthen your concept, consider narrowing it down to a single sentence or logline. This can help clarify the essence of your story. For example, "A grieving widower receives letters from his late wife that help him rediscover life" or "A young woman who fears death learns she can relive any moment from her past." This concise articulation helps you focus on what’s most important and prevents you from getting lost in unnecessary subplots or details.

It’s also useful to think about the conflict your concept introduces. Strong concepts often place characters in situations where they must confront a dilemma, make difficult choices, or face unforeseen challenges. A compelling conflict drives the narrative forward and keeps readers engaged. For example, in a story where a character discovers a hidden talent, the conflict might arise when that talent comes with unexpected consequences, forcing the character to choose between their old life and new opportunities.

Finally, don’t be afraid to innovate. While classic themes and conflicts endure because of their universal appeal, readers are always looking for new twists on familiar ideas. What fresh perspective can you bring to your story? How can you subvert expectations or blend genres in a way that surprises your audience? Developing a strong concept is about finding that balance between the familiar and the new—delivering a story that feels both timeless and original.

By crafting a clear and powerful concept, you lay the foundation for a short story that captivates, engages, and leaves a lasting impact on your readers.


4. Create Relatable Characters  

Characters are the heart of your story. They are the ones who experience the plot, face challenges, and ultimately drive the story forward. Readers may forget a specific plot point, but they will remember characters that made them feel something. Crafting well-rounded, relatable characters is key to creating a compelling short story that resonates with your audience.

To create relatable characters, it’s important to give them distinct voices, motivations, and flaws. Your characters need to feel like real people, each with their own unique way of speaking, thinking, and interacting with the world. Start by defining what drives them—what are their desires, fears, and internal conflicts? A character’s motivation doesn’t have to be grand; even small, personal goals can make them relatable. For instance, a character might simply want to reconnect with an old friend, avoid an uncomfortable situation, or find peace in a chaotic world.

Flaws are just as essential as strengths when building relatable characters. Perfect characters often feel unrealistic and distant. On the other hand, flawed characters are more compelling because their imperfections make them human. Whether it’s a bad habit, a difficult personality trait, or a mistake they’ve made in the past, flaws give your characters depth and room to grow throughout the story. Readers often connect with characters who struggle, because it mirrors their own struggles in real life.

A key aspect of relatable characters is their distinct voice. Dialogue and internal monologue are powerful tools for revealing a character's personality. Pay attention to how each character speaks—consider their background, education, and emotional state. Some may use slang or colloquialisms, while others may speak in a more formal tone. Beyond words, think about their non-verbal behavior—how do they carry themselves? What gestures or habits do they have? All of these small details help distinguish one character from another and make them feel like individuals.

Modern tools like character development worksheets, online generators, and personality templates can be incredibly helpful in fleshing out your characters. Worksheets prompt you to consider your characters’ backstories, relationships, and quirks, which you might not initially think about. They force you to dig deeper into who your character is beyond the surface. Some writers use personality quizzes or even create detailed psychological profiles to better understand how their characters would react in various situations. For instance, you could explore the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI) to determine whether your character is introverted or extroverted, logical or emotional.

Empathy is central to creating relatable characters. Readers need to care about what happens to them, even if they don’t always agree with their choices. To foster this connection, show your characters’ vulnerabilities. Let readers see their fears, regrets, and insecurities. Even if a character is deeply flawed or unconventional, readers can empathize with them if they understand their motivations and struggles. For example, a character who acts selfishly out of fear of abandonment might still win sympathy because readers recognize the root of their behavior.

Another way to make characters relatable is by giving them layers. People are complex, and so should your characters be. They might act one way on the surface but have deeper, sometimes contradictory emotions or desires hidden beneath. A character who is outwardly confident might struggle with imposter syndrome, or a character who seems aloof may be protecting themselves from past trauma. These inner contradictions make characters feel real and multifaceted, drawing readers into their internal world.

Lastly, allow your characters to grow. A short story may not have the space for sweeping character arcs, but even subtle growth can be impactful. Relatable characters evolve as they face conflict, learning something new about themselves or the world around them. Whether it’s overcoming a personal obstacle or coming to terms with a difficult truth, character growth adds emotional weight to the story and leaves readers with a sense of resolution.

In summary, relatable characters are those that feel authentic and human, with distinct voices, flaws, and motivations that readers can empathize with. By carefully developing your characters and showing their internal worlds, you invite readers to not only understand them but to root for them as they navigate the challenges of your story.


5. Build a Compelling Conflict

Every great story hinges on conflict. Without it, there’s no driving force to push the narrative forward or to challenge your characters in meaningful ways. Conflict is what creates tension and keeps readers invested in the outcome of your story. It can be as dramatic as a battle for survival or as subtle as a character’s internal struggle with self-doubt. Whether large or small, the conflict in your story should be carefully crafted to engage readers and propel your characters toward change.

There are two primary types of conflict to consider: internal and external.

Internal conflict occurs within a character’s mind and emotions. It often revolves around personal dilemmas, unresolved issues, or opposing desires. Internal conflict is deeply relatable because it mirrors the struggles we all face within ourselves. For instance, a character might grapple with guilt over a past mistake, a fear of failure, or the pressure to live up to someone’s expectations. Internal conflict tends to be more subtle but can be incredibly powerful if done well, as it offers a window into your character’s psyche and personal growth.

For example, in a short story, a character might struggle with forgiving themselves for a wrong they’ve done to a friend. Their inner turmoil could affect their actions and decisions, preventing them from reconciling with that friend until they confront their own guilt. The tension builds as readers watch the character wrestle with their emotions, hoping for a resolution.

External conflict, on the other hand, arises from forces outside the character. This can include other people (antagonists, rivals), society (cultural norms, expectations), or even nature (disasters, survival situations). External conflicts are often more immediate and tangible, providing clear obstacles that stand in the way of the character’s goals. For instance, a character might face an external conflict when a rival tries to sabotage their career, or when they’re trapped in a dangerous situation and must find a way to survive.

Both internal and external conflicts can (and often should) overlap. Combining these types of conflict creates depth and complexity in your story. For instance, a character might face an external challenge, like losing their job, which in turn triggers an internal conflict, such as questioning their self-worth or identity. As they strive to overcome the external obstacle, they must also deal with their internal struggle. This layering of conflict makes for a more engaging and emotionally resonant narrative.

To build a compelling conflict, start by asking yourself, What does my character want? Every character should have a goal, whether it’s a tangible one (like finding a lost treasure or getting a promotion) or an emotional one (like earning the love or approval of someone important). Once you’ve identified the goal, the next question to ask is, What stands in their way? This is the heart of the conflict—the barrier between your character and their desire.

The obstacles you create should be significant enough to challenge the character but not so insurmountable that resolution feels impossible. The conflict needs to create tension and stakes, giving the reader a reason to care about the outcome. If the character’s journey is too easy, there’s no real drama. On the other hand, if the conflict is too overwhelming, it can feel unrealistic or disheartening. The key is to find a balance where the character faces genuine challenges but has the potential to grow and overcome them.

Relatability is crucial to conflict as well. Readers need to see themselves, or at least some aspect of humanity, in the struggle. Even in fantastic settings, the conflict should tap into universal emotions—fear, love, ambition, insecurity—that readers can connect with. For example, while a story about a hero battling mythical creatures might seem far removed from everyday life, the underlying conflict of facing one’s fears or protecting loved ones is something that resonates with everyone.

Conflict also serves as a way to reveal character. How your character responds to obstacles—whether they rise to the challenge, avoid it, or change their tactics—can give readers insight into their personality, values, and growth. A well-crafted conflict forces the character to make difficult decisions, often revealing who they truly are in the process. For instance, a character might face the dilemma of sacrificing their own dreams for someone they care about. Their choice in that moment defines them and can lead to pivotal turning points in the story.

As the conflict develops, it’s important to escalate the stakes. Tension should build as the story progresses, with the conflict becoming more intense or complex. The challenges your character faces should increase in difficulty, keeping readers on edge and eager to see how it will all unfold. A small misunderstanding might evolve into a major fallout, or an internal doubt might grow into a full-blown identity crisis. By gradually raising the stakes, you keep the conflict fresh and engaging, preventing the story from stagnating.

Finally, the resolution of the conflict should feel earned and satisfying. Whether your character triumphs or fails, the outcome should be a natural result of the choices they made and the struggles they faced. Readers want to feel that the journey was worth it, that the character has changed or learned something significant because of the conflict. Even if the ending is bittersweet or tragic, a well-resolved conflict leaves readers with a sense of closure and emotional impact.

In short, conflict is what gives your story life. By creating relatable internal and external obstacles, raising the stakes, and allowing your characters to grow through their struggles, you craft a narrative that captivates readers and leaves them emotionally invested in the outcome.


6. Outline Your Story 

While some writers prefer to dive in without a plan, outlining your story can help you stay organized and maintain focus. By creating a clear roadmap of where your story is headed, you avoid getting stuck halfway through or veering off course. Even if you’re someone who enjoys the spontaneity of discovery writing, having a basic outline can provide direction while still leaving room for creative surprises.

At its core, an outline helps you visualize the structure of your story. It gives you a bird’s-eye view of the major events, character arcs, and turning points. For a short story, which often requires a concise and efficient narrative, outlining can be especially helpful in making sure every scene has a purpose and contributes to the story’s overall impact.

A good starting point for outlining is to break your story down into its beginning, middle, and end. This simple structure provides a natural flow for your narrative and ensures that key elements—such as character introductions, conflict escalation, and resolution—are addressed in the right places.

1. Beginning (Setup):

The beginning of your story is where you introduce the characters, setting, and the central conflict. You want to establish the world of your story quickly and efficiently, drawing readers in with a strong opening. This is also the time to lay the groundwork for your character’s goals and desires. What does the protagonist want? What stands in their way? The beginning sets the stage for the journey they’ll embark on, so it’s crucial to provide enough context without overwhelming the reader with too much information at once.

2. Middle (Confrontation):

The middle is where the conflict escalates and the story’s tension builds. Your protagonist begins to face obstacles, both internal and external, that challenge their goals. This is often the longest part of the story, where you deepen the stakes, introduce twists, and develop your characters. The middle section is where the emotional and narrative momentum grows, leading up to a key turning point, or climax, where the protagonist faces their greatest challenge. This turning point should feel inevitable, given everything that has come before it, and should push your character toward a crucial decision or action.

3. End (Resolution):

In the final section, the conflict is resolved, and the story reaches its conclusion. This is where you tie up loose ends and provide a sense of closure for the character and the reader. Whether the protagonist achieves their goal or not, the resolution should feel satisfying and earned, based on the choices the character made throughout the story. Even if your ending is ambiguous or bittersweet, it should still provide a sense of completeness, with the character having grown or changed in some way as a result of their journey.

To give your outline more structure, consider using a three-act structure, a tried-and-true method that breaks the story into three distinct phases:

  • Act 1 (Setup): Introduce the characters, setting, and central conflict. This is where you set up the protagonist’s ordinary world and the inciting incident that propels them into the story’s main action. The inciting incident is a crucial event that disrupts the status quo and forces the protagonist to take action.
  • Act 2 (Confrontation): Here, the protagonist is fully engaged in their journey, facing escalating obstacles and conflicts. This act typically includes the rising action, where the tension builds, and the protagonist’s problems become more complex. It often features a midpoint, a pivotal moment that shifts the story’s direction or raises the stakes. The protagonist may experience setbacks or make decisions that complicate their situation, leading toward the climax.
  • Act 3 (Resolution): The story reaches its climax, where the protagonist confronts the central conflict head-on. This is the most intense part of the story, where the character’s arc is completed, and the outcome is determined. Following the climax, the falling action wraps up the remaining loose ends, and the story moves toward a conclusion that offers closure.

Outlining doesn’t have to be rigid or overly detailed. It’s a flexible tool that you can adapt to suit your writing style. Some writers prefer to create a bullet-point outline, listing key events in each section of the story, while others might prefer a more detailed scene-by-scene breakdown. You might even use a mind map or a timeline to visualize how your story unfolds.

Another approach is the "snowflake method," where you start with a single sentence summarizing the core of your story, then gradually expand that sentence into a paragraph, then into a page, and so on, until you have a full outline. This method is helpful if you want to start with a broad concept and slowly work out the finer details.

Outlining also allows you to identify potential plot holes or pacing issues before you begin writing. For example, if your outline reveals that the middle section drags, you can adjust it to include more twists or character development to maintain momentum. If the resolution feels rushed, you can plan additional scenes to give the ending more weight. Having a roadmap in place can save you from getting stuck halfway through the writing process.

Finally, it’s important to remember that an outline is not set in stone. You can (and should) be open to deviating from it as new ideas emerge during the writing process. Outlining is meant to provide structure, but creative freedom is just as essential. If you discover a more interesting direction for your story while writing, feel free to adjust your outline accordingly. It’s there to guide you, not to limit your creativity.

In summary, outlining helps you organize your story into a coherent structure, ensuring that key plot points and character development are in place. Whether you use a simple beginning-middle-end format or a more detailed three-act structure, having an outline can give you the confidence to write a focused, well-paced story.


7. Write a Captivating Opening

Your opening lines are the most critical part of your short story. They serve as the gateway that draws readers into your world, introduces them to your voice, and sparks their curiosity about what’s to come. A strong opening can hook your audience from the start, making them eager to turn the page, while a weak one risks losing their attention before the story even gets off the ground.

The key to writing a captivating opening is to start with a hook—something that immediately grabs the reader’s attention. There are many ways to achieve this, depending on the tone, genre, and style of your story. Here are a few common techniques:

1. Start with an intriguing question or mystery:

Opening with a question, whether explicit or implied, can immediately make readers curious. A question plants a seed of wonder in their minds, compelling them to read on to find the answer. For example, “The night he disappeared, no one saw him leave the house, but everyone heard the sound of shattering glass.” This type of opening sets up a mystery that begs to be solved, pulling readers into the plot right from the start.

2. Use a striking image:

Vivid, sensory details can immerse readers in the world of your story right away. By painting a scene with rich imagery, you help readers visualize the setting and mood, creating an immediate connection to the narrative. For instance, “The sun hung low over the horizon, casting long shadows across the abandoned playground where the rusty swing still creaked in the wind.” This creates an atmospheric entry into the story, establishing a mood that lingers in the reader’s mind.

3. Open with action:

Jumping straight into the middle of an event or moment of action can be highly effective, especially for stories with a fast-paced or intense tone. This approach throws readers directly into the story’s world, immersing them in the protagonist’s experience right away. For example, “She ran, heart pounding, feet slapping against the wet pavement, as the footsteps behind her grew closer.” This kind of opening creates immediate tension and excitement, setting up a sense of urgency.

4. Make a bold statement or observation:

A provocative or thought-provoking opening line can challenge the reader’s expectations or introduce an unusual perspective. This works particularly well for literary or philosophical stories. For instance, “People think death is the end, but for me, it was just the beginning.” Such a statement sparks curiosity, encouraging the reader to explore how the story will unravel this bold claim.

5. Introduce a compelling voice:

The tone of your narrator’s voice can be enough to captivate readers. A strong, distinctive voice—whether quirky, cynical, humorous, or wise—immediately gives the story personality. Consider an opening like, “My mother always said I was born under an unlucky star, but I think she was just trying to find an excuse for everything that went wrong.” Here, the voice hints at both character and backstory, creating interest while setting the tone for the story.

Once you’ve chosen your hook, it’s essential to aim for clarity and immediacy. The opening lines should immerse readers in the world you’ve created without bogging them down with too much information. Avoid overwhelming the reader with excessive backstory or exposition right from the start. Instead, focus on showing rather than telling—reveal enough to set the scene and spark interest, but leave room for the reader’s curiosity to grow.

For example, rather than beginning with a lengthy description of the protagonist’s background, you might open with a moment that reveals character traits through action or dialogue. Let readers discover details naturally as the story progresses, rather than front-loading information. Consider how you can convey essential details—about the setting, mood, or protagonist—through subtext or context, rather than overt explanation.

Another effective strategy is to start in the middle of things (in medias res). By dropping readers into a scene where something is already happening, you create instant engagement. Instead of opening with a long lead-up, cut directly to a moment of tension or change that will propel the story forward. For example, “The letter was sitting on the kitchen table when she walked in, already opened.” This kind of opening raises immediate questions—Who sent the letter? What does it say?—and motivates the reader to continue.

Tone is another vital element of the opening. The way you start your story should set the tone for the entire narrative. Whether your story is lighthearted, dark, suspenseful, or whimsical, the opening lines should reflect that mood, so readers know what to expect. For example, an opening line like “The carnival was in full swing, but something about the laughter sounded wrong” suggests an eerie or unsettling atmosphere. The tone should be consistent throughout, so make sure your first lines align with the overall style and voice of the story.

In a short story, every word counts, especially in the opening. Aim for concise, impactful language that conveys the most information with the fewest words. This doesn’t mean sacrificing richness or style, but rather focusing on language that pulls readers in quickly and efficiently. A powerful opening line can introduce conflict, set up a question, or paint a vivid picture, all while leaving just enough unanswered to pique curiosity.

To sum up, a captivating opening is one that draws readers in with a hook—whether through a question, striking image, action, statement, or voice. It sets the tone, establishes the mood, and provides a glimpse of the world or characters without overwhelming the reader with too much information. By focusing on clarity, immediacy, and engagement, your opening lines can make a powerful first impression that keeps readers invested in the story that follows.


8. Embrace Modern Language and Style 

Writing styles evolve over time, reflecting changes in culture, technology, and the way we communicate. In today’s fast-paced, connected world, readers value authenticity, relatability, and immediacy in the stories they consume. To resonate with modern readers, it’s essential to embrace contemporary language, dialogue, and cultural references, while still staying true to your unique voice and the needs of your story.

1. Use Contemporary Language

Modern readers appreciate language that feels natural and reflective of the way people speak and think today. This doesn’t mean dumbing down your prose, but rather ensuring that your writing doesn’t feel outdated or overly formal unless that style serves a specific purpose in your story.

Think of the difference between saying, "He approached the shopkeeper, inquiring as to the whereabouts of the nearest inn," and, "He walked up to the shopkeeper and asked, 'Where’s the nearest hotel?'" The first sentence feels stiff and formal, while the second feels more immediate and conversational. Opting for clear, concise language that flows easily can make your writing feel more approachable.

At the same time, modern writing often breaks traditional rules in favor of natural rhythm and style. Sentence fragments, casual asides, and varying sentence lengths are all tools you can use to make your writing feel more organic. For example, instead of always sticking to full, grammatically correct sentences, you might write: "She wasn’t sure what she was doing there. Didn’t even know why she’d come. But here she was." These fragments convey the character’s thought process and add a sense of immediacy.

2. Craft Relatable Dialogue

Dialogue is one of the most important aspects of modern storytelling. It’s how your characters express themselves, reveal their personalities, and interact with others. To make your dialogue relatable, it should reflect the way people speak today—with all the nuances, contractions, slang, and informalities that real conversations often contain.

Consider how people speak in different contexts: a teenager texting a friend might use emojis and shorthand, while a corporate executive in a boardroom might be more formal and precise. The way your characters speak should align with who they are and the world they inhabit. For example, a character saying, "I do not believe that is the correct course of action," might feel stilted compared to, "I don’t think that’s the right move."

At the same time, dialogue should feel purposeful and dynamic. Every line should serve a function, whether it’s advancing the plot, revealing character traits, or building tension. Avoid overly expository dialogue that sounds unnatural, like, “As you know, John, we’ve been best friends for twenty years.” Instead, focus on dialogue that feels real, capturing the subtleties of how people communicate, including interruptions, unfinished thoughts, and subtext.

3. Incorporate Modern Cultural References

Including modern cultural references can add an extra layer of relatability to your story. By referencing contemporary technology, pop culture, or societal trends, you create a world that feels familiar and connected to the present day. Mentioning social media, streaming platforms, or current music can ground your story in the modern world and help your readers feel more immersed.

However, cultural references should be used with care. While they can make your story feel relevant, they can also date it quickly if overused. References that are too niche or tied to a specific moment in time may not resonate with readers a few years down the line. Strike a balance by including references that feel natural for your characters and setting, without relying too heavily on them to create interest.

For example, a character casually scrolling through Instagram while waiting for a friend might feel natural, but if you include an in-depth discussion of the latest meme trend, it might feel forced or distracting. The key is to use references that enhance your story, not overwhelm it.

4. Experiment with Sentence Structure and Rhythm

One of the hallmarks of modern writing is the freedom to play with sentence structure and rhythm to create a unique voice. Long gone are the rigid rules that demanded all sentences be perfectly structured and uniform. Instead, today’s writers have the liberty to vary their sentence lengths, break rules for stylistic effect, and use punctuation creatively to control the pacing and flow of their story.

For example, a series of short, punchy sentences can create a sense of urgency or tension: "She ran. Faster. Heart pounding. Feet slipping on the wet pavement." In contrast, longer, flowing sentences can slow the pace, giving the reader time to absorb details or emotion: "She wandered through the forest, her feet sinking into the damp earth, the sounds of birdsong and rustling leaves filling the air around her."

By experimenting with the rhythm of your sentences, you can influence how your story feels to the reader. A mix of sentence lengths, along with varied punctuation—like dashes, ellipses, and semicolons—can help you create a more engaging and dynamic narrative.

5. Prioritize Clarity and Engagement

While experimenting with style is important, clarity should always be your top priority. Readers need to understand what’s happening in your story without getting lost in overly complex or convoluted prose. No matter how unique or experimental your voice is, it should still be accessible to your audience.

Avoid over-explaining or excessive description, which can slow down the pace and disengage readers. In today’s world, where readers are often balancing multiple distractions, keeping your writing sharp and focused is key. Readers should be able to follow your story effortlessly, with enough detail to paint a vivid picture, but not so much that it overwhelms the narrative.

6. Balance Authenticity with Universality

While modern language and cultural references are important, don’t lose sight of the universal themes and emotions that connect all readers. Your story should still resonate on a deeper level, with themes of love, conflict, growth, or fear that transcend the specifics of time and place. These universal elements ensure your story has lasting impact, even as trends and language evolve.

For instance, a story about the struggles of self-identity might incorporate modern issues like social media pressure, but the core of the narrative—discovering who you truly are—remains timeless. By combining modern style with universal themes, you can create a story that speaks to today’s readers while still holding value for future ones.

In summary, embracing modern language and style means writing in a way that feels authentic and relatable to today’s audience. Use contemporary dialogue, natural sentence structures, and cultural references to connect with readers on a personal level. Experiment with style and rhythm to find your unique voice, but always keep clarity and engagement at the forefront. By striking this balance, you can create stories that resonate deeply with modern readers while standing the test of time.


9. Edit Ruthlessly 

Once you’ve finished your first draft, step away for a bit before revising. Return with fresh eyes and be prepared to cut unnecessary scenes or dialogue that don’t serve the story. Focus on tightening your prose, enhancing descriptions, and refining character arcs. Consider seeking feedback from beta readers or writing groups for constructive criticism.

Edit Ruthlessly: A Comprehensive Guide

1. Take a Break

After completing your first draft, step away from your work for a period of time. This could be a few days, a week, or even longer for longer projects. Distance allows you to return to your writing with fresh eyes and a more objective perspective.

2. Read Through Once

Before making any changes, read through your entire piece without editing. This helps you get a sense of the overall flow, pacing, and coherence of your work.

3. Cut Unnecessary Elements

Be prepared to make tough decisions. Ask yourself:

    • Does this scene advance the plot or reveal character?
    • Is this dialogue essential or just filler?
    • Does this description enhance the reader's experience or slow down the pace?

If the answer is no, consider cutting it, no matter how much you like it.

4. Tighten Your Prose

Look for ways to make your writing more concise and impactful:

    • Eliminate redundant words and phrases
    • Replace weak verbs with stronger, more specific ones
    • Vary sentence structure for better rhythm
    • Remove clichés and overused expressions

5. Enhance Descriptions

While cutting unnecessary elements, also look for opportunities to enhance important descriptions:

    • Use sensory details to bring scenes to life
    • Ensure descriptions serve multiple purposes (e.g., setting the mood while revealing character)
    • Balance showing and telling for optimal pacing

6. Refine Character Arcs

Examine your characters' development throughout the story:

    • Ensure each major character has a clear arc
    • Look for consistency in character behavior and motivation
    • Strengthen character relationships and interactions

7. Check for Plot Holes and Consistency

Make sure your plot makes sense and all loose ends are tied up:

    • Verify that events follow a logical sequence
    • Ensure all subplots are resolved
    • Check for continuity errors in timelines, settings, and character details

8. Polish Dialogue

Review all dialogue to ensure it sounds natural and serves a purpose:

    • Read dialogue aloud to check for authenticity
    • Ensure each character has a distinct voice
    • Remove unnecessary dialogue tags and replace with action where appropriate

9. Seek Feedback

Once you've done a thorough self-edit, it's time to get outside perspectives:

    • Share with beta readers or a writing group
    • Be open to constructive criticism
    • Look for patterns in feedback to identify areas that need the most work

10. Revise Based on Feedback

Use the feedback you've received to guide another round of edits:

    • Address common concerns raised by readers
    • Be willing to make significant changes if they improve the story
    • Don't be afraid to defend elements you believe are essential

11. Focus on the Opening and Ending

Pay extra attention to your opening chapters and conclusion:

    • Ensure your opening hooks the reader immediately
    • Check that your ending provides satisfying closure (or intentional ambiguity, if that's your goal)

12. Proofread

After all major edits are complete, do a final proofread for:

    • Spelling and grammar errors
    • Formatting issues
    • Consistency in style (e.g., hyphenation, capitalization)

Remember, editing is an iterative process. You may need to go through several rounds before your work is polished to your satisfaction. The key is to be patient, thorough, and willing to make tough decisions for the sake of your story.


10. Polish and Publish  

When you're satisfied with your story, it's time to polish it up to ensure it’s as strong as possible. Begin by thoroughly proofreading for grammatical errors, typos, and awkward phrasing. Pay attention to sentence structure and word choice, making sure the tone and voice remain consistent throughout. Additionally, review your pacing and ensure your plot points and character motivations are clear and cohesive.

Once your story is polished, research potential outlets for publication. Depending on your goals, you might consider submitting to literary magazines, online writing platforms, or self-publishing through platforms like Amazon Kindle Direct Publishing. Different venues will have distinct submission guidelines, so tailor each submission accordingly—whether that means adjusting word count, formatting, or including a cover letter.

Be prepared for a range of responses: you might receive helpful feedback, rejections, or even offers of publication. Rejection is part of the process, so take any critiques as an opportunity to improve and keep submitting to other places until you find the right fit.


11. Keep Writing  

Keep writing, even in the face of setbacks, because writing is a craft that improves over time with consistent effort. Rejections and critiques are not signs of failure, but opportunities for growth. Each piece of feedback, no matter how difficult it may seem, can offer valuable insights into how you can improve your technique, storytelling, or even your unique voice as a writer.

To maintain momentum, set aside regular, dedicated time for writing. It could be daily, weekly, or whatever works best for you, but consistency is key. This practice not only builds discipline but also helps you develop your own rhythm and routine, which is essential for long-term progress.

Don’t shy away from experimentation. Try writing in different genres, from fantasy to horror, or in different styles, such as first-person narration or unreliable narrators. By exploring various forms and techniques, you’ll sharpen your skills and discover new creative strengths.

Remember, writing is a journey, and every story, whether successful or not, brings you one step closer to mastering the art. Keep pushing forward, be patient with yourself, and above all, continue writing.


Embrace your unique voice and perspective, as these are what set your stories apart and make them truly original. Your experiences, worldview, and the way you interpret emotions and events all shape the stories you tell. Don’t be afraid to let your voice shine through in your writing, even if it doesn’t fit conventional expectations or trends. Authenticity resonates deeply with readers, and they are often drawn to stories that offer a fresh or unconventional point of view.

Every story has the potential to resonate with readers, no matter how niche or specific it may seem. What might feel deeply personal to you can strike a universal chord with others who have shared similar emotions or experiences. Even in fiction, readers connect with truth—whether that truth comes in the form of raw emotions, moral dilemmas, or a unique take on common themes. By staying true to your voice and perspective, you create something original that stands out in a world full of stories.

Moreover, diversity in storytelling enriches the literary landscape. Your unique voice contributes to a broader spectrum of narratives, and it’s this diversity that helps literature evolve. Whether it’s through the characters you create, the worlds you build, or the themes you explore, your perspective can offer new ways for readers to see and understand the world around them. So, trust in your voice and write the stories only you can tell—because those are the stories that have the power to connect with readers on a deep, lasting level.

Monday, October 14, 2024

Crafting Conciseness: A Step-by-Step Guide to Writing Compelling Short Stories



Crafting Conciseness: A Step-by-Step Guide to Writing Compelling Short Stories


by Olivia Salter 


Writing a short story can be a rewarding and exhilarating experience for both new and seasoned writers alike. With the constraint of brevity, a short story challenges you to encapsulate complex emotions, vivid characters, and gripping plots all within a limited word count. Here’s a step-by-step guide to help you navigate the process of crafting a captivating short story.


Step 1: Brainstorm Ideas


Start with a spark of inspiration. This could come from anything—a personal experience, a dream, a piece of art, or even a random thought. Jot down various concepts, themes, or situations that intrigue you. Don’t filter your ideas at this stage; let your imagination roam free.

Crafting Conciseness: A Step-by-Step Guide to Writing Compelling Short Stories


Step 2: Define Your Core Message


What do you want your short story to convey? Identify the core message or theme that you’d like to explore. This could be love, loss, courage, or the absurdities of life. A clear message will serve as the backbone of your narrative.


Step 3: Create Compelling Characters


Characters are the heart of any story. Develop a protagonist who is relatable and flawed, as well as an antagonist that challenges their journey. Consider their motivations, backgrounds, and relationships. Even in a short story, well-rounded characters can leave a lasting impression.


Step 4: Establish the Setting


The setting provides the backdrop against which your story unfolds. Think about the time and place that will best suit your narrative. A well-defined setting can enhance mood and context, making your story more immersive. Use sensory details to paint a vivid picture for your readers.


Step 5: Outline Your Plot


Craft a concise outline that includes the main plot points. A typical structure includes:


  1. Exposition: Introduce characters and setting.
  2. Inciting Incident: Present the conflict or challenge.
  3. Rising Action: Build tension through complications.
  4. Climax: Reach the peak of conflict.
  5. Falling Action: Begin resolving the conflict.
  6. Resolution: Conclude the story and reflect on the theme.


Step 6: Write the First Draft


With your outline in hand, start writing the first draft. Don’t worry about perfection—focus on getting your ideas down. Allow your characters to guide the story as they react to the events unfolding around them. Embrace the messiness of the first draft; it’s all part of the creative process.


Step 7: Revise and Edit


Once your draft is complete, take a break before you dive into revisions. When you revisit your work, read it with fresh eyes. Look for areas that need tightening, clarity, or enhancement. Focus on:


  1. Pacing: Ensure the story flows smoothly, with no sluggish or rushed scenes.
  2. Character Development: Make sure your characters grow or change in meaningful ways.
  3. Dialogue: Ensure conversations feel natural and advance the plot.
  4. Word Choice: Choose words that evoke emotion and imagery.


Step 8: Seek Feedback


Share your story with trusted friends, writing groups, or mentors. Constructive feedback can offer valuable insights and help you see your work from different perspectives. Be open to suggestions, but also trust your instincts about what resonates with your vision.


Step 9: Finalize Your Story


Incorporate the feedback you’ve received, make final adjustments, and polish your prose. Pay attention to grammar, punctuation, and formatting. A clean, polished final draft enhances readability and showcases your storytelling skills.


Step 10: Submit or Share Your Work


Decide how you'd like to share your story. You could submit it to literary magazines, enter writing contests, or self-publish online. Alternatively, consider sharing it with friends or on social media platforms. Celebrate your accomplishment and embrace the joy of sharing your creativity with others.


In conclusion, writing a short story is a journey that hones your skills and allows your voice to shine. By following these steps, you can craft a narrative that resonates with readers—one that lingers in their minds long after the last sentence. So, grab your pen or keyboard, unleash your imagination, and embark on the adventure of storytelling!

Monday, September 2, 2024

Narrative: Mastering the Art of Short Story Writing


How To Write Fiction, Especially The Art Of Short Story Writing: A Practical Study Of Technique by Sherwin Cody


FOREWORD BY OLIVIA SALTER


In the realm of literature, the art of storytelling has always held a magnetic allure. It is a craft that transcends time, culture, and language, weaving together the threads of human experience into narratives that resonate deeply with readers. "How To Write Fiction, Especially The Art Of Short Story Writing: A Practical Study Of Technique" by Sherwin Cody stands as a timeless guide for aspiring writers and seasoned authors alike, offering invaluable insights into the intricate world of fiction writing.

Sherwin Cody, a masterful storyteller in his own right, delves into the nuances of fiction with a clarity that demystifies the writing process. This book is not merely a collection of rules and regulations; it is an invitation to explore the creative landscape where imagination and technique intersect. Cody's approach encourages writers to harness their unique voices, while also providing them with the tools necessary to craft compelling narratives that captivate and engage audiences.

At the heart of this work lies the short story—a form that demands precision, economy, and emotional depth. Cody's exploration of the short story format reveals its potential to convey profound truths within a limited space. Through practical exercises, insightful examples, and a wealth of wisdom, he guides readers on a journey to refine their skills, develop their characters, and structure their plots effectively.

As you embark on this literary adventure, remember that writing is both an art and a discipline. Cody's teachings serve as a compass, helping you navigate the challenges and triumphs of the writing process. Whether you are a novice seeking to find your voice or an experienced writer aiming to hone your craft, this book will inspire and empower you to take bold steps in your storytelling journey.

Olivia Salter

09/02/2024


👉Get your FREE copy of "How To Write Fiction, Especially The Art Of Short Story Writing: A Practical Study Of Technique"

Sunday, December 25, 2022

Methods Of Narration by Charles Raymond Barrett

 

Methods Of Narration by Charles Raymond Barrett

Methods Of Narration

by Charles Raymond Barrett

Not only must you have a story to tell, but you must tell it well. The charm and interest of a story come not from the plot itself but from your handling of it. The question of the proper method of narration is to a considerable extent a matter of suitability—of giving the narrative an appropriate setting; it is also a matter of the point of view of the narrator—whether he is to tell the story as one of the actors, or simply as an impersonal observer. A dozen master story writers would tell the same tale in a dozen different ways, and each of them would seem to be the right way; for each writer would view the events from a particular angle, and would make his point of view seem the natural one. But the novice is not always happy in his choice of a view point; or rather, he lacks the knowledge and experience that would teach him how to treat his subject from the particular side from which he has chosen to consider it. Yet a capable and clever[120] writer may sometimes find himself puzzled to choose between a number of methods, any one of which seems appropriate and any one of which he feels himself competent to handle satisfactorily: the question is which one will be for him the most successful method of exploiting his thoughts.

That question should be settled with regard to the suitability of the method to the matter of the story—and here suitability is synonymous with naturalness. It must not be forgotten that story writing is only a modern phase of the world-old custom of story telling, and that the printed page should appear as natural and easy to the eye as the voice would to the ear. When in the twilight the grandmother gathers the children about her knee for a story, whether it be a bit of her own life or a tale from a book, she does not strive after effect, but tells the story simply and naturally, just as she knows it will best suit the children. And so the story writer should tell his tale—so naturally and easily that the reader will forget that he is gazing at the printed page, and will believe himself a spectator at an actual scene in real life.

The great difficulty of the novice is to subordinate his own personality. He knows that he must in[121]dividualize his story, and that that is best done by putting something of himself into it; and he does not always understand that it is only his spirit that is wanted, and that his body will be very much in the way. Then, too, he is apt to be a little self-conscious, if not actually self-conceited, and he rather likes the idea of putting himself into his work so thoroughly that the reader must always be conscious of his presence. He likes to show his superior knowledge and to take the reader into his confidence; so he indulges in side remarks, and criticisms, and bits of moralizing, and in general exhibits an exasperating tendency to consider himself and his personal opinion of far greater importance than the story which he is expected to tell.

But above all things else the author must keep himself out of sight, and must refrain from interpolating his opinions. He is supposed to be an impersonal person, a human machine through the medium of which the story is preserved, and he has no proper place in his narrative. One no more expects or desires a speech from him than a sermon from a penny-in-the-slot phonograph which has been paid for a comic song. He may stand behind the scenes and manipulate the puppets and speak for[122] them, but his hand must be unseen, his voice carefully disguised, and his personality imperceptible; no one cares for the man who makes the Punch and Judy show—he is judged by the success of his imitation of life, and his own appearance will speedily disillusionize his public. Every time you address your public as "dear reader," "gentle reader,"—or, as Mark Twain has it, "savage reader"—you force upon that public a realization of your presence which is as disagreeable and inartistic as the appearance of the Punch and Judy man, hat in hand, seeking a few coppers in payment of the amusement he has provided.

In the short story no personal confidences, moralizing comments, or confessions are allowed. If you must express your opinions and make your personality felt, write lectures, sermons, essays, books, letters for the public press—but don't write short stories. Men read short stories to be amused, not instructed; and they will quickly revolt at any attempt on your part to introduce into your narrative a sugar-coated argument or sermon.

There are certain methods of story telling much affected by the amateur which are particularly difficult to do well. He should especially eschew[123] stories related in the first person, those told by letters, and those in the form of a diary. Notice, I do not say that these methods are absolutely bad: they have been successfully used by masters; but they are at least questionable, and they contain so many pitfalls for the unwary that it is far better for the uninitiated to let them severely alone.

Narrative in the first person gives a certain realism through the mere use of the pronoun "I," and so excites some measure of the desired personal interest; but the same result may be secured, without the accompanying disadvantages, by making the characters do a good deal of talking. That method escapes the danger of getting the narrator between the story and the reader; for the puppet who "I's" his way through the narrative is apt to be rather an important fellow, who intrudes on the most private scenes, and who prefers moralizing and philosophizing to the legitimate furthering of the plot; thus he runs no small risk of making himself unpopular with the reader, and so proving of detriment to the success of the story and of the author.

Then, too, when the author is speaking in his own proper person the reader cannot help wondering at times how one man could know so much about what[124] was going on, even if he were a veritable Paul Pry; while we have become so used to granting the omniscience and omnipresence of the invisible third person author that we never question his knowledge. If, however, the hero-narrator attempt natural modesty and profess to but slight information concerning the story, he is usually a most dull and uninteresting fellow, who is endeavoring to relate a matter of which he has missed the most essential parts. And at all times, though he be a model in all other respects, the very fact that the hero is telling the story lessens its interest, since no matter what harrowing experiences he has suffered, he has come safely through; thus the narrative lacks that anxiety for the hero's welfare which is so large a factor in the delights of fiction.

"It (first person narrative) is better adapted, no doubt, to adventure than to analysis, and better to the expression of humour than to the realization of tragedy. As far as the presentation of character is concerned, what it is usual for it to achieve ... is this: a life size, full length, generally too flattering portrait of the hero of the story—a personage who has the limelight all to himself—on whom no inconvenient shadows are ever thrown; ... and then[125] a further graceful idealization, an attractive pastel, you may call it, the lady he most frequently admired, and, of the remainder, two or three Kit-Cat portraits, a head and shoulders here, and there a stray face."[31]

Stories written in the epistolary or diary form suffer all the disadvantages of first person narrative; but they are also liable to others, equally serious, which are peculiarly their own. They are seldom natural, in the first place, for granted that people really do keep interesting diaries or write literary letters, it is rare in either case that a story would be told with technical correctness. And such narratives are usually poor in technique, for their form necessitates the introduction of much that is commonplace or irrelevant, and it also requires the passage of time and causes breaks in the thread of the plot. These forms are favorites with the inexperienced because they seem to dodge some of the difficulties that beset the way of the literary aspirant. Their form is necessarily loose and disjointed, and their style rambling and conversational, and these qualities are characteristic of the work of novices.

"But if fictitious letters are so seldom anything[126] but tiresome, is this because 'the age of letter writing is past?' ... The unpopularity of the epistolary form as a method of authorship is, in fact, due quite as much to a change of taste as to the decay of letter writing. The old practice was of a piece with the unrealities of the eighteenth century, both in art and letters. It necessitated an abundance of superfluous detail, and it was a roundabout, artificial way of doing what the true artist could do much better, simply and directly. It gave, of course, an opportunity of exhibiting subjectively many 'fine shades' of feeling. But it is certainly much more difficult to carry conviction in inventing letters for fictitious persons than in making them converse. In the latter case there is a background; there is the life and movement of the various characters, the spontaneity of question and reply, and the running interchange of talk, all helping to keep a spell upon the reader. The letter gives much less chance of illusion, and we may very soon become conscious of the author—instead of the suffered correspondent—beating his brains for something to say next."[32]

Another poor method, indicative of callowness, is making the hero, so to speak, an animal or a[127] thing, and permitting it to tell its own story. This has peculiar charm for the tyro because of its supposed originality, but it is really as old as story telling itself. It offends greatly against naturalness, for however one may believe in the story of Balaam's ass, or delight in Æsop's talking brutes or Greece's talking statues, one cannot restrain a feeling of skepticism when a dog or a coin is put forward, given human attributes, and made to view the world through man's eyes. On the other hand, if the writer attempts to read the thoughts of the brute or the thing, the difficulty at once presents itself that he can only guess at the mental processes of the one, and that the other is incapable of thought; so that in either case the result is unsatisfactory. One exception to this statement must be made: Kipling, in his "Jungle Book" stories, seems to have achieved the impossible and read for us the very thoughts of the brute creation. Unfortunately it is not given us to know how nearly he has hit their mental processes; but his animals certainly do not think with the thoughts of men and their cogitations, as he interprets them, appear to us perfectly logical and natural. Yet the success of Kipling does not at all lessen the force of my general statement,[128] for there are few writers who would care to cross pens with him here. Even our own Joel Chandler Harris, in his delightful Uncle Remus stories, has succeeded only in giving his animals human ideas and attributes. The whole endeavor to endow the rest of creation with man's intelligence is too thoroughly artificial to offer a profitable field to the short story writer.

Again, novices err frequently through introducing a multiplicity of narrators, either writing a patchwork story in which all take a hand, or placing narration within narration as in the "Arabian Nights." The method of allowing a number of persons consecutively to carry on the plot is very attractive, since it offers a way of introducing a personally interested narrator without making him preternaturally wise; and it also affords opportunity for the author to exhibit his skill in viewing events from all sides and through the minds of several very different persons. It is, however, open to most of the first person objections, and it is liable to produce a disjointed narrative; but it is particularly unhappy in the short story because it necessitates the introduction and disposition of a number of important people.

[129]The use of narration within narration is more objectionable. It is of little importance who tells the story, or how it came to be told; the less the narrator appears the better. It is seldom that more than one narrator is necessary, yet two, three, or even more are often introduced, with full descriptions of persons and circumstances. "It is a frequent device of the unpractised to cover pages with useless explanations of how they heard a tale which is thus elaborately put too far off from the reader to appeal to his sympathies. One writer, after describing a rural station, his waiting for the train, its appearance when it arrives, the companions of his journey, and so on, is wrecked, and spends the night on a log with an old farmer, who spins him a domestic yarn that has nothing to do with what went before. Why not give the tale direct, in the character of the old farmer? There is no law against that."[33]

This practice is due to the fact that amateurs usually begin by writing strictly true stories, and they always consider it of prime importance that they had the tale from grandmother, or that it actually occurred to John's wife's second cousin's great aunt;[130] forgetting, in their unconscious egotism, that the reader cares only for the narrative, and nothing for the narrator. Stories told to interested listeners by "grandma," an "old hunter," or some loquacious "stranger," usually need to be so revised that the intrusive relater will disappear, merged in the unobtrusive author. Indeed, it is policy so to revise them, for the editor usually considers the author who begins thus too amateurish for him:

"Your turn now, Captain," was the exclamation of several gentlemen who were seated around a table, telling stories, narrating adventures, playing cards and drinking each others' healths.

"What will you have, gentlemen?" inquired Captain R——, a tall, handsome man of middle age, who had been in command of a large ocean steamer many years.

"Oh, one of your adventures," said one of the party; "for surely you must have had some."

"Ah, very well, gentlemen—I remember one that will no doubt interest you; here it is:"

For at the outset he knows, and he knows that his readers will know, that the tale ends thus:

"So ends my story, gentlemen; now let us have a drink to the health of the young sailor's wife, the dearest woman in the world."

"And why not the sailor's health, too?" asked one of the gentlemen.[131]

"All right, sir, just as you please, gentlemen, for I was that sailor."

and that the intervening story is apt to be every whit as stale and conventional as its beginning and its end. Irving's "Tales of a Traveller" show how this method may be used successfully; yet it required all of Irving's art to make the extra-narrative passages readable, and it is an open question if the stories would not have been improved by isolation.

The best method of narration, the simplest and most natural, is to tell the story in the third person, as if you were a passive observer; to make the characters active and conversational; and to permit nothing, not even your own personality, to get between the reader and the story.

FOOTNOTES:

[31]"The Short Story," by Frederick Wedmore. Nineteenth Century. Mar., '98.

[32]"The Epistolary Form." Literature. Apr. 7, '99.

[33]"Magazine Fiction and How Not to Write It," by Frederick M. Bird. Lippincott's. Nov., '94.


[132]

Excreted  from Short Story Writing by Charles Raymond Barrett