The Skinny on Short Stories
by L.E. Daniels
Like musicians and painters, writers are collectors. We gather high notes and low notes, and seek truant shades to make our palettes fresh again. What better place to test new sounds and colours but from within the cosmos of short stories?
Short fiction is in demand. For emerging writers, it’s a swift path to publication—swifter than that first novel, for sure. Submission calls are global and a few publications will light up your portfolio. By length, the three types of short fiction are:
Micro-Fiction—up to 100 words
Hemingway’s ‘Baby Shoes’ haunts me with feelings of inadequacy. How did he do this?! ‘For sale. Baby shoes. Never worn.’ There are loads of comps for micro.
Flash Fiction—100 – 1,000/1,500 words
Flash makes great practice, with reams of submission calls for emerging writers.
Short Story—1,000/1,500 – 7,500 words
Periodicals, anthologies, web-based zines seek short stories, the focus of our QWC workshop in June.
Over the years, I’ve been a collector as student, editor and author. I’ve judged short stories for the Society of Women Writers Queensland and Interactive Publications’ IP Picks and saw patterns in what makes stories wobble, and what makes them dance. Here are six:
Structure
A short story needs a literary arc—rising action to climax to falling action. Its taut focus is propelled by conflict from hook to resolution. The start and finish form a mirror somehow, to heighten cohesion and sharpen our message.
Scene
Tangible scenes sparkle with sensory imagery. Precise details push the plot and illuminate the theme. Literary devices stitch moments together and draw them alive. Exposition and backstory serve as measured intrusions on dramatic action as transitions glide readers from scene to scene toward the climax or an absurd unravelling. Readers want to fall into a dream as a story unfolds.
Characterisation
A controlled cast serves a short story. Anton Chekhov demonstrated that the greatest power lies between two people intersecting. Authentic characters 1.) transform, or 2.) refuse to transform at a cost, and 3.) reveal truth.
Style
From the precision of Hemingway to the levitations of Woolf, stylistic choices craft the stature of our stories. For heaven’s sake and at the end of the day, we cut clichés and use our own words.
Message
Theme runs like a golden thread—fresh, subtle, and breathing universality. Art points to something larger than itself.
Resonance
Good short stories echo for years. ‘Strong Horse Tea’ by Alice Walker leaves us muddy and stricken. Henry Lawson’s ‘The Loaded Dog’ lingers with the smell of explosives.
We writers have hearty egos and strive to leave an impression—a touch of perfume or scratches on the wall. What’s yours like?