image courtesy of pixabay.com
A short story isn’t just short–it requires focus. (Especially when that short story is for children or teens and the word length is often under 1000 words.) A lot has to be accomplished in a short space: establishing setting, revealing character, getting to the heart of the story, and resolving the problem with a satisfying ending. Focusing on different parts of story works for me as a writer and an instructor. Perhaps it will help you, too.
FOCUS ON THE PROBLEM
First, ask yourself these questions: “What’s the main character’s problem?” and “What will happen if this problem is not solved?” In other words, why does it matter? If there are no consequences, no stakes for the mc in solving the problem, no one will care.
Then move on to thinking how the problem might be solved and what the obstacles are in the mc’s way. Other factors to consider are age appropriateness of the problem to fit the main character and whether this problem can be solved in a physically short amount of time. You also might consider who would have this type of problem.
Here’s the Number One Rule of Short Stories: The Main Character Needs to Solve the Problem! Really. No acts of God. No coincidences. No secondary character fixing it–especially a parent. A main character can obtain advice, however. No suddenly acquired skills/tools, such as “oh, yeah, she’s a karate expert.” And, absolutely No Waking Up and Discovering It Was a Dream. (I’m not alone in hating this–it makes us feel cheated.)
Beginning: When I begin writing a short story, my goal is to establish the problem right away. The reader should know something about “what’s wrong” on page one. Make trouble for your main character.
Middle: When solving the problem, I sometimes use the power of three–the main character tries several solutions that fail, the third solution works. Or I might show the steps the character has to take. I want this as exciting or interesting as possible. Make more trouble for your mc.
End: When writing for children or teens, the goal is to leave the reader with hope. That means the problem is solved in some way. A story might come full circle to tie end to the beginning. It might be a logical progression. But tell what happened, so the reader knows how the main character solved the problem.
Late one evening at a writers’ conference, a large group of writers were sitting together in a circle. About half of them were fiction writers and the other half poets. One of the poets said she’d gotten a bat in her house. A fiction writer asked, “How did you get it out?” All the fiction writers leaned forward. “I can’t remember,” the poet answered. One by one, the fiction writers got up and left.
Unaware, the poets continued to sit and discuss the poet’s feelings about that bat in her house. They asked what she thought it meant. The fiction writers didn’t care about either those issues; they wanted to know how the problem was solved. They wanted to learn who the woman was through her experience of getting the bat out of the house. That’s our job–to show the character through the experiences of problem solving.
FOCUS ON THEME
What’s the main point you want the reader to learn? What idea or thought do you want as a “take away”? What’s the heart of the story? Answering this helps you clarify the direction of your story. If you don’t know the answer, it will be harder to reach a satisfying conclusion. Side points in a short story distract–they lead the reader off on a tangent. If you want to have the reader “get” another point, write a second story.
FOCUS ON THE MAIN CHARACTER
What type of character should you choose?
– the one who has the most to lose
– character who will have changed by the end
– the one who has the ability to solve the problem and bring about a satisfying ending
– the one who tugs at your heat and fascinates you
– the character who would be on-stage for the WHOLE story
Who is this person? You need to know things that will never make it on the page. A bit about her family life, his personality, her likes and dislikes. I love this question I’ve heard stated in a number of ways: “What is inside him that will make it difficult to solve the story problem?” As Jane Smiley says, “Story reveals character.” You need to know something about this person’s character so you can reveal it.
FOCUS ON SETTING
Where is your story taking place? In a city apartment? A suburban house? A country school? A park? There are thousands of places to use, but the sense of place needs to be established quickly. There’s usually only time to be in one or two places in a short story. (Maybe three.) Often short stories are told in one scene, which means one setting.
FOCUS ON STORY ELEMENTS
Probably one of the hardest things for me to learn, but so important, was “showing versus telling.” It helped me to think of it in parts.
ACTION
Jumping into action can start the story off with a bang and can hook your reader. If a character is only sitting, the story probably won’t be very interesting. But if the character is doing something… Consider actions (or places) that put your character in a tense situation.
THOUGHTS
Let us know what the main character is thinking. For children and teen readers, you’ll never be in someone else’s head in a scene. (Multiple viewpoint books separate those viewpoints by chapters or sections.) Thoughts can explain dialogue or be counterpoint to dialogue. Either way it gives insights into the main character. Thoughts can reveal things that the character would never say.
DIALOGUE
Allow the reader to hear the characters talk. Dialogue can add life to your story. It can create tension as characters argue. It can add humor. Think of watching a movie with no one talking–boring!
FEELINGS
Show what the main character is feeling. Don’t tell–she was mad–but show what she does when she’s mad.
DESCRIPTION
Let us see where, when, how this story is happening. More than just setting, this includes sensory details. Use all senses: taste, touch, sound, sight, hearing and temperature. Use specific details–the ones that reveal the most. Think of three that really show something about the place and/or the character. What would he notice? Don’t use chunks of description, but mix it into the action.
Showing is using a combination of these elements. It puts the reader on scene and lets them “be there.”
I’ve heard writers say they don’t know how to finish a story. For me, knowing the problem, the theme, the main character, setting, and focusing on the story elements, gets me from start to finish. The less I know the harder it is to reach a satisfactory ending.
Category: Craft
What Stops Me Reading!
(image courtesy of pixabay.com)
Examples from six published books that stopped me reading.
CONFUSION
Book 1
It was a cute graphic novel. Drawings were lovely; story was sweet. But . . . this middle grade story was told in multiple viewpoints and the main character didn’t solve her own problem in the end. Throughout the story, she kept being rescued by others. I could mostly ignore those problems. What I couldn’t ignore was turning a page and being lost. Did I turn too many pages? I flipped back. No, there simply wasn’t a logical transition to connect the previous page to the next. This happened in several scenes.
Book 2
In another novel by an author I like, I turned the page at the end of a chapter and was confused. Wait, didn’t we just solve that issue? Are we repeating stuff? I turned back to the end of the previous chapter. What I finally decided after rereading and rereading the three chapters is that the middle chapter should have been cut entirely. I probably wouldn’t have put in as much effort to figure this out if I didn’t already like the author.
Book 3
End of chapter one . . . Several pages into chapter two, I suddenly realize that this isn’t the same person as the first chapter. They’re a lot alike though. It’s hard to keep them straight in my head as to which one is which. Since I don’t really like either one, I quit reading.
POINT OF VIEW
Book 4
I’m reading what a character is doing and, in almost an aside, discover that the main character’s horse thinks he’s reliable. Wait. What? You want me to learn about this character by what his horse thinks of him? That might work if we hadn’t just jumped into the mind of a horse. And if we weren’t viewing thoughts that are beyond the capability of said horse. No, doesn’t work for me.
WHOSE STORY IS THIS ANYWAY?
Book 5
Chapter one is about a girl at work passing her thief test–she’s interesting. Chapter two is about a boy–no, not the first boy you see in this chapter, but another one. At least I think so. Chapter three is about the second boy in a previous time. But what about the girl?! For me alternating viewpoints can work, but if not done skillfully can lose my interest.
AUTHOR INTRUSION
Book 6
A mechanical mouse is making its way down a hall, through a door. It can’t see or think, of course, as it is mechanical. But the author tells me, if the mouse could see, he would have seen . . . and if the mouse could think, he would have thought . . . I closed the book.
So, where was the editor in each of these cases?
I know there was one because of who published the books. Which means I have to remember (again) that reading is subjective.
The editors must not have been confused by what confused me in books one through three. In the fourth book, the editor didn’t have a problem with point of view as I did. In book five, the editor was more patient than I to discover how these characters were connected. Book six, evidently the editor didn’t mind author intrusion.
Instead of being annoyed that these novels were published, my goal for my own writing is
to try to avoid these pitfalls:
- main character not solving problem
- unclear or illogical transitions
- redundant information
- characters being too much alike
- unlikable main character(s)
- head hopping, especially into an animal’s
- unclear viewpoints, and
- author intrusion.
Distancing Your Reader
I was writing lines such as “She noticed the fly crawling across the wooden bench” or “He saw the girl toss her hair,” when author Daniel Schwabauer pointed out I was “distancing the reader.” I thought I was showing the character in the action, but I actually s-l-o-w-ed the action by making the character an observer! If I’m in the viewpoint of the character, I can simply state the action. “The fly crawled across the wooden bench.” “The girl tossed her hair.” The reader assumes since these actions are mentioned that the main character saw or experienced them.
Here are some examples crammed into one paragraph:
“It seemed the sun was already scorching the dewy grass. The boy cast his line and watched it fall into the murky pond. He felt sweaty and the mosquitoes were biting. He was afraid it might be too hot to catch any fish.” (43 words)
Better would be action stated directly:
“The sun scorched the moisture from the dewy grass. The boy cast his line into the murky pond. He licked sweat off his upper lip and smashed a mosquito on his jeans. Would the fish bite in this heat?” (39 words)
Four less words and I slipped in what the boy was wearing.
Another example:
“I felt the rail vibrating beneath my feet.” (8 words)
“The rail vibrated beneath my feet.” (7 words)
The rewrite is less passive–more active–more immediate.
Verb forms that distance the reader from the action are a type of passive writing as well. Look at samples:
“let herself drop” versus “dropped”
“attempted to reach” versus “reached”
“tried to climb” versus “climbed”
They aren’t as sharp and weaken the writing.
Another writer, Michelle Hauck, calls it filtering. She says, “Filtering is exactly what its name implies. It is running an observation through your point of view character instead of giving it straight to the reader . . . you’re having the character share the action with the reader instead of putting it directly before the reader. It’s like a stage direction that shouts ‘look here.’ If you have words like ‘heard, saw, watched, looked, realized, knew, understood, seemed, and felt’ then you have filtering.” Read more of her blog article on the topic.
Does this mean you never should use “heard, saw, watched” etc.? In my opinion, no. I was rereading a book recently and the main character is hidden under a tarp in a boat. He can’t see anything outside the tarp. Hearing becomes a very essential sensory detail as the character makes judgments about what he hears. However, if we read about him “hearing” all the time in the story, this particular instance is buried and won’t stand out.
Whether you call it “distancing your reader” or “filtering,” check your writing to see if you are misusing this in your stories.
Images courtesy of morguefile.com.
Overwriting
image courtesy of Kevin Conners and morguefile.com
According to grammar.about.com, overwriting is “a wordy writing style characterized by excessive detail, needless repetition, overwrought figures of speech, and/or convoluted sentence structures.”
Overwriting happens when a writer tries too hard to get the point across or is out to impress the reader. Often, the writer has no idea this is what he’s doing. But the result can be long, boring writing that is often unclear. This can be deadly to a story.
So what’s excessive detail? Those details that don’t really matter, that most everyone will assume.
Excessive detail example:
Jon pulled on his underwear, then white socks, his jeans and a button-down shirt, which he buttoned carefully.
Simplified:
Jon got dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt.
The reader will assume underwear and socks (unless there have been indications earlier or will be later that Jon doesn’t wear those items) and buttoned the shirt in some fashion. Think about what happens in a movie. You might see someone get out of bed and pull on jeans and a shirt. You might see someone showering, and then come out of the bathroom dressed. But usually you don’t see every action of getting those clothes on. It’s because they aren’t usually important details to the story.
Those normal details could make a difference if it is an out-of-the-ordinary detail, such as:
Jon pulled on a pair of lacy women’s underwear, then covered them with a pair of Carhartt jeans.
So think about details that make a difference–ones that matter in your story. But if they are ordinary details, keep them simple and clear.
Excessive detail can also slow the action. You’re off talking about yesterday’s lunch, or plans for tomorrow, when the reader is thinking, but what is happening now?
How do you spot this?
1. Find places in a story where a character says something and the answer from the other person is held in stasis by lengthy thoughts or plans.
2. Look for danger and see if the characters are running from (or fighting) the dragon or are they talking about different ways dragons attack humans? When characters are in danger, they must act. No time for witty riposte, deep thoughts, backstory, etc.
Needless repetition is often easier to see in someone else’s writing than our own. Here are some tips to catch it yourself:
1. Cut the same word used more than once in a sentence.
E.g. My favorite painting is the painting of the tiger. (Simplify: My favorite painting is the tiger.) OR He walked across the room and he opened the door. (Cut second he.)
2. Avoid different forms of the same word used in a sentence.
E.g. Making do, the pioneers made homemade gifts. OR I don’t tolerate intolerance in my classroom. (Reword.)
3. Look for redundancy with words and phrases that over explain.
E.g. On Monday, the first day of the work week… (Like that isn’t standard?). OR Her backpack was purple colored. (We get “was purple.”) OR I got out of school at 2:30 p.m. in the afternoon. (Either p.m. or afternoon, not both.)
4. Watch out for repetition in sentence construction.
E.g. The dog walked into the living room. The dog circled three times and lay down. The dog fell asleep. (Vary sentence structure. At times combine. E.g. In the living room, the dog circled three times and lay down. He fell asleep.)
5. Don’t overuse proper names.
E.g. Sally was homeschooled in sixth grade, but Sally went back to public school for seventh grade. In eighth grade, Sally was in honors English. (Rewrite so you don’t use the name twice in the same sentence or even a sentence immediately following–it’s okay to use pronouns.)
6. Be wary of overusing favorite words or phrases.
E.g. really, very, looked, turned, etc. Clenched his jaw. Tensed her muscles. (Sometimes these are clichés as well. If you become aware of a favorite word or phrase, you can always have your word processor search for it.)
7. Make your point once and trust your reader to get it.
E.g. Milton had worked hard and was very hungry. “I’m so hungry I could eat a giant pizza all by myself,” he said. Milton felt as if he’d starve to death if he didn’t get something to eat soon. (Really? It’s necessary to say that in three different ways? Pick the best. For fiction, I’d choose the dialogue. For a report, I’d probably use the first statement.)
Reading your writing aloud can be very helpful in finding repetition.
Overwrought figures of speech can be expressions that don’t make sense in context or ones that are “over the top” for the situation.
Nonsensical figures of speech examples:
I have insomnia but I am not going to lose any sleep over it.
I would give my right arm to be ambidextrous.
He’s out to lunch about his new diet.
Going overboard with figures of speech is something some teens are very good at doing. So if it’s in dialogue and that fits your character’s personality use an extreme figure of speech. But every time something goes wrong for your character, you don’t want to exaggerate in narration.
E.g. He couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t speak. (And then the story shows that the character can breathe or speak. Or the dialogue shows the problem. “I . . . can’t . . . breathe.”)
He thought he was going to die if she said no. (Of course he won’t die. This is often telling instead of showing as well.)
Too many figures of speech in a single paragraph can be too much as well.
For example: The man hummed like a busy beehive. The intensity of his tone rose as if someone was trying to steal the honey. A buzz burst from his lips.
Line after line of this can be exhausting.
Convoluted sentence structures can be difficult to understand. Sometimes the problem is an out of place phrase. Or perhaps there are too many thoughts and/or actions in one sentence. It may only be clear in the writer’s mind who is doing what.
The fix is to simplify. Cut unnecessary words. Divide a sentence into two or more. Make sure clauses are appropriately placed.
Convoluted examples with simplifications following:
1. Did you work full-time or part-time for an employer or were you self-employed during the week ending last Saturday, which you have not already reported? (Huh?)
Better: Is there any other work, whether full-time or part-time for an employer, or self-employed work, for the last calendar week that you have not reported?
Better yet: Did you do any other work during the last calendar week that you have not yet reported? Please consider all full-time or part-time for an employer and any self-employment work.
2. After Marie started using the medicine for four days is the reason she felt better. (I get it, but it’s not as clear as it could be.)
Better: The reason Marie felt better was four days of taking the medicine.
Better yet: Marie felt better after four days on the medicine.
3. Reaching through the open door of the stable, Lisa grabbed a bridle and set of reins, then turned around and speaking softly put the bit into the horse’s mouth, eased the bridle over his ears and draped the reins over the saddle horn, before smoothly mounting the horse.
Better: In the stable Lisa grabbed a bridle. Speaking softly, she stepped up to the horse and slipped the bit between his teeth. His ears flickered when she eased the headstall over his head and draped the reins over the saddle horn. In one smooth motion, she put her left foot in the stirrup and mounted the horse. (This is more step-by-step, rather than cramming it all in one sentence. The terminology is also more technically correct. Plus, breaking it up allowed me to add more detail.)
4. Matt let go of Sean’s arm and wiped the sweat off the back of his neck. (Was Matt wiping his own sweat or Sean’s?)
Better: Letting go of Sean’s arm, Matt wiped the sweat off the back of his neck. (More obvious it’s Matt’s sweat.)
Better yet: Matt wiped the sweat off the back of his neck. (Do we need to know he dropped Sean’s arm? He has two hands.)
Remember, the point of storytelling isn’t too impress anyone with your imagery, your attention to every detail, or your unusual sentences. Unclutter your writing and clearly tell a good story.
Reducing Word Count
Reducing word count is especially important to magazine writers and to picture book writers since those types of writings have such low word counts. But, novelists have word limits, too. However, there are other reasons, besides the literal number, to cut words.
To my mind there are four areas to focus on for reducing word count.
First, cutting chaff.
photo courtesy of morguefile.com
Chaff from dictionary.com:
“the mass of husks, etc, separated from the seeds during threshing”
“something of little worth; rubbish (esp in the phrase separate the wheat from the chaff)”
This applies to all types of writing. Pieces of chaff are those weasel words and overused words. Weasel words slip into our writing no matter what the topic. Some of my personal culprits are: so, then, that, just, really. Overused words I’m responsible for include: looked, turned, as. Here’s authorculture’s list of ten most overused words in fiction. This link includes overused phrases as well as words.
While searching for references, I found another meaning for weasel words in an article by Richard Nordquist: “A modifying word that undermines or contradicts the meaning of the word, phrase, or clause it accompanies, such as ‘genuine replica.'” Or in other words, doublespeak, implying something that is not true or perhaps meaningless. Read the article here.
Adverbs are often chaff. If the verb is strong enough, is the right verb, you don’t need a verb with a modifier. (e.g. dashed versus ran quickly.) But there’s something else we do with adverbs and other phrases and that’s water down our message. Again, turning to an article by Richard Nordquist, I like this definition of hedging: “In communication, a word or phrase that makes a statement less forceful or assertive.” Read the examples, if not the whole article to spot hedge words and phrases.
Adjectives could be chaff, too. A specific noun is better than a nonspecific noun with an adjective. What creates a better picture in your mind? A big car or a Hummer? The big car ran into the small car versus The Hummer crashed into the Smart car–the latter makes me shudder.
Next area, passive writing.
Finding passive verbs and making them more active, not only cuts word count, but livens the reading. (e.g. was climbing versus climbed and started to pedal versus pedaled) I like what the University of Wisconsin says here about active versus passive. Be a Better Writer explains passive verbs and continuous verbs.
I’m going to add “seems” and “seemed” to this category, as well. “She seems to want the dog.” “He seemed mad.” You’re the author. Does she want the dog or not? Was he mad or wasn’t he? Are you wanting the reader to guess? It’s also a form of telling. Let us hear what she thinks about the dog. Show us his anger. It may not actually cut words, but the writing will be stronger.
Third area, tightening.
Each time I reread what I’ve written, I find unnecessary words and/or phrases. (The original said: “I find words and/or phrases that are unnecessary.” Two words cut.) Getting rid of unnecessary words does more than make sentences shorter. The meaning becomes clearer. The writing is less cluttered.
When I tighten, I might cut whole paragraphs or scenes. (First attempt, the sentence was: “When I tighten, I might also have whole paragraphs or scenes that aren’t needed.” Four words cut.) If a paragraph/scene doesn’t “move the story forward,” doesn’t show character, or have important plot details, try reading the story without it and see if it leaves a hole or not.
Sometimes, we only need a simple transition instead of complete details. For example, “He jumped out of bed.” versus “He yawned and rubbed his eyes. After scratching his armpit, the boy flipped back the covers, slid out of bed and landed on his feet.” Yes, the latter is more interesting. But is it necessary to the scene? If every action is described in detail, then we’ll also follow him to the dresser where he opens a drawer and pulls out underwear, a shirt and pants, and puts them on along with his socks and shoes. We could have a whole page before he gets downstairs to breakfast where there’s conflict waiting. Repeat that every day of the story and the reader will be bored because nothing is happening.
In picture books, there’s a special form of tightening. That’s taking out what the illustrator will put in. We don’t usually need to describe the character’s outward appearance in the text–there will be a picture. Ditto, setting.
In picture books we also leave out things that are not important or slow down the story. I remember hearing Pat Zietlow Miller talking about her lovely book SOPHIE’S SQUASH. There’s a marker in the book. Pat said she first had the marker being the marker that Sophie wasn’t supposed to use. But the point of the marker is that it was used to draw a face on the squash. We don’t need the marker’s backstory. The drawn face on the squash is what is important.
We also don’t explain in picture books. In MR. PUSSKINS: a love story by Sam Lloyd, the cat uses a phone and the little girl drives a car. Both work without any explanation or excuse.
The final area to cut is individual words in the next to final draft.
When you are almost done with the manuscript, look at each individual manuscript page and see if you can cut five words, or twenty words. I’ve heard this suggestion from a number of authors ranging from Peg Kehret to Linda Sue Park to Richard Peck. At a recent conference, Richard challenged us to make the first line of the story fit on one line. This tightening strengthens the punch of the words.
Hard work? Oh, yeah. But worth it.