3.1: Why a short story?

Where to begin? Is this the question of every writer? Perhaps a story comes to you in the dark of night. Do you get up and write? I might. Despite my loss of eyesight. Ideas not caught in the moment tend to shrivel and die. So walk around with a notebook, one in every car; one in every room both near and far. Journal every day. Write as much as you can. Set aside a time. It is your time. It is an investment in you. It will cost you very little, but the dividends will be great.

Stories. Short or otherwise. They need a purpose. If you are creating, find your why. Why this story? Why now? Why does your reader need to know it? Why do we need to know these characters? How do they connect us to humanity.

Humans have used stories to teach since…well, who knows, really. Since the beginning. Don’t ask me when the beginning was. I don’t know. It just was. And I know that there was a story.

Why was there a story? Because someone had to teach Wee Willy not to put his hand in the fire. We can’t just tell Wee Willy not to put his hand in the fire. We have show why Wee Willy shouldn’t put his hand in the fire.

Consider the difference:

“Wee Willy! Don’t put your hand in the fire! “

“Why not?”

“It will burn you.”

Do you think that Wee Willy said, okay—cool. I’ll avoid that at all costs.

I don’t. Wee Willy doesn’t really know what it means to be burned. So, Wee Willy will willfully put his hand in the fire.

But, if Wee Willy’s wile woman of a mother said instead:

“Wee Willy, I must tell you about Wee Angus. Wee Angus didn’t listen when his mam told him not to run around the fire. One windy night, when she was fetching a bucket of water, Wee Angus took to running around the fire. Faster and faster he went, drawing the cold wind with him. Before long, the fire was lost in a mix of dust and smoke and Wee Willy want wading in. No one could see him, but all could hear. The screams of the boy still puts chills in the air. High pitched they were, like that of a lost deer filled with the terror that the bear may be near. That sound wasn’t all; it wasn’t the worst; the worst was the sizzle and bubble of flesh as the blood boiled and popped and exploded from inside while the child was still alive. And for those who were near, not only could hear, but they could also smell. The smell of the sizzle; the smell of the child as he cooked and he cried. For the smell of burning flesh is one we can’t hide. It lingers and clings to ones every pore, and even when poor Angus was no more, we could still smell his flesh, boiling and burning; when the dust cleared, all that was left were the bones of dear Angus—a foot stuck in the cleft of the rocks that formed the fire pit, which he tripped over while running around the fire. So you see, the fire isn’t a toy; we don’t mess with it at all, my boy.”

I don’t know about you, but I’m not running around the fire.

A note on dialogue. We need to capture the essence of each character in the words they say. Their words, and how they say them, must be owned by them. Consider wisely how you will choose the words for your characters and be sure to read it out loud, so you can hear the authentic voice you give them and ensure that voice is consistent and belongs only to them. I find it helps to become the character in my mind. I can feel their person. I’m sure the expressions on my face change as I write what they do, say and think. I get to be them for that second they run through my mind and onto my screen.

What story do you want to tell? What tale of old. What lesson have you learned that can be spun into gold?

A few masters of the genre follow. Consider “A Good Man is Hard to Find” by Flannery O'Connor. How does she handle the dialogue? How can you tell each character apart? How is she able to put you in the room/car and in the conversation? What lesson does this story teach?