The Accidental Short Story

A topic that's come up in my writing group is blogging. (Apparently I'm the resident "expert".) I invited one of the members, M.J. Lovgren, to try her hand at writing a blog post. Let us know what you think... 

I saw myself as a novelist, and pooh-poohed short fiction – even though I loved reading it. Then I started writing short stories by accident. Here are some of the things I learned.

Making things shorter can be difficult. As Henry David Thoreau observed, “Not that the story need be long, but it will take a long while to make it short.”

A novel, by its very nature, allows the writer more time and more room. Short stories have to entice the reader and make a point within the same rules – a beginning (inciting incident), a middle (main story), and an end (climax and denouement). They just have to do it faster.

Even the definition of what is “short” can vary.  It can be as concise as flash fiction or almost as long as a novella. I’d put Alice Munro in the second category. (And she won the Nobel Prize for short stories.) Yet, one of my favorites is “Dinosaur,” a lovely 300 word tale published by Flash Fiction Online and The Sun.

Here’s the accident part.

I didn’t start out to write a short story. I simply wanted to take a little side trip to discover more about my novel’s antagonist. A nasty piece of work, William was (and is) a middle-aged sociopathic killer. I just couldn’t grasp what made him tick, even though I had done plenty of research. It is generally thought that sociopaths (aka psychopaths) are born not made.

So I tried writing about him as a pre-teen. His anger and frustration with his next door neighbor, Mary Ellen, came pouring out of the computer. The short story is set in the same place and time I experienced as an eleven-year-old tomboy. But this time it’s William and Mary Ellen climbing the trees in the vacant lot behind my house. What happens next told me how William viewed the world and what motivated his actions.

This is one way to develop a back story and biography for a main character – something we are continually advised to do. Approaching this in the usual way, i.e. answering standard questions about the character, didn’t work for me. I found it tedious and boring. But turning this exercise into a short story made me immediately understand this character who had been so elusive.

So, if you find you’re stuck trying to make a character come alive, and the conventional methods don’t work, try writing a short story about him or her. You might like it!

Posted by M.J. Lovgren

...And for what it's worth, I've read a good portion of this novel, and William is... scary...

Bold New Worlds Short Story Contest for High School Students

I'm launching my own national high school speculative fiction short story contest and I need lots of help spreading the word. That's where YOU come in. We live in different towns and states. I need you to find one English teacher at your local high school and tell her/him about this contest. They will share it with the other teachers and the word will spread. Here's the deal...

Bold New Worlds

A High School Short Story Contest for Speculative Fiction

Contest Description:

Short story, 1,000 words or less in the science fiction, fantasy, paranormal, steampunk or other speculative fiction genre.

2014 Theme:

"Bold New Worlds"

Create and share your own world with us. It can be alien, futuristic, epic fantasy, steampunk, alternate timelines, whatever you can think of. Let your imagination take us somewhere we've never been. 

Prizes:

First place winner receives $50 and $50 for their school library. The top 5 entries will also receive in-depth critiques for their stories.

Deadline:

Emailed or sent via online form by November 15, 2014.

Submission:

You can click HERE to submit by online form or Email your submission to boldnewworlds @ gmail.com (no attachments please, include story in the text of the email).

Include with your story:

• Name
• email address
• high school (and HS address)
• year in school
• word count
• title of story

Winners will be announced in December. Winning stories will be posted here and on the Bold New Worlds Facebook page. Some entries, including winners, may be published in a collection of short stories. (Note: Any proceeds from the sale of this collection will be used solely to fund the prizes for future short story contests with more prizes given for more placings).

Criteria:

Short stories will be judged on:

• creativity
• imagination
• world building
• character development
• plot development

Questions? Visit the webpage or email Charity Bradford at boldnewworlds @ gmail.com

And here's the best part...I have four amazing judges to help me out this first year.

L. Blankenship--fantasy

Cindy Borgne--science fiction

Alex J Cavanaugh--science fiction (space opera)

Roland Yeomans--paranormal fantasy

Can you help spread the word? 

Shorty--Earth 4

Today I'll share my short story with you. I started a piece using the first picture, but liked David's Ishtar, Planet of Hope much better. Then I remembered a piece I started a year ago and never finished. It goes really well with another of the pictures, so here is Earth 4.

And I'm taking the liberty to cheat a bit on the word count. I managed to cut it down from 1,700 words to just a bit over 1000. Help me streamline it more, please?

Earth 4  

The ship’s engines pitched lower as it dropped out of hyper drive and powered up the reverse thrusters. Overhead lights dimmed then brightened signaling a ship wide message. Thousands of people paused mid-stride and waited.

“Attention all passengers, we are now approaching our destination. Earth 4 will be within view of the forward and starboard viewing halls in thirty minutes time. Debarkation will begin in two hours. Remember, you may carry your own luggage or recycle it. If you choose to recycle, you will be issued a class two mandate for your stay on Earth 4. Gold members will receive an automatic upgrade.

“Thank you for traveling on the Galaxy Gala. It’s been our pleasure to serve you and we hope you enjoy your new life.” The voice fell silent.

Tensati hobbled forward on his arthritic legs. He needed to find Lyria. They had waited a long time to get passage on a cruise liner destined for a young earth. He wanted to enjoy his first sight of it with her.

He found her in their room curled up on the bed crying, “What’s wrong? We’re almost there. If we hurry we can get a good spot on the forward viewing deck.”

She sobbed harder and buried her head under the pillow muffling her voice.

“My ears are old, remember?” Tensati pulled the pillow away from her face and sat on the edge of the bed.

Lyria’s tear streaked countenance looked up. Blue eyes as clear as the day he married her seventy years earlier. The little lines around them reminded him of all the years they had shared laughing. It made the tears all the more unusual.

“Come on, what’s wrong?” He rubbed her shoulder.

“I can’t go to Earth 4.” She sucked in a ragged breath.

“Sure you can. We’re all paid up.”

“No, there’s something I haven’t told you.” She sat up and pulled her knees into her chest. Even at ninety-four she moved like a dancer.

“Well, tell me now and then we can go look at our new home.”

“Ten, they’ll never let me set foot on that planet. I don’t meet the requirements. I should have told you years ago, but I was too afraid.”

“Afraid of what? This isn’t another of your theatrics is it?”

She scowled at him, “Do you remember when I was sick?”

“Sick? You haven’t been sick since,” he ran through the years in his head, surprised at how far back he had to go, “your lung implants?”

“Yes. Do you remember that time?”

“Vaguely. That must have been thirty years ago. What’s that got to do with you going to E4?”

Lyria gave him her Come On look, “I can’t believe you’re going to make me spell it out for you.” She got up from the bed and pressed the button to open the viewport in their room. E4 loomed larger than life. “They didn’t just replace my lungs.”

“Oh. What else?” Immigration stipulated you must be fifty percent human in order to relocate. How much could she have changed during such a short hospital visit?

“Everything. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think it would matter. And then they opened E3 and you started planning. I was so happy when they capped immigration.” She kicked the wall, “Damn them for opening E4!”

She dropped her head to her hands and sobbed. Tensati stood, but didn’t reach for his wife.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

She turned to face him, shoulders slumped and lip quivering. “I’m a bloody construct.”

“But you aged—” His brow furrowed. “How is this possible?”

“I was part of a trial for the TrueLife series of constructs. All I wanted was a few more years with you. I didn’t care about the immigration restrictions because there was nowhere to go.”

“TrueLife? Dammit, why didn’t you tell me? Asked me if it was the right thing to do?” Tensati balled his hands into a fist and stalked to the far end of the room. His heart raced and he feared he would die of a heart attack orbiting his destination.

He listened to Lyria breathing behind him. Remembered how warm and soft she felt as he held her just hours before. He never would have guessed she was a construct. Every moment of the last thirty years had been a lie. A beautiful, happy lie.

“Ten? I’m sorry. I really am. If you choose E4 I’ll understand.” Her pain seeped through her voice. "The crew hired me for the return trip, so you don't have to worry about me."

The door slid open, but Tensati didn’t turn around until it closed. He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the clouds revolving on a dream.

****

“Final call for all passengers debarking at Earth 4. Please report to the main lounge on deck 34 to clear customs. Your new organs have been cloned and will be waiting for you on the other side. Thank you again and enjoy your new life.”

Tensati picked up his bag and walked to the door. It slid open, but he didn’t walk through. He had tried four times already.  The door closed when he took a step back.

As he stared, it opened on its own and Lyria stood before him. She had shed sixty years. Her hair was jet black instead of white. Her whole body toned and firm like the day he met her outside the dance studio. For the first time in decades his body responded on its own at the sight of her. He let the bag fall to the floor.

“Lyria?” He breathed it like a prayer.

“Ten? Why haven’t you left?”

“I, I wanted to—” Tensati swallowed and willed his hands to stay by his side. “I don’t know that I can go without you. I’ve tried.”

The tears welled up in her eyes again and a slow smile spread across her face. She stepped in until the door closed and walked slowly around Tensati to sit on the bed. Earth 4 gleamed in the window behind her head.

“Ten? Thirty years ago I bought and paid for your body construct. It's in the cargo hold. The staff can have you in it in less than an hour.” Looking up through her lashes in that way that used to drive him wild she patted the spot beside her. “Be young again with me Ten.”

Shorty--Forever Gone

This lovely little piece comes from our fearless leader, CD Coffelt, AKA Huntress.

AND...

She picked the picture that I picked because it made me think of her!

Forever Gone 

I had no other choice.

Under my gloved hand, the claws imbedded in the leather screeched on the stone as I made a fist. Blood pooled and muted the sound. Behind me...no. Not yet. I couldn’t face it.

I rose from my kneeling position, shoved my bloodied sword into the sheath on my back, and pulled my hood closer. The first step took me one stride from...

No.

The lingering heat was uncomfortable but no more than standing by a bonfire of dry wood and oil. The flames lit my path. A rattling gasp from behind made me pause but I didn’t turn. After a moment, I continued to walk. The smell of burnt stone, of sulfur and scorched ground trailed after me.

I gained the edge of the woods where the flames from the middle of the saucer-shaped meadow made the trees dance in the shadows as if they could walk away. But even now, the heat-curled leaves had no life in them. It was their last spring, their final rebirth.

I stopped there, one hand on the trunk of the fire-blasted tree. Under my glove, the rough texture crumbled and rained to the bare ground by the trunk.

Another exhalation from the center of the conflagration finally pulled me around to witness what I had done.
Flames still licked all around it. Boiling greasy clouds hid it from my view. My chest hurt when I realized it was still alive, if only barely. Its one good eye roved blindly as it sought its killer.

With a scream I jerked my sword from the sheath, drew back, and threw it, end over end. As if preternatural, the sharpened point found its goal and buried itself deep into the eye of the beast.

Of the dragon. That took my wife and killed her. And now lay dead surrounded in a bier of its own making. Justice? Maybe. At the end, mercy. Not to end its suffering but to end mine.

It was the last of its kind and now, it lay still. If only my heart and soul did not want to join it.

I love all of your imagery. The heat, the smells, the sights. It's all in here. You still like your fragments! We can feel the MC's pain and even the death of his nemesis doesn't ease it. My only thought is the last sentence could be stronger, but I'm not sure how. Maybe it's the reference to joining the dragon when in reality he probably would rather join his wife?

What are your thoughts?

Shorty--Ishtar, Planet of Hope

Today's flash fiction comes to us from David Jace. It's another really good one in my opinion. Here is a bit of speculative fiction for you.

Ishtar, Planet of Hope

Lars waved goodbye as the transport shuttle abandoned them to the harsh environs of their new world. Krista gave it not a glance. She looked out across her new home and bit back the tears. They were useless to her. She’d already tried.

Lars had convinced her to give the world a chance. He’d painted a vista of opportunity and filled his words with the excitement of uncharted explorations, unconceived discoveries on this recently discovered planet.They had been chosen by the Exploratory Council as one of three couples who would lead initial explorations on the nearest planets that might support life. She never could get them to explain why they didn’t send more people. The temperature was right; the air was breathable; there was water available; so the planet was survivable, but was it liveable?

Lars hugged her and began to unpack the equipment and setup their base. Krista knew she should be helping. She had been trained on all of it, trained to be his assistant. Lars was kind enough to let her continue to look at their new world. Or perhaps he thought she was keeping guard. Guarding against what, they didn’t know yet.The plateau the Council had chosen for them was covered in a short, blue grass. The eastern edge sloped down into a dark forest. Mountains rose up behind her, but they were dark, evil-looking mountains to her eye, reaching up and out in strange, seemingly impossible arches and spires. They were more like the tentacles of some gargantuan rock-octopus that was merely sleeping until hungry. She shuddered and tried to shake off the thought. A shadow caught her attention. Lars was walking towards her.

“Lars, I can’t do this.”

He smiled at her, and she wanted to curse him for it. “Of course you can, my dear. We’re here together. A big adventure, just the two of us on this whole planet for the next two years! Don’t you think it’s romantic?”

“I think it’s dreadful,” she snuggled into his protective arm, “and frightening. We are not alone out here.
Can’t you call them? Tell them to come back and get us?”

“He squeezed her reassuringly. “Don’t be silly. There’s no reason to do that. We just got here. Besides, the only way they come back now is if one of us dies.” He leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”

They stood for a few minutes, staring out at the horizon, he with a smile, she with a grimace. They watched the first sun set and Krista saw nothing but her life fading away.

“We only have a couple of hours before second sun set. We’d better get the rest of base set up before then.”

She watched as he walked back to the gear packs to continue working. She fingered her weapon and murmured to herself. “They come back if someone dies...”

My only comment is I LOVE the ending! This is a great look deep into what motivates. Is it love or is it fear? Plus, I'm a sucker for binary planets. ;)

Remember, you can still submit your flash fiction for comments.

Shorty--Art Class

Our first bit of flash fiction comes to us from Liza. Thanks for playing with us! If you want you can check out her blog after commenting on her flash fiction.

I'm still working on my story, and if you are too, send it in when you're ready. Send it to unicornbellsubmissions@gmail.com with Shorty in the subject.

--

Art Class

The scissors dug into her back pocket.  Natasha pulled at the hem of her tunic to cover the bulge.  There would be no time for fumbling.  When the moment arrived, she’d have to make one fluid movement, a subtle flick incorporating a stab and a twist like the one she’d practiced for two weeks in front of her bedroom mirror.  She’d rehearsed it with her eyes closed—reaching back for the handle. Whipping the shears out she’d parried like a fencer, assaulting the imaginary canvas, jerking the point down, before sliding the weapon into her front pocket. She’d planned her exit too. Hands behind her back, she’d stroll the length of the hall pondering each of her classmate’s paintings. Then she’d move on to the sculpture exhibit.  That would be the hard part, remaining in the art center after defacing Abigail’s blue-ribbon winner.

Daughter of a master, Abigail had more aptitude in a fingernail than Natasha would experience in her lifetime.  Could anyone understand the agony of always finishing second to an artist whose gift came unbidden—whose talent wasn’t driven by anything related to hunger or desire? How many times she’d heard someone compliment her rival, only to watch the girl shrug and roll her eyes.  “Sure. Whatever,” she’d say.  “Who wants to go rollerblading?  Wait.  I’ve got a better idea.  A friend’s going skydiving today.  Let’s watch.”  She’d wink. “If he’s got a harness maybe I’ll see if he'll tandem.”

Natasha always opted out, preferring to mash burnt umber into white, teal into sienna, striving to mirror the hue of the golden trees outside the window as they passed from summer to fall.  This time, a scholarship hung in the balance.  With her mother’s wealth, Abigail didn’t need it.  Yet, the picture she’d painted stunned everyone. A girl, sitting on a cloth-draped sofa, the light on her face ethereal, wisps of hair highlighted in the afternoon sun. Natasha’s abstract landscape earned kudos too, but she had no illusions.  Abigail would win the prize and Natasha’s time in art school would come to an end. Flat broke, she’d have to find a job.  She swallowed unfairness like bile.

Now, sweat coated her back as she stood absorbing the unplumbed depths of Abigail’s painting, the subject’s eyes, hard, pained, waiting and clearly wanting.  It was a shame really.  Quashing a pang of regret, she glanced over one shoulder, then the other.  Inhaling she reached for the scissors.  Plunging them into the canvas, she withdrew her arm, stuck the tool into her front pocket, counted to fifteen and moved on, just the way she’d practiced.

Twenty minutes later she stared sightless at Turner Elliot’s bronze sculpture.  A soft arm slid around her waist.  Natasha froze.  “I took myself out of the running for the scholarship,” Abby said, pointing behind her.  “I adored painting this one, though.  It bled through me.  Oh Tash, how I envy you. Finally, I understand your passion.”

I loved the emotion in this story, the desperation. The story gives us glimpses of the history between the two characters, shows us what's at stake, shows us the choice Natasha made and carried out and then a great ending. 

What do you think?

A Day of Exercising Short Story Muscles

Let's stretch the short story muscles we located this morning. I'm going to post a few images to jump start your imagination. You can use one of them to start your story or go out on your own. I've got scifi, fantasy, and tried for some non-genre images as well. All found on google images. (Can I complain about how hard it is to find fully clothed people in the first two genres?)

Decide who your character is and what choice they have to make. What will be the consequences?

Write a short story for us--500 word MAXIMUM--and send it to unicornbellsubmissions@gmail.com with Shorty as the subject line.

I'll post them the rest of the week for comments.

Short Story Structure--And How It Can Make Your Novel Better

Many times (and many different places) I've heard that writing short stories can help you become a better novelist. For that reason and that reason alone, I've tried to write short stories. Some have been 500 words, most around 1000, and one was up to 3000 words. Every one has received the same response.

"This feels like the beginning of a much larger story."

*sigh*

Although that could be seen as a good thing, it means I haven't quite nailed the short story. In an effort to improve I continued my internet search for tips. Let's start by building on yesterday's post on Story Structure.

Sources:
Philip Brewer
Storyfix.com

So how does the short story relate to a complete story?
With short stories, the writer doesn’t have room to “show” the entire journey. It’s okay to just mention/tell/imply that parts happened so you can focus on the story you’re currently sharing. For instance, maybe your short story is simply the inciting incident, but the reader must finish knowing the road of trial and error and final resolution will come.

OR

Maybe your short story is simply the dark moment in the hero’s journey. There needs to be just enough for the reader to know that he has been through lots of challenge and failure to bring him to this point even though we don’t get to experience all of it. Here the ending needs to give the reader a sense that the hero has reached some conclusion or epiphany that will help him be successful in the next encounter with evil—even though the reader doesn’t get to see it.

The essential core of a short story needs to:

1. Require the character to make a choice,
2. show that choice by actions,
3. and those actions must have consequences.

Larry Brooks from (Storyfix.com)

"Only the short story writer has to approach the task from a different perspective. While those elements need to be there, they don’t always need to be on the page. 
Conflict. Stakes. Need. Journey. Opposition. Characterization. Setting. Arena. Sub-text. Voice.
They all need to be there.
Even if they’re not." 

In order to do all of this, the short story writer has to focus on the plot/theme/reason/purpose of the story. Why does this story have to be written? What’s the point in telling it? There must be one and the writer must take conscious and careful effort to always be working toward that goal. There’s no time to get sidetracked.

“When you do choose a sub-set of the larger story paradigm, the part you isolate should be written from an unspoken context of the entire architecture.
Which means, your character came from somewhere… something changes… they respond to that change… something else changes… they attack their problem or goal… something else changes yet again… and then things resolve.
Where you jump into that sequence is your choice as a short story writer. One that the novelist doesn’t have.” 

So that's how writing short stories can help me as a novelist.

Every word MUST do something for the story. There is no space for extra words that have no purpose. And I have to know what that purpose is from the very beginning.

Let's Practice:
Choose/make up/whatever a character and write a three sentence synopsis of his/her story based on the central core points. This is the beginning and focus to your short story.

1. Require the character to make a choice,
2. show that choice by actions,
3. and those actions must have consequences.

Share by posting them in the comments! 

Examples from my shorts:

Gareth must choose between accepting a mission to the planet’s surface alone or staying on the ship. He states he’s capable of killing the other candidates if necessary to be chosen, and after he’s chosen he steals extra supplies hoping they will help him survive on the planet. Gareth finds the earth habitable but his mission objective is waiting to deal death if he can’t answer one question correctly. (The Sleeper)

Linda must decide between continuation or dying a slow death by age. She leaves everything behind and goes to the continuation facility. Once she’s a part of the collection of human minds she learns it was never a choice and there are dark forces at work on earth. (Continuation)

Come back this afternoon to find our photo prompts and practice some flash fiction.

And the winner is...

Thank you all for taking the time to visit our wonderful entries and voting. Every one of them went above and beyond anything we hoped for. Why am I surprised?

After three days of voting, you have chosen--

Julie Dao's Fairy Tale over at Silver Lining

Congratulations! You have a choice between a first chapter critique or a $20 Amazon Gift card. Email me at charity.bradford@gmail.com to let me know what you would like.

High School Short Story Contest.

Last year I helped judge this contest and it was a wonderful experience. Unfortunately, I had to bow out this year, but I firmly believe in Brian Claspell's goals. He wants to encourage teens to write.

This is a nation wide contest. Please share the information with your local area high schools if you have contacts there or are comfortable with emailing it to them. 

2012 “Imagination begins with you…”

Annual High School Short Story Contest

Contest Description: Short story, less than 1,500 words.

Prizes: 
First place winner receives $50 and $50 to school library

Second place winner receives $25 and $25 school library

Third place winner receives $10 and $10 school library

Deadline: emailed or post marked by March 15, 2012

Submission: email to bclaspell@gmail.com (no attachments please, just include story in the text of the email) or mail to Brian Claspell - 104 Ivy Hollow Ln - Mooresville, NC 28117. Include: Name, email address, high school and year in school, word count, and title of story.

Winners announced in May. Winning stories will be posted on Brian Claspell - Author Facebook fan page. Some entries, including winners, may be published in a collection of short stories (Note: Any proceeds from the sale of this collection will be used solely for future short story contest and educational charities).

Criteria: Short stories will be judged on creativity and imagination. Any genre (fiction/non-fiction) is acceptable.

Complete contest rules can be found on "Brian Claspell - Author" Facebook fan page.

Judge Bio’s

1) Amy Hancock is the author of “Evie’s First Magic Lesson”. You can learn more about Amy at her Amazon author’s page (Amy's Amazon Author’s Page).

2) Brian Claspell is the author of “Living by Grace” and winner of several local writing contests. He is also the author of the eBook “Terrorist ACT” available on Amazon.com and Barnes & Noble. You can learn more about Brian on his Facebook page “Brian Claspell – Author” Fan Page

3) Lori Lohmeyer is an avid blogger (What Remains Now) and is working on her first novel. She is retired from the US Army Reserves and has three retired racing greyhounds. Join her adventure by visiting her blog.

4) Larry Beyer is a member of International Thriller Writers, Sisters/Misters in Crime and a writer’s critique group. After twenty-five years in corporate America and traveling abroad, Larry began to pursue his passion for writing in 2010. He lives in Battle Creek, MI with his wife and three children.

Alternate Judge:

1)Samantha Fahlsing is a 19-year-old full time student at Ball State University, seeking a master’s in Creative Writing and minoring in Digital Publishing and Professional writing. She hopes to someday become an Author and Book Editor. Samantha first found her passion for writing at the age of 14 and has been writing since. She is currently working on her first book. Samantha lives in Indianapolis, IN with her mom and two sisters.

2)Note: Additional alternate judges may be added.