I recently read Brandon Taylor’s gorgeous debut novel, Real Life, after which I goggled more of his works. This is what I do everytime I come across a writer whose writing I admire. While searching for more of Taylor’s works online, I came across his article on the art of the short story published on Electric Literature.
I love short stories, how they do what novels do, within a short time. In our previous craft discussion we explored the length of the short story, and hopefully we came to understand that time plays a major role in the short story form, which is why everything quickly comes to end.
In How to Escape the Slush Pile Taylor gave a self-editing checklist short story writers could use when editing their stories. I find this very useful because the short story, easy as it meets the eye, is one of the most difficult form of storytelling.
Here are a few things from Taylor’s article I´d love to share with you:
The General Question
At the end of your first or second draft, you should ask yourself some questions that would help you understand your work better and come out with much clarity. Taylor advised that you ask yourself: “What is this story about? What happens in this story? Where is its centre? Where does it turn? What is at stake? What are the plot points? Why have we spent our time reading the story? “A story doesn’t have to do much, but it has to necessitate its own telling.”
On Pacing and Opening
Taylor says, “Take a moment to read through your story. Read it from start to finish. Mark the places where you grow bored. Assume that an editor will stop five pages before that. If the editor or reader assigned your story stops reading on the second sentence, then perhaps the easiest way to stay in the game is to open boldly. I do not mean that you need to start with sex or death or violence or a powerful image (though these things can be useful). Rather, I think a bold opening is an opening that strongly and clearly lays out a route to the heart of the story. Effective openings frame the architecture of the story’s meaning. At the end of an effective opening, we have gained some clue as to the story’s voice, structure, and plot.”
I do agree with this. Because time plays a crucial role in a short story, it is important to begin strongly where readers can get clue of the characters and their situations. This tends to hold the reader’s attention, and help the readers care about the characters and their situations. “If you are bored,” Taylor writes, “then the reader will be bored. Go cut out the boring parts. Can the story still stand without them? If not, find a different solution. Refuse to be bored. Refuse to write the easy thing.”
On Description
“There is a danger in being over-descriptive. When a moment in a story is painstakingly described, it becomes impossible to enter that moment as a reader. For example, if you tell the reader about every movement, every breath, every door that is shut or open, then you’ve left little room for the reader’s imagination. In a sense, stories operate in the tension between what the writer has put down on the page and what the reader creates as they read. This isn’t an imperative to write sparsely, but rather to choose your details carefully and to leave room for the reader. The story that reads like blocking for a screenplay is a common sight in the slush pile, and rarely does one of these make it past the early rounds of consideration.”
On Bringing Freshness to a Story
I have forgotten who said that all stories have been told, and contemporary writers are retelling them with a freshness. “Often, writers think about clichés as well-worn phrases that have been drummed of all meaning by excessive usage,” Taylor writes. “Of course, if written masterfully, even a cliché rises to the level of compelling narrative. There are always exceptions to the rules. But is your story an exception? Does the world need another stream-of-consciousness piece about a young man on heroin as he wanders from place to place on his college campus? Do we need another manic pixie dream girl or a star-crossed story of kids with cancer? Does the world need another alcoholic middle-aged man who behaves badly because he has a sadness he cannot comprehend? Possibly, but have you reinvigorated the limp story? Have you brought something fresh to the trope? Do you have something to say?”
On Flashbacks in a Short Story
“If the most (or only) interesting part of the story happens in a flashback, editors sometimes wonder why that isn’t the story itself. Flashbacks can be clarifying and can provide emotional weight, but they can also feel like narrative dead-ends. After all, we know how they end — they lead up to the story thread that is happening in the present — and they can’t drive a story forward, at least not usually. In stories that rely heavily on flashbacks, the present thread of a story typically feels extraneous. There is little action or little in the way of motivation. In some ways, this is a specific application of the non-story. Consider the balance between past and present and think about ways you can shift the tension so that the story feels like it moves forward (often achieved by adding action to the present thread).”
On Character Motivation
“A character with a motivation is immediately more interesting than a character without one. One way to jump-start a non-story is to give a character a motivation and have them try to see it through. This is one of the keys to narrative tension. A character with a motivation is immediately more interesting than a character without one. It also introduces questions that can propel a story forward. What do they want? Will they get it? How will they get it? How will they overcome the minor complications that arise from trying to achieve their goal?”
You can read the full article here https://electricliterature.com/how-to-escape-the-slush-pile/
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