Short stories, Part 1 of 2

What is a short story?

What is a short story?

Encyclopedia Britannica defines a short story as:

A brief fictional prose narrative that is shorter than a novel and that usually deals with only a few characters... usually concerned with a single effect conveyed in only one or a few significant episodes or scenes. The form encourages economy of setting, concise narrative, and the omission of a complex plot; character is disclosed in action and dramatic encounter but is seldom fully developed.

A short story is usually self-contained, not part of a series (there are always exceptions). It often will try to capture a single moment, convey some moral or message, or evoke a particular mood.

Short stories are highly focused, especially compared to novels.

Photo by redcharlie on Unsplash

As we’ll delve into shortly, a short story isn’t just a really, really short novel. It is its own art form, a different medium than a novel.

Novels will usually provide all the backstory and context and tie up all the loose ends.

Short stories, on the other hand, can also leave a lot open to interpretation rather than trying to explain everything. That’s a major part of the reader’s enjoyment of short stories. We might be irritated at these unresolved or unexplained issues in a novel but enjoy them in shorter works.

In short (pun intended), short stories can make us think.

I’ve heard it explained that a novel is a full-length movie, whereas a short story is a snapshot. Or maybe a short story is a TikTok video or one of those artistic short films of ten or fifteen minutes.

How long can a short story be?

Various sources pin the maximum at 10,000 or 15,000 words. The main thing to keep in mind is that a short story is intended to be read in one sitting. If an average person can read 250 words per minute, and the absolute longest someone will sit and read a short story is an hour, that’s 15,000 words. That’s on the high end. It’s still probably a short story. It’s not a novel, but it could almost be a novella, which is generally defined somewhere between 10-40,000 words, but there is no set, definitive rule.

A really long short story and a really short novella probably overlap.

Generally speaking, keep a short story under 10,000 words. From 2,500 to 7,500 is a good range to shoot for, somewhere between ten and thirty minutes to read.

If you’re submitting for publication, check the publisher’s requirements. Literary magazines, contests, and websites usually specify a minimum and maximum word count they’re seeking.

If a magazine says “5,000-word maximum” for short story submissions, you don’t want to send an 8,000-word story. Either edit the story down, write a different story for that publication, or find a different place to submit it. Don’t waste their time or yours just to get another rejection, a rejection that has nothing to do with the quality of your work.

Flash and microfiction

And then there’s flash fiction, often defined as either under 1,000 words or even under 500 words, yet still provides a fully developed story — character and plot.

Microfiction might be under 100 words, as few ten or twenty words (seriously!). For an example of microfiction written long before it was called microfiction:

For sale.

Baby shoes.

Never worn.

— Ernest Hemingway (allegedly)

Three sentences of two words each, six words total. Yet there’s still a full story here. The reader fills in the gap. There are characters (the parents/expectant parents). There is conflict (loss of a child). There is emotion (how to handle the grief). There is resolution (sell the baby belongings that had been prepared for the new arrival).

More recently, and from a much lesser-known yet nonetheless brilliant author, this story was written at 140 characters and spaces to fit in a single Tweet. Or X’s, or whatever they’re called now.

I’d never eaten dog before and didn’t intend to start today. “No, thanks,” I said. “But could you pass me another helping of that copilot?”

— Robb Grindstaff (Yes, the ‘brilliant author’ bit was tongue-in-cheek.)

Once again, there’s a full story under the surface of twenty-five words in three brief sentences. Characters (survivors of a plane crash). Setting (remote location). Conflict (stay alive by avoiding starvation until help arrives). Resolution (choosing cannibalism over eating a dog). Emotion (more humorous than Hemingway’s grief-stricken parents, but there’s still emotion there).

Microfiction doesn’t really allow time or space for much in the way of character development and plot, but is a single, momentary snapshot that creates space for readers to fill in the gaps, creating their own story in their minds.

But there’s still a story there, not just some line that’s cute or funny or sad. The story leaves a lot of space for readers to fill in with their imagination (parents who lost a baby or survivors trying to stay alive).

Are short stories easier to write?

In some ways, the obvious answer is yes. They are shorter. You can write a short story in a day or a week or two, whereas a novel might take months or years to write. And yes, it’s also possible to spend months or years on a short story. Ask me how I know.

A novel has multiple scenes, multiple characters, different points-of-view, a complex narrative arc, deep character development, and so many moving parts to keep track of. A short story is much more tightly focused and, well, shorter.

On the flipside, however…

With a short story, you have to convey setting, scene description, develop characters, set up the plot, execute the plot, and resolve the story question, all in about 5-10 percent of a novel’s word count.

Remember that series on writing tight? Short stories require writing tight on steroids. You have to skip backstory while conveying backstory. Skip intervening scenes while keeping a coherent narrative. Fully develop a character and then form a deep connection between that character and the reader, perhaps in a single paragraph or two. Cover stasis, trigger, character goal and motivation in a page or two. Even a paragraph or two.

And it has to work.

I typically don’t like to compare short stories to novels. Shorts are not miniature novels. It’s more like comparing a three-hour movie to a painting.

Short stories are a whole different medium, a different art form altogether. Thus, short stories require a different skill set.

The goal is the same: to captivate the reader for a period of time to engage with your story (whether 5,000 words or 80,000 words), to entertain, and to make readers think and feel. To make readers want to read your story two or three or four times.

You might read a great book twice, maybe three times. You might watch a great movie three or four times.

If you look at a great photograph or painting, you might want to hang it on your wall so you can look at it every day.

Write a short story that a reader will want to hang on her wall.

Time span

Most of the time, short stories focus on a single event, a single moment in time. The entire story might cover one hour while two characters are sitting down over a cup of coffee. It might take place over a single day, or a few days.

It’s rare for a short story to cover a longer period of time.

I say rare because there are always exceptions, including some classics. Just as James Joyce’s ginormous novel Ulysses covers a single day in 265,000 words, there are short stories that cover months, years, or decades.

I’ve written a couple of these exceptions where the story covers a wide expanse of time in less than 5,000 words.

Famous examples of short stories that cover longer time periods include Rip Van Winkle by Washington Irving and There Will Come Soft Rains by Ray Bradbury.

While Bradbury’s story covers only one full day and into day two, the events of the story (discussed or implied) cover a larger time period.

If your story covers substantial time passage, it’s key to skip the intervening details and have a clear transition for the reader to know time has passed.

For example, Rip Van Winkle had too much to drink then woke up twenty years later. He discovers what has happened and how the world changed while he snoozed, but the story just skips over those twenty years, transitioning from when he fell asleep to when he woke up and learns about the changes.

Some stories use the split narrator, where the narrator is older and looking back on an event from the past. Here, the time passage might be years or decades, with the story switching from the present day (older narrator) to the past (younger character).

One key is to know your time span — ten minutes or ten years — before you write.

The second key is clear, smooth transitions.

The third key is that the story, despite the passage of time, is focused on a single, primary plot.

Summary

Today in part one on short stories, we looked at:

• Definition of a short story

• Some types of this art form

• Length and word count

• Writing tight, using implication

• Time span a short story can cover

Next up

In Part Two next week, we’ll look at more of the key elements of short stories, including:

• Characters and character development

• Mood, tone, and style

• Story structure

• Narrative arc

• Using short stories for practice and experimentation