The Art of the Perfect Short Story

I love a short story. A great short story can take me on a ride, deposit me in delicious emotional upheaval, or prompt ongoing thought. Only, not all short stories are a pleasure to read. The truth about short stories is that they can be dull. Yes, they can be self-involved, confusing, predictable, droll, drivel.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for writing straight from the heart or the head onto the page; it can be therapeutic in wonderful ways. But I’m not talking about that type of expression here. I’m talking about the stories that a writer wants to put out there in the wider world — publish or have published — not the other stories. Those stories should stay firmly put, at home in a journal; written for self or the pure joy of writing, shared with family and friends perhaps, but not inflicted on the outside world.

So how can you know which stories should be inflicted on the outside world? The answer involves just two words. These two words are essential to the short-story writer, but are often forgotten while embroiled in the whole process of generating a story — these words are “the reader”.

Let me introduce you to the reader. The reader likes to be entertained. The reader shies away from anything predictable or clichéd. The reader will scoff at anything that doesn’t ring true.

The art of the perfect short story is to consider the reader when you write your story.

Here is what the reader wants: The reader wants something to happen in your story. She doesn’t want to have to wade through paragraphs of flowery prose or stream-of-consciousness emotion to find the action, climax or event. Besides, there’s no room for all that in a short story. Aim for Interesting and punchy; take the reader on a ride, not an aimless amble through the country.

There’s no room for lots of complex twists and plots. Your perfect story is simple, but told in an interesting way. Is there confusion in your story? The reader sighs deeply and tells you to go back and remove it immediately. Your story has a beginning, middle and end; the reader wants no more, and no less.

The truth be told, the reader wants to get emotionally involved. So allow the reader to get emotionally involved. Wait, don’t just allow it: Demand it. Write something that provokes emotion in the reader. The reader doesn’t want you to hand them emotions on a platter. Don’t tell “Helen was happy”, but show the events that made her happy, so the reader can participate in her happiness. Don’t just say “It made Helen smile”; communicate her happiness with original description.

The reader wants to meet the characters in your story head on. She has no interest in convening with wishy washy characters with ordinary uninteresting traits. Ban stereotypical characters with stereotypical traits from your stories. Each character wants something; work out what it is they want. Make your main character someone the reader can empathize with, sympathize with, or so interesting she can’t look away.

As you can probably tell by now, the reader is demanding. Well that’s not the half of it. The reader not only wants interesting characters, she wants interesting settings too. Be inventive and imaginative with your settings.

Most of all, the reader doesn’t want only glimpses of brilliance in a short story, she wants consistent brilliance. She wants snappy attention-grabbing prose ending the race with a strong finish, not a feeble flop over the finish line. The reader doesn’t want a raw first draft, spilt directly from your head onto the page (refer to paragraph 2). The reader wants something planned and polished, where every sentence advances her towards the peak moment of the story and the ending; where each word is there by necessity.

So take heed from the reader before you embark on your next short story. The moral of this story, if there is one, is — Don’t be short-story selfish. Think of the reader, not yourself.