  Short Stories
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The purpose of this newsletter is to help the Writing.com short story author hone their craft and improve their skills. Along with that I would like to inform, advocate, and create new, fresh ideas for the short story author. Write to me if you have an idea you would like presented.
This week's Short Story Editor
Leger~
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WHAT IF
People ask, where do you get your ideas? And they'll say to me, I've always wanted to write stories but I never know where to start. The source of inspiration can be anything. It can be a person you see walking down the street, an article in the newspaper, a photo, or a snippet of overheard conversation. It's not hard to find inspiration; I've written about finding it before, the hard part is what to do with it when you find it.
Here are two words to help you out. WHAT IF Take whatever it is you find interesting and ask the words "what if". Take that "what if" and run with it. Expound on the idea, build a scene in your head and imagine the dialog. Stories always need action or they don't become stories. Building your scenes, writing your dialog, and shaping your characters can all happen while you're writing. Before all that happens though, you need an idea.
INSPIRATION
WHAT IF
You see a suspicious person walking down the street with a very large, heavy bag.
What if that person had just robbed a bank? What if that old lady he is walking toward is an undercover police officer?
You read an article about genetic research.
What if, in the future, there are "organ farms" where bodies are grown and harvested for organs?
You hear a man talking about his lost luggage. He thinks Security is pawing through it looking for valuables.
What if a terrorist switched bag tags with the man and tried to get a bomb on board?
You look at a beautiful picture of a majestic mountain with a village nestled at its feet.
What if all that snow slid down the hill in an avalanche and buried the people below?
What if a secret consortium of world leaders had been staying there?
The next time you're out, recharging your muse and you see something interesting, take out your notebook and write "what if". See what sort of ideas pop into your head or if nothing happens, save these inspirations for a day when you're brainstorming. Write on!
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Excerpt: A clang from the blade falling to the stone floor rang through her ears and mind. It echoed over and over again, drowning everything else out except the recent memory of her children’s cries. Two green eyes flitted across the violent scene before her. She staggered back, opening her mouth to scream but all that came out was a long, sobbing breath. Silent tears began to slide down her pale cheeks. She fell against a cold wall and saw the blood that was all over her, then everything went black.
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Excerpt: Toby was scared. What would Lily do when he refused to have this child she wanted so much, this child they would have to go to such lengths to produce? Would she leave him? He didn’t think he could go on living if she did. But he couldn’t be a father either. He might make a hash of it the way his old man had done. Imagine if his kid had to bail him out of the drunk tank or be frightened to look the derelict begging on the street in the face, in case that face was all too familiar. At least that fear had been buried a few years ago. Bitterness rose in Toby’s craw and his eyes smarted. Get over it for God’s sake don’t let him do your head in, even from the grave.
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Excerpt: It was early one morning as the Owls were sleeping off the rigours of the night, when a Hawk, quite unexpectedly, dropped out of the sky and landed amongst them.
“Greetings O’ noble Owls!” he cried. “So sorry to disturb you during your rest but there is some very important business I wish to discuss. Who here is in charge?”
Excerpt: It was the day my grandmother exploded. Looking back on it, it’s kinda funny the way her blood splattered our clothes, while the rest of her entrails were propelled through the air. Until they landed with a wet slap on various bystanders. I mean, now that I’ve had time to think about it, if anyone totally detached from the event had seen us in our bloodstained clothes, our eyes windows of shock, they must have thought we were extras from a horror movie. The whole thing may as well have been a horror movie. We were having a little family gathering – nothing extravagant, just a picnic in the park. I hadn’t seen my parents in months and it had now been years since Grandma came to visit. Course, if any of us had known she’d suddenly burst into flames before exploding, we would have thought twice about our little get-together. Maybe we’d have called an ambulance. Or the fire brigade.
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Excerpt:
Liz sat in her new room and stared at the empty floor. She wondered what she could play with here. Most of the toys she loved were gone; only her flattened, white teddy bear remained. Teddy hadn’t always been flat. Her mother told her that she had flattened Teddy when she was about three years old, by sleeping on him every night. Whenever Liz felt lonely or afraid, she reached for Teddy and she fell asleep listening to the stories he told her.
Excerpt: Dinner was another silent affair – an affair with pre-packaged teriyaki, white rice and a smattering of beef around the edges of fine China plates (courtesy of a killer deal at the local supermarket that Mother could simply not resist). From the living room, the enthusiastic cry of the primetime game show host hollering over a contestant’s glamorous prize of a brand new convertible, filtered into the dining room. Somewhere above, the low whirr of the washing machine changing cycles – probably from cold rinse to warm or vice versa – added to the familiar cacophony of the tedious evening ritual.
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Excerpt: In our small town there were two men both known by the name of Billy. For as long as I can remember the only way that folks could refer to one or the other, was by their nicknames. One of the two was best known to all as Bald Billy, simply because he was as bald as any man could be. He had been that way since his childhood. The other Billy was not bald and was most often referred to as Little Billy. Now he was not little being about six feet tall, and of a full and sound body, but when compared to Bald Billy, he was small. Bald Billy was almost six foot and four inches tall, and easily weighed more than three hundred pounds.
Excerpt: A cold October rain pattered down on the roof of the battered wooden farmhouse.
Inside hunched over a scarred wooden table the Colonel spread trembling hands across the faded and coffee stained maps. Finally in frustration he pounded the table with a clenched fist and lowered himself onto the rickety chair with an inward groan of pain. He shook his large head sadly and pulled the wire framed glasses from his nose.
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This month's question: Try the "what if" method of writing. Did it work?
Last month's question: Do you correct/not correct items in your portfolio? Why?
Tehanu  : In answer to your question, I do correct items in my portfolio! I have to say that I have come a long way since joining WDC. My stories used to be littered with unnecessary "hads" and I could be verbose. Listening to fellow authors has helped me hone my craft. I do not always agree with others' comments of my work, but when I do agree (and it is about fifty percent of the time), I make changes to my stories.
I enjoyed your editing lesson; it is an important one for many authors. Nice use of color, too!
Best to you,
Tehanu
twyls: I correct items in my portfolio if I am serious about them. Most of the time, the items in my port are rough drafts, and I know the grammar and spelling aren't perfect. If I plan to get around to correcting them, I leave them up for the helpful reviews. That said, I always try to check my grammar and spelling before I post. I most often have a problem with passive voice, adverbs, and wordiness, not grammar!
faithjourney: Thanks so much! I also suffer from "wordiness." Please everybody, if you review one of my stories and find it to be a problem, let me know. I do try to edit mercilessly, but things do escape your notice after you've read them a dozen times. Thanks for the great article! I needed it!
Savannah Lynn<3 : In response to your question, I don't correct works in my portfolio, because I like to see who pays attention to my unknown mistakes and who doesn't. Also, when I correct work, you usually don't get good reviews. You get a rating and a "good job" or something like that.
Bernie Thomas : Boy-o-boy! Is THIS useful. I had to save the text for editing reference. You da - man? Thanks.
IdaLin : On correcting/not correcting items in my portfolio -- If it's broke, I fix it. Why on earth wouldn't I? (I can't be wordy after a newsletter on conciseness!) Great newsletter!
Vernie : My problem is I know what I want to write but am not sure how to put it. I usually change it several times before it satisfies me. I appreciate all the helpful information given.
Sweet Musings : This is a great newsletter and while I usually keep all of my newsletters this one will stay in my inbox and I will look back at it as a reminder to KISS-Keep It Simple Stupid. Thanks
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Short Stories: September 12, 2007 Issue [#1939]
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