  Short Stories
This week: The Short Trip to Edit Edited by: Leger~  
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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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The Short Trip to Edit
Short stories can start out from a myriad of ideas. A few of mine have come from contest prompts that I expanded after the contest. In expanding them, I thought I could write a novel with the original idea and characters but the story ran out of gas. When a story runs out of gas, I'm happy to say we don't have to hike down a lonely road to the gas station. We have to edit .
A quick contest prompt is fun to write, and so is fleshing out the story once the contest is over and the entry is gathering dust in your portfolio. Adding richness to your scenes, peripheral characters, some back story and deepening your character can turn what might have been a mediocre entry into a fascinating short story. If your reviewers say they'd love to read more, add more chapters or sequel stories to the collection.
Sometimes a character sticks with you after the story is written and posted. Why not write a companion piece to the original story? It's easy to post a link to tie them together or create a folder for companion storage. Perhaps your vampire slayer has other quarry in mind, or your heroine has a sister who only played a peripheral part in Story One but now you'd like to feature her in her own piece. Think about a future for your stagnant stories and give them some edit time. You never know, your story could end up in a place like Las Vegas, with its bright lights and big stages. You know, Publication.
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Excerpt: I wake up to emptiness beside me, the curtains floating in the breeze coming through the open window. I sit up, cover my face with my hands and take a deep breath. He warned me about these nights. So naïve, I swore I could handle it. I practically begged him to believe me. I saw the look in his eyes - he was skeptical, but he loved me. I saw that too. I knew I loved him and not the exciting mystery of his dual existence. If I didn't, would it ache this much while he was away?
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Excerpt: Our Uncle Kumar, a large severe man, wanted to take us to the more exciting areas of Malaysia. Our family was thrilled with the idea. So my uncle picked us up in his beat-up green mini-van, and we headed on our way to a distant place. Somewhere along the way, we stopped at a Traveler's Rest Stop where my parents and uncle left us in the resting room to go visit a travel agent.
Excerpt: As far as Lucas could see, he had created perfection. Anna should be melting, losing herself in his dreamy eyes. Somehow he was pretty sure that was not what was registering in her glare.
Excerpt: "Honey I thought I told you to pack up your father's violin ten minutes ago? What are you doing still sitting there?" Ryan's mother Kate called over her shoulder from the hallway mirror as she put on her bright red lipstick that made her teeth look abnormally white.
Excerpt: The customary sunglasses blocked out the little light the moon granted. I took care to continue tapping my white cane against the sidewalk. Stepping with the peculiar gait of the unsighted took concentration. The worst part of my blind woman ruse was noticing but not responding to everything my eyes saw. My eyes gave away my heritage with their metallic glint, and this was my best way to hide them. I made my way toward a candle flickering near the far end of the park.
Excerpt: It was the summer of love: endless days and nights of frolicking upon the white sandy beaches with bikini-clad women. In the background there was nothing but the ceaseless rolling sea singing its sacred song, and the radio blasting Don Henley's, "The Boys of Summer."
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Excerpt: He saw a dark blue bottle with a cork stopper, half buried in the sand. Inside it, he could see a piece of rolled-up paper. He pulled out the cork, turned the bottle upside down and shook it hard trying to get the paper out. He gave the bottle a couple more shakes. The paper would not come out. The way the paper was curled he could see that there was writing on it but he could not read it. He replaced the cork and put the bottle into his bag. He would try again at home. He laughed. Already his writer's imagination was off and running. What was on the paper? It could be anything, even a treasure map.
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Excerpt: Instead of reassurance, Rosamonde saw something frightening in her mother's face and shrank back. She'd seen the same look once before when her favorite hound, Bruno, stole a quail from the kitchen. She followed, watching as he ripped the bird apart, and giggled at the cascading feathers. Normally playful, the dog fixed burning eyes on her and his bloodied teeth snapped inches from her face. She ran away, sobbing.
Excerpt: In the window, a black spider builds her web. She is beautiful and dangerous, enchanting and disturbing. She is precise when choosing the position of each thread in her web. The light from the moon lingers in the window, illuminating the silver strands. They sparkled in the light like tiny strings of diamonds. Like diamonds, they do not break easily. The spider, a beautiful huntress builds the perfect trap. She draws her kill in with the lure of splendor before sucking the life out of her victims.
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This month's question: Have any of your contest prompts turned into novels or been published? Send in your reply below! 
Last month I talked about using something unusual to change/break the tempo of your action and asked the question: What do you use to break tension in your stories?
Jeff  sent in: Great NL, Leger! One of my favorite epitaphs is the one Shakespeare wrote for his own grave:
Good friend for Jesus sake forbear to / dig the dust enclosed here / Blessed be the man that spares these stones and / curse be he that moves my bones
The man had a way with words, that's for sure. 
LJPC - the tortoise  replied: Hi Leger! The comedy poems were a riot. I liked the theme of awkwardness in the newlsetter. But...
The love that's deep within me,
Shall reach you from the stars,
You'll feel it from the heavens,
And it will heal the scars.
Did anyone else notice this? Scars are what wounds become when they heal. A scar doesn't need to be healed -- it is. I get the idea, I just think it may have chosen just because it made a pretty rhyme. -- Laura
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Short Stories: July 07, 2010 Issue [#3841]
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