People say that short stories are the hardest form. I can understand why, because short stories consist of the same elements as novels: plot and characterisation, but the writer has less space to develop them. Besides, short stories vary widely. They can range in length from 1,000 to about 15,000 words and it is difficult to say what makes a good short story. A comparison of stories by writers from Checkov through Katherine Mansfield to Raymond Carver shows a wide variety of approaches.
When I first learned to write short stories, I read that the writer needs to give her character a problem. The character sets out to solve it, but encounters complications. By the end of the story, he has either solved the problem or completely failed to do so. However, in a short story like Hemingway’s Hills like White Elephants, it is not obvious what the problem is. Is the girl pregnant? Does the man want her to have an abortion? The reader gets the impression the girl has become disillusioned with her lover. That is all.
It is, I think, safe to say that, at the end of the story, something should have changed. That change may be dramatic. For example, Prosper Merimée’s story Mateo Falcone ends with the title character shooting his own son. But the change can be much more subtle. One of your characters may have come to a realisation about his or her life.
In Writing Short Stories Flannery O’ Connor advised writers that, if they start with the character, something would happen. However, you need to place your character in a situation where his peculiarities produce actions. If you want to write about a man who is obsessed with collecting junk, you might want to give him a house or a flat which he can fill with junk and a wife who objects. So your character and plot evolve together to build a story.
Obviously, you can’t develop a character in a short story to the depth you might in a novel. However, you do have a range of tools. Physical characteristics: does this man stoop, or frown all the time? Does this woman wear a lot of make up, or slop around in dirty jeans? The way people speak can tell you a lot: class, level of education, place of origin. And the place they live in tells you more. Does your character leave his clothes on the floor and dirty dishes in the sink? Does she fill her house with ornaments from far-off places?
Asking all these questions makes me think. Perhaps I need to go back to my stories and think a bit more about my characters.
dreaminginstone 