How to write a short story. (1022 words)
Anopheles
I guess many of you guys are struggling with your writing. Some years ago, I
wrote this after several rejections in national short story competitions. It
was meant to be parody but too many people took it seriously and thoughtit
was just a bitter rant.
What do you think?
How to Write a Modern Short Story
(A Self-Help Book for Males)
copyright Barry Aitchison
So, you’re male and want to write short stories? Well, go ahead but it’s
not as easy as you might think. I ought to know I’ve spent years trying to
get published.
Few novice writers appreciate the craft has evolved. Short stories are no
longer stories. In fact, if you can detect the least thread of coherence,
you’ve probably lost the plot altogether. One wouldn’t call a modern short
story a story, just as one would never call modern classical music, “music”.
Like music, modern writing is more a rambling, an unconscious out-pouring of
fortuitous thought. It’s far beyond modernism, it’s post modernism, in fact,
post, post, post, post modernism, which I like to call “fence modernism”.
Of course, if you’re male, you will need a female nom-de-plume. In case you
haven’t twigged yet, and you must really be a new chum, the whole bloody
industry’s female: the editors, judges, publishers, writer’s groups, and
most writers, they’re all women. Even the few men in it!
Look at a story that won a prize in my local newspaper recently. Written by
a woman, she’s writing as a man. Now, any man can see right through that,
it’s obvious the writer’s not male, she hasn’t the foggiest, but you have to
pretend not to notice. You say, “Oh, that’s nice,” when the piece goes on
and on, discussing things about men only women could possibly find
interesting.
Another thing, never let anything actually happen in your story, certainly
no violence, nothing resembling action, and positively nothing too funny --
ha-ha or peculiar. It has to flow as if emanating from a semi-consciousness,
like coming out of an anaesthetic.
It’s difficult for men to achieve this and they mostly make a meal of it. I
find the best way is to stop thinking and just write. A few brandies help.
So does staying awake over thirty six hours. Men have to learn to do what
women have been doing to them all these years. Faking it!
Don’t try to analyse modern short stories, you’ll go nuts. It’s like
looking for the proverbial in a haystack when none exists. Instead, try
divining what medication the writer was on at the time, how many Nembutal,
for example, how many Valium. If you can actually force yourself to read the
piece right through, try to detect where the end point was and, if it was
detectable, was it interchangeable with the beginning. I know it’s hell but
you do need to get on the right track.
Now, begin writing. You’ll need a Key Character (KC) who is either female
or a Sensitive New Age Guy (SNAG). If you first write the SNAG around one of
your old loser girl friends, then change the name from Libby to Frank at the
last minute, you’ll come close to market expectations. This KC must have
absolutely no idea of what is going on in their life. Surround the KC with
weirdoes struggling to make sense of it all without a snowflake’s chance of
doing so. Waffle a lot. Write things down that pop randomly into your mind.
Do you remember the guys that pulled the Ern O’Malley prank? They invented
a poet and drew phrases from a hat to write his poems and some of
Australia’s finest critics were fooled. Are we on the same wavelength?
It’s no use decrying the erosion of good storytelling for we are all
responsible. These days, men don’t read, they watch. That’s a little like
everyone becoming voyeurs; everyone watching and not a lot happening.
Still, there are things one can do, if you’re male and desperate to see
your work in print. Of course, the first is very expensive and will
absolutely horrify your friends and rellies. Finding a compliant doctor is
difficult too.
Self-publishing is another option. These days, even a man can make a go of
desktop publishing, almost without any female help at all. (Providing your
masterpiece doesn’t need artwork). If you can borrow a few thousand from
someone that actually has a job, you can run up a first printing of, say,
one thousand copies. (TIP - Label the first lot “Third Printing.”)
Of course, if you can’t persuade a friend to lend you the money, or, if
they have but actually insist on getting it back, you’ll have to sell some
of these books. This can be a rather depressing prospect at first. Don’t
worry, here are some tacks you can take.
* Hang around trash and treasure markets for the next ten years, your books
displayed on a rickety card table. Eventually the promoters will get tired
of you and buy all your stock.
* Walk into every bookshop you can find, your book prominently in hand. Hold
the book lovingly while asking after some esoteric romance by a woman dead
for at least a century. When they ask you about the book you’re carrying,
say you know the author, a frail but loving woman dying of consumption.
* Hire an Edwardian suit from an outfitter and hawk your books around the
traps. Only approach women and never tell them what the book is actually
about. (Remember, if it’s about anything at all they’ll drop you like a
sporting shooter.)
* Get on one of the afternoon TV shows and talk about writing. Describe how
much you love exploring diametrically opposed characters and the many shades
of love and pain. Rave on about dark personalities. Run your fingers through
your hair a lot and stare passionately at the ceiling.
Success is hard to come by but some guys do make it. How they do eludes me
but I’m still trying. The frightening part is it’s beginning to fascinate
me. I read a whole anthology of short stories last night and suddenly
suspected I might have enjoyed them.
Why, I have no idea. It’s like sinking deeper and deeper into a swamp. You
know you’re completely out of your depth and you are about to drown, but
you’re trapped. Then, just as your nose is about to submerge, and you’ve
quietly accepted death, your left foot feels a rock. Suddenly, you’re
overcome with joy!
Anopheles
Pat J. O'Brien
I swear to Christ, if I read another story by Alice Munro in which somebody
dies in the preciously rendered, evocative landscape of Western Ontario, I'm
going to hurt somebody, probably myself. Don't get me wrong, she writes a
nice story. It's just that she's written the same story 20 times. Enough
already. Someone recently wrote about A. Munro that of the short stories
written today, hers are the most likely to survive to be read 50 years from
now. My dick. The short story is dying, man, dying I tell you. And we have
no one to blame but ourselves.
Pat O
"Anopheles" <hi...@jeack.com.au> wrote in message
news:a2huuu$1134g9$1...@ID-34438.news.dfncis.de...
L. B. Lynch
the same story a few times, but she is still a master. But, if you're a guy
and really want to get published, you have to turn away from self-pity and
towards full-on male-bashing, the theme that never goes out of vogue.
But seriously, my first novel is being published this fall, and my
publisher, A MAN, likes my turn of the gender tables. Perhaps I'll publish
a little excerpt below.
"Pat J. O'Brien" <patric...@attbi.com> wrote in message
news:DW138.1789$%f.8...@rwcrnsc51.ops.asp.att.net...
Jane MacDonald
wrote:
>
>I guess many of you guys are struggling with your writing. Some years ago, I
>wrote this after several rejections in national short story competitions. It
>was meant to be parody but too many people took it seriously and thoughtit
>was just a bitter rant.
>What do you think?
None of the above.
I have to hand it to you, Barry--you have got it figured out. What's
worse is that even men are doing this now--Jonathan Franzen
has managed to make millions off an overwritten extended whine that
matches the worst of early Norman Mailer. It's sitting on coffee
tables all over the US. How many people actually are reading it, now,
that's another matter. I did, she said ruefully.
Maybe you exaggerate a little, but you're not far off. I don't think
it's really women causing the trouble, though--most of them
have stopped reading that stuff. They read formula romance, and that
has stories. It's the academic critics who ought to be boiled in oil.
Much of the good writing these days is in mysteries, and even a few
thrillers. I hear some of the SF is pretty good, too. And some women
read these things. There is even some excellent romance written.
I still like a little action, but I don't sell much either. What I
really don't like is whine, whine, whine. Oh, well.
Try "Kavlier & Clay"--it's by a man, has action, is beauthifully
written, and somehow slipped under the radar. As for short stories,
don't hold your breath. If want a good woman writer, who is as funny
as they come, try Jennifer Crusie. Even though she's an academic.
Jane
Jane MacDonald
jane...@lycos.com
Mark Wallace
"Jane MacDonald" <jane...@lycos.com> wrote in message
news:qcpp4uc4rk1knqqpt...@4ax.com...
Hey, quit with the academic-bashing!
I'm proud of my Doctorate, and of the minor fact that I can write in
just about any style on just about any subject.
Education is a *Good Thing*.
A lot of silly arguments in here wouldn't have happened, if a few
more people had studied Eng. Lang.
--
Mark Wallace
____________________________
You want nanomachines?
I'll give you bloody nanomachines!
http://humorpages.virtualave.net/m-pages/nmaj.htm
____________________________
Anopheles
"Jane MacDonald" wrote:
This certainly wasn't an anti-woman rant -- more a laugh at men's expense.
It did sum up, for me at least, what the Australian scene is like.
Anopheles
hannah savanah at the pianah
>From: "Pat J. O'Brien" patric...@attbi.com
>Date: 21/01/2002 11:58 GMT Standard Time
>Message-id: <DW138.1789$%f.8...@rwcrnsc51.ops.asp.att.net>
good one, Pat LOL she can never quite get her protagonists over the border into
Manitoba--the province of mature drinkers.
Course--I'm thinking of northwestern Ontario which is prolly a little out--but
I know what you mean.
Pat J. O'Brien
want to know.
"hannah savanah at the pianah" <carl...@aol.comeondown> wrote in message
news:20020122203613...@mb-bg.aol.com...
Alaric McDermott
> I guess many of you guys are struggling with your writing. Some years ago, I wrote this after several rejections in national short story competitions. It was meant to be parody but too many people took it seriously and thought it was just a bitter rant. What do you think?
Bitter rant, definitely. Only kidding. Honest.
> In fact, if you can detect the least thread of coherence, you've probably lost the plot altogether.
Heh!
> They're all women. Even the few men in it!
Spreading the pain amongst communities, eh?
> Men have to learn to do what women have been doing to them all these years. Faking it!
Scratch! Hiss!
> Finding a compliant doctor is difficult too.
Automatically in as scriptwriter for The Sopranos.
> * Walk into every bookshop you can find, your book prominently in hand. Hold the book lovingly while asking after some esoteric romance by a woman dead for at least a century. When they ask you about the book you're carrying, say you know the author, a frail but loving woman dying of consumption.
Trying this one at weekend. I'll let you know.
Cool. Not bitter at all. To me, it was clearly about the love. And the pain.
R. Westermeyer
wrote:
>
>I guess many of you guys are struggling with your writing. Some years ago, I
>wrote this after several rejections in national short story competitions. It
>was meant to be parody but too many people took it seriously and thoughtit
>was just a bitter rant.
>What do you think?
>
>
>How to Write a Modern Short Story
>
>(A Self-Help Book for Males)
>
>copyright Barry Aitchison
>
>
>
This was an absolute hoot, Barry. I took it seriously, and thought it
was a bitter rant, but I still thought it was wonderful.
--Robert
Anopheles
"Alaric McDermott" wrote:
> Hi, Barry.
>
> > I guess many of you guys are struggling with your writing. Some years
ago, I wrote this after several rejections in national short story
competitions. It was meant to be parody but too many people took it
seriously and thought it was just a bitter rant. What do you think?
>
> Bitter rant, definitely. Only kidding. Honest.
Bitter? No. But a protest, certainly. Over here, I was hopeful of getting a
look in on one of our broadsheet story contests. Few of the stories were
what I called stories and fewer were true fiction (IMO). Anyway, I'm over
that now. No, really, I am. Truly. Look, if you don't believe me....
> > In fact, if you can detect the least thread of coherence, you've
probably lost the plot altogether.
>
> Heh!
See?
> > They're all women. Even the few men in it!
>
> Spreading the pain amongst communities, eh?
>
> > Men have to learn to do what women have been doing to them all these
years. Faking it!
>
> Scratch! Hiss!
>
> > Finding a compliant doctor is difficult too.
>
> Automatically in as scriptwriter for The Sopranos.
>
> > * Walk into every bookshop you can find, your book prominently in hand.
Hold the book lovingly while asking after some esoteric romance by a woman
dead for at least a century. When they ask you about the book you're
carrying, say you know the author, a frail but loving woman dying of
consumption.
>
> Trying this one at weekend. I'll let you know.
>
> Cool. Not bitter at all. To me, it was clearly about the love. And the
pain.
Another one.
And I thought you were my....
Oh, never mind.
I need a drink.
Anopheles
"R. Westermeyer" wrote:
Thanks Robert.
Anopheles