Shorthand: Eleven Short Essays on Fiction

  1. Some suggest a story starts in the middle, or the beginning. I prefer to forego openings, step into action, stop just short. You don’t have to dot all the i’s or cross all t’s. The absence writes itself. Implied, the reader should suspect, or simply know. Sometimes, knowing might not be the point. Sometimes, it’s the getting there, the accumulating.   2. The point, simply, to start. You can excise lesser sections later. Boil down to essence. Lines so tight you could bounce a quarter off.   3. Characters are important, I’ve heard. Everything is important. The only question is: what is essential? Whatever the main character is doing: do we need to know what street he’s on, what clothes she’s wearing, what colour hair or skin? If you are wondering what the reader needs to know, convey the question.   4. It didn’t take me long to realize I could write fiction without dialogue; longer than it should have. My dialogue is terrible. I don’t feel as though my stories lack, because of it.   5. Everything connects. It’s better if you don’t spell it out. Allow the reader space to make connections. Allow the reader the space to be uncertain, to question. To be on the same page does not require that all parties agree.   6. All narrative is artificial, a human construct. Our brains are hardwired to seek order, even where there is none. Write to that.   7. Sometimes the most important details are the unimportant ones. This is not about red herrings.   8. If you are uncertain, revel in it. Make it the core of your writing. Any perceived weakness is so easily a strength.   9. Action, narrative, can be furthered by asides, a false distraction. Take the writing sideways, even back, to illustrate. World War Two Flying Ace Snoopy making beds, a borrowed quarter. Forward is not a singular direction.   10. It is important for your lines to know more than you do. It is even possible.   11. Language is a living, breathing, beautiful, messy thing. Remember that.