Dear Huma: do you ‘plot’ a short story?

Dear friends,

I’m surprised and grateful to be welcoming many new subscribers this week. If you are new to me, hi! Welcome to my newsletter, featuring writing advice and discussions on writing craft and sometimes just stuff about life. Every fortnight, I answer a reader letter (often but not always related to writing) and if you’ve got a question for me, feel free to send it straight in by hitting reply.

This week, I wanted to answer a question about endings, sent in by a lovely longtime subscriber, Sophie. Sophie’s question, about how to end short stories, arrived at the perfect time, just as I was putting the finishing touches on my new short story course, Miniature Worlds, where there’s a whole section on endings. Keep reading for more on Miniature Worlds, but also for Sophie’s letter and my reply. I hope it’s helpful!

Dear Huma

One particular thing I struggle with in short story writing is endings. What tends to happen is that I write something that feels like an extract from a novel... something that I feel proud of in terms of creating atmosphere and characters, but that doesn't feel whole unto itself. Do you ‘plot’ a short story? Should I think of it more as a scene from a larger story? But then how to end it in a way that feels satisfactory or neat(ish)? Gah.

From Sophie

Dear Sophie,

My first instinct on reading this was: But Sophie, your ending doesn’t need to feel neat(ish)! Let’s start there.

I think there’s this idea that in books (maybe more so than in films) endings need to be neatly resolved, in novels especially. There’s nothing wrong with a neat(ish) ending. It might be exactly what’s needed, and come at the right time. In fact, after writing so many short stories that end with sadness and uncertainty it has felt good to write stories with tidier, neater endings instead; it has felt like a relief. But sometimes tidy endings can feel a little boxy or forced and what I love about the short story form is (whisper it): you don’t have to wrap things up at the end with a bow. You don’t have to explain why things happened the way they did, or what happened afterwards. You can leave things unsaid, let your reader read between the lines. It adds to the magic.

One little trick I suggest is to end your story sooner than you think. It takes away the temptation to wrap things up in a way that justifies or explains why things happened the way they did. We’re told unresolved endings are unsatisfying but done well, I think they are satisfying in a different way. Instead of telling your reader what’s happened and tying up loose threads, keep them thinking about your story instead. Done well, there’s the sense that somewhere out there, your characters are still breathing. The sense that their story is carrying on, that it never really ended. I love that. As a short story writer, what more can you ask than that your readers keep thinking about your story? Read the endings of stories you like. I suspect they are not all that neat. What can you learn from them? Try leaving your story a paragraph or a sentence sooner than you’d expect. See how it changes the tone of your story. More than anything, have fun with it.

You ask if I ‘plot’ short stories. I don’t, not really, not in the way that I’ve had to plot novels. I’ve learnt (the hard way) that with a novel, it’s helpful to plan/plot because there’s so much of it. I find it easier to hold a short story in my head, once I have an idea. I prefer to figure out what’s going to happen through the writing of it, rather than plotting it through, which for me takes away a little bit of the energy. Without knowing your specific details, I wonder if you might try writing quickly, maybe using a sand timer for motivation, and in this way just allow yourself to follow the story impulsively, without overthinking it? Writing more freely might help you come unstuck.

You mention that your stories feel like extracts from a novel and you wonder if you should think of them as scenes from a larger story instead. I think you feel this way because they are missing the neat endings you think they ‘should’ have. But what if you think of it like this: what if they’re meant to end quietly, untidily? I think of all my stories as scenes from a life, but I quite like the fact that the larger story is left untold. Is there a chance that instead of feeling like an extract from a novel, your stories could in fact feel like extracts from life? Because if there’s a chance that they do, then I’d say you’re on the right track. After all, isn’t that what short stories are anyway: moments of a life, briefly illuminated…

I always caveat all my writing courses and advice by saying that what works for me may not work for you. But I hope I’ve given you another lens to look through, a fresh way to think about your writing. Sometimes a different perspective is all you need to pick up where you left off, and start writing again.

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If you’ve found my answer to Sophie’s letter useful, you might want to know more about Miniature Worlds: A Course On The Craft Of Short Story Writing. It’s an eight week course, packed with thoughtful, thorough weekly essays, writing tasks and audio recordings to offer you my perspective on short story writing. I share with you how I taught myself to write short stories, my exact process. I take you behind the scenes into how I wrote some of the stories in my collection, from idea to structure to development to endings and editing. You will have the opportunity to submit questions to me weekly throughout the course, and upgrade to receive written feedback on one of your short stories too.

I always want my courses to not feel like ‘courses’ but to feel inspiring and creative rather than academic or formulaic, as well as practical enough to fit into daily life. Each essay and task is also available as an audio recording, so that you can listen to it while out for a walk or making dinner, instead of being in front of a screen. If Miniature Worlds sounds like something you’re interested in, then please do read the course page for more detailed information and please feel free to reply to this email with any questions you might have.

I have worked so hard on Miniature Worlds, designing the essays to layer together and go hand-in-hand so that by the end of the course there is a real sense of completion: you will know how to begin writing short stories, how to take even the vaguest idea and turn it into words on a page that thicken and deepen as you layer in the texture your story needs for it to come to life. Here’s what one of my students has said about my past writing courses: 'I'm still using all the essays. This course has given me a way into rediscovering my voice through writing. Thank you for guiding me and giving me the tools to write.’

Miniature Worlds starts on October 31st and runs until December 19th. It costs £450 in full for eight weeks or £122 in four payments and as a subscriber, you can sign up here first, before it’s mentioned elsewhere. As with all my courses, you will have permanent access to the course when it’s finished so that you may return to it at any time. I’m aware that we are all facing challenges and so I’m also offering a small number of pay-what-you-can spaces to subscribers on a first-come, first-served basis (the link will stop working once these spaces have sold out).

I’m really excited for Miniature Worlds, and I hope it inspires you to want to escape into a world of short stories, which last for a moment, then disappear.

Please do let me know if you have any questions, and also please do keep sending those writing-related (or otherwise!) questions. Answering your letters makes me think about my own writing differently too, and I appreciate the fact that you give me the chance to do that.

With love and until the next time,

Huma