How to Write a Short Story in Ten Years: Three Lessons From Working on “Memory’s Rule”
My short story “Memory’s Rule” was recently published in Abyss & Apex, a Hugo-nominated science fiction and fantasy magazine. Seeing this story in readers’ hands is a joy and a validation of the phrase “patience is a virtue.”
Why do I say that?
Well, the earliest kernel of “Memory’s Rule” started in 2013. Yes, nearly ten years ago!
How to write a short story in (almost) ten years
It was late fall of 2013 in Boston: gray and blustery, right on the precipice of the frenetic holiday season followed by the letdown of February and March. Winter in New England is long and dark. It’s also my big season of inspiration—I love the squeak of fresh snow under my boots, drinking hot cocoa to burn warmth into my body from the heart outwards, stars that punch through the purple-black night sky, loose and scratchy woolen sweaters, the smell of wood smoke at dusk.
Looking to kick start my winter creative cycle, I enrolled in a short story class at the Cambridge Center for Adult Education. The class focused on linked short stories—stories that are tied together with thread of a theme, character, time, place, etc.—and my link was the concept of dreams. I wrote two stories for the class:
The first was the seed of “Memory’s Rule,” exploring the idea of having a dream come true, at least in your mind, and the dangers of living in the past.
The second was a sort of Ghostbusters-meets-Supernatural story of two brothers who exterminated nightmares before they could inspire people to commit evil acts.
The second story got left behind in the sands of time (Why, though? It actually sounds pretty cool!), but the first—about a little girl named Clementine and her stern French Bonne Maman—kept nibbling at my imagination after the class ended.
I kept returning to Clementine’s story over the years, making a tweak here, an edit there. While the fundamental theme and main plot events stayed true from day one, the actual words on the page changed almost completely.
I worked with a writing coach on one version; brought a draft to a writing group for feedback; shared multiple versions of the story at multiple points with friends and family; and finally worked up the nerve to apply to Viable Paradise, where I workshopped the piece with several incredible instructors and my talented fellow attendees. Following Viable Paradise, I polished the piece into its final form, which you can read in Abyss & Apex today.
It’s a dream come true—but not in a dangerous way!—to see this short story in the world. And it’s an example of how persistence can result in publication. Very little of the story is word-for-word what I wrote back in 2013, but the journey taught me a lot.
Here are three things I learned from working on “Memory’s Rule” over the years:
1. It’s Okay to Take a Break
I’m sure most advice on how to write a short story doesn’t start with “take a decade.” But I’ve learned that it’s okay to take a break from writing a specific piece, or to come back to a concept once you’ve leveled up as a writer.
As I rewrote “Memory’s Rule” over the years, the story didn’t just change—I changed, too. Each time I looked at the story, I was a more experienced writer. I had a new approach or insight into what wasn’t working (and what was working and should stay in).
For example, at one point, I had an actual lullaby in the story. The song lyrics got removed (though for reference, I imagine Clementine’s mother singing “A La Claire Fontaine” in that final photo!). I also had the various rules of dream-making explained as interstitial elements throughout the piece; those got the ax, too.
Why? As I grew as a writer, I realized that none of those details were necessary to the reader. I needed to know those details to fully envision the story, but they weren’t adding to how it unfolded on the page.
Whether it’s a big idea you’re not ready to tackle yet, a draft that just won’t come together, or a story you’re tired of, it’s fine to set a project aside to work on other stories or focus on craft. Of course, sometimes it is time to let go of an idea entirely and to move on to another project.
But if a story keeps coming back to you, let it breathe. With a few more stories, workshopping sessions with fellow writers, or lessons in craft, there may be an “aha!” insight that finally makes the project work.
2. Hold Tight to the Initial Moment of Inspiration
Most of my stories, big or small, start with a small lightning bolt of truth, such as:
a striking scene
a specific message or concept
a cutting line of dialogue.
It’s a little moment of inspiration—the beating heart of the story.
I often freewrite around that initial concept, letting it lead me along before I do any real plotting or think about the story’s architecture. I’ve tried to be a plotter from the get-go, but it just doesn’t work for me. I need to feel the story on an emotional level before I can think on a logical level.
And that logical level can quickly become paralyzing.
I know I just extolled the merits of revision and coming back to a story later on, but I’ve found what makes my writing sing is that raw moment of inspiration. With “Memory’s Rule” it was a theme: living in the past destroys your present. It was Bonne Maman’s experiences and Clementine’s perceptions of her family’s history. It was the blurred lines between fantasy in the form of dreaming and the past in the form of memories. Very little of the language from that first draft to the published story is exactly the same—it changed, tightened up, and evolved. But those initial elements of inspiration stayed.
There’s plenty of craft advice out there on on how to write a short story, or how to write in general. A lot of it is good advice and can be helpful in editing. But somewhere in that first draft is a nugget of truth. Don’t lose sight of it. That’s the pulse of lifeblood running through the story. And when I cut out the heart—whatever it is—with too many clever edits, the story flatlines.
“Somewhere in that first draft is a nugget of truth. Don’t lose sight of it. ”
3. Embrace the Process
Writing and its related industry—publishing—don’t move fast. It takes time to write, time to revise, time to get published, and time to grow as a writer. And it's ongoing. I’ve heard it said you only ever really know how to write the story you’re writing now. To be a writer is to always be learning to write.
The pace of writing as an art isn’t in step with the current times. We don’t live in a culture that values or embraces slowness. We’re inundated with content—Breaking news! Social media updates! Things to buy!—from the moment we wake up and open our phones to the moment we place our heads on pillows. We’re being conditioned to expect alacrity in all areas of life.
But that’s not how art works for most people. Many of the artists we admire took years to break out, and they spend many more years investing in their skills, digging deep, and producing work.
Embrace and savor the process. I’m a bit impatient, so that’s hard for me to remember all the time. But I learn something from every draft, every revision, every workshop, or online webinar, or conference.
I’m sure I’ll be a student of writing forever, and that’s something to enjoy, rather than rush. With a savor-the-process mentality, the enjoyment of seeing a story published isn’t just an immediate high—it’s reflecting back on the journey and savoring that, too.
Just Keep Writing
I’m not sure I really know how to write a short story, even if I have gotten faster. Every time I sit down to start on a new idea, the paper (or Word document) brings fresh challenges. I have to relearn lessons about structure, characterization, pacing—and discover new things in all those areas and more. But that’s part of the process, and part of the joy of discovery.
Have you ever worked on a piece for years? What helped you finally reach a breakthrough and made your story come together?