#revising short stories

[cjjasp]

Making effective revisions: the short story #writing

In the past few weeks, we have looked at the structural elements of the story, such as theme, narrative mode, point of view, and the author’s voice. We’ve talked about showing emotions and writing believable drama. We have dissected how a story flows from scene to scene. So now, we realize that we must submit our work to contests or publications if we ever want to get our name out there. We have…

[princesskealie]

taking my mom to the doctor again tomorrow~ please send any good vibes/prayers/thoughts her way that all goes smoothly! 🙏🙏

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Books of 2024: June Wrap-Up.

Okay, y'all have Convinced Me--I'm going to start doing little wrap up posts! Behold: a shelf of what I read in June (not pictured: the bookmark at page 466 of ORDINARY MONSTERS, because despite having read two (2) books worth of book so far, I'm still not quite done with that one).

June was kind of a slow reading month for me (I did a LOT of writing, looking back--nice). I wanted to take OTHER TERRORS and THE ELEMENTS OF ELOQUENCE a bite at a time so the horrors and figures of rhetoric (respectively) didn't all run together. Both of those, much like A SHINING, turned out to be pleasantly leisurely wanders, whereas MONSTERS is kind of a plod.

I already did bigger write-ups for TERRORS and SHINING, linked in the bullets below.

OTHER TERRORS - ★★★★ Great bite-sized horror anthology with a really inclusive mix, as promised! I enjoyed most of these (always nice in an anthology!)

A SHINING - ★★★★ Weird fucked up heavy little book in translation, lit-fic flavored, but very approachable, I thought. Tiny enough to swallow in a sitting, but also kind of exhausting to do it that way? I'll definitely reread this one in the future.

THE ELEMENTS OF ELOQUENCE - ★★★ Fun romp through rhetoric! The examples were fun, and I appreciated the humor, but I also find myself still uncertain what a bunch of the figures actually ARE, definitions-wise, despite having read a book full of so many of them (I did just buy his recommended A HANDLIST OF RHETORICAL TERMS to help with that, at least, which is. almost entirely. definitions by volume). Neat thing to have on my references shelf, but it wasn't as excellent as I was hoping it'd be.

ORDINARY MONSTERS - 466/658 pages read; will report back later (but it's not looking good, folks).

[dyrewrites]

unnamed horror short

Huff, huff, crunch

It's all you hear.

All you've heard for hours, days, perhaps. Since the worn muscles in your legs began the war with your will.

They were losing for stretches, white, frozen stretches of powder and frost.

But your will is wearing beneath the constant onslaught.

Huff, huff, crunch

One step at a time. 

One and one and one again.

Huff, huff, crunch

You'll get there. Wherever there is. You know it exists. When it's darker than white you can see it. A distant shimmer of light. Where it is, well, you know about as well as where you are don't you?

Do you...know?

Huff, huff, crunch

Thoughts faded to a numb hum first.

Words choked and dried in a frost-eaten throat.

And thirst, that died long before your lips cracked, though you keep stuffing handfuls of snow in your maw anyway.

Just in case.

Now hunger, mm...hunger.

You're certain all the acids in your stomach ate away at the flesh housing it. All the thick, juicy fats and into old scar tissue. Maybe further even. Can't feel anything down there so who knows.

But you're hungry.

So hungry.

And you know there's food at the light.

Huff, huff, crunch

Another glove of snow to staunch a thirst you can't feel, another wail of frost-eaten throat for the sting.

Huff, huff, crunch

Where are you?

More importantly, as you stomp so determined toward that light, who are you?

Do you remember, or has the white washed it all away?

Perhaps...perhaps we can focus on who you were.

You can remember that, can't you?

Here, let me help.

--

You were one of many. A team, perhaps. Friends, certainly not, for how cruel you were to them. Them to you. But together, not trapped, not lost. No, you went into the white with purpose.

Searching.

Searching...

For what? Do you know?

I do not. I know only that you were many and you found something. Was it what you sought?

So bright and beautiful it was, hot enough to fry your sensors yet cool enough to touch. And touch you did, brave one, warm one. Sweet as ever to its lonely light.

They wanted it too, all did.

To touch and hold and understand...

But none could. It was yours alone, chose you, drew you, sang as lilting and kind as it could to lure those gloves to it.

Your others fought, with tools turned weapons they spilled searing reds on every fleck of white. Frightened it, what you found, what buzzed lovingly in your grasp.

Where did it go?

Where did you go?

And are all the others gone?

Did you stay and fight or flee, chasing the bright little light? It flashed in dimmer hues, mournful hues, confused and frightened and you would see it bright and safe.

If it took days in all the white, weeks, months. You would find it, soothe it, feed on whatever waited for you.

For it promised, didn't it?

Whispering as you held it from the others.

Feast, feast

Did you?

--

Huff, crunch, huff, crunch

Did you wait, did you fight? Or are you waiting until you find it, hoping it holds the cure to the gnawing ache in your belly?

You don't know, do you...

Let's figure it out together.

Huff, crunch, huff, crunch

No, no, don't worry of the faster footfalls.

We're learning about you now. How does your mouth feel when it's not stuffed with snow, can you test your teeth for me?

Touch them. Are they dull as you expect, or are they so sharp they bite without meaning?

Huff, crunch, huff, crunch

I said not to worry of your pace.

Tell me now, can you taste?

Is it iron on your breath or cold?

Iron, full and thick, mm. Good.

Do you like it? You do, don't you.

I knew you would.

You did wait and fight...and feast.

What a feast it was.

Can you feel them squirming? Feel their terror reverberating in your skull, so sweet it is, isn't it. Mm, and memory, warm, hot memory writhing through your veins.

It's why you've kept moving, you know.

Why you hunger without thirst.

Why you move with singular purpose.

You're listening, following memories not your own. Desires not your own. They will lead you, my precious thing, to the light you seek. To answers glowing ever brighter despite the white.

Can you see it, brilliant green and shimmering?

It shines for you, for you and you alone.

Come, faster now, faster.

Crunch, crunch, crunch

There you go. No more frozen breaths.

You need no air.

No more snow stuffed in a starving maw.

You need no water.

Only memories, only desires. Only hot, throbbing flesh.

Faster now, there's so many waiting.

For your hunger.

Your teeth.

Waiting to burn up in your belly.

Crunch, crunch, crunch

They'll scream at the sight of you, how much larger you've grown. At the thickness of your limbs, the gnarled state of your fingers...the razor tips of your teeth.

Let them, soak it in.

Feed on the terror as much as the meat.

But feed.

The light waits amid the fear, frightened itself of the strange things that killed for it.

It will not fear you.

No, you it will welcome with comfort and warmth.

You want it too, don't you?

To hold it again, to bathe in its bright?

Then rip and tear and feed.

Yes, they scream. Delicious their terror, you hear it?

Feel it, scream with. Growl and howl and revel in their agony.

Sing a dirge for your meal.

They have guns and knives and fear-drenched strength.

But you are beyond pain, beyond death.

While they? They are only meat.

Huff

Breath from screaming lungs.

Huff

Death from fallen life.

Crunch

Bones beneath your feet.

Kill and kill and feast. Until all of this white is red. Until all this chaos is silence. And your light will shine, will burn for you and you alone.

Bright and warm and beautiful.

Yes, my precious thing, eat.

Huff, huff, crunch

More.

Huff, huff, crunch

Almost, come now, you're so close. A few more hiding in that fallen sanctuary of stone and wood. There they are.

Morsels yet to sup. Yours for the taking...

Huff, huff, crunch

Beautiful you are. Simply beautiful.

How...do you feel?

Wet, yes, soaked in their death. But it isn't cold, is it? Doesn't hurt? You’re stronger even, aren’t you, invigorated. Such a lovely grin you bear, shining in all the offal you wear. A glistening beacon in a sea of darker red.

You don't even care how many you slaughtered, do you...

No, of course not.

How perfect you are.

Hold out those bloody paws, yes, they’ve outgrown the gloves but you’ll learn to love them. As you will all you’ve become.

There you are. 

No, no, don't be afraid.

This is what you wanted, what you searched for, what you found and fought and killed for.

The light, so bright and beautiful.

Bigger, yes, for your efforts.

Your devotion.

Your worship.

But I can grow bigger still.

If you're hungry…

[libraryspectre]

Strawberry Spring is a very early short story by Stephen King that had a huge impact on me when I was younger. It's about a college campus living in fear of a serial killer. What stuck with me the most was the tense atmosphere. The tone is hushed, but with a mix of panic and perverse excitement just under the surface. The quiet unease is what really draws me in every time. Please read it at the link above!

Edit: also, it's a really quick read. I think in the print edition it's only like 9 pages

[l-e-morgan-author]

Patience put her arm around Nathan's shoulders. "Hello, you. How are you?" He uttered a mournful sound and pulled away; so unlike him that Patience looked closely at his face, reading the misery she hadn't seen until that moment. "What's up?" Nathan put his hands up to his face and kept them there. "I made a mistake." His voice caught on the last word. "What happened?" she asked, as gently as she knew how. He took something out of his pocket and held it wordlessly out to her. Patience bit her lip, hard, and took it from him. "Are you all right?" He leaned his head back and stared up at the sky. "For some definition of all right," Nathan said, and laughed under his breath. "From a medical perspective, yes. If it helps," with energy, "it was only the once. But I was - I was pretty close to a year without it, Pat, I thought it was going okay. And then it wasn't." "I'm sorry," she said. "How can I help you?" "Pray with me," he said, voice catching again. "And for me, Patience - dear. I'm just... I feel so stupid. I could have avoided it, but at the time I didn't care. I thought it was fine. I should know by now." She leaned her head back, too, and studied the sky as if trying to see some answer in the clouds. Unfortunately she found nothing. "Mistakes happen," said Patience, putting her hand on his. After a moment Nathan's hand closed around her own. "I'm not going to say it was the right thing to do, but I am going to say you need to forgive yourself. And ask for forgiveness - of course." She feared she was sounding too preachy, but he smiled faintly. "Forgive me if this is too forward, but Nathan, dear, do you have any more such?" He shook his head. "Just the one, and I've given it to you. But God help me, Patience - I can always get more. God help me." He put his head in his hands again. "Please don't," she said slowly. "You need to care about yourself - not just to refrain because you think you ought, or that you might upset me." "You've got to do that too," said Nathan, flashing her a luminous glance. "I've heard enough from you about that!" Patience smiled self-consciously. "You have me there," she admitted. "God help us both!" "As he ever does," said Nathan, almost inaudibly, and at length leaned his head against her shoulder.

tagging @pilgrimsofworship @stealingmyplaceinthesun. @ me to be added to or removed from the taglist for anything Patience related

[wwillywonka]

.

[wanderrealms]

This story was 3000 words when I finished it. Why is it 6100 after revisions?

[deadpoets]

how to write when you are so sleepy and you are so stupid and you are so something something something ?

[oscar-writes-stuff]

Guys I don’t know what shifted in my brain but I think I’m a first-draft-pen-and-paper writer now

[cjjasp]

Revising short stories – working through the post-NaNoWriMo slump #amwriting

I write for at least two hours first thing every morning. Then ordinary life kicks in with cooking, housekeeping, appointments, lunches with friends—the days are full. I write in the evening too, as most TV shows don’t interest me. However, this year, I am experiencing something I haven’t before—the post-NaNoWriMo slump. My creativity levels are low, and my words seem reluctant to join the party.…

[horny-ex-catholic]

HELLO, I AM NOT DEAD, BUT I HAVE MANY FINAL PROJECTS AND WILL BE MILDLY INCOHERENT FOR THE NEXT 2-3 WEEKS

[fruit-colored-ninja]

Also I legit Don’t have time right now (graduating college in a month… 😬) but I have So many ideas for a post-part one fic it’s driving me insane. I want to write it so bad

[sikyurame]

🌧️ for Donro

This is cheating, but all I have is this wip I’ve been working on since…August? 👀

Takes places in the reboot universe, Gyro and Donald have a chat about their past relationship while it rains

—

After a week long heatwave, the weather started to cool in Duckburg as rain finally showered the city. Images of fuzzy buildings and citizens reflected off the streets and sidewalks.

Along the outskirts, was a house filled to the brim with gadgets and gizmos, some strewn about the yard or on the house itself. At the front of the house, sat a duck and a rooster chatting away underneath the roof that kept them dry from the light drizzle.

“You really tried to test Mrs. Beakley? Of all people?” Gyro wheezed, as he rubbed a tear from his eye, “Why!?”

“Because she set so many rules when we first moved in!” Donald stated, “I’m sure you would’ve done the same thing if you were in my place!”

“Donald please, I’ve known her for a decade now. I would never try to test that woman’s patience. I value my life, thank you very much.”

The duck grumbled, “Still, I appreciate her not breathing down my neck every time I did something.”

“You doofus, isn’t she the caretaker of Scrooge’s mansion? It’s pretty much her job,” Gyro replied before covering his beak in an attempt to hide his snickers.

Donald’s eye twitched, but after a few seconds he released his tension and joined in his friend’s laughter. Who was he kidding? He was a walking safety hazard when he first moved back into Scrooge’s mansion.

Not a moment sooner, the drizzle started to pick up a bit, causing Gyro to yelp as he pulled his legs up on the porch as the rain began seep through his pants. The inventor let out an irritated groan.

“I gotta get an umbrella,” Gyro announced as he walked to the front door, “I’ll be back in a bit, do NOT touch anything while I’m gone.”

“Aye-aye boss man,” Donald saluted. He was well aware of the severity of the warning, Gyro had a habit of leaving all his incomplete projects outside his workshop, and the duck didn’t want to see the results of what could happen if they weren’t handled properly.

With Gyro now out of sight, Donald gazed up at the large gray cloud blanketing the sky. His mind began to wander as he felt droplets of rain land against his beak.

It had been a long time since he got to hang out with the scientist. But after all that happened in the span of a decade, Donald could see why the long pause. Ever since that fateful day when he stormed out of McDuck Mansion after the incident, he had cut off contact with everyone.

Scrooge. Beakley. Duckworth….

And Gyro.

Nowadays it seemed outlandish, but once upon a time Donald remembered having a close relationship with Gyro since childhood. They were like two peas in a pod, and eventually that friendship blossomed into something more.

Donald tapped his fingers on the wood below as he closed his eyes, remembering those intimate moments: their first kiss, their first date at funzos, and all those late night phone calls.

All those cherished memories, were just that memories. Now here they are, years later and barely hanging out again.

/////You should be happy. At least you guys are trying to reconnect again. Isn’t that great?/////

/////No I’m not.///// Donald answered himself.

“Aha, I knew I’d find it!”

Donald nearly jumped at the sudden yell. He shifted his head to catch Gyro jumping out of his house with a rather small device in his hand.

“What the heck is that?” Donald questioned.

“My umbrella of course!”

“Gyro, no offense, but that looks more like a wand then an umbrella.”

“Hmph! To simpletons like you! Feist your eyes on my latest invention, UMtron! With a simple flick of your wrist, the wand turns into an umbrella!” Gyro explained as a compartment opened revealing the umbrella folds.

“Alrighty, not anything I’d call impressive,” Donald said unamusingly.

“The disrespect. BEHOLD, for it can also substitute as a popcorn maker. Now, hold out your hands and BE AMAZED,” Gyro announced before pressing a button.

Donald watched as a tube came out from underneath the umbrella fabric. Intrigued, the duck held out his hands and with another button press, popcorn spilled into his palms.

“Alright, that’s pretty impressive,” Donald chuckled as he took a bite of the popcorn, “Is butter the only flavor?”

“Ick, must you insult me? There are about thirty different popcorn flavors programmed in here.”

“…thirty?”

“Yes thirty, oh my god you’re as shocked as Boyd and Newton when I showed them the first time.”

Donald was about to question further, but decided to snap his beak shut. He’s learned not to question Gyro about the “quirks” with his inventions.

However, Donald did think about something else to ask, “Cool, but how long until this one eventually swears allegiance to the dark side.”

“YOU WOU—I will ignore that and accept your half hearted praise,” Gyro hummed before sitting back down on the porch steps with his umbrella in hand. With another button press, popcorn spilled onto his own hand.

“Why popcorn though?” Donald asked as he popped another kernel into his beak.

“Why not popcorn?” Gyro shrugged, “Why not ALL the popcorn?”

“I MEANT why specifically popcorn coming from the tube. I would expect something like black licorice, especially from you,” Donald replied with an eyeroll.

Gyro shrugged again before shoving the rest of the kernels into his beak, “Didn’t feel like it.”

Donald couldn’t help but snort at that reply as he gave the rooster a light shove.

Such a typical Gyro answer.

Soon the two fell into silence once more as the rain filled in the noise. Donald threw kernels into his beak while Gyro sat quietly underneath his umbrella, the rooster’s gaze lingered down to a puddle below his shoe.

It felt soothing, perfect almost.

Almost.

Upon finishing his snack, Donald turned his attention to Gyro who was busy lightly tapping his shoe on the puddle.

Donald wanted to speak about his prior thoughts, but he hesitated. He wasn’t sure how receptive Gyro would be if he brought up the past.

He had just gotten his best friend back, would it really be worth risking Gyro just because he decided to indulge in the past? The more he thought about it, the more he realized how tough this was.

“…you okay?” Gyro asked.

“Uhh,” Donald said his brain still in autopilot.

Gyro rolled his eyes before poking at Donald’s forehead, “Are you okay? You’re just staring at me, and I find that a little creepy.”

“Oh sorry,” Donald paused, “I just have a lot on my mind at the moment.”

Gyro frowned, “…You wanna talk about it?”

“I want too…but also not.”

“Sounds conflicting, maybe you should just say.”

“Yeah, but…there’s something I have to speak up about that I just don’t want too.”

“Like what?”

“Um…”

“…Does it involve me?”

“…No.”

Gyro raised his eyebrows, his eyelids half lidded with an unamused stare directed at Donald.

“Okay, yes it involves you, but I don’t want to…y’know share too much about it.”

“…well that’s pretty unhelpful. If it’s about me, then I have the right to hear everything about whatever it is your so worried about, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yeah, but—“

“Then say it.”

Donald hesitated. His next move could easily make or break whatever bond he had managed to forge with the man next to him, and that was a bridge he wasn’t sure if he wanted to burn again.

//Well, there’s only one way to find out…// Donald panicked inwardly as he took a breath.

“It’s about us,” the duck stated as he turned his head toward the inventor next to him.

Gyro stared in confusion before fixing his glasses, “What about us?”

“The past, Gyro.”

“The past? What are you trying to tell m—oh,” Gyro cut himself off as he realized what the duck was alluding at, “Well leave it be then, we’re passed that point.”

“What do you mean?”

Gyro sighed, “Means, I’m having second thoughts about offering to listen.”

Yeah that was the exact response Donald was nervous about. He couldn’t fault Gyro in his change of tone.

But for some reason, Donald still wanted to push the subject further.

“Yeah but, I feel like we need to clear it up and—“

Gyro snorted, “There’s nothing to clear up. It didn’t work out, so we broke it off. Let’s move on.”

At this point, the rain picked up speed, now it was a downpour. Puddles splashed below from contact from fallen droplets. The pitter-patter now echoing the sound of people clapping.

Donald frowned. Gyro always had a habit of being blunt about things, but this made their past relationship sound like a disaster rather than what it actually was.

“Gyro, you know that’s not true.”

“…Like I said, let’s not bring it up.”

“I know you don’t want to speak of it—“

“As I’ve boldly repeated a few times now.”

“—But Gyro, I think it’s time that we have a chat about—“

“No, we don’t.”

“Gyro, don’t do this.”

“I’m not doing anything, you’re the one that’s pushing this!”

“Gyro, please. Our relationship wasn’t going downhill—“

“Then, why’d you say it when you dumped me in the middle of my GODDAMN INTERNSHIP!”

The outburst was sudden. Donald nearly fell over from the sheer volume of Gyro’s voice. He knew bringing up their past was a sensitive topic, but he wasn’t expecting such an angry yell.

After a few seconds, realization dawned upon Gyro as the rooster managed to pick up what had just happened. Horror filled his eyeballs. Gyro could feel tears running down his cheeks, his body shook, as his grip tightened on the umbrella The rooster scrambled to pull himself back together in a vain attempt.

“N-no I…I mean…I’m n-not…ugh,” Gyro stuttered. It was an involuntary reaction, a tone he used to carry back in his younger years, something he thought he’d left in the past.

Gyro felt Donald’s hand on his shoulder. He closed his eyes and turned his head in the other direction. The last thing he needed was Donald laughing at him for falling back into his old pathetic speech pattern.

However to his surprise, that didn’t happen. No, not at all, instead Donald patted his shoulder, and with a soothing tone the duck told him too, “Take a deep breath.”

“H-huh?”

“Take a deep breath.”

“But…”

“Just take a deep breath, okay?”

There was a few seconds of silence before Gyro finally nodded back and closed his eyes. Slowly inhaled a chunk of air, and soon after he exhaled that chunk out before repeating the action a few more times.

Little by little, Gyro felt the stress leave his body with every exhale.

Confident that his panic had ceased, Gyro reopened his eyes, he looked over to Donald who had a small smile on his beak.

The duck lightly patted the inventor’s back, “There, better now?”

“Yeah,” Gyro shrugged, “I…apologize I didn’t mean for any of that, especially the uh—whole thing I yelled.”

“It’s fine,” Donald shrugged as he scooted closer, “It’s not your fault, I kind of forced it on you.”

“Yeah, you did. Granted, me trying to dodge the question probably didn’t help,” Gyro grimaced, with a slight hint of embarrasment in his tone.

Donald gave him a cheeky smile, in an attempt to lighten the mood the duck responded back with, “Aww, is that regret I hear?”

Gyro said nothing instead giving the duck an amused stare.

[tramontane-fire]

How? Do? You? Edit???

I wrote this story that started out as a vent story so it's super choppy and disorganized, but I think it could make a decent submission somewhere with a lot of editing.

All the how-to-edit articles (most of them AI generated) say the same thing: first take a break. Next fix the big issues. Then fix the small issues.

But, operationally speaking, HOW?

I use OneNote so should I make a draft column and do a rewrite side by side? Print it out on paper and mark it up and then retype? Just make a copy and dive in? Start by making notes and then dive in?

I have never, never, never been able to edit something extensively before. I've always relied on clean first drafts and kind of edit as I go but I can't do that anymore and this story is LONG compared to, like, an email or a post. It's like being told to clean a messy room but you don't know where or how to start.

[ambersky0319]

Well would you look at that: it's the consequences of my actions

The consequences are having 3 unfinished portfolios due at 11:59pm tonight and it's currently 4:08pm