JENNIFER PELLAND: Love’em and Leave’em - Confessions of a Serial Short Story Writer
“I really loved that character in that story you wrote. Will you ever write more about her?”
“No, I’ve already told her story.”
“And that term you had for that thingie? It was brilliant.”
“Thanks. I can never use it again, though.”
“You should tell another story in that universe some day.”
“I can’t. That universe was only for that one story.”
“Have you ever thought about expanding that story into a novel?”
“No, it’s not a novel-length idea. Besides, I’m done with it.”
“Really, though, you should reuse some of that stuff, because it was good.”
“But…but…that would be cheating!”
Does any of this sound familiar to you? If so, then you might be a serial short story writer, just like me. And I don’t mean “serial” in the “series of stories” way, but in the “serial monogamist” way. I find an idea, woo it, play with it until it bores me, and then move on to the next idea that entices me with a flash of comely ankle. The thought of expanding “Captive Girl” into a novel fills me with horror. How could I possibly lengthen that story without ruining it? Suggestions that I use the world of “Brushstrokes” as the setting for a novel leave me boggled. That world was created strictly to prop up that one story–surely no other story will fit into it. Hell, when I contemplated recycling the term “wristie,” which I originally coined for “Dazz,” I felt a terrible guilt. How could “Dazz” and Chameleon possibly share a term? They’re completely different universes!
Clearly, I need help.
Part of me wonders if this is just a peculiarity of some short fiction writers. There are a good number of us out there that never revisit a universe once we create it. Why? Maybe for us, a short story is a perfect little nugget of intertwined plot and character and universe that cannot be unraveled without destroying it. Trying to pluck the background from “The Last Stand of the Elephant Man” to use it for another story would diminish the original. Don’t ask me how. I can’t explain it. But I feel like I would be hurting Joseph Merrick if I did so. Or maybe we just like creating new worlds and new characters, and the short story is the perfect venue for doing that over and over and over again. Or maybe, just maybe, we’re afraid that we’ll expose just how thinly something is written if we try to isolate one piece of it to use again elsewhere. In a short story, you only have to convince your readers that your universe works for a handful of pages. In a novel, you have to keep someone convinced for the days or weeks it takes them to finish reading.
Then again, I don’t exactly write the kinds of stories that lend themselves to follow-ups. The way I end my stories, it would be a cheat to go back a few years later and say, “And here’s what happened next,” because that would take the power out of the endings of the original stories. I mean, really, what’s the point in going back to see how Big Sister is getting along in “Big Sister/Little Sister,” or seeing how well Marika and Alice’s relationship is going in “Captive Girl?” Maybe if I didn’t put my characters through such massive trauma over the course of their stories, I’d have something to revisit. But what’s the appeal in that?
Still, this doesn’t explain my great reluctance to recycle terms. How is that cheating? You can’t plagiarize yourself. Well, unless you’re John Fogerty. And plenty of writers do it. So why can’t I? It’s not like I have an easy time coming up with unique names for future widgets. And don’t get me started on how damned difficult it is for me to build a full and convincing world. It would make my life so much easier if I could reuse story bits without guilt.
Maybe that’s it. Maybe “easier” isn’t the point. Maybe it doesn’t feel like writing if I don’t have to create every detail from scratch. Hell, I’m not just a serial short story writer, I’m a serial speculative short story writer. If I could write mainstream without being bored out of my skull, I wouldn’t have to invent worlds and gadgets and social norms every time I sat down to write. That sounds so friggin’ easy, doesn’t it?
And yet, there it is. “Writing” and “easy” just do not fit together in my brain, and contemplating using any technique that promises to make the process easier only fills me with guilt. I have no problem reading other people’s reused universes (New Crobuzon and Discworld, anyone?), and delight in revisiting beloved characters from my favorite authors, but I can’t do it myself. It just feels flat-out wrong. Maybe some day I’ll manage to write something that can be revisited without feeling like a cheat, but I’m not counting on it. Why? Because I’m a serial short fiction writer, that’s why. And I’m okay with that.
So the next time you come up to me and say, “Wow, I’d really love to see more of that guy in that story!” and I look like I’m struggling really hard not to wince, you’ll understand why. I’m flattered, really I am, but the only way you’re going to see more of that guy from that story is if you re-read it. But hey, why not try out this other guy from this other story I just wrote? I’m sure you’ll love him too. And if not, I’ve got plenty more where he came from. Trust me.
Jennifer Pelland is a Waltham, MA based writer of dark science fiction and fantasy. Her work has been nominated for the Nebula and Gaylactic Spectrum awards. In 2008, her first collection of stories, Unwelcome Bodies, was published by Apex Book Company.
Unwelcome Bodies is available through the Apex Store or via Amazon.
Related posts:
3 Comments
I couldn’t agree with you more about sequels and expansions. I’m a short story kind of guy and I get people asking me about the same things. I can’t seem to make them understand either. You are not alone.
As far as recycling terms goes, I could agree with you a little more than I do. I will recycle the occasional term, but only once or twice. The main reason I do it is that not much of my stuff gets published, and I don’t feel that bad about lifting from unpublished stories. I completely understand your reluctance to do it. To me it feels like I’m not being as creative when I do it, like I’m being lazy. And if someone reads the same term in two different stories, they’ll say, “Hey, look at that small-minded, lazy bastard!”
On a related note, William Gibson is probably my favorite living author and he’s got a brain implant that won’t allow him to publish a book unless it includes the words “chrome” and “neon.” It doesn’t serve any other purpose. Because of the implant, I forgive him. He can’t help himself.
I just want to point out that you can expand without writing a sequel or using the characters again. I agree that what I’ve read of yours a [Story Title] 2: The Next Big Thing would weaken the tale somewhat. But think about “Last Stand of the Elephant Man”. You point out that the setting is one bubble of humanity. So… are there more bubbles? Or have people spliced themselves with fish genes and gone back to the ocean to survive the Ice Age?
Let me be clear I’m not pushing. I’m using your work as an example (because we’ve both read it ;) for how an expansionist like me thinks. In my own stories, I’m writing a series of novels and short about a certain disease-ridden world. But while I’m waiting to see if the cop stories sell I’m thinking about how massive our world is and how other places are so wildly different, how could they evolve differently when exposed to the same stimuli as I’ve used in Story A?
Both methods are interesting. But in the end long or short, your stories are absolutely on my must read list.
Preach it, sister! I am totally in the same boat.
I must confess, I did re-use the name of a gadget (from my unpublished first novel, in a story for a specialist market). If that story sells, I think I may be able to justify continuing to shop the novel but it’ll be a hard sell.
One Trackback
[...] Jennifer Pelland: Confessions of a Short Story Writer [...]