Writers of the Future, Volume 28 (27 page)

“Looks like we’re on,” Rory said. He wasn’t an official Contact Team member any more than Jared was, but the rulebook for this enterprise had already been thrown out of the window. They walked over to join Anderson, fifteen of them in all including the Contact Team proper, and gathered in front of the Caronoi.

They were strangely amphibian in some ways, their rhomboid cream-white bodies with four long frog-like limbs, and faces taking up the whole front section of their torsos. Their eyes were expressionless black marbles, surrounded by openings for air, food, hearing and speech.

The two species stood regarding each other, then the Caronoi nearest to Anderson said something, a short sharp chirp of noise that came out of the translator as “They other world also
?
”

“Yes,” Anderson said. “They are.”

Another chirp. “Many other worlds exist
?
”

“Yes, a great many.”

Then the Caronoi turned to face its own kind and said something else, another burst of noise, then repeated it once more.

“Other worlds,” the translator said. “Life on other worlds. Told you so.”

The Importance of Short Fiction

BY KRISTINE KATHRYN RUSCH

Kristine Kathryn Rusch has written over 100 novels under a variety of names. As Kris Nelscott, she’s the Edgar- and Shamus-nominated writer of the Smokey Dalton mystery series, which has been published all over the world. As Kristine Grayson, she’s the award-winning, bestselling writer of goofy romance novels filled with fractured fairy tales. As Kris DeLake, she writes paranormal romance with a science fiction twist. She also writes under several other names, sometimes in collaboration with her husband Dean Wesley Smith.

Under her own name, Kristine Kathryn Rusch, she has won two Hugos and dozens of Readers’ Choice Awards. Her Rusch novels have been on bestseller lists all over the world, including the
London Times,
the
Wall Street Journal, Publishers Weekly,
and the
USA Today
list. She has a thriving short story career. Her stories have appeared in about 20 year’s best collections, including the prestigious
Best American Mystery Stories.

Kristine has served as a Writers of the Future Contest judge since 2010.

The Importance of Short Fiction

T
he heart and the future of science fiction lie in its short fiction. Short fiction is difficult to write well, yet we in the SF field tell all beginning writers to start with it. Why
?
Because short fiction is . . . well . . . short.

I know. It sounds both silly and obvious. Writers should write short fiction because it’s short—like those finger exercises pianists must learn so they can play a piano concerto. The problem with the advice—write short fiction because it’s short—is this: it makes writers believe that short fiction is easy, something to graduate from, something that isn’t worth their time except as
practice
.

The short stories in this volume are clearly not practice. They’re good or they wouldn’t have been chosen out of the thousands—and I do mean thousands—of stories that Writers of the Future receives every quarter.

These stories have heart, they have creativity, but most important, they’re a good read.

That’s what so many writers forget when they approach short fiction as if it’s a finger exercise. The writers write a dutiful little piece with lovely words. Then they hone those words to death, forgetting that the story is the most important thing.

What is a story
?
Well, I can give you the numerical answer. The standards used by the Hugo awards, the most prestigious award in science fiction, are: A short story is no longer than 7,500 words; a novelette runs from 7,501 words to 15,000 words; and a novella runs from 15,001 words to 30,000 words.

By the way, all of those things—short story, novelette, novella—are considered short fiction. Other genres have slightly different definitions, but the one thing we writers, publishers, editors and readers can agree on is this: If the piece runs too long, it’s a novel.

The Writers of the Future contest, by the way, limits story length to 17,000 words. Which means that you can write them a short-short (under 1,000 words) or a novella (up to 17,000 words, but no more). Be warned that either form—the shortest and the longest—are tough.

But what is short fiction and why is it hard
?
Let me answer the second part first. Short fiction is hard because it must do the work of a novel at one-tenth to one-third the size.

Novelists cheat. I tell you this as someone who has published over 100 of them. Novelists can spread out, go on digressions, add extra subplots if the main story doesn’t work. Novelists can meander, explore interesting characters who have no real point in the plot or muse on some scientific principle.

Short fiction writers can’t. I tell you that as someone who has published more than 400 short stories and who edited short fiction for two different companies for over ten years. Short fiction writers must get to the point. They must focus their work on the most important part of the tale, whatever that may be.

Algis Budrys, a fantastic writer, the first Writers of the Future Contest administrator and a major influence on my life, used to say that the short story is the most important event in a character’s life. That’s good for stand-alone short stories, but for stories that follow serial characters (like a detective), it doesn’t always work. So I modified it to “one of the most important events” in a character’s life. The story needs to have something earthshaking—or universe-shaking, in the case of science fiction.

And of course, never forget: the story’s the thing, not the writing. And not the manuscript. The manuscript is the tool to get the story from the writer’s head to the reader’s head, nothing more. Right now, I’m writing this essay in my office, and you’re reading it months, maybe years later, somewhere else. Yet I’m telling you something in real time. The real time for me is December, 2011. The real time for you might be June, 2021. All I’ve done is use a tool to communicate with you, and I’m not communicating words, I’m communicating my ideas, expressed in my voice.

The “story” part of the short story is what the story is about. The events, yes, but the characters and the setting, and the entire experience of
living
inside that world for the brief duration of the reading experience.

The story itself must be good. Forget the finger exercises. Forget the pretty words. Forget the mountains of rewriting. Rewriting is a skill that takes years to learn. Concentrate on writing a lot of short stories.

In 1947, in a book called
Worlds of Beyond
, Science Fiction Grand Master Robert Heinlein wrote a series of business rules for serious science fiction writers. They are:

1. You must
write
.

2. You must
finish
what you write.

3. You must refrain from rewriting except to editorial order.

4. You must put it on the market.

5. You must keep it on the market until sold.

This advice is still good, even in the digital age, even with the rise of indie publishing. I’ll add a few things to modify the business rules for the twenty-first century. They are pretty simple additions:

1. You must
write
.

2. You must
finish
what you write.

3. You must refrain from rewriting except to editorial order,
and only if you agree with the editorial direction
. (We call this the Harlan Ellison corollary, first added by the man most consider the best short story writer the field has ever known.)

4. You must put it on the market.

5. You must keep it on the market.

6. Repeat on a weekly basis.

You’ll note that only three and five got revised. Six is the addition that my husband, the excellent writer Dean Wesley Smith, and I have made over the years.

Three needs the Harlan Ellison corollary, because not every reader (even an editor) is right about every story. And five reflects the indie publishing reality. If a writer self-publishes a short story, that short story should stay on the market, and the writer should move on to the next story. Will the writer improve over the years
?
Sure. But the writer shouldn’t be stuck trying to “improve” past works. The writer should write new works, different works, always striving to improve.

After Heinlein wrote down his rules, he added this: “They are amazingly hard to follow—which is why there are so few professional writers and so many aspirants and which is why I am not afraid to give away the racket!”

Those words remain true today. Very few beginning writers ever try to write, let alone finish what they write, let alone put what they write on the market, in whatever form. And the forms will change, as they have over the past few years.

What I love is that the market for short fiction has expanded greatly. We are now in a new golden age of short fiction. Dozens of new, paying short fiction markets crop up every year. And that doesn’t count the indie-publishing revolution. Right now, short fiction writers have a better chance to be published than at any other time in the past thirty years.

And that’s a great thing for science fiction. Because, as I said above, the heart and future of the genre is in short fiction, and always has been. That’s why L. Ron Hubbard sponsored a short fiction contest, not a novel contest. Science fiction’s most classic works either started as short stories and then got expanded into novels, or those classic works
are
short stories that we still discuss today.

Our best writers still produce excellent short fiction. From George R. R. Martin to Connie Willis to contest winner Robert Reed, our best novelists still find time to write spectacular short fiction. And by doing so, they move the field ever forward, looking at old ideas in new ways, creating new ideas and new worlds, and writing the most memorable characters ever.

But most of all, these writers are spectacular
storytellers
. They tell long stories and short stories, medium-length stories and short punchy stories. They let the tale determine its own length, and they continually add to an already rich field.

Our best writers write short stories throughout their careers. This volume contains the best writers of a new generation. I hope we all get a chance to read their short fiction for decades to come.

The Command for Love

written by

Nick T. Chan

illustrated by

CARLY TROWBRIDGE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Nick T. Chan lives in Sydney, Australia, with his wonderful wife Fiona and future Hugo/Nebula/Pulitzer/Nobel prize-winning daughter Nina. He has previously worked as a technical writer for textbooks in various fields, and currently works as a project manager and editor in postgraduate education. He is also an assistant editor on the
Parsec Ink Triangulation
series of anthologies.

His childhood was spent reading. Reading when he should have been cleaning his bedroom, reading instead of (and during) playing sports, reading when he should have been doing his homework. As a young boy, his long-suffering mother had to read
The Lord of the Rings
to him every night without any deviation. Nick had memorized every single page, so he knew if his mother tried to skip any pages (even the Tom Bombadil passages).

After university, Nick attempted to write sporadically, but made the mistake of abandoning his love of speculative fiction in the belief that other genres were more respectable. Without loving what he wrote, his productivity withered, and he abandoned serious writing for many years.

Five years ago, Nick returned to his roots in order to write a fantasy novel that will never see the light of day. At the same time, he spotted an advertisement for a writing course run by acclaimed Australian speculative fiction writer Terry Dowling. With the help of renowned Australian writers such as Cat Sparks, Rob Hood and Terry, as well as a talented writing group organized by Terry, Nick started on the continuing journey of learning how to write and rekindled his love for speculative fiction. In 2010, he set his sights on the Writers of the Future competition.

After two honorable mentions and one non-winning Finalist, he won with “The Command for Love.” He is currently working on a novel set in the same world as “The Command for Love.”

ABOUT THE ILLUSTRATOR

Hailing from Huntsville, Alabama, Carly Trowbridge has the pleasure of calling the town affectionately known as “Rocket City, USA” home. In a city brimming full of engineers and physicists, it is hard to pinpoint exactly where her fascination with the science fiction genre began. Needless to say, she was never at a loss for inspiration growing up. These days she finds herself influenced by the sci-fi, fantasy and pop culture scene as whole, and finds artistry in everything from graphic novels to movie marathons on the Syfy channel.

Carly holds a bachelor’s degree in art and biology, and spent her undergraduate years focused on improving her skills in drafting and drawing. She has recently received her master’s degree in medical illustration from the Medical College of Georgia. In between sporadic part-time jobs, she keeps busy traveling across the US keeping in touch with friends. Carly is honored to be included among the Illustrators of the Future, and looks forward with high hopes to whatever other opportunities await her.