3,500

3,500.  No, this isn’t the title of an upcoming sci-fi series on telly. It’s not the number of days until Armageddon (though, I suppose, it could be). It’s not even how much I charge per hour to be my own fabulous self, although that would be nice.

It is, however a magic number.

For starters, it’s divisible by seven, which is a sure sign of magickness if your favourite number is seven.  But that’s not the reason it’s magical.  I’ll explain why.

For the past year or so, I have been writing short pieces, mostly for my monthly writers’ group.  The criteria there is that they must be readable within about 5 minutes.  So I’ve nigh-on perfected squeezing my stories onto a single piece of paper, printed front and back.  This typically means that these short short stories, or flash fictions, are around 700-800 words in length. If I manipulate the page margins, flout the time limit and read really quickly, I’ve topped out at 1,100. (Naughty, yes. But it was a particularly strong piece).  Which is still a very short story in a genre that requires spaciousness for interesting details and imagined realities.

The result of this is that I have a burgeoning collection of short pieces, which are now arriving at a very polished point. But I’ve no clue where or how to find a home for them.

All of this changed recently when I went along to a Writing fantasy, horror and science fiction workshop with Lisa L Hannett. 

Lisa said that 3,500 words is the magic number for short stories in the speculative fiction paradigm.  It’s the peak word count for publication, and very attractive in competitions.

Neat. Desirable. Magic, even.  

3,500.

I suspect this magic number was buried somewhere deep in my consciousness, because I had one of those zinging moments of recognition.  Did I read this somewhere?  Did I learn it at TAFE 10 years ago?  Or did a parallel self hear it in a writing workshop in an alternative universe? 

Who knows?  All I know is that it was an epiphany. 

This single number awakened in me a way forward.  It is time to break out of the short form, and start moving towards longer pieces with greater complexity.  In her feedback, Lisa gave me some useful tips on how to build on existing pieces to move them towards this goal.  Build the central scene, add another scene on either side of it, layer some nuances into the plot, and voila! 3,500 words. 

To someone else, this might not be a big deal, but my toes are bruised from long dancing past an elephant, so a way forward is worth its weight in steel-capped boots. 

And now, for all the magic number enthusiasts out there, here are some more: 

Magic Square by chrisinplymouth @ Flickr

AND I SHOULD ADD:
Besides the illumination, Lisa also provided some suggestions for markets for the very short pieces that I already have.  Apparently it is not an easy thing to do, to contain a whole story within a small word count, and publications that want short pieces are always on the look out for good ones.  Stay tuned... 

Writing fantasy, horror and science fiction with Lisa L Hannett

I seized an opportunity recently, and I’m glad I did.

I chose to drag myself out of bed on a Saturday morning (which is just as difficult for me as it is for Neil Gaiman) and schlep all the way into town, to enclose myself in a room with strangers for several hours, while the first decent sun in months shone brilliantly outside without me. 

Why?  Because it was a workshop about writing fantasy, horror and science fiction short stories.  And that’s what I do.  Or at least, it’s what I’ve started to do, and very much the direction this Denouement gig is taking me.  

The workshop was presented by Lisa Hannett, who is particularly deft with short stories of a speculative ilk, and I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if I throw in some words like dark, imaginative and bent to describe them.  Lisa is fabulous enough to have gone along to Clarion South (pause for a moment of envy) back when Clarion South was still a thing.  Of late she been picking up handfuls of shiny awards and nominations for other shiny awards, and she also happens to reside in our fair city.

Besides all of that (and once my Saturday morning cappuccino had kicked in), Lisa gives a cracking workshop.

The first session covered ways to stimulate story ideas and develop plots.  Lisa emphasised the need to focus on the “single element” in a short story.  You may catch glimpses of the larger imagined reality, but the job of the short is to explore a single idea with depth, in a readily digestible chunk. There’s an elegance needed to include what needs to be there and omit what belongs to the larger picture, offstage.  The art of the strong beginning was demonstrated, along with succinctness of description and avoiding the dreaded info-dump. 

Lisa came armed with stimulating exercises and thoughtful handouts.  Throughout, she referred to esteemed writers (Sean Williams got a mention), and backed up all of her points with examples of excellent writing within the genre.  Finally, she issued a challenge – to submit a draft for workshopping by a small group in the second session, along with a critique by Lisa herself.

I went away filled with enthusiasm and ideas, which must be the best recommendation possible, right?  Not only did I add to my knowledge base, but the convergence of creativity and cleverness in the room stimulated my own imaginative energies. 

I even had an epiphany.

This was one of those workshops that will stay with me and continue to inform my thinking and writing for a while yet.  Definitely worth peeling my eyelids open early on the weekend for.