Story Collections as Novel Prompts
By Kathryn Craft | April 11, 2019 |
photo adapted / Horia Varlan
Many aspiring novelists learn their craft by first writing short stories. This makes oodles of sense: the character’s goal is more immediate, its complications are fewer, and the supporting cast is more manageable. With the end never far from sight, its layers are easier to interweave. I’ve so believed in this logic that, over the past twenty years, I’ve accumulated way too many short story collections.
Why “too many”? Because despite my best intentions, I don’t read them. It goes something like this: I’ll read one story, say something to myself like “huh,” then look at the clock. And then I’ll think, “Damn, I could be forty-five minutes into a novel by now.”
This is a shameful admission, but what can I say—that’s how much I love the long form.
Only one collection stayed on my nightstand past the typical one-story cut: The Stories of John Cheever.
The collection came to me as part of a thoughtful Christmas gift. After hearing that my writing-heavy, high-school-English track had not introduced me to many of the must-read classics, my stepson, himself a high-school teacher, gifted me a bundle—Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises, Steinbeck’s The Pearl, Crane’s The Red Badge of Courage, Updike’s Rabbit, Run—and among them was the surprise addition of the Cheever collection.
Cheever had already been gone from this world a good twenty years before I discovered him (just think on that a moment—wouldn’t you love to leave such a legacy?), but I immediately sensed that the man was telling stories from my life.
This at once both pissed off and excited me.
To wit:
“Goodbye, My Brother”
I adore this story, which begins:
We are a family who has always been very close in spirit. Our father was drowned in a sailing accident when we were young, and our mother has always stressed the fact that our familial relationships have a kind of permanence that we will never meet with again.
The narrator’s family has four children, one of whom is a black sheep, but despite their differences, an inexorable pull brings them back together at the same vacation spot each year. In the year of the story, push comes to shove.
My family had five children, “black sheep” being more of a floating determination, but despite our differences, an inexorable pull still brings us back together at the same vacation spot each year. Push came to shove at any number of those gatherings. I’m novelizing a slant on that premise now.
“O City of Broken Dreams”
This tale of a Midwestern family spending their last dime on train tickets to New York City while pursuing their dream of selling the husband’s play, and finding that nothing in the city is as they thought it would be, could have been ripped from my family’s life. Several times over. Until I’d read Cheever, I’d never before realized such a story’s inherent and relatable drama.
“An Educated American Woman”
This is the story of a suburban woman who leaves her ailing son alone to attend a highway commission meeting, and her husband returns home to find him dying. It isn’t the plot of this one that snagged me so much as the description of the main character:
Her light-brown hair, at the time of which I’m writing, was dressed simply and in a way that recalled precisely how she had looked in boarding school twenty years before. Boarding school may have shaded her taste in clothing; that and the fact she had a small front and was one of those women who took this deprivation as if it was something more than the loss of a leg. Considering her comprehensive view of life, it seemed strange that such a thing should have bothered her, but it bothered her terribly.
No doubt these thoughts about distorted body image were seeds in my creative brain that bloomed into premise when conceiving of my first novel, The Art of Falling.
“The Hartleys”
A couple revisiting locales from a happier time take their little girl skiing in Upstate New York, but an undercurrent of tension suggests all might not be well, right down to the surprise ending.
My family skied in Upstate New York, and after moving to Baltimore, we returned one year to our favorite mountain, staying nearby at the home of a pastor who was away for the Christmas holiday. The undercurrent of tension in our story was the complete lack of heat in the manse. We spent extra-long days exhausting ourselves on the mountain, where movement would keep us warm, and bought extra pairs of long underwear to get us through the nights.
I had many days like those depicted in the story, wondering about icy conditions and fraying tow ropes, believing that my father, with whom we rarely spent time, was my only true safety net.
Look at the inspiration mileage I got from this one: I suffused the seemingly normal sections of my novel The Far End of Happy with a similar undercurrent. The lack of heat found its way into my work-in-progress. I have a road trip novel on the back burner about a couple who is revisiting locales from happier times.
I could go on, but you get the picture. These stories spoke to me in a way that said, “You too can be a writer, look at all the material you are sitting on.”
For that awareness, I must thank John Cheever for embracing the short form, as well as my insightful stepson for the gift of the collection.
Are you also a hard-core lover of the long form, or did you start learning novel-writing craft through short stories? What short story collections (that you actually read!) have you found instructive or inspirational? Hit us with all of your must-read short story writers and tell us why!
[coffee]
Kathryn Craft (she/her) is the author of two novels from Sourcebooks, The Art of Falling and The Far End of Happy. Her forthcoming book, Crafting Story Movement: Techniques to Engage Readers and Drive Your Novel Forward, draws from decades of experience as both a story consultant and a movement specialist/dance critic. Learn more on Kathryn’s website.
Kathryn, I’ve not read Cheever but will have to. Your little summaries reminded me of a book of short stories all set in small town America and it was like peeling back the layers of an onion…alas, I’ve forgotten both the author and the title, though I remember one that was made into a movie! Maybe someone will mention it in the comments.
I’ve always enjoyed short stories because of how they take my breath away–and when I began writing, I quickly realized that I didn’t have the skills I needed to tell a complicated story that was brewing in my head, so I resorted to shorts, and have never stopped…I really should make my own collection. My very first writing teacher told me that I was a novelist hiding behind the short story. I avoided writing a novel for a long time, but some stories demand it.
So here are some of my favorites:
Sideways Stories…by Louis Sachar (2nd grade humor)
Blue Skin of the Sea by Graham Salisbury (connected stories, beautiful writing, set in Hawaii)
Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri (people caught in two cultures, East/West within Indians)
Swimming Lessons… by Rohinton Mistry (connected shorts of people living in an apartment complex in Mumbai)
A Good Man is Hard to Find by Flannery O’Connor (you will either love her work or hate it–because some of her characters are despicable and yet, and yet, you’ll recognize something of yourself in them, and then there’s that moment of grace)
For my daughter’s literature class, we got the shorts of Faulkner and Hemingway and they are keepers!
Thanks for shining a spotlight on shorts. They are not only enjoyable to read and write, but have taught me so much.
I love A Good Man is Hard to Find, Vijaya, and I find interconnected stories an interesting form. I didn’t realize Lahiri’s title was in stories though—interesting! Thanks for the list.
Also interesting is what your writing teacher said to you. Funny how these things stick with us, often as the voice of God, when they could simply be wrong, or even damning. An object lesson in watching what we say to our fellow writers, because the only way for a writer to know is to find her own way.
Vijaya, are you thinking of Winesburg, Ohio by Sherwood Anderson?
If not, let me recommend it anyway.
Thanks, Anna!
Thanks Anna, but not the book I’m thinking of. However, I’m taking note of your recommendation.
Kathryn, yes to the power of words and I’m so grateful for the encouragement I’ve received from my teachers, who saw things in me I didn’t even know about myself. I’ve had an ABUNDANCE of great teachers! So blessed.
Thank you for re-introducing me to the Cheever collection. I’d forgotten all about it. Now I have an assignment. Find and read. Thank you for the reminder and the perspectives. Many of them very familiar.
As for must read authors: O. Henry, Saki, Mark Twain. I love the wry twist.
Enjoy revisiting Cheever, Judith! Thanks for reading.
I did indeed write short stories (with some publishing success even) before I started writing novels. I think Writer’s Digest got me started with Flash Fiction, which I actually really enjoy. I’m working on changing genres from fantasy to mystery for my next novel and I’m preparing right now to write a short story following the lead of Mary Higgins Clark’s short stories. I found a couple of her anthologies at the library and they are so well done! I’ll set the story in my novel world, with my novel characters, as kind of a warm up to actually writing the novel. I’m so excited to begin!
Fun idea, Lara! I am quite a fan of flash fiction, actually, which seems like such a separate animal that I always forget to lump it in with short stories. I love the form’s lessons in moving a story along and making every word count. Enjoy!
Cheever, Anderson and then on to the stories of Ann Beatie in the New Yorker were my inspiration. I wrote short stories first while teaching, raising children and believing I had no Time for a novel. My first published book, A Mother’s Time Capsule, collected the best ones. It’s a great form. And a tough one. Every word counts even more. Short stories inspire.
I believe I have a Beattie collection in my unread collection of collections (Kathryn said, hanging her head in shame). On your recommendation, Beth, I will check it out, and see if it can pass my one-story test. ;) Thanks for your rec!
Like Cheever’s short stories, the short stories of Irwin Shaw (“The Girls in their Summer Dresses”) and Raymond Carver (“What We Talk About When We Talk About Love”) demonstrate the drama inherent in ordinary life.
Extraordinary matters of science, magic, horror, crime and so on have been elevated in outstanding short stories beyond number. The annual nominees for short story for the Edgars, Nebulas, and so on are a reading list of the very best. Ted Chiang, Patricia Highsmith…oh, don’t get me started!
Anyone wanting to be inspired by short stories ought to start with the Sherlock Holmes stories by Arthur Conan Doyle, followed quickly by H.P. Lovecraft and Daphne Du Maurier. So much to learn from them.
Hi Benjamin, my husband could just about recite the Conan Doyle shorts! Will definitely check out the Shaw and Craver stories, as they’re more in my wheelhouse. Thanks! And you raise a great point: that aspiring novelists can find such stories in any genre of interest.
Benjamin,
I don’t want to get you started, but… I love Patricia Highsmith’s short stories and have about four collections plus stories that are included in anthologies. Connie Willis is another favorite. And, Joyce Carol Oates.
Wow! Sounds like I’d better give Highsmith’s stories a try. Thanks Tina!
Tina, the Highsmith story about the little boy, his heartless mother, and the terrapin has haunted me for years. May we all haunt our readers with such success!
Wow, I’m totally with you on short stories: great skill-builder for writers, but as a reader, I much prefer the long form. But you raise some strong points; the one that hit me hardest is this:
“You too can be a writer, look at all the material you are sitting on.”
I’m 99.9% sure I own this Cheever collection (I definitely remember the muted orange cover of the paperback version), but just searched my house and can’t find it anywhere, so I think I’m about to pony up for the Kindle version. I’m definitely in need of an II (Inspiration Injection), and this sounds like just the ticket.
Thanks for a thought- and action-provoking post!
Yes Keith, that’s the one! Hope it gives you the II you need.
Look forward to seeing you in Salem!
Kathryn
I’m of the firm belief that writing short stories is a worthy craft in and of itself–not a gateway into writing novels. And in this fast-paced time, when we have many demands on our time, I think more and more readers will be enjoying these collections.
I’d add Bluebeard’s Egg by Margaret Atwood and Something for Everyone by Lisa Moore to your list of must-read short story collections.
Leanne I agree that it is a completely different animal, which is why I haven’t spent time to gear up—it takes a loooong time to read all the novels that my own writing career asks of me! Yet studying shorter stories is common advice, even though advice I largely ignored. But then I’ve always done things the hardest possible way it would seem.
So I appreciate the recs from someone who is a devotee. I think I have Bluebeard’s Egg and have read several of the stories. Love Atwood. Will definitely check out Moore, thanks!
Thank you, Kathryn, for reminding me of Cheever’s enthralling stories. Years ago I acted with an ensemble a dramatized evening adapted by A.R. Gurney from seventeen John Cheever stories and titled A Cheever Evening. Playing Cheever’s characters and speaking his writing was a treat, as was meeting his son who attended a performance. Both economical and underscored with pathos, the stories are wonderful character, style, and plotting studies for long- and short-form authors.
Your description of Cheever’s work as “economical and underscored with pathos” illustrates perfectly why I like them so much, Jennie. What a special experience you had, crawling inside his characters! That had to be a master class in itself.
Kathryn, I generally don’t read more than one or two short stories in a collection either, but I will definitely look for the Cheever stories now.
Your descriptions above reminded me of Close Ranges by Annie Proulx.
(Vijaya, I wondered if Close Ranges was the book you were thinking of?)
Susan, thanks for coming clean so I didn’t feel so hung out to dry here, lol. I did pick a collection of Proulx’s back when the Brokeback Mountain film came out, but only read for an hour in the library. Too little time, I know!
I love short stories and, like you, I have many which I scarcely read. At least now. I used to, during the bridge from when I went to devouring novels as a youth to the time where, sadly, reading fiction left my life for a long stretch, aside from the passing magazine short. There were a couple of years back then during which I read them faithfully.
When I began writing – finally – many years later, I started with short stories. I don’t know that they were any good, though a few I kept still carry themselves pretty well when I come across them now. So maybe there was something.
Now, in a long lull in my long-form writing and contemplating a full time return to the workforce, I find myself dabbling with short stories again with a sense that perhaps I want them to be more than a stepping stone to something else.
Short stories, when well-crafted, are noble things. The compactness of the plot, the sketch-like settings, pointed with vivid features which fade to a necessary vagueness to keep things moving, the mastery involved in exploring deep emotions during what, until the point of discovery (or explosion, or implosion), read like normal events in the course of everyday life.
To me, they are like perfect haikus. When done well they offer an unexpected bridge to step outside yourself, to pause, reflect and perhaps even learn.
Much like your posts, Kathryn. Thank you for your gift.
Sounds like short stories would be a good fit for you at this juncture, John. Your respect and appreciation for the form will bear much fruit, I have no doubt. Enjoy!
Kathryn, I started out writing short stories before moving on to novels, and have gone back and forth—albeit agonizingly slowly for all—between the two. I have lots of collections, including Cheever, but like Keith, I don’t know where it is. I published a book of my shorts years ago.
Good timing: I’m currently house-sitting in Ecuador and finished the only print book (Susan Orleans’ “The Library Book,” excellent) I brought, so I’ve been checking out the house’s books and just started on “40 Short Stories,” an anthology of works from as far back as Nathaniel Hawthorne all the way to Louise Erdrich, with many classics in between.
Authors of some of my favorite collections: Alice Munro, Raymond Carver, F. Scott Fitzgerald, James Joyce, Twain, Vonnegut and as folks have mentioned, Flannery O’Connor. Loved Lahiri’s Interpreter of Maladies as well, Vijaya. Have to check out George Saunders—I hear he’s great.
Hi Tom! Okay first, house-sitting in Ecuador sounds like a GREAT gig for a writer, and being stranded with those short stories will get your imagination primed for sure. Thanks for the recs, and excited to see where all this takes you!
Hi Kathryn,
I have only come to short story collections somewhat recently. I kind of “grew up” on James Michener and novels like Lonesome Dove–long and epic. It is such a coincidence because I am currently reading Cathedral by Carver! In the past few years I found quite a few collection that have had an inspirational impact on me and my writing. Vijaya picked one of my favorites, Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri. I adore Elizabeth Strout, especially Olive Kitteridge. George Saunders is brilliant, and James Joyce’s Dubliners is a must read as well; The Dead, the last story of the collection is so beautiful you will surely weep. One of books I have read multiple times and keep on my desk as a touchstone is Jim Harrison’s Legends of the Fall which can’t be surpassed for character development. Dark and compelling is Faithless by Joyce Carol Oates. Let me know if you read or have read any of those