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SHORT STORY WRITING
A Practical Treatise on the Art of the Short Story
By Charles Raymond Barrett, Ph. B.
[Illustration]
(_FOURTH THOUSAND_)
New York: The Baker and Taylor Co.
33-37 E. 17th Street, Union Square North
Copyrighted, 1898, by Charles Raymond Barrett
Copyrighted, 1900, by Charles Raymond Barrett
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PREFACE
INTRODUCTION
I
THE SHORT STORY
II
SHORT STORIES CLASSIFIED
III
THE PLOT
IV
TITLES GOOD AND BAD
V
THE USE OF FACTS
VI
THE CHARACTERS
VII
METHODS OF NARRATION
VIII
THE BEGINNING
IX
THE STORY PROPER
X
CLIMAX AND CONCLUSION
XI
THE STYLE
XII
THE LABOR OF AUTHORSHIP
XIII
THE QUEST OF A MARKET
APPENDIX
"THE AMBITIOUS GUEST"
PREFACE
This book is an attempt to put into definite form the principles
observed by the masters of the short story in the practice of their art.
It is the result of a careful study of their work, of some indifferent
attempts to imitate them, and of the critical examination of several
thousands of short stories written by amateurs. It is designed to be of
practical assistance to the novice in short story writing, from the
moment the tale is dimly conceived until it is completed and ready for
the editor's judgment.
The rules and principles here presented embody not what I conceive to be
right, but what the great masters of the short story have thought to be
right, and what they have proved to be at least successful. I speak only
as a delver into the secrets of other men; and if I seem arrogant, it is
due to the influence of the company I keep. My deductions are made not
only from the artifices and triumphs of the successful, but from the
struggles and failures of the unfortunate as well; and I have endeavored
to make clear both the philosophy and the application of all the
principles so deduced. Though in theory these rules are obligatory on
all who essay the short story, they are frequently and knowingly evaded
or violated by the masters of the art, whose genius is great enough to
excuse their disregard of the conventions, or whose skill is sufficient
to smooth over their technical lapses; but for the novice the only safe
course is a careful observance of all conventions.
To the aspiring writer this book may seem to be merely a catalogue of
"Don'ts", the gist of which is, "Don't write"; but that is to misread
me. Short story writing is not easy, and I cannot make it so, even if I
would; but it is far from my purpose to discourage any person who feels
the Heaven-sent call to write, and who has the will and ability to
respond to it. But that call is but a summons to labor--and to labor the
severest and most persistent. To one who comes to it but half-heartedly,
illy prepared, shirking its requirements, I can predict certain failure;
but to the earnest, serious, conscientious worker, I would say a word of
hope. The promotion from the rank of amateur to the dignity of
authorship may be long in coming, but it will come at last. Fame, like
all else that this world has to give, depends largely upon downright
hard work; and he who has the courage to strive in the face of
disappointments will achieve success in the end.
Throughout this book I have endeavored to give my statements
definiteness by the employment of numerous examples, both good
and bad. I have made no attempt to present an exhaustive analysis
of the technique of individuals or of schools, but have chosen my
illustrations with a single view to their aptness; I have, however,
for the convenience of reference, taken these paradigms chiefly
from the published collections of stories by the older and better
known writers. My "awful examples" are verbatim excerpts from
manuscripts which have passed through my hands; their authorship
is concealed for obvious reasons.
To the best of my knowledge there is no book extant which treats
solely of the technique of the short story. The nearest approach
to it is "How to Write Fiction," an anonymous work published by
Bellaires & Co., London; but to my mind that is too slight, too
theoretical, and too enamored of the artificial French school to be
of practical value to the amateur. Far better, as working guides, are
the frequent fragmentary articles on the short story, many of them by
successful short story writers, published in current periodicals, to
which I am considerably indebted. But my greatest obligation is to a
course in "The Art of the Short Story"--the first university course
ever offered in that subject--conducted at the University of Chicago
in 1896 by Dr. E. H. Lewis.
C. R. B.
CHICAGO, August 1, 1900.
INTRODUCTION
The short story was first recognized as a distinct class of
literature in 1842, when Poe's criticism of Hawthorne[1] called
attention to the new form of fiction. Short story writing had,
however, been practiced for many years before that: perhaps the
narratives of Homer and the tales of the first books of the Bible
may be considered as the first examples; certainly the short story
is closely associated in its early history with narrative poems,
allegorical tales, and mouth-to-mouth traditions, and it can be
traced surely to the _fabliaux_ of the thirteenth century. Later
writers aided in its development: Mallory's "Morte D'Arthur" and
Caxton's popularization of old romances marked a further progress;
and some of the work of Defoe and Addison would almost stand the
modern tests. But the short story as we know it to-day is a product
of the nineteenth century; and it owes its position in literature, if
not its very existence, to the work of Irving, Hawthorne, and Poe.
They first recognized its possibilities and employed it seriously;
and the art and genius which they put into their tales assured the
short story a permanent place in literature. They differed in subject
matter and style, but they recognized the same requirements and
limitations; and the canons which they established then obtain
to-day.
The modern short story is essentially an American product; and our
masters of its art have established precedents for literary workers
of the old world. In England, Stevenson, Kipling and Haggard are
considered the originators of the modern short story; and Zola,
de Maupassant, Daudet and Paul Marguerite in France, Tolstoi in
Russia, and other famous foreign authors have their claims for
consideration; but all of them, admittedly or not, are but disciples
of the earlier American trinity. This book will confine itself to
the English-American short story.
To-day the short story is so popular that we seem to be in a new
literary epoch--the epoch of the short story--and there is no apparent
cause to expect an early diminution in the demand for such literature;
so that to the young writer the short story offers the best opportunity
to prove his mettle. Then, too, it has the additional value of being an
excellent school for the novelist. The short story and the novel have
many radical differences; but in material, treatment and aim they are
much the same, and the same general training is necessary for both. All
short story writers do not become great novelists, nor have all
novelists been short story tellers; but it is a fact that the majority
of the present day novelists served their 'prenticeship in the ranks of
the short story writers.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1: "Hawthorne's 'Tales,'" by Edgar Allan Poe. _Graham's
Magazine_, May, 1842.]
SHORT STORY WRITING
I
THE SHORT STORY
There is no modern literary form which is as little understood as is the
short story. The term short story is applied to every piece of prose
writing of 30,000 words or less, without regard to its matter, aim, or
handling; but our purpose demands a definition of some accuracy.
"In the first place, then, what is, and what is _not_, a short story?
Many things a short story may be. It may be an episode, like Miss Ella
Hepworth Dixon's or like Miss Bertha Thomas'; a fairy tale, like Miss
Evelyn Sharp's; the presentation of a single character with the stage to
himself (Mr. George Gissing); a tale of the uncanny (Mr. Rudyard
Kipling); a dialogue comedy (Mr. Pett Ridge); a panorama of selected
landscape, a vision of the sordid street, a record of heroism, a remote
tradition or some old belief vitalized by its bearing on our lives
to-day, an analysis of an obscure calling, a glimpse at a forgotten
quarter ... but one thing it can never be--it can never be 'a novel in a
nutshell'."[2]
"A short story ... must lead up to something. It should have for its
structure a plot, a bit of life, an incident such as you would find in a
brief newspaper paragraph.... He (Richard Harding Davis) takes the
substance of just such a paragraph, and, with that for the meat of his
story, weaves around it details, descriptions and dialogue, until a
complete story is the result. Now, a story is something more than
incidents and descriptions. It is a definite thing. It progresses
constantly. It arrives somewhere. It must enforce some idea (no matter
what). It must be such a reality that a man who read it would carry away
a definite impression."[3]
It is evident, then, that the term short story is properly used only
when it means a short prose narrative, which presents artistically a bit
of real life; the primary object of which is to amuse, though it may
also depict a character, plead a cause, or point a moral; this amusement
is neither of that æsthetic order which we derive from poetry, nor of
that cheap sort which we gain from a broad burlesque: it is the simple
yet intellectual pleasure derived from listening to a well told
narrative.
The first requisite of a short story is that the writer have a story to
tell--that is, a plot. He may present pretty scenes and word pictures if
he will, but he must vivify and humanize them by the introduction of
certain characters, patterned after the people of real life; and these
characters must move and act and live. The presentation of "still life"
pure and simple is not in the province of the short story.
The question of length is but relative; in general a short story should
not exceed 10,000 words, and it could hardly contain less than 1,000;
while from 3,000 to 5,000 is the most usual length. Yet Hawthorne's "The
Gentle Boy" contains 12,000 words; Poe's "The Gold Bug," 13,000; and
perhaps the majority of James' exceed the maximum, while "The Lesson of
the Master" requires 25,000, and "The Aspern Papers" 32,000. Indeed, the
length of any story is determined, not so much by some arbitrary word
limit, as by the theme with which it deals. Every plot requires a
certain number of words for its proper elaboration, and neither more nor
less will do. Just what the limit for any particular story may be, the
writer must decide for himself. "It seems to me that a short story
writer should act, metaphorically, like this--he should put his idea for
a story into one cup of a pair of balances, then into the other he
should deal out his words; five hundred; a thousand; two thousand; three
thousand; as the case may be--and when the number of words thus paid in
causes the beam to rise, on which his idea hangs, then is his story
finished. If he puts in a word more or less, he is doing false work."[4]
The short story does not need the love element that is generally
considered necessary to the novel, and many short stories disregard it
altogether. Love usually requires time and moods and varying scenes for
its normal development, so that it is difficult to treat it properly
within the limits of the short story; and then only when some particular
phase or scene admits of isolation. Then, too, many short stories are
merely accounts of strange adventures, wonderful discoveries or
inventions, and queer occurrences of all sorts--themes which amuse us
from their mere oddity; or they are verbal photographs of life, which
are interesting from their views of psychological and sociological
problems; and none of them requires love as the chief motive. Ingenuity
and originality, the principal constituents of such tales, are the story
teller's great virtues; on them he bases his hopes. Therefore, he must
have strong individuality, and the power of forcing his readers to view
life through his eyes, without perceiving him.
Also, and as if to compensate for the lack of the love interest, the
short story has a "touch of fantasy" which gives it a distinctive charm.
This quality is the hint of--not necessarily the supernatural, but
rather the weird; it is a recognition and a vague presentation of the
many strong influences that are not explainable by our philosophy of
life. It is the intrusion into our matter-of-fact lives of the uncanny
element, which the novice so grossly misuses in his tales of premonitory
dreams and visions, and of most unghostly ghosts. "It is not enough to
catch a ghost white-handed and to hale him into the full glare of the
electric light. A brutal misuse of the supernatural is perhaps the very
lowest degradation of the art of fiction. But 'to mingle the marvellous
rather as a slight, delicate, and evanescent flavor than as any actual
portion of the substance,' to quote from the preface to the 'House of
the Seven Gables,' this is, or should be, the aim of the writer of
short-stories whenever his feet leave the firm ground of fact as he
strays in the unsubstantial realm of fantasy. In no one's writings is
this better exemplified than in Hawthorne's; not even in Poe's. There is
a propriety in Hawthorne's fantasy to which Poe could not attain.
Hawthorne's effects are moral where Poe's are merely physical. The
situation and its logical development and the effects to be got out of
it are all Poe thinks of. In Hawthorne the situation, however strange
and weird, is only the outward and visible sign of an inward and
spiritual struggle. Ethical consequences are always worrying Hawthorne's
soul; but Poe did not know there were any ethics."[5]
The short story usually treats of the lighter and brighter side
of life. It is seldom in deadly earnest; it tends somewhat to
superficiality; and it prefers cleverness to profundity, in both
conception and treatment. Naturally, then, comedy rather than tragedy
is its usual sphere; and though the tale may end in gloom, it more
frequently suggests a possible tragedy in order to heighten the
effect of the happy denouement. For similar reasons the short story
avoids the didactic tone, either presenting its lesson in clever
disguise, or limiting its moral efforts to providing innocent
amusement for an idle hour.
In the strife between realism and romanticism the short story adopts
the middle course, taking advantage of the better phases of both, but
siding with neither; for every life is subject to both influences,
often at the same time, and the short story aspires to present life
as it is. "Without true realism and genuine romanticism--actuality
and ideals--good work was never done, nor did any writer ever rise to
be an author."[6] "No worthy work of fiction may properly be labelled
romantic, realistic or symbolic, since every great work of art
contains all these in some proportion. Love and fighting are not
necessarily romance; nor are soup-kitchens and divorce courts
necessarily realism.... Malice, futility and ugliness--the dreadful
monotony of existence--are not necessarily real life; nor the tales
of summer love and marriage ceremonies, successful fightings, or
sacrifice and chivalry necessarily romance."[7]
In its technique a short story demands the utmost care; it lacks the
bulk of the novel, which hides minor defects. It must have a definite
form, which shall be compact, and which shall have its parts properly
proportioned and related; and it must be wrought out in a workmanlike
manner. It requires extreme care from its conception to its completion,
when it must stand forth a perfect work of art; and yet it must reveal
no signs of the worker's tools, or of the pains by which it was
achieved.
From what has been said it is evident that the short story is
artificial, and to a considerable degree unnatural. It could hardly
be otherwise, for it takes out of our complex lives a single person
or a single incident and treats that as if it were complete in
itself. Such isolation is not known to nature: There all things work
together, and every man influences all about him and is influenced
by them. Yet this separation and exclusion are required by the
conventions of the short story; and after all, there is always the
feeling, if the characters are well handled, that they have been
living and will continue to live, though we have chanced to come in
contact with them for only a short time.
It is this isolation, this magnifying of one character or incident,
that constitutes the chief difference between the novel and the short
story.[8] In the novel we have a reproduction of a certain period of
real life: all the characters are there, with their complex lives and
their varying emotions; there are varied scenes, each one the stage
of some particular incident or semi-climax which carries the action
on to the final chapter; and there are persons and scenes and
conversations which have no reason for being there, except that just
such trivial things are parts of life. With the short story it is
very different: that permits of but one scene and incident, one or
two real characters, with one predominant emotion: all else is a
detriment to the interest and success of the story. A book may be
called a novel even if it is composed of a series of incidents, each
complete in itself, which are bound together by a slender thread of
common characters; but a story cannot properly be called a short one
unless it has simplicity of plot, singleness of character and climax,
and freedom from extraneous matter. "In a short story the starting
point is an idea, a definite notion, an incident, a surprising
discovery; and this must have a definite significance, a bearing on
our view of life; also it must be applied to the development of one
life course, one character. The novel, on the other hand, starts with
a conception of character, a man, a woman, a human heart, which under
certain circumstances works out a definite result, makes a world....
Lastly it develops a group of characters, who together make a
complete community, instead of tracing the life course of one."[9]
To prove that these various requirements are recognized and observed by
masters of the art, I would ask you to consider the following list,
which _The Critic_ selected from nearly five hundred submitted in
competition for a prize which it offered for a list of the best twelve
American short stories:
"The Man Without a Country," Edward Everett Hale.
"The Luck of Roaring Camp," Bret Harte.
"The Great Stone Face," Nathaniel Hawthorne.
"The Snow Image," Nathaniel Hawthorne.
"The Gold Bug," Edgar Allan Poe.
"The Murders in the Rue Morgue," Edgar Allan Poe.
"The Lady, or the Tiger?" Frank R. Stockton.
"The Legend of Sleepy Hollow," Washington Irving.
"Rip Van Winkle," Washington Irving.
"Marse Chan," Thomas Nelson Page.
"Marjorie Daw," Thomas Bailey Aldrich.
"The Revolt of Mother," Mary E. Wilkins.[10]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 2: "The Short Story," by Frederick Wedmore. _Nineteenth
Century_, Mar., '98.]
[Footnote 3: "How to Write Short Stories." An interview with F.
Hopkinson Smith in the Boston _Herald._ _Current Literature._ June, '96.]
[Footnote 4: Robert Barr in "How to Write a Short Story; A Symposium."
_The Bookman._ Mar., '97.]
[Footnote 5: "The Philosophy of the Short-story," by Brander Matthews.
_Lippincott's._ Oct, '85.]
[Footnote 6: "Magazine Fiction and How Not to Write It," by Frederick M.
Bird. _Lippincott's._ Nov., '94.]
[Footnote 7: "The Art of Fiction," by Gilbert Parker. _The Critic,_
Dec.,'98.]
[Footnote 8: In many respects the art of the short story and the novel
are so closely allied that I have been able to reenforce my observations
with magazine articles which were meant to apply primarily to the
novel.--THE AUTHOR.]
[Footnote 9: "How to Write Fiction." Published anonymously by Bellaires
& Co., London. Part I, Chapter I.]
[Footnote 10: "The Best Twelve American Stories." _The Critic._ Apr. 10,
'97.]
II
SHORT STORIES CLASSIFIED
The treatment demanded by any particular story depends more upon its
class than upon the tale itself; a story which recounts an actual
occurrence is much less exacting than one which attempts to depict
manners; and, in general, the more the writer relies on his art, the
more difficult is his task. It is therefore both possible and profitable
to separate short stories into definite groups and to consider them
collectively rather than as units. This classification is based chiefly
upon the necessity of a plot, the purpose or aim of the narrative, and
the skill and care required for its successful treatment. It is crude
and arbitrary from a literary standpoint, for a good short story is
capable of being listed under several different classes, but it serves
our practical purpose. Each story is placed according to its dominant
class; and the classes are arranged progressively from the simplest to
the most difficult of treatment. The examples are presented only as
definite illustrations; there is no attempt to classify all short
stories, or all the stories of any particular author.
I. THE TALE is the relation, in an interesting and literary form, of
some simple incident or stirring fact. It has no plot in the sense that
there is any problem to unravel, or any change in the relation of the
characters; it usually contains action, but chiefly accidents or odd
happenings, which depend on their intrinsic interest, without regard to
their influence on the lives of the actors.
(_a_) It is often a genuine _True Story_, jealously observant of facts,
and embellished only to the extent that the author has endeavored to
make his style vivid and picturesque. Such stories are a result of the
tendency of the modern newspaper to present its news in good literary
form. The best illustrations are the occasional contributions of Ray
Stannard Baker to _McClure's Magazine_.
(_b_) It may, however, be an _Imaginative Tale_, which could easily
happen, but which is the work of the author's imagination. It is a
straightforward narration of possible events; if it passes the bounds of
probability, or attempts the utterly impossible, it becomes a _Story of
Ingenuity_. (See Class VIII.) It has no love element and no plot; and
its workmanship is loose. The best examples are the stories of adventure
found in the better class of boys' and children's papers.
II. THE MORAL STORY, in spite of the beautiful examples left us by
Hawthorne, is usually too baldly didactic to attain or hold a high place
in literature. Its avowed purpose is to preach, and, as ordinarily
written, preach it does in the most determined way. Its plot is usually
just sufficient to introduce the moral. It is susceptible of a high
literary polish in the hands of a master; but when attempted by a novice
it is apt to degenerate into a mess of moral platitudes.
(_a_) _The Fable_ makes no attempt to disguise its didactic purpose, but
publishes it by a final labelled "Moral," which epitomizes the lesson it
conveys. In _Fables_ the characters are often animals, endowed with all
the attributes of men. It early lost favor because of its bald
didacticism, and for the last century has been practiced only
occasionally. To-day it is used chiefly for the purpose of burlesque and
satire, as in George Ade's "Fables in Slang." Æsop is of course the
immortal example of this sort of story.
(_b_) The _Story with a Moral_ attempts to sugar-coat its sermon with a
little narrative. It sticks rather closely to facts, and has a slight
plot, which shows, or is made to show, the consequences of drinking,
stealing, or some other sin. Usually it is either brutally realistic or
absurdly exaggerated; but that it can be given literary charm is proved
by Hawthorne's use of it. Maria Edgeworth is easily the "awful example"
of this class, and her stories, such as "Murad the Unlucky" and "The
Grateful Negro," are excellent illustrations of how _not_ to write. Many
of Hawthorne's tales come under this head, especially "Lady Eleanor's
Mantle," "The Ambitious Guest," and "Miss Bullfrog." The stories of Miss
Wilkins usually have a strong moral element, but they are better classed
in a later division. (See Class IV.) Contemporary examples of this style
of writing may be found in the pages of most Sunday School and
Temperance papers.
(_c_) _The Allegory_ is the only really literary form of the _Moral
Story_, and the only one which survives to-day. It has a strong moral
purpose, but disguises it under the pretense of a well-told story; so
that it is read for its story alone, and the reader is conscious of its
lesson only when he has finished the narrative. It usually personifies
or gives concrete form to the various virtues and vices of men.
Examples: Hawthorne's "The Birthmark," "Rappaccini's Daughter," and
"Feathertop." Allegories which deserve the name are sometimes found in
current periodicals.
III. THE WEIRD STORY owes its interest to the innate love of the
supernatural or unexplainable which is a part of our complex human
nature--the same feeling which prompts a group of children to beg for
"just one more" ghost story, while they are still shaken with the terror
of the last one. It may have a definite plot in which supernatural
beings are actors; but more often it is slight in plot, but contains a
careful psychological study of some of the less pleasant emotions.
(_a_) The _Ghost Story_ usually has a definite plot, in which the ghost
is an actor. The ghost may be a "really truly" apparition, manifesting
itself by the conventional methods, and remaining unexplained to the
end, as in Irving's "The Spectre Bridegroom," and Kipling's "The Phantom
'Rickshaw;" or it may prove to be the result of a superstitious mind
dwelling upon perfectly natural occurrences, as in Irving's "The Legend
of Sleepy Hollow," and Wilkins' "A Gentle Ghost." It requires art
chiefly to render it plausible; particularly in the latter case, when
the mystery must be carefully kept up until the denouement.
(_b_) The _Fantastic Tale_ treats of the lighter phases of the
supernatural. Its style might be well described as whimsical, its
purpose is to amuse by means of playful fancies, and it usually exhibits
a delicate humor. The plot is slight and subordinate. Examples:
Hawthorne's "A Select Party," "The Hall of Fantasy," and "Monsieur du
Miroir;" and most of our modern fairy tales.
(_c_) The _Study in Horror_ was first made popular by Poe, and he has
had almost no successful imitators. It is unhealthy and morbid, full of
a terrible charm if well done, but tawdry and disgusting if bungled. It
requires a daring imagination, a full and facile vocabulary, and a keen
sense of the ludicrous to hold these two in check. The plot is used only
to give the setting to the story. Most any of Poe's tales would serve as
an illustration, but "The Pit and the Pendulum," and "The Fall of the
House of Usher" are particularly apt. Doyle has done some work
approaching Poe's, but his are better classed as _Stories of Ingenuity_.
(See Class VIII.)
IV. THE CHARACTER STUDY is a short story in which the chief interest
rests in the development and exposition of human character. It may treat
of either a type or an individual. Good character delineation is one of
the surest proofs of a writer's literary ability.
(_a_) When the character depicted is inactive the resultant work is not
really a story. It usually has no plot, and is properly a _Sketch_, in
which the author makes a psychological analysis of his subject. It
inclines to superficiality and is liable to degenerate into a mere
detailed description of the person. It demands of the writer the ability
to catch striking details and to present them vividly and interestingly.
Examples: Hawthorne's "Sylph Etherege" and "Old Esther Dudley;" Poe's
"The Man of the Crowd;" James' "Greville Fane" and "Sir Edmund Orme;"
Stevenson's "Will o' the Mill;" Wilkins' "The Scent of the Roses" and "A
Village Lear."
(_b_) When the character described is active we have a _Character Study_
proper, built upon a plot which gives the character opportunity to work
out his own personality before us by means of speech and action. The
plot is subordinated to the character sketching. The psychological
analysis is not presented by the author in so many words, but is deduced
by the reader from his observation of the character. Such studies
constitute one of the highest art forms of the short story, for the
characters must live on the printed page. The short stories of Henry
James and of Miss Wilkins could almost be classed _in toto_ under this
head; Miss Wilkins' characters are usually types, while those of James
are more often individual, though rather unusual. Other good examples
are Hawthorne's "Edward Randolph's Portrait;" Irving's "The Devil and
Tom Walker," and "Wolfert Weber;" Stevenson's "Markheim" and "The Brown
Box;" and Davis' "Van Bibber," as depicted in the several stories of
"Van Bibber and Others."
Notice that in both subdivisions nearly every title embodies a reference
to the character described, showing that the author intentionally set
out to sketch a character.
V. THE DIALECT STORY might be considered as a subdivision of the
preceding class, since it is in effect a _Character Study_; but its
recent popularity seems to warrant its being treated separately. Its
chief distinction is that it is written in the broken English used by
the uneducated classes of our own country, and by foreigners. Its plot
is either very slight or hopelessly hackneyed, and it is redeemed from
sheer commonplace only by its picturesque language. It is usually told
in the first person by some English-murdering ignoramus. It is simple,
and sometimes has a homely pathos. It may present character as either
active or inactive, though usually the former. Its excuse for existence
is that it gives truthful expression, in their own language, to the
thoughts of certain classes of society; but as written by the amateur
the dialect is a fearful and wonderful combination of incorrect English
that was never heard from the mouth of any living man. Joel Chandler
Harris' "Nights with Uncle Remus" contains genuine dialect; other
varieties correctly handled may be found in almost any of the stories
of George Washington Cable, Ian Maclaren, and Miss Wilkins.
The _Dialect Story_ as literature and as a field for the novice is
considered at length in Chapter VI.
VI. THE PARABLE OF THE TIMES is a short story which aims to present a
vivid picture of our own times, either to criticise some existing evil,
or to entertain by telling us something of how "the other half" of the
world lives. It is in a sense a further development of _The Tale_ (Class
I.), though it has a more definite plot. It is the most favored form of
the short story to-day, and its popularity is responsible for a mess of
inane commonplace and bald realism that is written by amateurs, who
think they are presenting pen pictures of life. For since its matter is
gathered from our everyday lives, it requires some degree of skill to
make such narratives individual and interesting.
(_a_) The _Instructive Story_ of this class may be further subdivided as
(1) that which puts present day problems in concrete form, with no
attempt at a solution; and (2) that which not only criticises, but
attempts also to correct. In either case, it aims to reform by
education; it deals with actual problems of humanity rather than with
abstract moral truths; and it seeks to amuse always, and to reform if
possible. It must not be confused with the _Moral Story_ of Class II.
Octave Thanet writes this style of story almost exclusively, and any of
her work selected at random would be a good illustration; her "Sketches
of American Types" would be listed under (1), and such stories as "The
Scab" and "Trusty No. 49" under (2). Under (1) would come also Brander
Matthews' "Vignettes of Manhattan;" and under (2) Edward Everett Hale's
"The Man Without a Country" and "Children of the Public."
(_b_) The most usual story of this class is the _Story of To-day_, which
uses present day conditions as a background, and which endeavors only to
amuse and interest the reader. Naturally, however, since the scenes and
persons described must be new to the reader, such a story is also
educating and broadening in its influence. Its plot may seem trivial
when analyzed, but it is selected with a view more to naturalness than
to strength or complexity. Here we should list nearly all of our modern
so-called "society stories," and "stories of manners." Any of Richard
Harding Davis' short stories will serve as an excellent illustration,
and most of the stories in current periodicals belong in the same
category.
VII. THE STORY OF INGENUITY is one of the most modern forms of the short
story, and, if I may be pardoned the prolixity, one of the most
ingenious. It might be called the "fairy tale of the grown-up," for its
interest depends entirely upon its appeal to the love for the marvelous
which no human being ever outgrows. It requires fertility of invention,
vividness of imagination, and a plausible and convincing style. Yet it
is an easy sort of story to do successfully, since ingenuity will atone
for many technical faults; but it usually lacks serious interest and is
short lived. Poe was the originator and great exemplar of the _Story of
Ingenuity_, and all of his tales possess this cleverness in some degree.
(_a_) The _Story of Wonder_ has little plot. It is generally the vivid
description of some amazing discovery (Poe's "Some Words with a Mummy,"
Hale's "The Spider's Eye"), impossible invention (Adee's "The Life
Magnet," Mitchell's "The Ablest Man in the World"), astounding adventure
(Stockton's "Wreck of the Thomas Hyde," Stevenson's "House with Green
Blinds"), or a vivid description of what might be (Benjamin's "The End
of New York," Poe's "The Domain of Arnheim"). It demands unusual
imaginative power.
(_b_) The _Detective Story_ requires the most complex plot of any type
of short story, for its interest depends solely upon the solution of the
mystery presented in that plot. It arouses in the human mind much the
same interest as an algebraic problem, which it greatly resembles. Poe
wrote the first, and probably the best, one in "The Murders in the Rue
Morgue;" his "The Mystery of Marie Roget" and "The Gold Bug" are other
excellent examples. Doyle, in his "Sherlock Holmes" stories, is a worthy
successor of Poe.
VIII. THE HUMOROUS STORY almost belongs in the category of _Stories of
Ingenuity_, so largely does it depend upon the element of the unusual;
but for that fact it should have been listed earlier, because it has
little care for plot. Indeed, these stories are the freest of all in
their disregard for conventions; with them it is "anything to raise a
laugh," and the end is supposed to justify the means. In general they
are of transient interest and crude workmanship, little fitted to be
called classics; but Mark Twain, at least, has shown us that humor and
art are not incompatible.
(_a_) The simplest form is the _Nonsense Story_, as it may be justly
called. Usually it has the merest thread of plot, but contains odd or
grotesque characters whose witty conversation furnishes all the
amusement necessary. If the characters do act they have an unfortunate
tendency to indulge in horse play. The work of John Kendrick Bangs well
illustrates this type of story. His books, "The House Boat on the Styx"
and "The Pursuit of the House Boat," are really only collections of
short stories, for each chapter can be considered as a whole.
(_b_) _The Burlesque_ has a plot, but usually one which is absurdly
impossible, or which is treated in a burlesque style. The amusement is
derived chiefly from the contrast between the matter and the method of
its presentation. Most of Stockton's stories are of this type: notably
his "The Lady, or the Tiger?" Mark Twain, too, usually writes in this
vein, as in "The Jumping Frog" and "The Stolen White Elephant."
IX. THE DRAMATIC STORY is the highest type of the short story. It
requires a definite but simple plot, which enables the characters to act
out their parts. In its perfect form it is the "bit of real life" which
it is the aim of the short story to present. It is the story shorn of
all needless verbiage, and told as nearly as possible in the words and
actions of the characters themselves; and it possesses a strong climax.
Therefore it demands the most careful and skillful workmanship, from its
conception to its final polishing. It is the most modern type of the
short story.
(_a_) The short story has _Dramatic Form_ when the author's necessary
comments correspond to the stage directions of the drama. Such a story
is, in fact, a miniature drama, and is often capable of being acted just
as it stands. It has a definite plot, but it is developed by dialogue as
frequently as by action. It is the extreme of the modern tendency toward
dramatic narrative, and is just a little too "stagey" and artificial to
be a perfect short story. It is, however, in good literary standing and
in good favor with the public, and it is most excellent practice for the
tyro, for in it he has to sink himself completely in his characters.
Examples: Hope's "The Dolly Dialogues;" Kipling's "The Story of the
Gadsbys;" and Howells' one act parlor plays, like "The Parlor Car," "The
Register," "The Letter," and "Unexpected Guests."
(_b_) A short story has _Dramatic Effect_ when it deals with a single
crisis, conveys a single impression, is presented chiefly by the actors
themselves, and culminates in a single, perfect climax. It may, or may
not, be capable of easy dramatization. It is less artificial than the
story of pure _Dramatic Form_, but is just as free from padding and
irrelevant matter, and just as vivid in effect. It allows of greater art
and finish, for the writer has wider freedom in his method of
presentation. Examples: Poe's "'Thou Art the Man!'" and "Berenice;"
James' "The Lesson of the Master" and "A Passionate Pilgrim;" Wilkins'
"A New England Nun" and "Amanda and Love;" Stevenson's "The Isle of the
Voices;" and Irving's "The Widow and Her Son" and "Rip Van Winkle." But,
indeed, every good short story belongs in this class, which is not so
much a certain type of the short story, as the "honor class" to which
each story seeks admittance.
Every story cited in this book, unless otherwise located, can be found
in one of the appended published collections of short stories:
George Ade: "Fables in Slang."
John Kendrick Bangs: "The Bicyclers;" "Ghosts I Have Met;" "The
Houseboat on the Styx;" "Mantel-Piece Minstrels, and Other
Stories;" "Paste Jewels;" "The Pursuit of the Houseboat;" "The
Water-Ghost and Others."
J. M. Barrie: "An Auld Licht Manse;" "Auld Licht Idyls."
George Washington Cable: "Old Creole Days;" "Strange True
Stories of Louisiana."
Samuel L. Clemens (Mark Twain): "Merry Tales;" "The Stolen White
Elephant."
Richard Harding Davis: "Cinderella and Others;" "The Exiles and
Other Stories;" "Gallegher, and Other Stories;" "The Lion and the
Unicorn;" "Van Bibber and Others."
Charles Dickens: "Christmas Books;" "Christmas Stories;"
"Sketches by Boz."
A. Conan Doyle: "The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes;" "The
Captain of the Pole Star;" "The Exploits of Brigadier Gerard;"
"Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes;" "My Friend the Murderer;" "Round
the Red Lamp."
Maria Edgeworth: "Popular Tales."
Alice French (Octave Thanet): "A Book of True Lovers;" "The
Missionary Sheriff;" "Stories of a Western Town."
H. Rider Haggard: "Allan's Wife."
Joel Chandler Harris: "Daddy Jake, the Runaway;" "Nights with
Uncle Remus;" "Tales of Home Folks in Peace and War."
Bret Harte: "Colonel Starbottle's Client;" "In the Hollow of the
Hills;" "The Luck of Roaring Camp;" "Mrs. Skagg's Husbands;"
"Tales of the Argonauts;" "Thankful Blossom;" "The Story of a
Mine."
Nathaniel Hawthorne: "Mosses from an Old Manse;" "Twice Told
Tales."
Anthony Hope: "The Dolly Dialogues."
William Dean Howells: "A Fearful Responsibility and Other
Stories;" "The Mouse-Trap and Other Farces;" "The Sleeping Car
and Other Farces."
Washington Irving: "The Sketch Book;" "Tales of a Traveler."
Henry James: "The Aspern Papers;" "The Author of Beltraffio;"
"The Lesson of the Master;" "A London Life;" "A Passionate
Pilgrim;" "The Real Thing."
Rudyard Kipling: "The Day's Work;" "In Black and White;" "Indian
Tales;" "The Jungle Book;" "Life's Handicap;" "Many Inventions;"
"The Phantom 'Rickshaw;" "Plain Tales from the Hills;" "The
Second Jungle Book;" "Soldiers Three and Military Tales;"
"Soldier Stories;" "Under the Deodars."
Brander Matthews: "Outlines in Local Color;" "Tales of Fantasy
and Fact;" "Vignettes of Manhattan."
Guy de Maupassant: "The Odd Number."
Thomas Nelson Page: "The Burial of the Guns;" "In Ole Virginia."
Scribner's series: "Short Stories by American Authors."
Robert Louis Stevenson: "The Island Nights' Entertainments;"
"The Merry Men;" "New Arabian Nights."
Frank R. Stockton: "Amos Kilbright;" "The Lady, or the Tiger?"
"Rudder Grange;" "A Story Teller's Pack."
John Watson (Ian Maclaren): "Auld Lang Syne;" "Beside the Bonnie
Brier Bush."
Mary E. Wilkins: "A Humble Romance;" "The Love of Parson Lord;"
"A New England Nun;" "The Pot of Gold;" "Silence;" "Young
Lucretia."
III
THE PLOT
The plot is the nucleus of the story, the bare thought or incident
upon which the narrative is to be builded. When a child says,
"Grandma, tell me the story of how the whale swallowed Jonah," he
gives the plot of the story that he desires; and the grandmother
proceeds to elaborate that primal idea to suit the taste of her
auditor. In like manner, before you put pen to paper, you must have
in mind some interesting idea which you wish to express in narrative
form; the absence of such an idea means that you have no plot, no
story to tell, and therefore have no business to be writing. If you
undertake to tell a short story, go about it in a workmanlike manner:
don't begin scribbling pretty phrases, and trust to Providence to
introduce the proper story, but yourself provide the basic facts. If
you do not begin correctly, it is useless for you to begin at all.
A plot implies action--that is, something must happen; at the
conclusion of the story the characters must be differently situated, and
usually differently related one to another, from what they were at the
beginning. The event need not be tragic, or even serious; but it must be
of sufficient importance, novelty and interest to justify its relation
in narrative form. In general the plot of a short story involves an
incident or a minor crisis in a human life, rather than the supreme
crisis which makes or mars a man for good. The chief reason for this is
that the supreme crisis requires more elaborate preparation and
treatment than is possible in the short story. There may be a strong
tragic element which makes it seem that the denouement must be tragic,
but that is usually to obtain the effect of contrast. Yet the short
story may be a supreme crisis and a tragedy, as are Stevenson's
"Markheim," Hawthorne's "The Ambitious Guest"[11] and "The Birthmark,"
and many of Poe's tales; but these are stories of an exceptional type,
in which the whole life of the chief actor comes to a focus in the
crisis which makes the story.
The short story plot must be simple and complete. The popular idea of
a plot, derived from the requirements of the novel and the drama, is
that it should be a tangled skein of facts and fancies, which the
author shall further complicate in order to exhibit his deftness in
the final disentanglement. Such a plot is impossible for the short
story, which admits of no side issues and no second or under plot. It
must not be the synopsis of a novel, or the attempt to compress into
the tiny compass of the short story a complicated plot sufficient for
a novel, as are so many of the "Short Stories of the Day" now
published by newspapers. As nearly as possible it must deal with a
single person, in a single action, at a single place, in a single
time. More than any other modern form of literature, the short story
requires the observance of the old Greek unities of time, place and
action: its brevity and compactness do not admit of the proper
treatment of the changes wrought by the passage of time, the
influences of different scenes, or the complications resulting from
the interrelation of many characters of varied importance. If the
plot chosen requires the passage of ten years' time, if it involves a
shift of scene from New York to Timbuctoo, or if it introduces two or
three sets of characters, it may by some miracle of ingenuity make a
readable story, but it will never be a model one. In "The Ambitious
Guest" the time is less than three hours, the place is a single room,
and the action is the development of the guest's ambition.
Yet the plot is only relatively important. It must always be present or
there is no story; but once there it takes second place. The short story
is not written to exploit the plot, however clever that may be, but to
give a glimpse of real life; and the plot is only a means to that end.
This is well illustrated by the _Character Study_, in which the real
interest centers in the analysis and exposition of a character, and the
plot is incidental. In many classes of stories, as we have already
observed, the plot is used only to hold the narrative together, and the
interest depends on the attractiveness of the picture presented. The
plot must not be allowed to force itself through the fabric of the
story, like the protruding ribs of a half-starved horse; but must be
made to give form and substantiality to the word-flesh which covers it.
In _Detective Stories_, however, the plot is all-important, for the
interest depends entirely upon the unraveling of some tangle; but
even here it must contain but a single idea, though that may be
rather involved. Such stories are really much simpler than they
appear, for their seeming complexity consists in telling the story
backwards, and so reasoning from effect to cause, rather than vice
versa as in the ordinary tale. The plot itself is simple enough, as
may be proved by working backward through Poe's "The Murders in the
Rue Morgue." This is, by the way, a method of plot-making which is
often, and incorrectly, employed by novices in the construction of
any story. It has been aptly called "building the pyramid from the
apex downward."[12] It results from an exaggerated conception of the
importance of the plot. But it is not so much _what_ the characters
do that interests us, but _how_ they do it.
"The true method for the making of a plot is the development of what may
be called a plot-germ. Take two or three characters, strongly
individualized morally and mentally, place them in a strong situation
and let them develop.... There are hundreds of these plot-germs in our
every-day life, conversation and newspaper reading, and the slightest
change in the character at starting will give a wide difference in
ending.... Change the country and the atmosphere is changed, the
elements are subjected to new influences which develop new incidents and
so a new plot.... Change any vital part in any character and the plot
must be different. One might almost say two plots thus developed from
the same plot-germ can have no greater resemblance than two shells cast
up by the ocean."[13] "In the evolution of a plot the main things to be
considered are that it shall be reasonably interesting, that it shall
not violate probability, and that it shall possess some originality
either of subject or of treatment. Not the possible, but the probable,
should be the novelist's guide."[14]