First of all, let me begin this by saying I do not know how to write a standalone short story: between 1200 and 12,000 words, not fanfiction even of myself where certain things simply do not have to be explained, and with a narrow focus that doesn't read like a condensed novel. That is the reason (or at least one of them) why I decided to take on the form and learn what makes it tick. The concrete goal was easy: write one a month and revise it to publishable standards.

I failed.

As Edison pointed out, this is a perfect time to figure out one way (or more) not to do it.

"City of Glass"
I started out with this short story because when I wrote the drabble, it raised a lot of questions and intriguing possibilities to me. I wanted to write the whole story, find out what Seara (a longstanding character friend of mine) was doing on that ship and what was significant about the bubble. Here is the drabble below:

Seara leans both arms on the starship railing and stares into the magnificent starscape and swirling nebula. She is dressed in her militancy garb, as the man behind her.

"What happens," she asks, "when the glass cracks?"

A pause. "It doesn't."

In her mind she knows this. The thick glass hull was designed to withstand the speed, pressure, and debris of space, to give the controller the most forewarning. Still she studies a tiny bubble in the thick glass hull.

She should call the nanobots to fix it.

She waits a while, staring at the cobwebby dust between the stars.

-

The problem with writing this story full-length is I didn't know what I wanted to say. Now, this isn't necessary for everyone, but I have to know the rules of the world I'm writing in and know just enough about the story to have a powerful launching point or else an ending to write toward. No launching point, no grand finale, no story.

I had to stop on "City of Glass." While I still pecked away at all the angles, the glass continues to turn me away and lock me out. I can't seem to find the answers to the questions that make up a full-length short story about this situation.

This led me to a story that kerwolloped me upside the muse and promised to be writable.

"A Cup of Prayers"
This story follows several generations around their heirloom teacup, a housewarming gift (well, the whole teaset was that) to a marriage troubled from the start. As I seem incapable of writing a story with absolutely no special element, this cup slowly takes on the actual smell of the roses about its rim as it is used by the family to breathe in their prayers and mark the place they set for the Lord. A lovely little story. I knew exactly what I wanted to say.

But I didn't know how to say it.

Sadly, the belief that there are conventions of genre is true and so the fact that I am a stranger to historical fiction was a very real reason why I continually had to draw myself up short in the writing of this story. In an imagined world, I can fill in the gaps of my knowledge by simply creating new rules that conform to those already established. With history, not so. I didn't know the rules of my world. Still don't. And as I wound down to a week or so left in the month, I decided to shelve this story until I was ready to do the research necessary to bring it to life.

"The Naming"

I learned my lesson. I need to write a story where I know the rules of my world. I get it. Capitulate. Throw up my hands, realize that this is why fanfiction is so easy, why In This Wood was so easy, why The Rule of Calindria is easy when I'm not dealing with Chirrith (the only country in the story that still gives me hooded, suspicious glances as though I'm a foreigner). So I decide to write a one-shot (in fanfiction-speak) about something in Calindria.

Jhaiyla Shalea is the Heirarch of Salorý's order and a major character in The Rule of Calindria. The occasion of the naming is a significant event in the lives of members of their order and I figured it would be useful to write.

I wrote half of it.

I hate it.

Somebody once said to finish every story you write. It's good discipline, but despite the reasons this published author gave for finishing every story, I disagree. Here is why. I know I can finish what I begin. Novels, short stories, novellas, flash fiction. I have written. I have finished. I do not want to finish this story. I could. I know the next words and after those, more would come. But I am choosing to not meet my January fiction goal.

My life is full. My energy is needed to write stories and things I care about and sadly, I do not care about this one. There is a difference between knowing when I am failing a goal and knowing when the goal is no longer worthy. This goal is no longer worthy. And so I learn more.

I have to love my character.

One of my rules of fiction (I promise to give the full explanation an update soon—Home) is that character is story. I believe this. Fully. It was not until I hit upon the character Shield (also Salorý, Asere, Rynli, etc.) from an unfinished novel Rain (also deliberately walked away from) that The Rule of Calindria could be born. Jhaiyla is not strong enough to carry my interest enough yet. Maybe once I finish Shield's story, maybe then I will know Jhaiyla enough to love her and write "The Naming." Until then...

January Fiction is closed and done. February Fiction will commence. And it will begin with a world where I know the rules, a character I love, and a knowledge of what I want to say. Until that idea solidifies into having these three factors, I will not even begin to write it. :shrugs:

I'm learning.