by Dr. John Yeoman
Have you ever entered a short story contest and failed to win? And wondered why?
You may have made one or more of these seven ‘killer’ mistakes. How do I know? Since 2009, I’ve judged more than 6000 entries in the Writers’ Village short story award. And I’ve given every contestant feedback on their entries.I can honestly say that 99% of my contestants have been delighted. Many have revised their stories in line with my suggestions and gone on to see them published elsewhere.
Around 40% of my contestants have entered time and again across six years – more to get a critique, they say, than to win a prize. (I sometimes wonder why I offer prizes at all…)
That said, a few folk were not happy that they didn’t win. It’s understandable. We all fall in love with our stories and, if others don’t love them, we take it personally.
Remember judging will always be subjective. Other judges might have different opinions or rank them in a different order. Every time I announce the winners I agonize over whether #3 should have been #2 or vice versa, or whether I’ve overlooked some hidden depth in a runner up.
One judge might give top marks to a prose poem that glitters with metaphor. Another might look for deep sensibility, a sensitive exploration of relationships that stirs us to the soul.Some love Annie Proulx for her knotty, power packed syntax. Others adore the ethereality of Ian McEwan, Still others are biff-bang, meat-and-potato fans of Tom Clancy. We’re all biased and I’ll state it clearly here:My own bias is for strong structure.
I like a story to tick like the proverbial Swiss watch. Take any little thing out (or put it in), and it stops working. If everything else in the story works, its unity of structure is the deciding factor.
How can you improve your chances in a contest? And win a four-figure cash award? By avoiding these errors.
Seven Killer Mistakes that Can Ruin Your Chances of Winning a Writing Contest
#1. Your story looks boring.
That’s not what you expected, was it? You expected me to drone on about wondrous opening lines, sympathetic characters, clever plot ideas… Yes, I’ll get to all that. But the first thing a judge or expert reader takes in, consciously or not, is the story’s visual appearance. Does page one appear as a boring slab of text, unvaried by dialogue or paragraphs of different length?
If so, it suggests the story will be dull as well.
Either the writer has not been professional enough to insert carriage returns at key places or everything in the story will have the same cadence. A snore of tedium.
True, that rule can be broken. You can write long unbroken paragraphs, at times, and get away with it. But you’d better have a darned good reason.
#2. Your first paragraph is a bad advertisement for the story.
What genre do you write in? A story that aspires to literary fiction – and explores the nuances of moods, perceptions or relationships? Then it should engage us at once with the power and sensitivity of its language. Its command of form. The originality of its ideas.
A crime-suspense story may be written in a more mundane style but it must open with a mystery, hanging question or intriguing incident that compels the reader to read on. And so forth.
In your first fifty words let the reader know the genre of the story you’re writing in, and give them a fast sample of your skills. Not sure of your story’s genre? You’re writing literary fiction.
#3. Your last paragraph fades away.
A lazy judge or agent (yes, they do exist, although not at Writers’ Village) will read paragraph one then flip straight to your last scene to see how the story ends. If there’s a hint of unity or satisfying structure – never mind what your story has to say – they’ll read the whole work. If there’s not, they won’t.
BTW: A sneaky way to draft a winning story is to write your last paragraph first, then go back and write the story. At least, you’ll know where you’re heading. And your first and last paragraphs can now convey some teasing echo of the other – in their mood, symbol, incident or phrase.
That ‘book end’ structure is sneaky, it’s formulaic, and it’s certainly not apt for every tale. But it’s amazing how often you’ll find it in a winning story.
(I use this trick with most of my novels…Anne.)
#4. Your structure is all over the place.
In a short story, you typically have just 5000 words. Or less. There’s no room for digression, padding or protracted scene setting. (Nor should there be in a novel.) Cut those scenes. “Impossible,” you’ll cry. “I spent a month writing them!”
Our limit in the Writers’ Village contest is 3000 words. Strictly. In every round I have to reject around 10% of the stories entered because they were just too long. That hurts me. They were often good stories and could have been cut back so easily to the word limit, by 10% or even 30%.
Every story or novel can be cut and it will grow stronger.
#5. Your plot is a cliché.
According to Christopher Booker there are only Seven Basic Plots. (It’s the title of his book.) He might have described those plots in one short page. Instead, he wrote 400,000 words to prove that just seven plots can be dressed up a thousand different ways. And so they can.
Don’t worry if your plot is essentially Romeo & Juliet, or Huck Finn, or Cinderella. Don’t fret that it’s a cliché. (And it will be.) Give its structure a twist.
A homicidal clown? A visit to a dying parent where some Terrible Truth is finally revealed? A gentle coming-of-age story where the narrator discovers Love, the Universe and the wickedness of her Best Friend? It’s all been done.
Just bring to it a fresh eye, clever language – and a new structure – and it can be done again.
#6. Your characters don’t excite us.
“My people are drawn from life!” So one contestant reminded me. So what? The reader has to want to know them, if only to enjoy a shudder.
A Tip: to improve your structure, give the reader a comfortable ‘seat’ in your story, a single point-of-view character whose mind they can happily live in throughout the journey. Yes, you can head-hop through several different points of view, even in 3000 words, and your gamble might even work – if your plot is strong and your transitions skilful. But why take the risk?
#7. Your presentation screams ‘amateur’.
A few typos can be forgiven. Spelling errors, aberrant commas, hyphens used instead of em dashes, single quotes around dialogue rather than double quotes (as The Chicago Manual of Style insists), and so forth. All convention is just opinion fossilized into dogma. But we’d better heed it.
And all authors nod.
But what a judge or agent won’t forgive is the story set in tiny 9-point Helvetica type. (Always use Times Roman 12 point.) Or entirely in italics. Or that’s laid out in a single unbroken paragraph. Or that has negligible margins. Or that includes second colours. Or graphics. (If you’re keen on graphics, reserve them for your non-fiction.)
They all spell ‘amateur’.
Should you use double line or 1½ spacing? Check the rules of submission. Contests usually insist on one or the other although both are ridiculous in this digital age. Sigh and do what the rules say. You’d be amazed at how many writers don’t.
Good visual presentation is an aspect of structure. A judge will rate your presentation before they’ve even read your story.
NOTE: Make sure you avoid an amateur mentality as well. Here are four types I’ve run into. Every one had made a ‘killer’ mistake in their story, but they preferred to blame the judge.
Conspiracy theorists
“My story is far better than any of the winners yet you didn’t give me a prize. You’re all in it together, judges, agents, publishers. Either you’re blind to genuine talent or you have a secret agenda to destroy new authors. That’s why my stories never get published!”No, I don’t exaggerate. I’ve had those emails. A few.
Let’s take a reality check. Professional judges and agents – I can’t answer for the others – know their business. If one or two turn down our work, that’s happenstance. If ten do, something is wrong with our work.*
“You didn’t understand my story.”
Sometimes I mark a story down, although it glows with craft techniques, because it’s too cryptic. Maybe I could have understood it after a fifth reading… (Did I not once teach Finnegan’s Wake?) But that’s asking too much of the busy reader.
True, a studied ambiguity can give a story wondrous depth. What would The Turn of the Screw have been without its equivocal – and maddening – close?
Impenetrability is something else.
“Your winning story twice misused a semi-colon.”
I get the odd protest – usually from English teachers – that a winning story was improperly punctuated, ungrammatical or otherwise philologically challenged. At times, it’s true. How I’ve yearned to tidy up some stories!
Just one extra line at the close might have clinched them. Or a few close edits along the way. But short of correcting an obvious mistyping I can’t tamper with a story.
Besides, if a story is otherwise outstanding, a few improprieties are a minor issue. If we get hung up over trifles, we’ve missed the point.
“I didn’t like the way you ranked the winning stories.”
I can judge only what I’m sent. The winners are, in my opinion, the best I received and they range from brilliant to darn good.
Avoid those seven errors and your entry should sail into the judge’s ‘maybe’ pile. But will s/he clutch their throat, draw a ragged breath and gasp ‘It works!’? As I do, at least a dozen times in every contest round? That cries out for another blog post entirely…
What mistakes have killed a story for you? What gross writing errors have you committed yourself? (Don’t be shy. We’ve all made them.) Share your thoughts in a comment below.
by Dr. John Yeoman, May 10, 2015
I've never entered a short story contest, so thanks for the tips.
Some people are just too nit-picky when it comes to typos.One comma out of place is not going to kill the whole story.
And hitting the correct word count shouldn't be an issue. I contributed a story to an anthology and it had to be 1500 words or less. The first draft was almost 1900 words. Yes, I did pare it down to under 1500. I just removed what wasn't essential and tightened the prose.
Thanks for sharing, John!
Thanks for that thoughtful comment, Alex. Yes, every story can be cut and it will become stronger. After all, what essentially is Moby Dick? 'Man meets fish, fish hurts man, man kills fish, fish kills man.' It has 'best-seller' written all over it! 🙂
John, thanks for spelling out the details. Very helpful post filled with excellent tips and advice!
Thanks, Ruth!
I'm with Alex- as an epic fantasy guy, I'm not sure I'm allowed into one of those! But I see very little here that wouldn't apply to a good-sized tale (you know, 80k or so, enough to get a good taste). Thanks Dr. Yeoman!
Ho, William, every 80,000 word novel can be cut to a novella. But whether a publisher would take on a novella nowadays is another matter. Did you notice how Dan Brown added 20,000 words of superfluous drivel to the end of The Lost Symbol just to make up his word count?
Scene setting is not inherently bad — how it's DONE is the problem. Rather, it should tie in #6 and be the character's opinion about the setting. The problem is that setting is often taught as an exercise separate of the character, like the writer is checking off setting in the story. And it isn't help when writers themselves declare description is boring. If description is boring, chances are the characterization has been left out.
True, Linda, setting for its own sake is just padding. It should characterize somebody, or define a mood or otherwise advance the plot. Why mention the weather unless someone is going to slip on the ice? Or tell us it was a sunny day, except to suggest that the narrator is in a good mood? Otherwise, scenic details should be woven in casually to give a context in passing.
John, I'm pointing my Crafting a Novel college class to your post. I've won 9 short story contests, and judged a whole bunch. Everything you say here can also be applied to novels (in my opinion.) I particularly like what you say about a story 'looking' boring, or cliche plot. Somehow my students have the hardest time with that last one: if the story has been written a thousand times, and you are adding nothing new to it, then it won't excite an editor. Thanks for this post!
Thanks, Melodie. Yes, a judge's first impression is always visual. Has the writer presented the work professionally? Those first seconds can make or kill a story.
Entering literary fiction contests when I can't write a lick of literary fiction. Did that for about three years before I wised up and decided that trying to write formulaic literary fiction was not a good thing for me to do.
I agree, G B. Formulaic literary fiction doesn't work. If it's literary, nobody will understand it. If it's formulaic, it stands a chance at Amazon – if you position it in a big category like vampires or romance – but you'll win no contest prizes. Solution? Write just what you love to write. Then you'll have at least one satisfied reader 🙂
Great post, John. I'll study it many times. I've not entered a short story contest, but your remarks apply everywhere. I loved your point one: "Your story looks boring." The apparently nonsubstantive details often are the difference between success and failure. I once worked for a professor at a world famous university. Among other things, he advised young profs teaching their first graduate level classes: "The most important thing is logistics. Get your logistics down and you won't have any problem." Which I'm paraphrasing as: get the class started and stopped on time, make sure you've got your handouts and video presentations ready, make sure all your props are there. Then worry about the class content, which had better be top rate, along with your presentation. I used to grade papers for this guy, and have to echo what you say. The papers that were perfectly formated with sections and tables just so caught my attention instantly. They were easy to read and usually as coherent as their formatting. Thanks for your observations,
True, Sandy Or as Woody Allen once wisely said: "90% of life is just turning up, and the rest can wait". Presentation is everything! (Which is why I live in a garden Hobbit House, where I don't have to dress for dinner. Or dress. Period.)
Woody also said, "Here's to the devil, he keeps things humming." Or maybe it was evil, not the devil. OK. A Hobbit House. That's intriguing enough to get me back on line on Mother's Day. And we were able to judiciously not dress before the kids moved back in.
Yes, a Hobbit House can be provocative, Sandy. My granddaughter has already started to call it a botchit house. Out of the mouths of little children…
It always amazes me how many people disqualify themselves by not following such basic things as staying within the word count.
Ay, they call it 'creative license', Patsy. Judges just snort "Amateur night." And move on to the next entry.
Hi, John! Nice to see you on Anne's blog. I agree with an above comment, these tips could apply to novels, too. As usual, John, excellent advice! For the most part I don't really write short stories, not very good ones anyway. 🙂 I think it's a separate skill set. Do you agree or am I overthinking this, like I have a tendency to do? *wink*
Welcome, Sue. Yes, you always overthink! That's what they said to Socrates when they brought him a rush order of hemlock. Seriously, novels do not require a separate skill set from short stories. The identical techniques apply. You just have to get very wily with your scene transitions so that your short stories – aka your chapters – form a seamless whole. My own novels are essentially self-contained short stories woven together. So if a reader loses my book in a biker bar, it's no problem. They can resume the next story in their local church, where the vicar will have left it,ear marked,on a pew.
I agree with everything said here, great post Dr. John! In fact, I'd like to say that every chapter ought to be structured like a short story, ending in a cliffhanger, or barring that, some sort of resolution that opens a new door so that you turn the page and hurry to the next chapter. A short story of course stops, but in my view, it ought to leave you dreaming…Or at least going over it in your mind!
Alas, Dan Brown took that idea and went wild with it, Claude. Every chapter is just 500 words long and each one ends with a scene hanger – usually an abrupt switch into a different story line. Formulae are one thing but formulaic is something else…
Very good post. First I've seen written for contest entrants. Thank you, John. I had some of the same problems editing a lit magazine. We had very short pieces, not a lot of space in the journal, and with flash fiction and memoir, you not only had to pay attention to all of the above you mentioned but get into the story and out quickly. Whew! In any case, we always ran up against the same issues that one does judging a contest. Especially when folks don't follow specific sub guidelines. Mm–hm. Lots of those. I'm with you about structure. If it didn't have one, it didn't make the cut. Thanks again. Paul
I can relate to that, mindprinter. How often did we lust to jump in and fix some editing snafu! Some trivial point of structure that killed the story. Some violation of the rules. But we can't, can we?
I loved the conspiracy theories at the end. It all applies to either short stories or long novels: keep it fresh, exciting, hooking and you'll get far.
It would be fun to write a story, Bernardo, where all the judges werein a conspiracy to demoralize new talent. But it would be implausible. Literary agents already hold a monopoly on it 🙂
Some really useful tips and I'm always looking for those. Thanks John, and Anne for featuring his post. 🙂
shahwharton.com
It's good to see you here, Shah!
Oooo, I like the idea of writing the first and last paragraph and then moving to the gooey middle. I suppose I have to know the ending first though. Hrmp.
Here's a thought, Southpaw. Ask your favorite beta-reader how they think the story will end – then do the opposite. Cunning, eh?
Great tips! I don't usually write the ending paragraph first, but I do have a pretty clear idea of how I want it to end before I start writing. It's nice to have a target or road map.
The great value of having a road map, Jaime, is that – once you know where you're going – you can safely make detours en route. Total pantsers usually get lost in the wilderness.
Great info, thanks for reminding me to check and recheck before submitting. Does fingers crossed help? @jeancogdell at Jean's Writing
No, gingers crossed doesn't help, Jean. You just mis-spell everything 🙂
Interesting to think about not only the content of the story, but how it physically looks. I wonder if that's another reason prologues are frowned upon.
Yes, Elie, prologues are very olde worlde nowadays. Anything that gets in the way of the story – a lyrical intro, truism or sonorous quote – tends to irritate the reader.
Hi, John! I echo the other sentiments here, about how refreshing it was to find you here guest posting on Anne's great blog. I really like the 'bookend' idea re starting and closing paragraphs, I'm going to keep that in mind. I think that one might even trick both sides of my brain into working, since normally when I write the genesis draft, I let the muse flow from day one till day the book finishes.
Hi, Yvette. It's good to see you here too. I wouldn't take the book end idea too literally. Otherwise, I'd have to end this comment with "Hi,Yvette." 🙂
Add this to the list of things I wish I'd known years ago. Wonderful post, John! Like the much-lauded Swiss watch, a picture of simple and intuitive usefulness. As a writer who often suffers from wobbly focus, that point about writing the ending paragraph is interesting. May have to try that, just to see what happens!
Ay, try it, Charley. One winning story with a classic 'book end' structure started 'Snow was gathering in the clouds.' It ended 'And the snow began to fall.' The last line said nothing very much but it signified 'closure'. The technique is easy but, of course, your story in between has to be good as well..
Brilliant post. Very helpful to me at the moment as I'm planning on entering a competition (which I've never done before). I was wondering if their is any such thing as too dark for an entry? Or is it likely that their will be a range of different themes from entrants?
Lauren–Winning contests has a whole lot to do with knowing the judges and the previous winners.. Some contests name their judges, or they will say the editors of the magazine sponsoring it will judge. That helps a lot. You can read the magazine or check previous winners to see what the judges like.
For some contests, you really don't want to go dark. Many local contests will be looking for something upbeat and inspirational. Others will favor humor. If it's a genre contest for horror stories, you can certainly go darker. But generally, too much sex and violence or the "ick" factor can work against you.
Good luck with the contest!