Lecture #7: Short Stories - With Special Guest Instructor Mary Robinette Kowal
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- čas přidán 12. 03. 2020
- Welcome to the seventh lecture of my BYU 2020 creative writing class focused on writing science fiction and fantasy.
Today's class is focused on short stories. As you probably know, short story telling is not my forte. So I asked my dear friend-more importantly a brilliant writer-Mary Robinette Kowel to come in to help us hone our short story writing skills.
Mary Robinette's bio:
Mary Robinette Kowal is the author of the Lady Astronaut series and historical fantasy novels: The Glamourist Histories series and Ghost Talkers. She’s the President of SFWA, a member of the award-winning podcast Writing Excuses and has received the Astounding Award for Best New Writer, four Hugo awards, the RT Reviews award for Best Fantasy Novel, the Nebula, and Locus awards. Stories have appeared in Strange Horizons, Asimov’s, several Year’s Best anthologies and her collections Word Puppets and Scenting the Dark and Other Stories.
Her novel Calculating Stars is one of only eighteen novels to win the Hugo, Nebula and Locus awards in a single year.
As a professional puppeteer and voice actor (SAG/AFTRA), Mary Robinette has performed for LazyTown (CBS), the Center for Puppetry Arts, Jim Henson Pictures, and founded Other Hand Productions. Her designs have garnered two UNIMA-USA Citations of Excellence, the highest award an American puppeteer can achieve. She records fiction for authors such as Seanan McGuire, Cory Doctorow and John Scalzi.
Mary Robinette lives in Nashville with her husband Rob and over a dozen manual typewriters. Visit maryrobinettekowal.com.
“Your job as a writer is to figure out what your character needs to do and then systematically prevent them from reaching the goal.”
in a way similar to dungeon master eh
That was a really interesting perspective on writing. I loved when she said that
Journey before destination
@@tomjue5128 Writing is just singleplayer D&D
It’s the same process in acting, what is your characters objective and what obstacles are in their way
I can’t believe this is free
The land of non-universal health care isn't used to this kind of philanthropy.
This is Creativity. Thank you to the school and teacher.
we're in an amazing age.
@@redpred3502 the land if sanity that recognizes that health care is a commodity that costs money, but that has an entire political party that keeps raising taxes and adding regulations that increase the cost of business, making affording health care harder.
I can! But... I have already bought a number of Branden Sanderson's books.
I think I speak for everyone when I say: "Brandon, please post the story in the comments"
He should
Yes please
@@daddyleon no, the short story he does during the lecture.
@@daddyleon 650 words, at max what...10 characters per word? That's still just 6500 characters. I think he'll be able to maybe.
@@davidyadav8925 Thank you for making it clear to everyone how silly I actually am xD
I'll try to better my ways.
Yep, the practice exercise in this video led to my first ever finished story. Ever. That altered my neurological wiring somehow, I've finished 10 short stories and I'm 65k words into my novel.
Thank you for making this free!
Oh my goodness. I'm so happy about that.
@@ren.8137 Thank you!
How long does it take you to write a short story (on average)?
congrats mate
@@iloveass8851 I don't know exactly. One time I finished the first draft of a short story (less than 3k words) in one sitting on a Saturday morning. Then just last week I was writing for a "Writing Battle" contest. I had to write in a randomly selected prompt, less than two thousand words, in five days ...I didn't make it. I wrote a really horrible first draft, and didn't have time to fix the rushed, weak, ending. So it's hard to say, but so far, the average time it takes me to write a short story is probably a week. But I haven't written any huge short stories.
Oh wow, I can read the writing on the whiteboard
And it's spelled correctly ;)
things i never thought i'd see in this channel's comments
Haha! This was my first thought. Her hand writing is so freaking neat.
@@Yddriss compared to Brandon, yeah.
250 Words Flash-Fiction Recipe:
0. Length of story = ( (characters + scenery) x 750 x MICE ) / 1.5
MEANING every time you add a character or a location your story becomes longer.
Hence, you have a limit of TWO characters and ONE location for one MICE bracket. TRY TO KEEP IT SHORT.
1. OPENING - Meet the Characters and Make Promises.
3 Sentences (Bonus Points if you do it in 2) - SHORT sentences, to the point:
- Who - Action / Reflection (Show POV, Attitude)
- Where - Sensory detail.
- Genre - Specific and Unique.
2. CONFLICT - Try/Fail Cycle (TFCs)
2 Sentences.
- What your character is trying to do and why (SETUP to TFC).
- What is stopping them? What the barrier?
- Tip: Imply several TFCs that happened beforehand.
3.1. IDENTIFY the MICE. What your character is trying to achieve? Does he want to go somewhere (Milieu)? Does he have a question to answer (Inquiry)? Does he is unhappy with himself (Character)? Are they trying to change the status quo of the world (Event)?
3.2. TRY TO STOP THEM.
Make them try new things (for each TFCs) to overcome their conflict.
Yes, But / No, And.
5 Sentences.
4. RESOLVE - Try/Succes Cycle.
Yes, And / No, But.
5 Sentences.
5. ENDING. Closing the MICE.
Mirroring the first 3 sentences to show how things have changed.
Make it satisfying.
Extra points for removing the extraneous paren.
MVP
Thank you for that
My pleasure
ur a life savior thank you
Who wouldn't want to read a high-impact character story about an asteroid's meteoric rise to fame and explosive popularity as it hurtles toward Earth in search of acceptance?
This comment deserves more likes....and a film adaptation lol.
Top tear comedy
Or maybe the Asteroid can realize that it doesn't need to plow into the Earth to gain popularity, and becomes a second moon.
"You'll never amount to anything."
He recalled his eldest brother's words as the planet's atmosphere began to wash over his own rocky skin, the warm embrace of friction melting his surface.
Thousands of years had passed since his brother's last words to him, and in all those millenia of hurling through space, they echoed throughout his being, reminding him again of the truth he knew:
After all, he was an insignificant asteroid, a mere fragment of the planetoid that was his brother, splintered by a passing meteorite and sent off into space, doomed to wander alone.
As gravity strengthened its hold on him, he felt himself accelerate, picking up a soft red glow, then a bright orange as he sped ever closer to his final destination.
_Screw my brother,_ he thought. He knew as he plummeted towards the lush forests and steel towers that in this moment, all eyes were on him, every living being on the planet was watching, waiting for his glorious arrival.
In this moment, more than anybody or anything else on this planet, moreso than even the insignificant exoplanet at the edge of the solar system, he was popular.
He smiled - or at least, performed the closest geological equivalent to a smile - and made contact.
Shockwaves and earthquakes tore through the planet; volcanoes erupted, titanic waves washed every square centimeter of every island and continent.
Then, there was nobody left for him to be popular with.
This is just Leviathan Wakes with extra steps.
The reason there are so few questions asked of her is because she did a very, very good job explaining things the first time.
This.
I absolutely love MRK.
well that makes sense, i mean she is very good at short stories which need to a lot of defined information in less words than usual
I am amazed at how clearly she explains everything. She offers very different (and IMO far more concrete) guidance than Brandon. She's very nuts-and-bolts, while he is very big-picture. They complement each other very well.
she always does - even if it's just a tweet.
i was thinking that as i listened to this. shes very good at presenting information in this setting.
I just realized after watching this for the 3rd time that the structure she uses is the exact same structure used for sitcoms: introduce the characters and what their goals are, show us the first obstacles that are keeping the characters from achieving those goals, have them try and fail a few times, have one last attempt that either succeeds or fails, then close things out and put a nice little bow on it. I find it interesting how that formula gets used for lots of things that aren't sitcoms.
My 3 sentences:
The young man’s palms reverberated with the force of the falderian coaster-ball slamming against his fingers. The sound of deafening victory rang in his ears, as the crowds' voices seemed to cheer as one. He opened his eyes to see the holo-recorder before him, hands empty, sitting in his living room wheel-chair.
I took this class oh... 19 years ago. Even good old Dave Wolverton told me I couldn’t write short. His response to all my submissions was “Might want to expand on this...” Blargh. I’ve never understood short stories until TODAY. Just wrote a 308 word story. Thank you, Mary.
That's basically the response I've been getting for my submissions. I've put all my writing efforts into learning novels that I was floundering with short stories. Really glad I found this video. 252 words and it feels great.
“Your goal as a writer is to give your characters goals and then prevent them from reaching those goals. the goal is to be mean.” Fantastic writing advice. An absolute goldmine
Sometimes you only need one sentence... The man in black fled across the desert and the Gunslinger followed...
Best opening line in novel history...
"Fate stared at the dagger protruding from his chest, unable to understand how the thief standing before him had stabbed him in the back."
Say amen!
Best opening in history and easily my favourite series.
@@hariman7727 where is this from?
I was really hoping she'd make Brandon read his story at the end.
Me too!
I KNOW! I want to hear that story!
I am disappointed if he didn't write a 5 part series of flash fiction, where each part Is actually 5 stories in one "bundle".
He is just a beginner
If i’m going to take a guess, that story was probably the birth of “The originals” a short story by Brandon and Mary Robinette
11:49
Mary: Brandon, I want you to try this too.
Brandon: I just sat down with my laptop.
Mary: Perfect.
Brandon: Done.
😂 Very accurate
Brandon: You said 250, but I see it more as a 400 thousand word epic fantasy cycle.
I love that not only she is very knowledgeable, but also she clearly prepared for the class. Not saying that other professors don't, just saying that she clearly rehearsed and edited her material to a point that is much more refined than the average professor
You understand that this is a lot easier to do when you're just teaching one class on a very specific topic, and then disappearing... right?
You're going to be on a youtube video, watched by MANY. Compared to just your normal daily grind.
Not saying professors shouldn't prepare, but this was a really silly comparison to make.
I did the exercise on paper and then cleaned it up on the computer, finishing at exactly 260 words. When I woke up this morning I did not expect to write a short story about a jockey riding a mecha-dolphin to compete in the Island Coaster League.
I challenge you: PASTE IT!!!
The lecture is organized so well... Way more than I hoped for. For one, it’s a masterclass in scene-level writing.
Just Btw for everyone watching this, Because of Covid-19 BYU has decided to cease in person classes and has actually encouraged the students still on campus to go home by the end of the week. It sounds like there might be Online Classes starting in a week, but I don't know how that is all going to affect the youtube recordings. Some news from anyone in the know would be greatly appreciated.
thank you for this info
In one of his livestream Brandon said that they will post those online lectures but a week after his class gets access to them.
Here's some news. I've lived in 8 different countries since this fraud began. Eight. Nowhere have I seen any problems. I have never seen bodies pile up. I have visited cemeteries. I have checked the statistics. No excess mortality. No problems. All this is, is a controlled economic collapse so the people who run the financial system can retain control during its failure so they'll be in position to own everything once it's over. That's it.
@UCczwvSrEXNDW0DEU_2r3yhg Fuck off with that bullshit. Spreading misinformation does no good and has only led to more deaths.
@@TrueGritProductions wow thats so true
I wrote nearly 5 short stories just rewatching Mary's lecture. Stories from 2 to 8 pages each. Shes' inspiring and i love reading her shorts.
Great lecture and exercise! Forced me to actually finish something for once. I couldn't bring myself to follow all of the rules, but here's what I came up with:
"Good morning campers! Welcome to another day in paradise here at the Murdoch Mars Interplanetary Correctional Facility!" The cheerful digital voice only amplifies the groans of campers clearing their cots and coasting for the airlock. "No food before work." No one can read the sign above.
"Today's the day, eh Jack?" Jack is numb to the voice. Today is the day. Day 7004 for Jack. And the last day for everyone here...if the plan works.
The Artificial Security System was perfect. And it had perfectly reasoned that escape was not impossible, no, far worse, illogical. Where would they go?
Jack and the few who knew checked their gear. It was still there. The treasure trove of oxygen they'd acquired, molecule by molecule, their suits always operating in the nominal range, just never quite at peak efficiency. Jack tries not to look at the others, the ones who don't know. The decision has been made for them...dissent would destroy them all.
The prisoners descend through the mine, past the weakened area rigged with explosives. The ASS machine next to them reads out the day's assignments. Jack counts the minutes. On another planet, another ass reads out the day's take, pitching the Miracle Mines of Mars. Investors are impressed.
The explosives go. The faintest rumble, really, echos of an aftershock. If he hadn't been ready for it, he wouldn't have even noticed. But he was ready for it. Ready to drop the rock onto the security machine's head, ending it.
He wasn't ready, perhaps, for the silence afterward. The still emptiness of being alone for the first time. With only humans. He checks the oxygen again. 34 hours. For 34 hours, they could be the only free humans in the galaxy.
Tragic and kinda hopeful at the same time. I absolutely loved it. Thank you for that.
Cool stuff I’d read more except Ass machine haha, you gotta change that!
i'm a simple man. i see mary robinette, i...
"click!"
Simping for robb
Nice one
Ok on to read the next comment
click!
I cannot thank Brandon enough for teaching and posting his lectures. Mary your MICE class on crafting a short story not only brushes the cobwebs out of my mind; it's a fricking revelation. Shalom, Bz
"does that make sense?"
mary robinette, EVERYTHING you say makes sense, my dear.
you are one of the smartest, most intuitive people on the earth.
It’s so strange actually seeing her. I’m only used to her disembodied voice.
Where do you usually listen to her?
@@tedarcher9120 She is part of the Writing Excuses podcast where she, Brandon, and two other of Brandon's writer friends talk about writing craft, with guests hosts sometimes on.
The podcast is here - writingexcuses.com/
I think Mary joins the crew permanently from about fifth or sixth season onwards if memory serves.
Yes, I was thinking the same thing. I was only listening to her yesterday. Great series.
@@everlybane it was, before it went full on SJW
Idk why but I feel like her voice sounds like Red from OverlySarcastic Productions and I can't get the image of Red on the couch out of my head!
I like that she pointed Sanderson out and said “I’m unsurprised” when she asked who brainstormed an event story lol
i have seen many creative writing lectures, and this is easily the best one i have ever seen. what a good teacher!
Watched it twice and took notes. This class was more informative in giving a solid foundation to build upon than all the how-to writing books in my collection. This class has given new purpose to all those guides sitting on my shelf collecting dust. Thank you for teaching us.
Pretty sure at this point all those how-to writing books were written by people who have only ever read / written how-to writing books.
Agreed
I even followed along with writing the short story, but mine ended up 400 words long.
I think what makes it more informative and useful is that fact that she is applying every concept she presents in a story and explaining those concepts within the context of that story clearly indicating what goes where and how it works. She is also making us do it too acknowledging the fact that by actually committing to the act itself will help us understand what is going on. A lot of how to books are good but lack that one element.
This is by the best how-to I've seen. Incredibly well structured and explained.
This has been the most helpful writing video I've ever watched (at least as of my present recollection)! I could always start novels, but 2/3 in I had no clue how to keep writing. I never realized it's because my writing needed to switch to resolutions I didn't know how to write. Thank you Mary Robinette Kowal!!
Usually hyper organized approaches and lectures are more stifling than helpful to me personally, but she really knocked it out of the park with this one. Super impressive.
This is amazing, thank you so much for sharing it! This is how my exercise turned out:
234 words--
Dr. Cider´s laughs echoed about the steel walls of her lab as one of the cyborg mice did a funny little dance. A burnt fuse must have bugged its dumb organic brain, making it jump about his cage and upset the other three subjects of the experiment.
Still grinning, Dr. Cider studied the hologram over the cages. She had to find the fault in its digital brain before the grant secretary arrived, even if the dancing mouse was much more interesting than the ones who dutifully did their farming jobs.
It didn´t look like a mechanical issue, so a coding problem it was. She revised the billion lines of ones and zeros... there! She only needed to type in the inhibition system again and the mouse would be scared stiff of making a fool out of itself. Her fingers glided along the keyboard before hitting a satisfying enter.
All four cyborg mice broke out of their cages, hissing, and chewing everything in their way. They ran about the lab in a fit of rage, turning over beakers and shattering Erlenmeyer flasks, eating the mold on Petri dishes, smashing microscopes on the floor. It would have been the funniest thing if the grant secretary weren´t standing at the door with eyes bugging out of their sockets.
“Welcome,” cried Dr. Cider over the yelling mice. “Our war rats are ready to go!”
wait, that's gold. Subverting expectations that we have because of the lecture is brilliant. I expected to see a try-fail cycle, and I thought I did at first...
This is really good. Nice work.
I'm so used to Mary being this disembodied voice on Writing Excuses. It is such delight to see her talk writing in action! :-)
Did anybody else try writing the story as she assigned under the time constraints? I did! I feel kind of vulnerable sharing it, because I think mine is silly but I think it would be fun if the rest of us did! They're so short, after all. I wrote it in 16 minutes total and it has 334 words.
The reluctant jockey let out a cough after downing a quick shot. With shaking hands, he set the shot glass down on the table without a coaster, a careless detail which haunted him as he got into the taun-taun stall. He took another drink before leaving the arena as circumspectly as he could, feeling like the liquor burning a hole in his stomach. He knew they were probably watching the race, waiting to collect their dues. He abandoned his own speeder to get on a public transport shuttle, looking around him nervously but trying not to let it show and seeing nothing suspicious. Among the other passengers, there were three men in the car, all different species, who had a few things in common. They all wore the same types of industrial-looking boots and had several cargo pockets in their clothing. And suddenly they were all looking right at him. The jockey took a deep breath and readied the muscles in his legs to spring into action-he was as grounded as he could be in a moving vehicle hundreds of feet from the planet’s surface. It seemed everything happened at once: he lunged for the exit at the same time that the goons moved for him, at the same time that the other passengers cowered back from the conflict. But the door was just a feint: he instead leapt at the driver, wresting away the controls to crash-land the shuttle atop a building. He rolled out of the driver’s door and jumped over the side of the building before any of the goons could exit the vehicle and spot his trajectory. Before he landed on a lower level, he changed his face and slipped in through a balcony door, blending perfectly into the crowded shopping center. He slipped into a dressing room with some clothes, changed his face once more to confuse anyone monitoring the camera footage, tore off the tags, and walked out confidently to make his way to his next job.
This is good action, and intriguing. I am left with a few questions, but they don't feel dire. It feels like the character is an assassin more than a jockey. Or maybe a jockey that is in deep to some sort of space mob?
Very cool story, though.
I did one too, here goes:
Clashing steel disrupted the thrusters, coaster stopping my head two inches before the cockpit. This time the Jockeys had won. The money I had previously won all went down the drain. I was never getting to Exovit. Not as long as that artifact was still lingering in my head.
I had succeeded up until now. What was the differentiating factor? Had they rigged the system against me? I only had one PC left. I had to win it all back. I had to offer myself up as well. Slavery couldn’t be all that bad, could it? Better than what I had before.
The flashes still haunted my thoughts, and the smell of blood drenched within my nostrils. I got back into my coaster and maneuvered the shuttle with all my possessions, and my own freedom depending on it. Down, up, left, left, down, and finish. I saw the green surround my display. I had won, and all the prize money with it.
The Jockeys paid me; now had enough to safely get to Exovit. I took my PCs and fit back into the coaster, letting the artifact’s torments fall to the back of my mind once again.
Granted it could use a bit of polishing hehe
Thanks for sharing !
Philip eased cautiously up to up to the space whale, completely focused on it's movements, ready to mount it for the race thru the Von Ritchen Asteroid Belt for the first time.
The whale was beached on a coaster, used during the races to rest the monsters between heats.
He watched it breathing in the swirling purple and red aether and attempted to match the rhythm of it's lungs but was unable to breath that slowly.
Philip grabbed hold of the left fin, containing the vestigial finger bones from it's ancient mammalian ancestors, and started to vault on top of the whale.
The whale, entirely aware of the amateur trying to mount it, balked and Philip landed on his back.
Philip stood up, his back aching now, and tried again but faster. The whale balked a second time but Philip was ready and landed on his feet this time.
Philip walked across the coaster and looked deep into the whales ancient eye. It unblinkingly stared deep into his soul.
After staring for a long while, Philip gently reached forward and placed his hand upon the whales smooth slick skin, feeling the warmth emanate from deep within the beast.
He gild his hands across the whales body, establishing an intimate trust between the two of them.
As he came close to the whales troublesome left fin he didn't delay. With one elaborate motion he placed his foot upon the fin and leapt up to the saddle.
Surprised at his success, Philip smiled upon his new found friend.
Looking out from the edge of the coaster, Philip could see the full glory of the Horsehead Nebula.
He was now ready for the start of his first race.
Word Count: 285
This leveled me up. She is a master teacher.
Loved this model of short story writing. I was successful in writing a 252 word short story while watching this.
"Gosh Darn it all to heck." - Ned Flanders.
For those who want it simplified:
W = 500M(C+L)
So, your expected length would be about 500 words times the number of threads times the sum of character and location.
Which should help explain why GRRM has such long books.
the only thing that is truly tripping me up is, what is meant by a "MICE thread"?
specifically the "thread" part? does she mean like, an element? for example: let's say the story is partly milieu and also partly character, that means 2 MICE threads?
@@billyalarie929 I think she means, that each part of the story, each story-thread should address the Milieu, an Iquiry, the Character and an Event. This story-thread is then a MICE-thread.
Except, use a different symbol for location? Cause math...
Sixth of Dusk definitely one of my favorite short stories. I use the screen name Sixthofthecosmere quite often.
I just completed my first short story in more than 10 years and it's the shortest story I have ever written. I was at a point where I thought I just couldn't do it. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, this is big for me.
I sympathize with Brandon. My story was 554 words.
Gonna pretend that I'm not going to write a story about an astroid wondering if its popular
She is such a incredible public speaker, and such a fun teacher , bet every student leaves her class feeling elated and with a smile on their face
where's the short story Sanderson? WHERE IS IT?
- every sanderson fan after hearing brandon has something new
tbh it's probably the new novella he's releasing soon 😂
What a fantastic lecture, thank you Mary! And hey, I went for the challenge of doing all three things in the first sentence. If anyone ends up reading this, which is unlikely, I'd sure love to hear what they think!
Jockey 6-2-1 clasped at his long-untouched Coaster, eager to intervene between the tectonic plates. He could've sworn he'd spotted them go one-hundredth a degree off on the display, but everything seemed normal again. Three years in the service, and not a single aversion - even disaster was preferable to monotony at this point.
He fell back in his chair, diverting a sighing gaze to the rest of the hall. Hundreds of desks, hundreds of jockeys, hundreds of coasters. You wouldn't be able to tell which of them had just prevented a thousand-death catastrophe, and who hadn't seen any action in ages by the paralyzed look on their faces. Since the Tectonic Split, nipping earthquakes in the bud using analog waves had become a priority, but this teetering between automation and manual involvement was the whole problem. Preventing earthquakes earned you praise and accolades, of course, you're a hero now! But what about showing up?
What if he could create the earthquake before preventing it, though? A slight change in angle would cause a disturbance among the plates, just enough that it could be rescued. He gently put his hand on the Coaster and pulled. No response. Was this a failsafe to prevent acts of terror? Or had they been looking at screens, playing pretend, for 8 hours a day? Everything was a lie? In this sudden fit of revelatory rage, 6-2-1 let out a bellow and swung his Coaster to the extreme end; and in response - the entire earth swung back.
This presentation really clicked for me... over and over.
WHY DOES SHE KEEP SAYING "CLICK" AT EVERY SLIDE TRANSITION?! It literally forced me to stop listening because I was so annoyed by it.
@@kevinscottbailey8335 it was driving me nuts too, but it appears that the thing is voice-activated. I don't actually see a remote in her hand.
Click!
Click!
I am a click!
Click!
Click!
Click!
She is really good at explaining things. I'm failing every subject and yet under stood this whole lesson!
This was a really good class. Writing the story alongside the lecture was also a very enjoyable experience. Sharing my story in the comments and hope others will share theirs too. My story exceeded the word limit to about 450 words, and i probably took more time than what was allotted. Still, very satisfied with what came out - the story still needs some editing and streamlining, but I'll share what I wrote during the lecture
The stadium buzzed in excitement as jockey #334 pushed his speedcoaster toward the lap line. Not far behind, two more coasters skidded the 1766th turn, trying to inch ahead of the other and avoid disqualification.
Blam! A trucker-sized cannon ball landed just in front of jockey #334. A timely push at the rev-thrusters saved him from being scrunched beneath the ball, but the speed-coaster still nicked the edge and went spinning haywire.
The other two coasters whizzed past #334 , but now it was practically raining cannonballs. By the time #334 stabilised his coaster, one of the others had been splattered by a ball. Well, that was an adieu to the fear of disqualification. Careful, now. Survival was more important than speed. Just 3460 meters to the lapline. The next - and last - lap would be even harder in terms of gauntlets.
#334 looked at his pod-display as he carefully maneuvered through the cannonfall. Now that the competition was down, the coaster ahead - #632 - had also slowed down.
A smile spread through his lips as he sped his coaster forward. Zoom, whoosh, blam, grunt, "whooooo" the audience gleed in unison as the two coasters crossed the lapline almost side by side. #334 looked to his competitor's cockpit - a thumbsup, a smile, and a 'tataa' as he rushed ahead.
Three turns on, and no major gauntlet in show. This was looking too easy, but #334 knew through experience that this was just the calm before a storm. Probably a hurricane.
_Zzznnnnn.. wooooo,, grnnn_ . #632 swam past in a rush of speed. She wasn't giving up that easily, was she? The next few hundred kilometers saw each overtaking the other in turns, the stadium reverberating in maniacal glee at each altercation. Spikes, lava patches, endless pits, it was like no gauntlet was a match for the skill and ferocity of the two jockeys - they themselves were any competition to each other.
One behind the other, they glided along the 1543rd turn. A small pit ahead - #632 revved her bottom-back thrusters to launch her coaster into a somersault. But!! too slow. A tentacle launched itself from the dark, wrapping around her coaster. A monstrous head, with an even more monstrous singular eye followed the tentacles. A tunnel of razor sharp teeth opened, ready to swallow the unlucky racer.
#334 smiled. Seemed like the race was over. He overclocked up his back thrusters until he was a blur and
BLAM!!!! His coaster collided into the the gigantic eye, and a screech of agony escaped its razor lined throat. The tentacle slackened, and #632 thrusted herself to safety.
Well, it wasn't like #334 was going to cut any slack in winning the race, but when it was a matter of life and death, his daughter came first.
Oh this is really nice
Please tell me this amazing lady gets paid handsomely by a university somewhere to teach this.
I learned SO much from this. She's an exceptional teacher
This exercise was so eye opening. I have a very hard time keeping things short and am incapable of finishing anything long. While I can already see many ways I could improve the short I wrote, it is way better than any of my previous attempts.
This was so awesome! Always wanted to see Mary Robinette share her knowledge! Also neat of her to use her puppetry acting to give the lecture lol
Marry Robinette did an amazing job! My story is terrible flash fiction but it was a blast to write. Honestly can't thank you enough for posting these classes on a platform everyone can reach. I'd love to read other peoples stories! Fun exercise.
-
The smell of burning circuits fills Genes nostrils as he pushes his electromount coaster beyond its limits. The neon lights outlining the racetrack's boundaries flash bright yellow illuminating the city as the blurred shapes of people cheering from a distance disappear in a flash. Gene knew they cheered for him, or at least he thought they did.
Gene has come close to reaching the podium twice before in the tricity electromount derby and he would be damned if he missed his chance on this third and final try. Gambling with all of his belongings to pay for a “new” electromount coaster he had to win or lose everything.
Just as Gene turned the corner to the final straight away on the final lap he pulled the throttle hard, bracing himself against his electromount coaster, prepared to hold on as the floating metal beast went from 0 to 100 only be greeted with a loud BANG! He looked down at the console to read that he had burned out the circuits on the power transfer units! Power was building up in the batteries and would eventually be too much for the coaster to handle. If left unchecked the whole thing would explode!
Gene heard the other electromount coasters echoing off the buildings, they were catching up, he had to act fast! If only he could find a way to bypass the transfer units and use the raw power from the batteries directly to his thrusters. It would destroy his bike for sure, but it might give me just enough juice to make it across the finish line. “to hell with it, I have nothing to lose!” and started bypassing the converters. Just as he finished crossing the wires the coaster jolted to life and zoomed past the finish line!
As Gene barely held on for dear life he knew his dreams were going to finally come true. He’d cross the finish line and stand on the podium he dreamt about for so long. As he was being showered with expensive champagnes and beautiful androids strung wreaths around his neck he knew he finally made it into the winners circle.
Your's is my favorite so far!
Mary Robinette is the best. Such a great teacher. (And writer, voice actor, puppeteer, etc.)
Bloody brilliant. I've never felt confident with short stories but I'm feeling it now. Thank you, MRK.
I ended up with 246 words: "The cold liquid rushed through his pores as he was lying on a cutting room table technically dead. The muffling voices outside ran parallel with the howling of emotions within. Utterly bewildered, he knew not where he was, but he sure was not in his dorm.
He had to get to a telephone to call the shaman to know what the f** had happened and undo the spell, but he just couldn't move his fingers. Every jab of the knife by the coroner added another layer of death into his body. He was numb, but aware.
He finally manages to lift his finger and utter a faint "hel..". The people around are shocked. They start running. All alone in the coldness, he manages to roll himself from the table and smashes unto the cement floor. His hand gets crushed by the weight of the body.
He sees his locket sprawled on the floor and recalls that he had some DMT stacked in it. He stretches out his other hand towards the locket. It barely moves. He manages to pull the locket closer and open it. The powder barely pours out. With superhuman effort of corpse, he manages to sniff some.
He is back to the ethereal plane. The shaman is meditating in front of him. He opens his eyes and is shocked. He had a huge black cloud behind him. He utters a few syllables. James finally gains full consciousness.
He is relieved, however, he learned his lesson. Messing around with voodoo is a bad idea. He is not as strong as he thought. "
Clearly instructed to use the words 'jockey' and 'coaster' I can't find them in your short story?
@@edgarbleikur1929 Lol, I guess I forgot.
@@edgarbleikur1929 She says at 13:05 you can use whatever you want. Coaster and jockey are just suggestions.
@@pendlera2959 ah lol looks like I've made a fool of myself yet again!
i love this
God, I've been studying writing for years and have never come across the Mice Quotient. This is sooooo beyond helpful, what an awesome video. Thank you, Brandon!!!
I believe it was Orson Scott Card who came up with the concept initially! Pretty handy.
I had 406 words. First time writting a short story.
The rumbling of Coaster’s arc reactor kindled Steven with the euphoria and excitement only a Space Jockey can experience. It is the main reason he joined the races; in addition to the promise of enough credits to fill an Olympic pool, if credits had a physical form. Coaster was the name of his Hyperdrive ArcBike, which he received from his grandfather before he passed away. Steven had been repairing it for years only using old instruction books and his grandpa’s journal. He hoped that it would be enough to get into the top 3 and receive a reward, if not all his investment would go to waste, and he didn’t have any money left.
The buzzer went off and Steven rolled Coaster’s throttle back without hesitation. The chaos was imminent as all the other Jockeys started bobbing and weaving around each other trying to push their opponents out of the way. This was a free for all, no one was guaranteed their safety in the races. Thankfully Coaster was too much even for the new models, the intricacies of Grandpa Flash’s design were outstanding, and Steven was flying across the track like lightning. Coast to coast the ArcBike was bolting its way until a large explosion sent Steven twirling out into the barrier walls.
He scanned his mind to find what the journal said about possible failures and remember that the explosion was probably due to the arc reactor overheating. His only solution would be to switch to the thrusters which would usually serve as a temporary augment to his speed and then go out in after a few seconds. If he wanted to make the most out of this he would need momentum. So, he took the same impulse of the explosion and drove into the wall.
He drove as high as he could and immediately grabbed the arc reactor with his left hand and threw it into the middle in the track whilst pulling the thruster recoil. The whiplash almost took him by surprise, but he held on as he fell with the speed of a lightning bolt in the tracks hitting the ground as the same moment the arc reactor impacted the area where the other races were creating a huge explosion that made all other Jockeys disperse. Steven flew across the finishing line and was greeted with a huge ovation as he looked to his position…2nd place. That would do, he said.
How am I learning more in this free youtube video than an entire module of creative writing in university
I always go back to this video and rewatch it when I want to be productive and actually write. Mary Robinette Kowal is amazing!
This lady is amazing and a great teacher
She had me at "Writing is fractal"!
I watched this twice today. The first time I just listened. The second time I took notes and paused to ponder what she had just said. Outstanding. I know Mary and Brandon from the *_Writing Excuses_* podcast. That lead me to Brandon's books. I've been a hard SF guy since the 6th grade and, except for Terry Pratchett's Disk World books, avoided fantasy. Now, having read almost every one of his books, I think his writing is the best I have ever read. He has a way of making me care deeply for his main characters. He also has a way of writing complex action scenes like combat in a way that makes it clear to me what is happening. I am thrilled to be able to be a fly on the wall of thirteen of his BYU fiction classes.
Im at 12:02 but Im betting Brandon comes out of this with at least 1k instead of 250.
"Its 650."
Well I wasn't far off lol.
@@adamplentl5588 Well, if you use the equation, with 1 character, 1 scenic location, and just 2 Mice Threads (Internal and External), the equation returns 2,000 words, not 400. Even at just 1 MICE thread, which is weird, but probably true for flash fiction, the equation would yield 1,000 words. I know it should be a rough estimate, but 400 vs 1,000 and/or 2,000 is a pretty darn large margin even for "rough estimate's" standards. The lecture was really good, I just think the equation was more of a gimmick rather than an actual diagnostic tool. If you use it, you'd probably just end up getting confused.
@@borgir80 It just seemed like bad maths to me
@@sumandark8600 Maybe the equation is for the characters? So then 1000 characters would give 200-ish words. Just a guess.
this whole semester of lectures is money, so happy to find them. never learned so much about writing in my life, not exaggerating lol thank u so much
Keeps popping up in the recommended
I've never been so stressed writing a timed story before, but I loved that lecture. Thought I'd post mine as others are too. So here it is in all its unrefined glory:
The grinding of the wires grated at Fen's consciousness. The centaur machinery clicked in place in the workshop, and Fen sat up, testing his new steel legs. The remainder of his oil lay on the coaster, and he drank its entirety.
His metal counterpart groaned stiffly and he cursed, unable to afford another seizure of parts. He watched as the other centaurs ran past the window, fleeing in terror. Fen fumbled with the oil can and tried to rise to his steel hooves. Screams cut through the windows, the smell of burning not far behind. As he put his weight on the metal, the four leg-joints buckled beneath him and he crumpled to the floor. He cursed anew: the culling of the cyborgs would not end with him! Fen swept a clumsy hand towards the oil can, but it flew from the coaster - spilling oil across the floor.
The oil seeped into the porous ground, leaving an empty syringe rolling next to the can. Fen stared at it in horror, still tasting the oil he had swallowed. Then, without thought, he grasped the syringe and plunged it into his stomach - drawing out oil with a grimace. Triumphantly, he twisted it free, and began injecting the oil into his seized joints.
He could see the smoke now, leaking through the window and he flexed his legs; to his relief, they swung freely and he hurried to his feet.
He raced to join his brothers outside as the smoke grew thick. Fen threw open the door and gulped in frantic breaths of air, and the deadly smoke diffused harmlessly into the wind. He glanced behind himself and gave a small chuckle at the empty coaster lying on the bench: this time at least, clumsiness had not gotten him killed.
This reads a little like Slipstream by blending both Fantasy and Sci-fi elements.
This is a great gritty world
This is very likely the best lecture I've ever assisted, and I mean, I attended tons of incredibly good one. But wow, its is so concise, well explain, entertaining. Crazy, gold.
Awesome to see Mary Robinette in this setting.
This is the most technically useful writing lecture I've ever had the fortune to come across. What a teacher!
This is absolutely the very best writing workshop I have ever seen.
43:08 - That question reminds me of Final Fantasy 7. An urban fantasy that a lot of people love.
Okay. This is the first time I've ever finished a story and I'm happy to hear any and all criticism that anyone might have.
The electric stallion roared beneath Corbin and the stadium became a candy colored smear. It slipped neatly into the pack as he and the other riders came into the first turn at just over 130kph. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a Royal Purple that probably hadn't spent a week on the track soar over the edge of the slanted curve and burst into a shower of flaming debris against the safety shield over the crowd, causing a shriek of bloodlust to briefly drown out the rumble of his Yellow beast.
He felt sweat gathering on his brow and a bar twisting a rope between his shoulder blades. If he lost today it was over with Hairy Lenny, and when Hairy Lenny was done with you you were done for good.
A Candyapple Red pulled up along side as they came out of the second turn. They danced for a moment, feeling each other out, and finally, thinking he had the Red dead to rights, he feathered the brake and snapped the handles to the left. For one brief moment of satisfaction he thought that he'd performed the move perfectly. But suddenly the Red shot forward as effortlessly as if his Yellow had hit a mud bog and he watched in agony as the other rider gained three lengths on him as he fought to get back up to full speed. The Yellow put a nice big cherry on top of his screw up by informing him that he'd partially ripped a tread.
Corbin now had a choice to make, ride the stallion ragged and hope to Jesus the whole thing didn't suddenly rip out from under him or take the L and hope to someone with a little more clout that Hairy Lenny wouldn't take his ride and put him in a hospital or worse. Finally, holding his breath, he surged forward to the thumping tune of his half fluttering tread. He came into the third turn sure he wouldn't see the end of it. But somehow the old girl held steady and he began to gain some ground. They flashed through the last turn and made a bee line for the finish line as he came to within an inch of Red's back tread.
Finally, moments before they hit the end, he pulled up and once again they were side by side, their front ends taking turns bobbing out in front of the other. Red, upset that his sure thing had turned back into a coin toss, whipped to the side to bump him off and the side of his mount met the exposed, whirling steel beneath Corbin's damaged tread and was shredded. Red twisted to get away and Corbin just managed to keep steady long enough to pass the finish line before his beleaguered machine tossed him into the dirt and spun end over end into the unforgiving shield.
Thanks to everyone involved in bringing this to the masses
this one lecture was more helpful than an entire subject on short fiction I took in my first year of uni 😂
Did it at least make that first year *click!* for you?
Such a fabulous lecture! Love the active learning piece. I often get overwhelmed with the enormity of projects (I tend to get overly caught up in worldbuilding instead of actually writing) but this was a good and practical reminder of how much you can do with very few words.
I come back to this video every so often just to go through the exercise. Thank you so much for posting this!
True spirit of a teacher. I learned a lot in this one video. Mary Robinette Kowal is a real honest mentor.
She had me at fractal
I've just been going through the videos one-by-one and just them this one today. Super super helpful and practical. My first bit of flash fiction in about 20 years but now I really understand the structure.
Man, Mary Robinette Kowal is an excellent teacher. She has visible passion for this!
What an absolutely incredible resource for new writers. This is amazing.
My story was 450 words. I don’t know how much sense a reader could make of it, but that’s how it is.
I didn't figure out what I wanted my story to be until after the first set of sentences, and I feel like its needs a load of editing especially for prose, but that would defeat some of the fun, so here it is.
Robert peaked over the top of the hill on his gravitational horse. The roller coaster cars ticked along their track behind him, as he enacted gravity in the space station, and pullled them down. Down, not again. Robert’s fingers danced across the display trying to make the thing fly and join the singers of the void. Gravity pulled down on him yet with its sickly fingers, and the stars called. An angelic choir swept down from the heavens in a gorgeous harmony, approving of his attempt as if trying to lift him off his platform directly into space.
“What are you doing?” George asked.
Had he seen? The monitor flashed a discrete text box in its top right announcing the denial of his command. Robert stared in disbelief, then looked to address George’s question. His eyes bulged, and terror shot through his expression.
“No no no no no no no. Tell me the parasites didn’t get to you.” Robert stood stiff, unable to move, and that was all the confirmation George needed.
He struck, Knocking Robert to the ground of their mobile platform with a clenched fist. The song turned angry, running through his ears like boiling blood, and terror-striken, robert fought back, pushing and tearing at Georges clothes, as his partner reached to his back pocket. A syringe. No. He would kill the song. The dream squirmed in his head, agitated, looking for a way out, and George plunged the syringe into Robert’s neck.
The song faded to the untuned cacophony of the tracks, but some of the color returned. Something fell out his ear, and Robert looked to the floor to find a worm-like creature shriveled up in a puddle of puss.
Robert stumbled back from the worm, and pressed himself into the cold metal wall at his back. To his surprise, the sensation of gravity felt familiar. “Thank you George.”
My god, she is magical
I'm stuck here with a dumb grin on my face because this is the BEST writing advice I have ever gotten. As an absurdly formulaic person, the way she outlines this is very satisfying to me. I have struggled for so so so so long with plotting stories and now I just need to remember and the length equation!!
In case anyone is interested, I wrote up all the steps Mary Robinette Kowal mentioned.
Just remember that these are just rough guidelines.
Your first 1-3 sentences will introduce:
Who (describe who main character is with action/reflection--what they’re doing)
Where (use sensory detail)
Genre (get in genre specific detail as fast as you can (specific and unique))
Your next 2 sentences will introduce conflict. What are they trying to do and what’s stopping them.
Your next 5 sentences will be about the try/fail cycle (one long one, or any mix):
“Yes, but” (make progress but something new comes up to push them back)
Or
“No, and” (fail to solve problem and make problem worse)
Next 5 sentences will be winding the story up. The beginnings of answering those questions/resolving those issues.
Resolutions (try/succeed) (with longer works, multiple iterations. Shorter, just one):
“Yes, and” (movement towards the goal and continuation)
Or
“No, but” (a reversal, but are still able to move to the goal)
Final 3 sentences:
After this, the problem is solved. But it’s not satisfied.
Close by closing all your plot threads and grounding the reader.
Close by mirroring the opening, the:
Who (character reflecting or taking a new action)
Where (sensory detail)
Genre (specific + unique, though this can be a shift in tone instead. Make mood different in end)
Thanks
Click and suddenly it made sense!
This lecture was super helpful for me! I wrote a short story and finished something like this for the first time in a long while, so thank you!
I hope you kept going!
This lecture has been immensely helpful. I would love to see more from Mary Robinette Kowal.💥
This is fantastic stuff! Thank you, Brandon Sanderson for making this free and thank you Mary Robinette for boiling it down to the essentials.
Thank you so much for uploading this, it's really invaluable! =D
I hope it's not overstepping that I transcribed her example as it really helped me understand the lesson. Hopefully there aren't too many mistakes, I'm not a native English speaker so I took some liberties with the technical gibberish from the IA that I didn't get:
___
Hydraulic fluid dripped from the roller coasters AI straight onto her jockey ID. Where the heck was that leak?
If she didn’t take the roller coaster back online before the race, she’d have to forfeit her entry money. Not a gosh darn suggestion on her trouble-shooter heads-up display had helped her identify the problem.
Fine. It was time to improvise. Chelsey stuck her hand into the AI guts and traced the slippery fluid up as far as she could go. The interior of the roller coaster was still cold from sitting overnight in the cryobase. Condensation clung to the wall and mixed with the hydraulic fluid coating her fingers. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine the interior as she ran past the junction and sudden heat stung her fingers. Chelsey jerked back, cracking her head on the toolbox behind her. Gosh darn it all to heck!
Shaking her hand, she glared at the roller coaster. “You know, if I have to forfeit this entry money, I’ll have to sell you just to pay rent and you’ll probably end up in scrap.” She reached into the chassis again. “Please, please let me find the leak.” Her heads-up display lit up with what looked like a diagnostic message from the IA that was supposedly off-line. The leak is from the thermocouple R from my right braking mechanism, but fluid dynamics make it appear to come from the manifold. Chelsey’s mouth dropped open. “If you knew that all along…”
She closed her eyes, cursing at her own stupidity. Three years as an IA jockey and you’d think she would remember even in a roller coaster the temperamental things needed the magic word. Next time, she’d say "please" sooner.
___
286 words
Wheat follows is one of my top 10 short stories of all time:
Grace Paley
“ Wants”
[from her 1974 short story collection “ Enormous Changes At The Last Minute”
Nominated for the National Book Award For Fiction]
~
“ Wants”
I saw my ex-husband in the street. I was sitting on the steps of the new library.
Hello, my life, I said. We had once been married for twenty-seven years, so I felt justified.
He said, What? What life? No life of mine.
I said, O.K. I don't argue when there's real disagreement. I got up and went into the library to see how much I owed them.
The librarian said $32 even and you've owed it for eighteen years. I didn't deny anything. Because I don't understand how time passes. I have had those books. I have often thought of them. The library is only two blocks away.
My ex-husband followed me to the Books Returned desk. He interrupted the librarian, who had more to tell. In many ways, he said, as I look back, I attribute the dissolution of our marriage to the fact that you never invited the Bertrams to dinner.
That's possible, I said. But really, if you remember: first, my father was sick that Friday, then the children were born, then I had those Tuesday-night meetings, then the war began. Then we didn't seem to know them any more. But you're right. I should have had them to dinner.
I gave the librarian a check for $32. Immediately she trusted me, put my past behind her, wiped the record clean, which is just what most other municipal and/or state bureaucracies will not do.
I checked out the two Edith Wharton books I had just returned because I'd read them so long ago and they are more apropos now than ever. They were The House of Mirth and The Children, which is about how life in the United States in New York changed in twenty-seven years fifty years ago.
A nice thing I do remember is breakfast, my ex-husband said. I was surprised. All we ever had was coffee. Then I remembered there was a hole in the back of the kitchen closet which opened into the apartment next door. There, they always ate sugar-cured smoked bacon. It gave us a very grand feeling about breakfast, but we never got stuffed and sluggish.
That was when we were poor, I said.
When were we ever rich? he asked.
Oh, as time went on, as our responsibilities increased, we didn't go in need. You took adequate financial care, I reminded him. The children went to camp four weeks a year and in decent ponchos with sleeping bags and boots, just like everyone else. They looked very nice. Our place was warm in winter, and we had nice red pillows and things.
I wanted a sailboat, he said. But you didn't want anything.
Don't be bitter, I said. It's never too late.
No, he said with a great deal of bitterness. I may get a sailboat. As a matter of fact I have money down on an eighteen-foot two-rigger. I'm doing well this year and can look forward to better. But as for you, it's too late. You'll always want nothing.
He had had a habit throughout the twenty-seven years of making a narrow remark which, like a plumber's snake, could work its way through the ear down the throat, half-way to my heart. He would then disappear, leaving me choking with equipment. What I mean is, I sat down on the library steps and he went away.
I looked through The House of Mirth, but lost interest. I felt extremely accused. Now, it's true, I'm short of requests and absolute requirements. But I do want something.
I want, for instance, to be a different person. I want to be the woman who brings these two books back in two weeks. I want to be the effective citizen who changes the school system and addresses the Board of Estimate on the troubles of this dear urban center.
I had promised my children to end the war before they grew up.
I wanted to have been married forever to one person, my ex-husband or my present one. Either has enough character for a whole life, which as it turns out is really not such a long time. You couldn't exhaust either man's qualities or get under the rock of his reasons in one short life.
Just this morning I looked out the window to watch the street for a while and saw that the little sycamores the city had dreamily planted a couple of years before the kids were born had come that day to the prime of their lives.
Well! I decided to bring those two books back to the library. Which proves that when a person or an event comes along to jolt or appraise me I can take some appropriate action, although I am better known for my hospitable remarks
-Grace Paley
( from her 1974 short story collection “ Enormous Changes At The Last Minute”
Nominated for the National Book Award For Fiction ).
Mary Robinette is sublime as a writer and--as it turns out--masterful as a teacher of the craft. Thanks to Ms. Kowal, Mr. Sanderson, and BYU for making this available.
The only thing that I *_don't_* like about this video is the fact that I can only give it a "thumbs-up" once. So, here is the response this video deserves: 👍👍👍👍👍
Well, I now have a 400 word short story about space horse racing??
post it! We'll be kind. I put mine up and I'm not by any means a writer. Mine was 385 words.
@@AlanarTansden Ahhh all right
The translucent colour of the planet’s ring rippled beneath the spiked hooves of Kai’s space horse, dark sky stretching around them. Cold iron pressed into his thighs as he tugged on the electric reigns, excitement thrumming through him. He would win this year; he would win the infamous golden coaster trophy.
But as the starting light flashed, and the racers took off, Kai’s horse didn’t move, a repeat of last year. The energy connector between him and the horse had been tampered with, and though last year it had been his horse’s spikes hooves, only his top competitor would fall to such cheap tricks.
With a curse, he fumbled to reconnect the spare tube from the sleeve of his suit to the plug at the base of the horse’s neck. But even when he reattached the tube, his horse didn’t move, and the backs of the other racers pulled further away from him. There was another tear, a small nearly imperceptible one, but it stopped him. He threw a hand over the hole, trying to squeeze it shut. Finally, the horse took off, nearly throwing him off its back with its speed, his one-handed grip barely keeping him in place.
“Just make it to the quarter point and you’ll be fine,” he whispered, heavy breath fogging in his helmet as he forced his connection with the horse to hold strong, the ring track flying past him in a myriad of colours, the first checkpoint slowly drawing closer. The other racers had already passed it, but there was still a way to go in the race and once his connection was fixed, he would make up the loss.
Kai slammed his horse to a stop, a horse crewman rushing to his aid. Each moment was an eternity as the connection tube was changed, but then it was fixed, and new determination shocked through him as he took off. His horse pounded down the ring, and with gritted teeth he urged it on, because he would not lose to that b*stard again.
Minutes stretched on as he raced across the tracks, slowly catching up to the other riders whose determination and skill would never match his own. Even that b*stard couldn’t keep ahead, and as Kai passed him, he saw the man falter, his horse stumbling in an echo of the man’s shock. And as he crossed the finish line first, a hair’s breadth ahead, he laughed, knowing that even starting in last, he had come back to win.
@@alyssastewart2417 Nicely done!
@@alyssastewart2417 nice. Mine is a steeplechase in space. I'll post it when I'm done.
I had a blast writing with Mary's prompts. All these classes may be the most instructive and useful tools for new writers on the internet. I'm so glad and thankful that Brandon uploaded them. And of course here's my short (a little too long) story :)
As the splashes of salty water impacted violently against Xar’kath synthetic skin and his horse companion, he remembered his mother words. “You stupid ikxtok, why go to another planet to ride some alien species?” she never understood my love of horses, that old utyxy.
The sound of engines roaring and the helicopter that before seemed afar, started to get closer by the second. “You ain’t gonna catch me you hairless simians, I’ve won the horse almost fairly!”
The primitive technology of that coaster was apparent compared to those of his pursuers, but Xar problems were not limited to his miserable diesel engine, he couldn’t go any faster without risking the integrity of his equine friend, he forgot if horses could swim and didn’t want to risk it either. As the helicopter situated itself over the boat, Xar had to take a chance and swere towards the mangrove, a biome that remembered him of his summer camp on the skin eating jungle planet.
Avoiding stalling the boat while searching for anything useful in his pack isn’t an easy task, so Xar threw his stuff at the horse “Mr Sugar Sunshine see if you can find my raygun it’s on there I’m sure” after a couple of seconds looking at the pack the horse just stomps on it and a tiny pistol falls off.
“C’mon, this is an enlarger gun, it only works on living matter... oh wait a minute! “
A purple beam leaves the gun and finds a tree, becoming gigantic and making the helicopter crash.
But that wasn’t the end, the black boat driven by the mafia boss caught him and the musculated man jumped on board. “I got you, cheater!” that was all he could say before Mr Sugar kicked him in the face. Xar took a carrot out of his pocket and gave it to the horse. “Another job well done, boy”
This lecture was great! Whenever I start to write, I find myself sketching out outlines and trying to dig deep, only to find myself exhausted of the process and few words written. The constraints given of time & sentences made me dial it all back and come up with something intriguing (at least, to me) in only 159 words.
The space jockey slouched against the plasteel hull, the coldness of space seeping into his shoulder.
He lazily raised the comm, “This is the Love is a Roller Coaster, and I’ll be taking your ride today.”
The other ship was silent as the docking maneuver completed and the airlocks crunched into alignment.
“Prepare for breach, or not. Either way, I’m coming in.”
No response was given except for a scorching beam aimed where he had once stood.
He inhaled sharply as as he peered into the new hole where atmosphere hissed.
“Yikes.”
A still-smoking lasgun barrel greeted him, so he stepped back and strapped on a mask to cover his face.
His grin was apparent through his muffled voice.
“Do you think that’s oxygen seeping out?”
The defender slumped to the ground and the lasgun fell out of her numb hands.
The jockey palmed the door open and scooped up the weapon.
“I told you I was coming in.”
Wow. The best lecture I've hear in years.
Yay! Class!
"A Light"
She struck the match and cupped her hand, shielding it from the salt flavored breeze. Her calloused elbows rested on the railing of the balcony as she scanned the quiet street below. From her vantage she watched little men walk through sparse patches of lamplight, all coming and going amid the faint scent of burning oil.
Below her, a sure voice yelled, “Get the hell out of here. She doesn’t want to see you.”
The wind wrapped around her hand and snuffed the flame. “Damnit,” she said and searched her pocket. It was empty.
“Out of my way,” the drunken response came along with the familiar crash of a splintering crate.
She remembered the side table and searched the match tin. Only two left. She shook as she raised one and tried to drag. The wind blew the ember out.
A door below flung open. , she thought. One last match. She struck it and pulled. Success, deep breaths.
He stumbled onto the balcony, and with him his stench, a lit roll barely hanging from his lips.
“You know I hate it when you smoke,” he said.
She took another drag. With a trembling hand, she flicked the cigarette over the ledge.
In my opinion, short stories shouldn't always have neat endings. Resolve the theme and the main question, but leave another one to chew on afterward. That's what makes a short story last in the mind longer than the page it's written on.
Moody, noir feel to it. Nice.