I WANT MEANINGFUL QUESTIONS, NOT JUST ANSWERS

By Raegan Teller

If you’ve read my previous blog posts, you know I’ve refocused my attention on writing and studying short fiction for the next year or so. Making the transition from writing five novels to penning short fiction has been nearly as challenging as it was to move from business writing to murder mysteries nearly eight years ago.

Part of my developmental plan is to read a short story a day. I’ll admit, I sometimes miss my goal. I’m also trying to read as much variety as possible: Hemingway, Stephen King, Alice Munro, the New Yorker’s contemporary stories—and everything in between. Some of the stories have been enjoyable but not memorable. Conversely, some stories some I didn’t particularly like have stayed on my mind. What makes a story memorable for me isn’t whether I like it but whether I engage with it. For example, I’ve read hundreds of well-written novels I enjoyed but then soon forgot. In a novel, loose ends are generally tied up at the end and because it’s typically spread over 300 or so pages, the impact is diluted. My conclusion: short fiction’s magic lies in what’s not said and its concentration of meaning.

When I read a story, I want to use my imagination. Since every word counts in short fiction, the writer must ration each word and sentence, which leaves a lot for readers to create for themselves. I believe this co-creation between writer and reader is critical. What is this story really about? How does it make me look at the world differently? And I love stories with ambiguous endings that engage my imagination. Of course, I’ve read some stories where too much is left unsaid, causing confusion. But when this delicate balance is achieved, I engage with the story at a deeper level—and it stays with me a long time.

Two examples of engaging stories different in length, structure, and tone are “The Caxton Private Lending Library & Book Depository” by John Connolly and “Sticks” by George Saunders. Both are award-winning stories I encourage you to read if you haven’t already. Connolly’s delightful short tale created so many enticing questions for me. I wanted to know more about these odd characters who came to the bookstore, so my imagination worked full tilt and continued long after I finished. On the other hand, Saunders’ flash fiction is a paradox because it tells us so much, and yet so little, about this father and his family.

At this point, I would be remiss if I didn’t state the obvious: not everyone reacts to short fiction in the same way. A friend of mind read “Sticks” and felt it lacked a tidy ending. Yes, of course it did. That’s why it was memorable. If it had been tied up neatly with a bow, I would have forgotten it long ago instead of reading it several times a year. You see, as a reader, I want meaningful questions, not just answers.