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What Makes a Short Story Actually Work? Part 1: Develop Your Form

Let's face it: anyone can write these days. From social media posts to blogs and newsletters (heyyy) to snappy videos to influencer marketing blurbs, storytelling has become ubiquitous with the modern human experience. But while it’s easy to tell when writing is “good” (or conversely, very bad), how do you make sure yours leaves an impact? 


And more importantly, how do you make sure your story ends up on top of the YES pile when submitting to contests for publication? (Ya know, just as a random example). 


Today, we’ll explore the form of good story crafting to help you write well from draft one.


Develop Good Form:

Keep Your Story Focused


Ground Your Story with Structure


Think of structure like laying down a road. If your reader has a clear and stable path to walk, they can focus on the view—your characters, your voice, and your world.


No matter how short or sprawling your story is, developing a strong foundation is what keeps your ideas from collapsing like a Jenga tower.


Here’s the basic layout of a story's main moments, or 'beats':


  • Exposition – Who are we following? Where are we? Why should we care?

  • Rising Action – Conflict ramps up. Stakes get higher. We’re leaning in.

  • Climax – Big emotions. Bold choices. This is the turning point.

  • Falling Action / Resolution – Let it land. Give us the emotional exhale.


You’ll see this story structure everywhere—from ancient myths to that Super Bowl commercial that made you misty-eyed. Yes, even The Hero’s Journey lives here. We quest, we struggle, we grow.


Pro tip: if a scene isn’t earning its keep, cut it. Be ruthless. Your story deserves only the best.


Write Characters Who Feel Real (Not Like NPCs)


In short fiction, you don’t have time for a sprawling cast. Zero in on one or two characters and make us care about them—fast.


Writing good characters requires a balance of description and action. Character details matter, but not in a "here’s their entire LinkedIn profile and what they’re wearing" kind of way. Focus on what reveals who they are. For example: the protagonist keeps her hair short so it’s easier to ride dragons, and her mom hates it because “it makes her look like a boy.” Now we’re getting somewhere.


Also, actions speak louder than monologues. “I’m fine,” he says, picking at his cuticles. We get it. (We love it.)


Show who they are by what they do. Let the reader fill in the rest.


Stick to One Big Idea


A short story is not the place to plot your seven-book fantasy saga. Save the prophecies and political intrigue for your novel.


Instead, pick one theme or one moment to explore. Like:

  • Can people actually change?

  • Is love at first sight legit?

  • How does plumbing work in space? (Spoiler: we cover that in “The Space Plumber” from our anthology Trouble in Paradise.)


Short stories work best when they zoom in on a turning point—a singular moment, or collection of moments, that changes the character (or us). It could be life-altering or just a tiny shift in perspective.


A few examples from our own work:

  • A woman in Limbo tries to reach Heaven. ("The Jetway")

  • A girl wakes up invisible and faces what that really means. ("The Invisible Girl")

  • Two strangers eat in a diner while the world ends around them. ("No Tomatoes at the End of the World")


Keep it focused. Think laser beam, not flashlight.


Use Language That Pulls Its Weight


Every word in a short story should be doing something. There’s no space for fluff.


Use precise nouns and strong verbs. Cut the lazy adverbs unless they’re doing something fabulous. (“Deliciously dramatic” is acceptable. “He quickly walked” is not.)


Let your subtext shine. Don’t explain what you can imply. Readers love a little mystery—but only if they’re not totally lost.


Mix up your sentence lengths, too. Rhythm matters. A long paragraph could be a slog, and a quick line might punch harder than you expect.


Pro tip: Read your story OUT LOUD. It’s the fastest way to catch awkward phrasing or deadweight sentences.


Open Loud, Exit Smart


Your first line is your hook. It doesn’t have to be loud—but it does have to make us care. Start mid-action or with a line that makes us go, “Wait—what?”


Some examples that slap:

  • “I became what I am today at the age of twelve...” — The Kite Runner

  • “A dragon without its rider is a tragedy. A rider without their dragon is dead.” — Fourth Wing

  • “All this happened, more or less.” — Slaughterhouse-Five


In contrast, if the first sentence shoves us out of the airplane, the ending is your parachute. Your ending doesn’t have to tie up every loose end, but it should land. Whether that’s a twist, a whisper, or a gut-punch—we just want it to feel earned.


The last sentence is your sign-off to the reader, the final words they read before they've officially finished your work. How will you leave them?



Stay tuned for Part 2, where we’ll dig into the function of short stories—what they’re meant to do, how to make them hit, and why “less” can sometimes be way more.


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