Imagined Realities: Short Story Writing with Middle and High
School Students
Amanda Smith
As a college student earning my B.A. in Creative Writing, I spent
several years fussing over characters I created like they were
immediate family members, wondering what they would wear to
work, why they would choose that tie. I lived the characters. I
shared my characters, chapters, and short stories with peers during
workshops as we sat around a table in a windowless room, never
truly thinking about how I was learning to develop skills as a
writer. Flash forward to the present, and I am desperately trying to
crack my cranium to understand what I did when I wrote,
wondering how on earth I could explain it to middle and high
school students. Novelist Anne Bernays expresses a similar
stupefaction: “Nothing I had done before—editing a magazine,
publishing five novels—prepared me for trying to explain how I’d
done it or, more daunting still, to translate what I worked at every
day into curriculum” (23).
Embarking upon research, I secretly hoped I would discover some
sort of recipe that I could distribute to students about how to write
fiction. Two cups plot, one cup character, three tablespoons
dialogue, a dash of detail, bake until golden brown. But, of course,
there is no such recipe. And even if I had one in my back pocket to
copy and distribute on 3 x 5 cards to students, no formula could
capture the essence of what makes fiction tick. Teaching fiction
writing is nowhere near an exact science, but there are things we
can do to make the experience exciting and worthwhile to students.
Short stories provide the perfect medium for students to learn and
explore fiction writing. Heather Lattimer, teacher and author of
Thinking Through Genre, points out that, “because [short stories]
are short, they are often more focused on a single main character
and a single conflict [than a novel is]” (159); this makes them ideal
for students to read and write.
Playing Around: Why Students Need to Write Short Stories
As I suggest teaching fiction writing to secondary students, I am
aware that I will inevitably come nose to nose with skeptics who
consider it to be nothing more than fun and games. They will ask,
why teach students to write stories when we can be instructing
them in more useful, more sophisticated forms like the
argumentative essay or perhaps the research paper? How on earth
will writing fiction prepare students for the Regents exam? For
college? I will push the skeptics aside for a moment to allow you
to look closely at what fiction writing has to offer. You will see
that it is far from “frilly and unrigorous playtime.” As Randy
Bomer notes in his book, Time for Meaning, it provides students
with “a hard rehearsal of valuable habits of mind” (137).
To quell the concerns of critics, I will begin by examining the
academic values tied to fiction writing. In “The Gold Standard:
Defending Creative Writing in the Classroom,” practicing teacher
Christopher Hood explores how fiction writing “teaches contextual
thinking” (27). When students write short stories, they utilize many
of the skills they will continue to develop in more traditional
writing assignments. Fiction writers tap into “grammar, syntax,
[and] vocabulary” skills in the process of “finding a voice and
communicating to a reader” (Hood 27). Consider the skills
necessary to write a “critical lens” essay on the Regents exam. To
earn a top score on a Regents essay, a student must develop her
ideas fully and clearly, use precise and engaging language,
maintain focus and direction, and show control of spelling and
grammar conventions. Good fiction also includes fully developed
ideas, language that captures and maintains the interest of readers,
a sense of direction, and demonstrates understanding of
conventions. If fiction writing can help students develop and
practice the same important skills they need to write in other
genres, why not teach it?
Teachers often struggle to justify the value of writing to students.
Since many young people prefer watching television to picking up
a pen, it is no surprise that writing does not matter to them. But
when you ask them to write short stories, you invite them to write
about something that matters. The characters they bring to life on
the page, the authentic conflicts they explore, the ways their
characters respond to these conflicts—all of these basic short story
elements allow students to bring their own purposes and meanings
to what they write. Students can create characters that have
concerns and face conflicts similar to those they experience,
making characters seem more real. When students relate closely to
their characters, they will invest in what happens to them; this will
help them write an engaging story that readers will also be invested
in.
The ideas, issues, and discussions that spring forth from the short
stories students write are valuable to every member of the class.
Relationships, the pressure to fit in, violence, substance abuse,
self-image, and the future are some of the concerns that weigh
heavily on the minds of many students. Fiction writing provides
them with the freedom to explore these topics, among others, and
express their feelings and opinions about them. Since most
students have similar concerns about these topics, short stories that
address these concerns give students a medium with which to
communicate to each other. Sharing their fiction allows them to
discuss, negotiate, and debate issues that matter to them. In
“Telling Stories Is True Writing,” high school English teacher
Michael McClure suggests that “letting [these issues] emerge from
the class response to a student’s story” allows both “writer and
audience [to] feel more greatly invested in the meanings so
discovered; the issues become theirs instead of merely an agenda I
impose on them” (94). Short story writing fosters a sense of
ownership in students; the act of writing is no longer just an
assignment but a way for students to communicate about issues
that matter in their lives with passion and purpose.
Short story writing can help students express their own concerns
and relate to each other, but it also helps them see the world
through perspectives different from their own. It gives them a
chance to connect to and understand new realities and possibilities.
When imagining a character, a fiction writer steps outside of
herself and sees the world from that character’s perspective. Even
if a writer can sympathize with or understand the character’s
problems or conflicts, she must discover the unique ways the
character responds to obstacles. Creating a fictional character gives
young people, who often look no further than their own problems
and concerns, the opportunity to open their minds to new ways of
thinking and seeing life. Put simply, creating characters helps
students build character personally. As Bomer suggests, “If
[students] imagine a world through the eyes of someone who is not
themselves in constructing a story, there’s a chance they may be a
little less likely to see other human beings as objects or
stereotypes” (137). When we encourage students to imagine new
perspectives through fiction writing, we foster a kind of growth
that transcends mere academics. We challenge them to become
considerate, open-minded adults.
Getting students to open their minds to new perspectives may
sound like hard work—it is. But, in the midst of such hard work,
students may (gasp) find short story writing to be fun. Keep in
mind that if students are having fun writing, they just might work
even harder and be more invested in writing. McClure
acknowledges the value of fun in the classroom, citing the theories
of Vygotsky that link play to hard work. He suggests that “Stories
can often be play for students—not only in the act of writing, but
in response group work, in class presentations, in publication, and
in discussion of imbedded meanings and implications” (95).
Teachers who introduce and explore the craft of fiction writing
with their students might uncover one of the most effective ways to
encourage students to become enthusiastic writers.
It’s a Story That’s Short…Right?
Before teaching short story writing, we need to be sure of what we
mean when we refer to the form. Certainly, we have read short
stories, but can we give students a quick and easy definition of
short story that they can record in their trusty notebooks? A glance
at the entry for short story in NTC’s Dictionary of Literary Terms
shows us that we might not find a convenient, thrifty definition.
The entry evokes a sense of ambiguity, noting that “the
tremendous diversity of the short story prevents a strict, universally
applicable description of the genre” (202). Take, for instance, the
issue of length; the range identified by the dictionary as
characteristic of short story is “from about 500 words (a “short
short story”) to about 15,000 words” (201).
Are there any characteristics unique to the genre? Though the
dictionary emphasizes the lack of uniformity across the genre, it
points to several general characteristics, namely the inclusion of “a
very few characters, a single setting, and a single incident” (201).
But these elements are not required criteria. In an attempt to
distinguish the short story from its longer sibling, the novel, the
NTC dictionary notes that the two forms “share most of the same
elements and techniques, but the short story reveals character,
usually by means of a single central and representative incident,
whereas the novel traces the development of character through a
series of incidents over a span of time” (202). So, a major
distinction of short stories is their narrow focus on one character
and one major conflict.
The historical origins of the short story are as broad and inclusive
as the characteristics of the genre. The NTC Dictionary identifies
the following historical roots of short story:
During the Middle Ages and the Renaissance,
storytelling took the forms of beast fables, exempla,
folktales, and chivalric romances… It was not,
however, until the nineteenth century that the
modern short story emerged as a distinct genre in
the works of such writers as Washington Irving,
Nathaniel Hawthorne, Poe, Prosper Merimee,
Honore de Balzac, Guy de Maupassant, Anton
Chekhov, E.T.A. Hoffman, and Sarah Orne Jewett.
During the twentieth century, the form has greatly
varied, refined, and extended by such modern
masters as O. Henry, Katherine Mansfield, Rudyard
Kipling, William Faulkner, Ernest Hemingway,
Flannery O’Connor, and John Cheever, among
many others. (201)
If we turn to a published writer of fiction for more clarification, we
find even more questions. Novelist, critic, and essayist Francine
Prose explores the ambiguities of the short story form in her essay,
“What Makes a Short Story?” and offers a piece of advice: instead
of trying to define the short story, read extensively, thoroughly,
and frequently. She says that, “by reading many and varied
examples, we develop an almost instinctive sense of what a short
story is, so that when we read one we recognize it, just as we
recognize our own instincts and emotions” (12). Reading is the
stepping stone to introducing students to short story writing.
Reading to Write
You cannot expect your students to write engaging, complex, and
creative short stories if you have not introduced them to engaging,
complex, and creative short stories. Reading—and rereading—
short stories is the first step students must take to begin thinking
like writers. Without this experience, students are left to draw what
they write and how they write from the genres with which they are
already acquainted: television, movies, and video games. As Karen
Jorgensen points out, the short stories students produce directly
reflect their knowledge of these genres, often resulting in actiondriven narratives with one-dimensional characters built on
stereotypes (5). Put simply, these stories are far from anything we
would like to read.
Begin the study of short stories by exposing students to examples
of the genre. In her groundbreaking book, In the Middle, Nancie
Atwell suggests reading stories aloud so students can “hear how
writers used the short form” (396). Bomer advocates selecting
several high-interest “touchstone” short stories for the class to read
together to develop a collective understanding of the “values and
craft” found in good fiction (138). You need not be stifled by time
constraints because most short stories are just that, short. In a class
period, students can read the touchstone short stories as cohesive
texts and reread them to uncover embedded layers of meaning that
they may have overlooked or did not fully understand the first time
they read them.
When selecting the short stories, choose texts that will benefit
fledgling short story writers. Alleen Pace Nilsen, a professor of
English and former co-editor of English Journal, supports the use
of Young Adult (YA) short stories as springboards for reading
workshops. Nielsen notes that, because “the problems in the books
are likely to be ones that readers or their friends have experienced
or thought about” and “most YA authors write in a succinct and
straight-forward style,” among other reasons, YA short stories “can
provide teens with inspiration and models to follow” (81). Since
many published YA short stories resemble short stories that your
students may produce, they make great models that students can
refer to throughout the writing process. The characters in YA short
stories are usually adolescents with traits, interests, and concerns
similar to students’: basketball players who are trying to make the
varsity team, eager sixteen year-olds yearning to pass driving tests
and get first cars, high school seniors trying to reconcile their own
hopes for the future with the hopes their parents have for them. A
student might write a short story inspired by a time he considered
telling a lie to get something he wanted after reading Gary Soto’s
“The No-Guitar Blues,” a YA short story in which the main
character, Fausto, tells a lie and lets the guilt he feels motivate him
to make a change. When students read about characters with which
they can identify in YA short stories, they see that the experience
and knowledge they have as people can help them write
interesting, meaningful fiction. See Appendix A for a list of
suggested YA short story collections will serve as models and
touchstone texts.
Character, Character, Character
Reading short stories can show students what can work and give
them taste of what they can do in their own writing, but they must
do more than read. You must teach them how to read like fiction
writers. Consider the follow conversation I heard during my
fieldwork in an eighth-grade classroom. It demonstrates some of
the common problems students have when they think about
characters in short stories.
“What do we know about Roger?” Mr. Henderson [1] asks a
roomful of antsy students. A mere nanosecond passes and eager
hands shoot into the air, fingers waving energetically.
“He’s a boy,” Lauren says confidently.
“And he’s poor.”
“Jimmy’s a thief!” another student shouts before being called on.
As a new observer of Mr. Henderson’s class, I am overwhelmed by
the students’ enthusiasm for Langston Hughes’ short story, “Thank
You, M’am.” I imagined some students would be disengaged and
bored; perhaps a few would daydream, gazing out the window at
the pastoral delight that rests just beyond the football field behind
the school. But there are no daydreamers here. While any teacher
would be happy to have such willing and active students, there is
something missing here. No matter how bright-eyed and eager
these students seem to be, their discussion of Roger is, well, flat
and uninspired. Inaccurate? Not entirely. Incomplete? Without a
doubt. If you try to incarnate Roger, the main character of “Thank
You, M’am,” simply based on what the students have said, you end
up with a one-dimensional, cardboard cutout. Roger becomes a
miscreant who steals with no clear motivation to commit crime
other than the fact that he seems poor.
How can you help students inject life into their discussions of
characters? How can Mr. Henderson transform his students’
perception of Roger from a paper-thin, unremarkable character to
the complex, round individual he is? Heather Lattimer suggests
several ways to get students to look beyond superficial aspects of
characters and to inspire them to think deeply and critically about
characters, which will ultimately help them create and develop
characters in their own work. Begin by teaching students the value
of making inferences while they read short stories. When readers
infer things about characters based on textual evidence, they get
clues that reveal more about who characters are as people. To
introduce students to this concept, model the ways you make
inferences when you read short stories. Lattimer suggests turning
to an excerpt from a touchstone text, placing it on a transparency
on an overhead projector for the entire class to see. After reading
the passage aloud, demonstrate to students how to generate
inferences that will result in a more complex understanding of a
character by explaining what you can infer about the character,
what in the text led you to that inference, and how the text
evidence supports the inference (Lattimer 165). To reinforce
visually students’ comprehension of this process, write your
inferences beside the textual evidence you find in the story to show
how you support your ideas. Had Mr. Henderson done this with
“Thank You, M’am,” his students would have learned to look for
clues in the text to determine important characteristics about Roger
aside from the obvious. He could have highlighted the passage of
dialogue from the story where Roger says, “There’s nobody home
at my house,” and inferred that Roger gets little support or
supervision from his family, which might have inspired him to hit
the streets and steal. This kind of inference can lead students to a
deeper understanding of the character and his motivations. After
modeling this process to students several times, have them practice
doing the same as a class and individually. As students examine
the text closely to make inferences, the observations they make
about characters will be far more insightful and complex than those
they initially made.
After students have practiced making inferences about characters,
introduce them to reader-character conversations. Show them how
to talk to a character by asking questions. As Lattimer points out,
an “interior conversation between a reader and a character would
not only enliven the story and bring the characters to life, but
would also support students’ understanding of characters and their
perspectives” (166-7). Get your students to generate questions that
probe into the inner consciousness of the character. Mr.
Henderson’s students could have asked Roger the following
questions to find out more about him and who he is: How did you
feel when Mrs. Jones asked you if you were ashamed of yourself?
Where is your family when you are out on the streets? What was it
like walking into Mrs. Jones’ home? Were you nervous? Why did
you frown when Mrs. Jones said that she was once young and
wanted things she couldn’t get? Did you buy the blue suede shoes
you wanted after Mrs. Jones gave you the money? Did you want
them as much as you did before? Demonstrate the questioning
process as you did for the lesson on inference so students have a
clear idea of what they need to do.
Once students have generated several good questions, have them
answer these questions by assuming the character’s perspective.
Tell them that this activity is one of the most useful in learning to
understand a character deeply. To answer their own questions
about the character, they must crawl into the character’s skin, walk
in the character’s shoes; they must become the character. When
they do this, they achieve one of your underlying objectives for
having them read short stories prior to writing their own; they are
thinking like writers. As you encourage students to assume the
character’s perspective and provide thoughtful responses to their
own questions, remember to direct students to specific textual
evidence for support (Lattimer 170). Without support from the
text, students might be tempted to rely on speculation in forming
their replies instead of closely reading for truth on the printed page,
something good readers always do.
All this talk of reading short stories, of searching for deeper
meanings within characters, and you have yet to tell students to
begin writing their own. As I have suggested, teaching students to
read and understand characters is crucial to master before they can
imagine writing short stories. Learning to make inferences and
engaging in a dialogue between reader and character through
questioning and answering are all effective ways you can arm
students with tools they need to approach short story writing.
Picking Up the Pen…to Brainstorm
Before you can expect students to draft a sentence, teach them to
generate and develop ideas. One of your greatest responsibilities
when teaching short story writing is to guide students through a
meaningful planning process to foster these ideas. Just as the
reading workshop focused on understanding characters, the best
way to introduce students to the prospect of writing short stories is
to continue focusing on characters. Since so many practicing
teachers, researchers, and authors agree that character should come
first, begin here.
Collaborate with your students to create a character as a model for
what they will do independently as they imagine characters for
their short stories. Have students work together to select a name for
the character and determine characteristics such as age, gender,
family information, and likes and dislikes. Students will dig deeper
into the character they have created, developing ideas of what the
character fears and worries about, what he is proud of, what
relationships he has with family and friends, and other issues that
concern him (Lattimer 179-80). This collaborative model will ease
them into the challenge, alleviating some of the intimidation many
students feel having to imagine and develop characters of their
own. Though collaborating to create original character is a great
way to introduce students to the idea of independently creating a
character, many students will need to be coaxed further to begin
the brainstorming process. A wealth of activities and exercises are
designed to help students develop rounded characters; see
Appendix B for “Getting to Know You: Bringing a Character to
Life,” adapted from Marty Brewster’s article, “Rooming with
Characters.” This is one of my favorites.
One of the most basic, yet effective tools you can use to help
students develop their characters is Nancie Atwell’s “MainCharacter Questionnaire.” Have students work in pairs; one student
asks a series of questions to the other, who assumes the role of her
main character when responding. Atwell suggests using a
questionnaire including a range of questions, from basic to indepth: How old are you? What is your family background? What is
different about you? How would a friend describe you? What are
the important things in your life? (404). She notes that this
questionnaire “forces writers to back off, slow down, and attend to
building a person that their readers can be with through the events
of the story” (403). By encouraging students to slow down and
consider specific aspects of their characters personalities and lives,
this questionnaire will help them determine the most important
things to reveal about the characters in their stories.
Another vital tool you can have students use to collect the ideas
they generate as they develop their characters is the writer’s
notebook. It provides students with a place they can store their
ideas, a place they can refer to throughout the writing process for
inspiration and clarification. Bomer has his students use their
notebooks “to build the elements of the fictive dream … to help
them get to know the worlds of their stories better” (141). He
identifies a number of strategies that you can suggest to students to
help them bring the “fictive dream” to life, including timelines,
character biographies, and character sketches. However, he stresses
that these are not requirements but suggestions of ways students
can dig deeper into characters. The notebook can also be used for
freewriting, which Bomer considers useful when trying to help
students understand “the ways their own experience is informing
their work” (144). Since so many students get stuck on the notion
that fiction is “made up” and, therefore, has no room for their
personal perspectives and concerns, freewriting gives them the
opportunity to make meaningful connections between their lives
and the stories will write. Fiction writers—and their attitudes,
feelings, and life experiences—lurk in the stories they write.
Bomer notes that these “issues provide the engine for our work”
(144). Without trying to comprehend their own realities, students
cannot imagine fully the realities of their characters and their
worlds.
The next step of teaching students short story writing is to turn
their attention to conflict. No matter how well students know their
characters, they do not have a glimmer of a short story until they
engage the characters in some meaningful conflict. To get students
thinking about possible conflicts for their stories, Lattimer suggests
teaching students to identify “stress points” for characters “based
on important relationships, pressures, and expectations—positive
and negative” (181). A stress point can be anything that could
eventually result in a conflict situation. Consider, for example, a
character whose parents are divorced and rarely sees her father.
The fact that she does not see her father often can be a stress point
for her. After having students identify several stress points in their
characters’ lives, have them brainstorm potential situations that
could arise from the stress points; from these situations emerge the
fuel for possible conflicts for their stories (Lattimer 181-2). By
developing each stress point into several potential situations,
students are not confined to just one idea for a central conflict.
When students recognize the possibilities presented by a single
stress point, they can expand the breadth of their imaginations.
Just as engaging in reader-character conversations helped students
understand characters during the reading workshop, authorcharacter conversations can get them to dig deeper into their own
characters to establish a central conflict by thinking the way fiction
writers do. Fiction author Donald Gallo points out that “most
authors of fiction … put themselves in the place of the
characters—take on their roles—and write from their point of
view” (57). It was something I did each time I imagined a new
character for my short stories in college. One particular character
comes to mind—Callie, a teenager who blames herself for the
kidnapping of her younger sister. I remember stepping out of my
shoes and into Callie’s, walking for days in her worn ballet flats. I
looked through her eyes and into her reflection in a mirror, trying
to understand what she saw and why she saw it. I became Callie
countless times before I wrote the story, to learn more about her, to
determine her central conflict. Without becoming her to my fullest
extent, I had no story. As students move toward establishing focal
conflicts, have them engage in author-character conversation to
understand and become their characters like experienced fiction
writers do. Appendix C illustrates an example of a “conversation”
Heather Lattimer had with Timmy, the hypothetical character she
and her class created together. This example demonstrates
questions a student can pose to get a character to open up and
reveal potential conflicts. Latimer begins by asking Timmy, what
are you mad about? He opens up about being upset that his best
friend, Mike, abandoned him for new friends. The anger and
resentment Timmy feels towards Mike becomes clearer in the
conversation when he reveals that he broke into Mike’s room to
take back a good luck charm he gave Mike. Like this example,
your students’ author-character conversations will open the door to
possibilities for conflict and help them identify the conflict they
find most intriguing and practical.
Ready, Set, Write
Now that your students have two of the most fundamental and
important elements of their short stories fresh in their minds and
notebooks—their characters and focal conflicts—you can let them
plunge into writing their drafts. And, considering the time and
energy they have invested in the planning process, they will be
more than willing to take this plunge. The best thing you can do as
students begin drafting their stories is let them write and see where
their writing takes them.
But your role does not terminate here. As students write, identify
and address obstacles they encounter along the way. How can you
do this? By holding ongoing conferences with students, you can
determine problems students have and direct them to solutions.
Some of the most obvious and useful resources you can suggest are
the touchstone texts, as well as other short stories students have
read in the unit. As questions about technique and style arise, point
students to stories that use specific techniques and styles
effectively to help them improve and revise. High school teacher
Mitch Cox describes a student who struggled with using thirdperson point of view in her story but, after looking at how an
author of a touchstone short story used first-person in the form of a
journal narrative, she was inspired to experiment with this point of
view successfully (42). Urging students to reexamine touchstone
texts to find solutions to their problems empowers them to use the
skills they developed in the reading workshop and improves their
overall reading comprehension.
Another route you can take when conferring with students is to
refer them to each other for help. Though students write their own
unique stories, the issues that come up in one student’s work may
parallel those that their peers have. When observing a student
having trouble explaining relationships between characters, for
instance, suggest that she discuss this with a student who has
overcome this problem so they can share experiences and identify
workable solutions (Lattimer 189). Together, students can
recognize the vast possibilities for where their short stories can go.
There is no “black and white” or “right or wrong” in short stories;
students have before them countless options to work with when
they write them. When students confer with each other and share
suggestions and ideas, they will think, “I could do it this way, that
way, or the other way, so I’ll try it this way, and then come back
and try again if I don’t like it” (Bomer 152).
Sometimes you will notice that a few (or many) students need help
with the same technique or element of craft. When observing such
a trend, present a lesson or conduct exercises to address students’
needs on topics such as setting, dialogue, point of view, or any
other topic that seems valuable to cover. You can incorporate
touchtone texts into these lessons by directing students to passages
that use the technique effectively, giving them a familiar frame of
reference as they try to improve the technique in their writing.
Appendices D and E, from Anne Bernays and Pamela Painter’s
What If? and Harry Noden’s Image Grammar, respectively,
provide excellent examples of fun, engaging exercises geared
toward improving dialogue and sensory detail. It is crucial,
however, to make sure that students are given ample opportunity to
apply what they learn in these lessons directly to their own stories.
Revision is an essential element of a successful short story writing
unit, but a formal multiple draft submission process may not be
necessary. When students are given ample time both in and out of
class to develop their stories, receive continual support and
guidance in the form of teacher/peer conferences, and participate in
lessons given in accordance with need, they will rework and revise
throughout the writing workshop. How much time is ample time?
Lattimer identifies a period of three weeks that her students spent
“rereading, revising, and improving… stories” (189). This may be
too long or too short for you; the time can be adjusted, of course.
The important thing to remember is that students benefit most from
ongoing feedback from you and their peers through direct
communication. Another useful tool that may help guide students
as they write and revise is a checklist developed by Barnaby
Conrad in The Complete Guide to Writing Fiction, containing
questions that determine how well important elements of their
stories are developed (See Appendix F).
As students revise their stories, you may witness some of them
getting stuck or frustrated, unsure where to go with what they are
writing. While there is no definitive solution to this dilemma,
Damon Knight offers advice for how you can help students move
forward and keep writing in his book, Creating Short Fiction.
When a student’s writing comes to a halt—for example, he is
unsure about what his character will do next—Knight suggests that
the writer may not “know enough about the character…[or] now
knows more about her than [he] did when planning the story”
(173). If it appears that your student needs to dig deeper into his
character to determine what will happen next, direct him back to
some of the character development strategies previously discussed.
A student can engage in several author-character conversations as
long as it helps him understand and write his character better.
Since many students will know more about their characters now
than when they were planning, they also run the risk of getting
stuck somewhere along the path of writing. You may need to
encourage them to step back and recognize how this deeper
knowledge informs their writing. Knight recommends that writers
“skip the troublesome part and come back to it later” or, in some
cases, “simply leave it out” (173). Letting students know that it is
okay to skip around and omit as they write will help them feel
more comfortable and confident as they work towards a polished
draft.
Grading and Evaluating Student Writing
One of the most difficult tasks you face is finding an effective,
meaningful way to evaluate and assess the short stories students
write. Many teachers cringe at the thought of grading creative
assignments; as Hood remarks, “Grading creative writing is like
putting a price tag on art: We do it, but always with the awareness
that there’s something incongruent happening, something a bit
absurd” (28). Regardless of any reservations you have, grading is
usually necessary. To establish grading criteria and guidelines,
create a rubric specifically tailored to the short story assignment. A
rubric will not only remind you of what to look for in student
work, but, when given to students as they receive the assignment, it
will also give them a clear picture of your expectations. As Soven
notes, “Spelling out the evaluation criteria can help to decrease
students’ anxiety about writing” (146). Less anxiety and a clear
understanding of expectations means that students have a greater
opportunity to succeed. Instead of distributing a teacher-designed
rubric, you can also collaborate with students to create one with
their input.
There are other aspects of student progress related to short story
writing that you can evaluate a little more subjectively. A great
way to assess learning in the reading workshop component of this
unit is to have students write reflections on the experience. A
written reflection will allow students to consider the ways they
have improved as readers, while showing you what worked (and
perhaps what did not work) during the reading workshop. Lattimer
recognizes the value of this reflection in her students’ responses,
noting that “they were thrilled to realize how much they had
grown, and each was able to identify areas to work on for future
growth” (192).
Whether you like it or not, you also need to acknowledge the
creature lurking in the shadows of the classroom—the NYS
standardized exam. Though you can guarantee that students will
not write short stories on the 8th grade ELA or Regents exams, the
skills they develop and hone while learning to write short stories
are not extraneous to the testing process. The thorough, close
reading that students do to write short stories will improve their
reading comprehension, aiding them in the reading and analysis
tasks on the state exams. Perhaps more than any other writing
assignment, short story writing gives students practice in
establishing and developing voice in writing. For students to
imagine, create, and develop their characters successfully, they
must write with a strong sense of voice, a writing skill that is
essential in earning the top scores on state exams. Short story
reading and writing will give students a firm grasp on literary
elements and techniques that they should know for the exam; a
student who uses metaphor and simile in her story effectively will
be able to write about these techniques in a critical lens essay with
ease. Short story writing requires a working command of
conventions, such as grammar, spelling, and syntax, which will
help students avoid surface errors as they compose essays on the
exam. If you give students extensive practice with these skills
while they have fun writing stories, they can apply them
successfully to the writing they do on the NYS exams.
Publishing Short Stories
After all the hard work of imagining, creating, and writing short
stories is done, celebrate students’ achievements by publishing
their work. One of the simplest options for publication is creating a
printed class anthology and distributing copies for students to share
with their peers and families. Stories are, after all, meant to be
shared. As an added bonus, when students know that their work
will be put into print and read by an audience larger than one
teacher, they will be encouraged further to produce short stories
they are proud of. Knowing they are accountable for the work they
do often motivates them to put their best feet forward. In addition
to publishing a class anthology, you can hold a Short Story
Reading for students to read their stories aloud to each other. For
any of us who have had the chance to attend events where authors
read their work publicly, we know the absolute joy of listening to
fiction coming alive through their voices. Students will also
appreciate this experience.
Is short story writing fun and games? Considering the personal,
academic, and creative development that you will see in your
students as they write their first stories, you will hardly care what
the answer to that question is. If students can have fun while they
strengthen their critical thinking skills as readers and writers, then
you are on to something good. As students read and reread
touchstone short stories, not just as readers but as fiction writers,
they open their minds to a level of analysis that enable them to
surpass the NYS Learning Standards. So let the fun and games
begin!
Works Cited
Atwell, Nancie. In the Middle. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann, 1998.
Bernays, Anne. “Pupils Glimpse an Idea, Teacher Gets a Gold
Star.” Writers on Writing: Collected Essays from The New
York Times. New York: Times Books, 2001. 23-27.
Bernays, Anne, and Pamela Painter. What If?: Writing Exercises
for Fiction Writers. New York: HarperPerennial, 1991.
Bomer, Randy. Time for Meaning: Crafting Literate Lives in
Middle and High School. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann,
1995.
Brewster, Marty. "Rooming in with Characters." English Journal
77.6 (1988): 65-66.
Conrad, Barnaby. The Complete Guide to Writing Fiction.
Cincinnati: Writer’s Digest, 1990.
Cox, Mitch. "Writing like Writers." English Journal 78.2 (1989):
40-43.
Gallo, Donald R. "The Writing Processes of Professional Authors."
English Journal 83.5 (1994): 55-60.
Jorgensen. Karen. The Whole Story: Crafting Fiction in the Upper
Elementary Grades. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann, 2001.
Knight, Damon. Creating Short Fiction. New York: St. Martin’s
Griffin, 1997.
Lattimer, Heather. Thinking Through Genre. Portland, ME:
Stenhouse, 2003.
McClure, Michael F. "Telling Stories Is True Writing (Research
and Practice)." English Journal 80.2 (1991): 93-95.
Morner, Kathleen, and Ralph Rausch, eds. NTC’s Dictionary of
Literary Terms. Chicago: NTC Publishing, 1991.
Nilsen, Alleen Pace. "Readers Responding: Creative Writing and
YA Literature." English Journal 86.3 (1997): 81-86.
Noden, Harry R. Image Grammar: Using Grammatical Structures
to Teach Writing. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann, 1999.
Prose, Francine. “What Makes a Short Story?” On Writing Short
Stories. Ed. Thomas Bailey. New York: Oxford UP, 2000.
3-12.
Soto, Gary. “The No-Guitar Blues.” Baseball in April and Other
Stories. San Diego: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1990.
Soven, Margot. Teaching Writing in Middle School and Secondary
Schools: Theory, Research, and Practice. Needham
Heights, MA: Allyn & Bacon, 1999.
Appendix A: Suggested Young Adult (YA) Short Story
Collections
The YA short story collections listed below deal with a diverse
range of topics, including cultural, racial, gender, friendship, and
familial issues.
Jennifer Armstrong, ed., Shattered: Stories of Children and War
Sandy Asher, ed., But That’s Another Story
Marion Dane Bauer, ed., Am I Blue?: Coming Out from the Silence
Bonnie Christensen, ed., In My Grandmother’s House:
Maxine Clair, Rattlebone
Judith Ortiz Coffer, An Island Like You : Stories of the Barrio
Robert Cormier, Eight Plus One
Chris Crutcher, Athletic Shorts: 6 Short Stories
Bruce Emra, ed., Coming of Age: Short Stories About Youth and
Adolescence
Paul Fleischman, Graven Images
Mary Frosch, ed., Coming of Age in America: A Multicultural
Anthology
Don Gallo, Thirteen; Connections; No Easy Answers; Join In
Don Gallo, ed., Sixteen: Short Stories by Outstanding Writers for
Young Adults
James Howe, ed., The Color of Absence: 12 Stories About Loss
and Hope
Kristin Hunter, Guests in the Promised Land
David Levithan, ed., You Are Here, This Is Now: Poems, Stories,
Essays and Art from the Best
Young Writers and Artists in America
Anne Mazer, ed. America Street: A Multicultural Anthology of
Short Stories; A Walk in My
World: International Short Stories About Youth
Norma Fox Mazer, Dear Bill, Remember Me? And Other Stories
Nicholasa Mohr, El Bronx Remembered; In Nueva York
Walter Dean Myers, 145th Street
Beverley Naidoo, Out of Bounds: Seven Stories of Conflict and
Hope
Cynthia Rylant, Every Living Thing
Peter Sieruta, Heartbeats and Other Stories
Gordon Snell, Thicker Than Water: Coming of Age Stories by Irish
and Irish-American Writers
Gary Soto, Baseball in April and Other Stories
Piri Thomas, Stories from El Barrio
M. Jerry Weiss, ed., Big City Cool: Short Stories About Urban
Youth
Lawrence Yep, ed., American Dragons: Twenty-Five AsianAmerican Voices
Appendix B: Getting to Know You: Bringing a Character to
Life
(Adapted from Brewster, Marty. "Rooming in with Characters."
English Journal 77.6 (1988): 65-66.)
Context: This assignment would be useful for teachers who are
just beginning a unit on short story writing with their students. It
requires students to make frequent observations and remarks about
their characters over the span of at least one week. A long break
(e.g., Thanksgiving, Spring Break) may be an ideal time to assign
it.
Objective: The goal of this assignment is to provide students with
an opportunity to imagine and thoroughly develop a protagonist of
a short story they will later write. This assignment will show them
“that characters develop plot instead of plot developing
characters,” a concept many novice fiction writers struggle to
understand and apply to their writing.
Assignment: Distribute magazines to the class. Have students look
through magazines until they find a face that interests them that is
at least 3” x 5”. Once each student has selected a photograph,
instruct him/her to clip it from the magazine, take it home, and tape
it to a door or mirror in his/her room. Next to the photo, the student
should tape a blank sheet of paper. Let them know that this photo
will come to represent the protagonist of the short story they will
later write.
Throughout the week, the students should confront their character
photos as frequently as possible to learn as much as they can about
the person in the photo. As students think of details about this
person, they should write ideas on the blank sheet of paper. Have
them consider these aspects of the characters’ lives:
 Does the character have siblings?
 Does he/she have a job? How does he/she
feel about their work?
 What does he/she like to eat for breakfast?
 What is your character’s favorite thing to do
on a rainy Sunday afternoon?
Encourage students to imagine that they take their characters with
them wherever they go over the course of the week. Suggest these
examples to get students thinking:
o If you go shopping at a mall, imagine the character is
tagging along with you. As you shop, consider the
following questions:
 What would be the first store your character
would go to when he/she arrives at the mall?
 What kind of coat would your character buy?
 What book would he/she buy?
 What would he/she order for lunch at the
food court?
 Does he/she like crowds?
Since some students learn and work better with visual aids, suggest
that they draw a floor plan of the character’s house and place
furnishings in appropriate places. They can clip magazine photos
that represent the character’s wardrobe, favorite possessions, and
places the character would someday like to visit.
After the week has passes, students should bring their character
photos, notes, and any additional information they have collected
to add depth to their characters to class. Ultimately, students will
have changed a face in a photograph into a person. They will use
what they have developed in this assignment to help them create
the protagonist for their short stories.
Appendix C: A Conversation with a Character
(from Lattimer, Heather. Thinking Through Genre. Portland, ME:
Stenhouse, 2003. (184)
Context: Heather Lattimer wrote this conversation she had with
Timmy, the hypothetical character she created with students
learning to write short stories.
Ms. L.: What are you mad about?
Timmy: I’m mad because Mike embarrassed me. He’s known me
for so long, and I’ve trusted him with lots of stuff, but now he’s
found some new friends, and he just blew me off today. We were
supposed to go skateboarding after school, and he just took off
with somebody else. I was left standing there like a dork. It was
just totally uncool.
Ms L.: So what did you do about it?
Timmy: At first I didn’t do anything. I just went to the skate park
and hung around by myself. But I was so mad that I just kept
falling, and that made me even madder. The madder I got, the
more I wanted to hurt Mike.
Ms. L.: I hope that you didn’t beat him up.
Timmy: Nah. I don’t fight. I wanted to hurt him, like, get back at
him. I wanted to make him feel bad the way that he had made me
feel bad.
Ms. L: That seems kind of mean.
Timmy: Well, now I guess it does, but then I felt like it was only
fair. After all, he made me look like a dork. Anyway, I went to his
house and snuck in through the back window, the way we always
get in when Mike loses his keys (which he does a lot; he can be
kind of a dork, too).
Ms. L.: Weren’t you afraid of getting caught? What if Mike was
there?
Timmy: He wasn’t; I checked it out. I knew what I wanted to do. I
wanted to get back my rabbit foot.
Ms. L: Your what?
Timmy: Yeah, I know it seems kind of stupid now, but when I was
little and our parents were getting a divorce, my sister gave me a
rabbit foot for luck. She had one, too, and she said that it would
help us both stay lucky. I gave mine to Mike a couple of months
ago when he broke his ankle and was feeling really bummed. But
now he’s fine and obviously doesn’t need it anymore; after all, he
has new friends. He doesn’t need me anymore, and he doesn’t need
my rabbit foot.
Ms. L.: Don’t you think that you are being a little judgmental?
After all, he didn’t say he didn’t need you. He just went off with
other friends. Maybe he didn’t even remember that you were
supposed to go to the skate park.
Timmy: Well, that’s what he says, too. I don’t know if I believe
him, though. I mean, we always go to the skate park after school.
It’s not the kind of thing that you just forget.
Ms. L.: So, did you get the rabbit foot back?
Timmy: Actually, no. I was all charged up and ready to grab it, but
when I got into his room, I just couldn’t do it. I wimped out.
Appendix D: Adding Dazzle to Dialogue
(adapted from Bernays, Anne, and Pamela Painter. What If?: Writing
Exercises for Fiction Writers. New York: HarperPerennial,
1991. (75-77)
Context: This exercise would be useful for students who are in the
process of drafting their short stories and are looking for ways to
improve the dialogue in their writing by adding more voice and
“flavor.” It is recommended that teachers allot one class period for
this exercise.
Objectives: The goal of this exercise is to help students develop
dialogue in their short stories to better reveal character, to make the
dialogue believable and authentic to the character that speaks, and
to add variety. Differences in speech aren’t just realistic; they’re
interesting, provocative, and can bring vitality to the stories.
The Exercise:
A) Observe how the following brief passages of dialogue convey a
sense of accent or national, regional, class, racial, or cultural
distinctions mainly through word choice and arrangement. What
does each passage suggest about the individual speakers by
conveying the flavor of their speech?
Break students into groups of three and have each group analyze
two of the following passages considering the guidelines stated
above. Have groups share their observations with the class aloud.
1) My mama dead. She die screaming and cussing.
Alice Walker, The Color
Purple
2) “ ‘I won’t keep you,’ I says. ‘You must get a job for yourself.’
But, sure, it’s worse whenever he gets a job; he drinks it all.”
James Joyce, “Ivy Day in the
Committee Room”
3) “Muy Buenos,” I said. “Is there an Englishwoman here? I would
like to see this English lady.”
“Muy Buenos. Yes, there is a
female English.”
Ernest Hemingway, The Sun
Also Rises
4) “…the working mens one Sunday afternoon taking they only
time off. They laying around drinking some moonshine, smoking
the hemp, having a cock fight.”
Peter Leach, “The Convict’s
Tale”
5) “Why me?” she rumbled. “It’s no trash around her, black or
white, that I haven’t given to. And break my back to the bone
every day working. And do for the church.”
Flannery O’Connor,
“Revelation”
6) “Father says for you to come on and get breakfast,” Caddy said.
“Father said it’s over a half an hour now, and you’ve got to come
this minute.”
“I ain’t studying no breakfast,” Nancy said. “I going to get my
sleep out.”
William Faulkner, “That
Evening Sun”
7) “I ain’t got no choice in the matter.” He stopped on the
ungracious sound of his words. “That aint’t like I mean it. That
ain’t. I mean”—he stumbled—“what I mean, if a fella’s got
somepin to eat an’ another fella’s hungry—why, the first fella ain’t
got no choice.”
John Steinbeck, The Grapes
of Wrath
8) “Isn’t the beach fabulous, Tifty?” Mother asked. “Isn’t it
fabulous to be back? Will you have a Martini?”
“I don’t care,” Lawrence said. “Whiskey, gin—I don’t care what I
drink. Give me a little rum.”
John Cheever, “Goodbye, My Brother”
B) Now go back to the short story you are writing. Find some
places where you use dialogue and revise what your characters say
to show more of the character’s voice and “flavor” like the authors
in the examples above do. Experiment with word choice and
arrangement.
Appendix E: Adding Sensory Detail
(adapted from Noden, Harry R. Image Grammar: Using Grammatical
Structures to Teach Writing. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann,
1999. (42-43)
Specific details emerge as a writer sees, hears, smells, tastes, and
touches an imaginary or real world. This lesson is designed to
move students imaginatively from word to visual images and back.
 First, read the following paragraph to the class:
Running almost ten feet ahead of her competition, Jenny
raced toward the finish line. As she crossed in victory, the
crowd went wild. Jenny was exhausted, and her coach held
her up as she congratulated her on the victory. The
loudspeaker announced a new school record as friends
raced onto the track to share in the excitement.
 Ask students to close their eyes and visualize the event just
described. Tell them to listen to the sounds---sounds of the crowd,
the runners, the loudspeaker, the wind. Ask them to listen for
comments that might be used as quotes, adding to the drama of the
race.
 Next have them “zoom in” to look closely at specific
details. Ask them "What images can you see when you zoom in on
the runners, looking at their faces, arms, legs, in close-up detail?
What images emerge from the crowd as the camera zooms on
individuals: the coaches, the timer, parents, friends?"
 Have them smell the odors and aromas that surround the track
meet. Ask them to smell the sweat, the grass, the food from the
concession stand, the blacktop, Gatorade.
 Then have students
concentrate on the senses of taste and touch: the track, the wind,
hugs, water, sweat.
 Finally, distribute the following sensory guidelines and ask
students to rewrite the original paragraph, adding their own
detailed images.
Guidelines for Picturing Specific Details
Sounds: the crowd,
the runners, the loudspeaker, the wind, dialogue.
Sight: close-up
shots of runners (their faces, arms, legs), the crowd, the coaches,
the timer, parents, friends.
Odors/Aromas: sweat, grass, food,
suntan lotion, blacktop, Gatorade.
Tastes: sweat, water, dryness,
food.
Touch: feet on the pavement, fists clenching, headband,
muscles, arms. legs, stomach, embraces.
 Once students have drafted paragraphs, have them share what
they have written with the whole class.
 After completing this exercise, you can have students apply what
they’ve learned about sensory detail to the short stories they are
currently writing and revising.
Appendix F: Story Checklist
(Adapted from Conrad, Barnaby. The Complete Guide to Writing
Fiction. Cincinnati: Writer’s Digest, 1990. (247-248)
As you continue to work on your story, answer the following
questions to make sure you have all the basic ingredients for
your story. Continue to refer to these questions as you revise
and rework.
1. In one simple sentence sum up to yourself what the story is
about. If you can’t do it in one long sentence maybe you have
problems; maybe it’s not yet clear in your mind.
2. Do you have your principal character(s) wanting something,
something very important to them? Is that aim made apparent to
the reader?
3. Do you indicate to the reader what the main character’s basic
problem is—or at least foreshadow it—very early in the story? Is
there a hook in the first paragraph to get the reader’s attention? Do
obstacles stand in the way of the main character’s aim?
4. Does the dialogue propel the plot forward? Does the
conversation reveal character and motivation? Or is it merely talk?
5. Does the story unfold in scenes? Or is there too much showing
and not enough telling?
6. Is there inherent conflict, expressed or implied, on every page,
in every scene?
7. Does the story grow and grow in tension until the resolution?
8. Is the ending, sad or happy, a satisfying one? Is it consistent
with what we know about the character? Is it brought about by the
character’s actions?
9. Has the reader seen a change occur in the characters and their
situation? Are things different than they were at the beginning of
the story?
[1] Names of teacher and student have been changed.