Writing 101 • Day 2: What is a story?

It’s kind of funny, really. 

My parents were both public school teachers. I grew up in a house that was simply overflowing with books and magazines. I learned to read at a very early age—before I began school—and have spent my entire life since then reading, writing, and ultimately, editing and publishing, stories.

But what exactly is a story? That’s a question I never considered until now.

When people ask what I as an editor want to see in a story, I usually say something like: “I want to see a story that introduces me to an interesting character, takes me to an interesting place, reveals something interesting about that character in that place, and at the end, leaves me glad I took the time to read the story. Better yet, I want to see a story that at the end makes me say, ‘Damn, I wish I’d written that one!’”

That’s getting ahead of ourselves, though, and is a bit of a circular reference. It’s like the dictionary definition of storyteller: “a teller of stories.” Well, duh.

So let’s take a closer look at the fundamental question. What exactly is a story?

It’s how we communicate. It’s intrinsic to our nature. Nature equipped us with eyes, ears, hands, and a mouth with vocal cords. We can make sounds and gestures. We can hear* and see the sounds and gestures others make. That’s the extent of our stock organic I/O equipment, and it’s all strictly serial and linear. The closest we get to a parallel communication protocol is perhaps when someone is both singing and dancing; beyond that, it becomes a matter of technological enhancements stacked on top of our organic systems, and we probably hit peak bandwidth with the invention of the color motion picture with surround sound and subwoofers. With our technology we can transmit more information faster, but our poor eyes, ears, and brains can’t assimilate and process it in real time, so at some point it all becomes just incoherent noise.

A story, then, is a communication protocol. It’s the means by which we take the experiences and ideas that are in our minds and transmit them to another person, in the process modulating, shaping, controlling, and imposing meaning on those thoughts, to lift them above being mere noise.

[Sidebar #1: I wonder if a truly telepathic species would even have stories? Without the need to turn thoughts into words and then words into vocalized sounds, would there be any need to shape the message? Would such a species even develop the concept of language?]

So here is a first principle. A story is not merely an assemblage of words, sentences, or paragraphs jumbled together: it’s a stream of information, conveying a sequence of ideas, actions, or events, that is intended to communicate meaning to the receiver.

[Sidebar #2: Then again, if the meaning you intend to communicate is that there is no meaning, we’re all just helpless pawns wallowing in futility in an existential vacuum and nothing we do or say ever really matters—sorry, you’re in the wrong room. You want Louis-Ferdinand Céline’s class. It’s down the hall and to the left.]

It’s easy to elaborate on what a story is not. A story is not:

• a vignette
• a slice of life with no real beginning or end
  
• a still life
• a travelogue
• a sermon
• a political screed
  
• an encyclopedia entry
  
• a character sketch
• the first chapter of your novel-in-progress
  

A story is a linear narrative, with a beginning, middle, and end (not necessarily in that order), by means of which the storyteller intends to lead the listener/reader from a starting point to an ending point, keeping their attention engaged along the way, and ultimately guiding the listener/reader to grasp some sort of meaning.

What that meaning might be varies depending on the storyteller’s purpose. A story can be told to inform, educate, motivate, agitate, obfuscate, entertain, or serve any of a large number of other purposes. Make ‘em laugh, make ‘em cry, make ‘em scream, make ‘em sigh. The key point is, it doesn’t matter how beautiful your words and sentences are, if in the end, your story has no point. 

After reading thousands of slush pile submissions in the last fifteen years, I can assure you that the single worst thing to see in a submission is a story that is just absolutely brilliant and beautiful for the first twenty pages—and then collapses into a puddle of meaningless goo on page twenty-one, because the author had no idea what the point of their own story was. An unfortunate point might invite an editor to send a “please revise and resubmit” letter, with a few suggestions for sharpening the point of the story. A nonexistent point will just make the editor feel they’ve wasted their time and never want to see that story again.

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For discussion:

1. Imagine that instead of submitting your story for print publication, you had to read it out loud in front of a live audience. How do you think the audience would react to your ending?
   
   
2. Seinfeld excluded, can you think of an example of a story that has no point and no real ending, and yet is considered good?
   
   
3. What else would you add to the list of things a story is not?  
   

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And a reminder…

CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS

Pete Wood Challenge #38, “Happy Trails,” is now open for entries!

The Challenge: Write a story of up to 150 words in length using the prompt, “happy trails.” The prompt does not need to appear in the story. Any genre is fine.

Prizes: 1st place $20.00 USD, 2nd place $15.00, 3rd place, $10.00, Honorable Mentions, (1-2) $5.00. The winning entries will be published online by Stupefying Stories in June of 2025.

Who can enter: The contest is open to both Codexians and the general public. One entry per writer, please.

How to enter: Send your entry in the body of an email to:

southernfriedsfwriter@gmail.com

Include the words “Happy Trails” in the subject line. It wouldn’t hurt to include “Pete Wood Challenge 38” or “PWC 38” in your email, too. 

Deadline: 7AM EST, May 15, 2025

Now get writing!

Categories: Writing 101