Writing - Shorts - variations

When I started considering writing a short story I decided to research what is generally acceptable for such pieces of work. It seems anything between 1000 and 10000 words are usual. Less than 1000 is considered 'flash fiction '. Anything longer is a novella. Novels 50k+. 

In these days of self-publishing I don't think definitions are as important. My complete works are above. 

I see short stories as an opportunity to try alternative subjects and style. That could also include children's books 📚.  Last week I began collating the stories I have already written. The subjects are varied. 

When I began writing almost 20 years ago,  I received a piece of advice which I shared last week about writing anything and everything. The result being quite a number of pieces started on all sorts of subjects. It really doesn't matter because each piece is my creation. That's the case for all writers. It's also the opportunity to group works together so if you get the urge to write something different then go ahead. It will always be there for you to use in the future, or not  as the case may be. 

In my case I write because I enjoy the process but I also want folk to read my work. Being read is important for a couple of main reasons. 

I am not a fan of criticism, who is, but it is good to know when someone appreciates your efforts. 

I write to entertain and having that confirmed is rewarding.  

So whether new to writing or not just go where the fancy takes you. 

God Bless 

Poetry Thursday 114 - Shadowland

 We are in the month that epitomises fantasy and imagination. I have never been one who is afraid of the dark, but I know some are, but I always felt that the dark was on my side. 

Shadowland 

 

It’s always there in plain sight,  

but comes into its own when there is no light,  

steps out from behind the bedroom door,  

joins its friends on walls and floor.  

 

No night light for me at book’s close,  

duvet pulled up below my nose,  

so I can see their silent approach,  

as my personal space they encroach.  

 

 

Their purpose to provide a comfort blanket,  

making my bed the safest billet,  

from all nature of foul fiend,  

and rabid monster - efficiently cleaned. 

©David L Atkinson October 2025  

God Bless 

Writing - Shorts

One piece of advice I remember receiving when I began this writing journey was to write,  to write anything and everything. At that time I began a diary and since have added poetry, a blog, short stories and novels. 

I'm working on collecting short stories together with a view to publishing hopefully for Christmas. 

One of my first questions when I decided to tackle shorts was how long is short? In fact, there is no correct answer.  There are competitions for this genre ranging from 50 words upwards. My view is that a story needs to be long enough to get the message across. I have included an example below. 

RudyII 

 

Wise words from an unusual source 

 

“I want….” 

“Stop!” yelled Dad. “I want never gets.” 

I wished that I’d had as many £1 coins as I’d heard that mantra trotted out in my 10 years of life. It was also said in the tone of voice that brooks no argument. The big day is due in a fortnight and already I may have cooked my goose. 

“Bed,” instructed Mum only a tad less impatiently. I think that was to discourage any discussion - for my own safety. I bade my loving parents’ goodnight, somewhat sheepishly, and made my way up to the chilly bedroom which was almost exclusively mine. 

It was one of those nights when staring at the ceiling was going to be a long study. Perhaps the excitement of Christmas, the adrenaline generated from the discussion downstairs, or thoughts about whether or not there was a Santa Claus. In short, I couldn’t sleep.  

Of course, I was ten, I didn’t believe in Santa Claus, I knew, I got it. At the same time, I knew that there’d be presents and where they’d come from. I knew that my dad didn’t earn a lot down the pit and Mum’s job in the shop wasn’t well paid either, but I knew that they’d try. Games consoles and other modern gadgets were expensive.  

I heard my pet rat, Rudi II, scrabbling around in his bedding. They only live around 18 months to 2 years as a rule, but this one was nearly 3! It was my intention to keep the name for subsequent rodent pets. 

“Shush Rudi,” I hissed. “I’m trying to get to sleep.” 

“Shush yourself! I have to put up with your snoring.” 

“What!” I couldn’t believe my ears. I sat up in the almost dark, the only light coming from the orange streetlight, and looked at the bedroom door. I slept with it open but there was no sign of Mum or Dad, I turned and looked at the rat’s cage. Rudi II was sat up on his hindquarters staring at me. 

“I must be sick,” I thought. 

“No, it’s me,” said Rudi II twitching his whiskers. 

“It can’t be,” I stammered. 

“Don’t be daft Ben. It’s me Rudi II, why you’ve added the ‘II’ I don’t know, perhaps I don’t want to know,” the rat grumbled. 

“But you’re talking,” I said. 

“C’mon kid catch up!” said the rat snappily. 

“But how?” I began. 

“Never mind that Ben,” Rudi II said. “You should be wondering why.” 

I was struggling to cope with this situation. I must have eaten something to upset my stomach and was hallucinating. 

“You are perfectly well Ben,” the rat said. 

He’s reading my mind I thought. 

“At last,” sighed Rudi II. “And I’m speaking in your mind.” 

“Why?” I asked after assimilating this disturbing situation. 

“That comes back to your conversation downstairs,” said Rudi II 

“With my parents?” I queried. 

“Who else?” snapped the rat. 

“Rudi II give me a chance, it’s not every day your pet rat speaks to you,” I whined. 

“We can all do it,” said Rudi II. 

“What?” I exclaimed. 

“We just don’t usually choose to,” he explained. 

“Why then?” I repeated. 

“Christmas presents,” he said which as an explanation was a bit limited. “Your Dad was right to shut you up.” 

“That’s all I need,” I thought. “My pet rat telling me off.” 

“Christmas in Bethlehem was a wonderful time,” he stated baldly. 

“What do you know about that?” I was incredulous. 

“You don’t think that there were rats two thousand years ago!” 

“Okay!” I gave up looking for an explanation. “What do I have to do?” 

“Three wishes Ben BUT nothing for yourself!” 

I lay back against my pillows, being careful not to take my eyes off the rat and started to think. If I could wish for things, but not for me, what could they be? After a few minutes I came up with, 

Make my dad’s knee better. It was arthritic whatever that was. 

Stop Mum from worrying because she does it all the time. 

A better Christmas for the kids next door whose dad had lost his job. 

“That it?” queried Rudi II. 

“I think so,” I answered. 

“How do you feel?” asked Rudi II 

“Good,” I said. That was true. I yawned. Yes, I felt less stressed, easier in my mind. “Will they come true?” 

“What do you think?” said Rudi II and with that he burrowed back into his bedding. 

I fell asleep thinking about a Christmas Rat; my three wishes; and wondering about a rat in a stable in Bethlehem all that time ago.