If you’ve been a writer for any length of time, or paid attention during English class, you’ve probably heard about how one way we categorize different kinds of writing is by word count. Like how you probably know short stories are, well, short, compared to a novel.
But if you’re a writer, you might be asking yourself: do I really need to pay attention to these distinctions?
The short answer, as with most things, is: it depends!
It mostly depends on why you’re writing, or what you’re attempting to write for. For example, if you’re writing a story in the hopes of submitting it to a magazine, you’ll want to make sure you stay inside the word count they give you as part of the instructions. Same as, if you’re contracted to write a book to send off to a publisher, most of them won’t publish works in certain genres if they’re not within the expected range. This is usually because they know avid readers of a certain genre are typically expecting a certain word count, and if your book is shorter, or longer than such, people might not read it. (Unless you’re an already established big name – for example, Stephen King can colour outside the lines)
On the other hand, if you’re writing just for you, adhering to a strict word count limit isn’t as necessary and, I’d even go so far to say, it can actually be detrimental!
If you’re trying to write a story while keeping a firm word count in the forefront of your mind, you might find you’re more frustrated, distracted, and it might just become all around harder for you to get the story out of your head.
I recommend just letting your story flow, and not worry about a word count until you’re done getting it out of you. Once you have it down on paper, then you can add the word count parameters as part of your editing. If you’ve come up too short, see if you can fit an extra scene in, or if you’re over, see if there’s parts you can take out without changing the flow or plot, or leave it on a cliffhanger/to-be-continued, if you’re planning to make it a series.
One of my all time favourite pieces of writing advice I’ve ever gotten is: a story takes as long as it takes.
It makes writing sound so simple, doesn’t it?
I keep this advice in mind all the time, which is why I don’t bother checking a word count of a story until I’m done writing it. Now, I know I’m lucky, since I mostly write for myself on Patreon, (and here) I don’t have to adhere to a strict word count limit. The only word count rules I have to keep in mind are ones that were self-imposed. (And those were only put in place because I upload so many)
That said, I still think it’s a better way to write, and would recommend anyone to try adopting this style!
Instead of getting bogged down with all the nit-picky editing elements – oh, your story is 10 words off from your word count, you used ‘too many’ adjectives, you misspelled a word – if you let your critical editing voice sleep – or beat it to death with a stick, because you’re a good writer, damn it! Stop being so hard on yourself! – you can focus all your energy on telling the story.
In my opinion, telling the story is the most important part of writing. Screw the rules! Take your time, focus, and tell your story. It’s more important to tell it ‘correctly’ than to try and squish it to fit into a predetermined sized box so it’s ‘right’.
Also, in my experience, if you take the time and tell the story you want, in the way you want, most readers won’t care if it’s a little over or under a specific word count. They’ll just be happy they have a new favourite piece to add to their collection.
Also also, once you get the story down how you want it, and know the word count, it can help narrow your focus of where to submit it. Instead of being at the mercy of the magazine, publisher’s, etc. rules, you can find the rules that fit your story, instead.
Like this article? Check out more writing tips here!
In honour of my 6th book Broken turning 3 this month (Mar. 19th), I thought it’d be fun to revisit the world with a short story based on the characters. This story has 0 bearing on the book’s plot and is not meant to be a sequel. If anything, this is technically a prequel (if you’ve read the book, you’ll know why). This is just a fun one-off story.
A fanfic based on my own book, if you will.
Regardless of what you choose to call it, I hope you like it!
“Are you sure about this?”
Stacey took in a deep breath, in an attempt to steel herself against what she was about to do as she accepted the plastic cup, “Yeah, I’m good.”
Jesse didn’t look convinced, but didn’t stop her from walking toward the cabin, anyway. He watched her go, small boulder settling into his stomach, “Be careful.”
The blonde turned away from the doorway, sly smile on her face, “Never.”
—
Stacey groaned, blinking her eyes open slowly as she woke up. She squinted against the harsh light streaming in from between the curtains, tilting her head away as she felt the familiar stab of needles in her brain.
The blonde carefully sat up, needing to swallow hard to keep her nausea at bay, that never gets easier. She stretched her legs out under the covers, freezing as her left leg hit something that definitely wasn’t bedding.
Oh no… Dreading what she’d find, she slowly turned to her left, peering over the pillow to the person who was sleeping beside her. Who did I…? She leaned a little closer in an attempt to identify the person, but it was no use – they were on their stomach, and their brown hair and tangle of arms was obscuring their face.
Stacey slid herself out of bed as quietly as she could, not wanting to disturb her sleeping partner. She couldn’t help the shiver that ran through her as the cool air hit her body.
Her entire body.
She swallowed thickly and started scrambling around the room, on the hunt for her clothes. She quickly shrugged on her t-shirt before continuing the search, doing her best not to completely freak out. Crow wouldn’t have let me do anythi-
She froze on the spot as the person on the bed rolled over, subconsciously holding her breath. Once it was clear they weren’t waking up, she continued the search for her pants.
And phone.
Where are they? She frowned as she turned around the bedroom in a small circle, not seeing the rest of her belongings. She let out a deep sigh before making her way over to the door, guess we’re doing this old school.
The blonde pressed her ear to the door, trying to hear if anyone else was awake on the other side. After a minute of not hearing anything, she carefully cracked it open.
She slipped out the door and nearly tripped. What the…? She rolled her eyes as she saw the floor was littered with passed out party-goers. Didn’t anyone go home last night? She started down the hall, taking care to step over every sleeping teen.
Stacey let out a small breath as she reached the top of the stairs and noted it was empty. Thankfully. She made her way down the stairs quickly, using her unfortunately intimate knowledge of the cabin to her advantage to avoid the creaky parts of the steps.
Once she was at the bottom, she practically ran the short distance toward the front door, stopping just as her hand reached the knob as someone cleared their throat from behind her.
“Forgetting something?”
She braced herself as she heard the accent and turned around, plastering a smile on her face as she spotted the owner, “Hey, baby. What are you doing up so early?”
“Cut the crap, Sweetheart.” Crow half gestured to the empty space between them, “Everyone who cares is asleep.”
Stacey shrugged, posture changing, “Force of habit.” She walked the short distance over to him and reached for her phone, not bothering to hide her annoyance as he held it out of reach, “What the hell, Crow?” She swiped for it again, shooting him annoyed daggers as he took a step back, “I already stayed for your stupid party. Now let me leave.”
Crow’s brows rose at her tone and he gave her a once over, sly smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, “Didn’t leave the money on the dresser, eh?”
Stacey rolled her eyes, and turned on her heel, “You know what? Keep the phone.”
She was out the door in the next instant, and let out a groan as she heard him follow.
“Whoa, hey, there’s no need for that.” Crow cut in front of her path, blocking the porch steps. He dug a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and held them up, “Breakfast?”
“I have to go.”
“Emma’s fine.” At the raised eyebrow, he held up his hands in mock surrender, “Adam tailed her. He never came home.”
The blonde eyed him for a minute before letting out a sigh, moving to sit on the half-wall, “One.”
Crow wasted no time in following her the short distance over, holding the pack out to her. There was a moment of silence as the two teens lit up before Stacey blew out her first breath of smoke, eyes drifting over to the trees that hid the cabin from the rest of the park.
She could feel his eyes on her as she took her second drag, “So, how long are you going to be extending our deal, exactly? Y’know, just so I can plan the rest of my year.”
Crow let out a chuckle at that – not the obnoxious fake laugh he used around his cronies, but his real laugh – and shook his head, “I forgot how good you were.”
“At?”
“Ruining nice moments.”
“It’s a gift.” She paused to take another drag before raising an eyebrow, “Well?”
“If you came around more, I wouldn’t need to extend it.”
Stacey rolled her eyes, “Oh, puh-lease don’t go pretending like you’re the victim here. You know exactly why I left.”
“Actually, I don’t.”
Stacey scoffed and gestured to the cabin, “You’re a drug dealer!”
“And you’re a whore.”
Because he was standing behind her, she missed the guilty look that crashed onto his face as soon as the sentence left his mouth. Stacey bristled at it, and turned back to look out over the trees.
He hung his head for a moment, damn it, before forcing himself to take in a deep breath, “I mean…” he chanced taking a small step closer to her, half-raising his hand in a failed attempt to touch her shoulder, voice softening, “I-I miss you.”
“What?” The incredulous chuckle that left her mouth cut him like a knife and he quickly dropped his free hand back down to his side. She half-turned, raising an eyebrow at him as she brought her cigarette back to her mouth, “You’re gonna go out of business if you keep using your own product, y’know.”
“I’m not high,” Crow shifted his posture, not realizing his attempt to cover up his soft-side made it more apparent, “Forget it.” He dug the cell out of his pocket and tossed it at her, “There, now get out.”
Stacey blinked at him in stunned silence for a moment, “T-Tony, I…” her sentence died on her lips as she checked the phone and noticed all the missed calls, “Shit.”
Crow couldn’t help but be concerned as she jumped off the wall and smashed out her cigarette, “What is it?”
“He did come back.” She pushed passed him and ran down the porch steps, “I’ve gotta go.”
He momentarily shook his head, I’m going to kill Adam. He took another drag as he watched her disappear into the trees, barely registering her bare legs as she went.
“Yo, Queen, I’m making-” The voice from behind him made Crow turn to the cabin door, junkie’s face falling as he noted the empty porch, “pancakes.” He frowned and leaned out the door a little further, “I thought I heard her out here.”
“She had to leave.” Crow took one more drag from his cigarette before putting it out on the wall, “So, breakfast?”
The junkie’s brows furrowed more and he stepped aside, “I didn’t know you smoked.”
Crow let out a small sigh as he made his way back over to the door, “I don’t.”
Like this story? Check out more FULL short stories on my Patreon! I post new ones every 2 weeks and already have 100+ just waiting for you.
There’s a lot of things I absolutely love about being a writer. There’s definitely way too many to fit into one singular article – I mean seriously, we’re just that awesome – so today you’ll have to just settle for my top ten. These aren’t really in a particular order, except for #1.
You can do your job from literally anywhere. Desert? No problem. Forest? No worries. As long as you have a pen and paper (or laptop) you’re good.
When you have to fill out a comment card, or are starring at a blank screen, and think you have ‘nothing to say’ – only to realize twenty minutes later you’ve completely filled a page and a half, and are still going. (This is pretty much how I write all my articles, FYI.)
Getting to pull inspiration from music. Whether that be pulling from the songs emotion, or creating a story from a line or favourite lyric, there are pretty much endless story ideas that can be inspired by songs. (And, sometimes, you get more than one story out of one song!)
You can turn anything into a story. Conversations from those around you, random strangers on the street – even inanimate objects can have dark/obscure back stories.
You get to learn a lot of unique things that the average person doesn’t know, and thus are a wealth of obscure information.
Getting to ‘work’ in your pj’s. Seriously, it’s one of the best jobs because there’s no dress code. (Fun fact: I’m writing this in pj’s!)
Non-writers just do not understand how you can work on so many stories at once, and how you manage to keep all the plot lines straight. (It’s just as easy as watching 6 shows at the same time)
Also, they’re always super impressed when they hear your word count. I love talking about my writing to my non-writer friends, because if I say something like, “Oh, I didn’t do very much writing today. Just 500 words.” They almost always reply with, “500?! That’s crazy!” I mean, yeah, they don’t know it’s only 1 page, but 500 words sounds way more impressive. (Kind of like the ‘1 month’ vs ’30 days’ thing. One month sounds a lot longer)
Also, some days you just need that little extra confidence boost, and they never fail to make you feel accomplished.
You’re never actually bored, because you’re constantly thinking about plot lines, characters, your next project, etc. You always have something going on in your head. (Seriously, what do non-writers think about all day?)
You can work through pretty much anything/have a constructive outlet for your emotions. Pissed off something didn’t go your way? Write about it. Got some great news and you’re bursting with sunshine? Go for it! Need to pour out all those intimate feelings you don’t let anyone see? Tell it to the page. The page is always there, and never judges. Some of the most beautiful pieces of work have been born from powerful emotions. (Though, that doesn’t mean you have to ‘be in pain’ to be a good writer!)
We create something out of nothing. All. The. Time!
Seriously, think about it: until you took pen to paper, or your hands to a keyboard, that story didn’t exist anywhere else in the world. You brought that into existence. That’s so freaking cool! We’re like magicians!
