Writing a crime short story, that is. I’ve been mulling over and jotting down ideasand fragments, phrases, for the last few days. It can’t be too gory, because it’s aimed at a specific market, which is fair enough. And I guess it needs a resolution. The baddie needs to get their comeuppance. For the same reasons I’ve just mentioned. I do like an open-ended story – but many readers don’t. And that’s fair enough.
It also needs to be believeable. A tricky one. Some ‘true life’ stories can sound so far fetched. I hear some tale on the radio (usually in the ‘and finally’ section) and think that would make the kernel of a great story, but then I dwell on it for a bit. And I realise that truth really can often be stranger than fiction, and I push the idea to the back of my brain to be lost in the jumble of ideas and thoughts that make up my consciousness. Some day it may re-appear in a vastly altered state, and I can write it up. Yeah, right.
Oh, and then, and probably most importantly, it needs a twist.
I could just go and do the washing up instead.