RTÉ is inviting entries to one of Ireland's longest established and most significant literary prizes, the RTÉ Short Story Competition in honour of writer and broadcaster, Francis MacManus - find out more here.
Below, competition judge and acclaimed author Jan Carson offers a few pointers...
It's almost impossible to define the appeal of a brilliant short story. Like many other aspects of life, it's easier to say what I’m not looking for: contrived storylines, showy gimmicks, characters who feel flat on the page, dialogue so unconvincing it severs the suspension of disbelief, too much plot, or too little, a patronising narrative voice which makes me suspect the writer is labouring under the assumption that his readers are idiots.
Just typing this list has brought me out in a cold sweat. I’m currently working on shorts myself and painfully aware that completing a good short story is akin to landing a 747 on a postage stamp. Yes, there’s an art to writing shorts, which can with time and practice be honed. Precision and clarity are key. Yet, there’s also an indefinable mystical element to the best stories; those which linger long after reading like raspberry seeds stuck in your teeth. I continue to devour collections, chasing the elusive high which comes from reading a story so exceptional, it makes me see the world and my place in it, afresh and gloriously askew.
I’d include, amongst my personal highs, George Saunders’ Semplica Girl Diaries, Carys Davies’ The Quiet, Raymond Carver’s So Much Water So Close to Home and Toni Morrison’s Recitatif. I could continue at some length. I’ll contain myself for now, but if you’re ever stuck for conversation with a writer, ask which short stories they wish they’d written. Prepare to be there for an hour or two.
I remember where I was when I first read each of these stories. I remember the heady feeling of being drawn between their lines; losing, for an hour or two, my grasp on reality. I remember how the characters clambered off the pages and seared themselves into my mind's eye. I remember the seething jealousy of knowing I’d never write a story this sublime. There’s one consistent measure of a great short story, it will evoke, in other writers, a degree of awed jealousy.
Completing a good short story is akin to landing a 747 on a postage stamp...
What else characterises a good short? A deftness of touch regarding language. The understanding that a prose fiction sentence, like a line of poetry, should carry meaning and also sing. Characters who, however unlikable, are nevertheless worthy of the reader’s time. A narrative which feels fresh and uniquely told. Discombobulating twists and revelations, which may shock but never surprise. An active engagement with white space: metaphors which are allowed to breathe, showing rather than didactic telling, the reader, permitted to draw meaning in their own peculiar way.
I hold radio stories to an even more exacting standard. If you’re listening, you’re conspiring with the story. Here, the voice is sacrosanct. It must feel as if you’re enjoying an intimate moment, just you and the oracle in your ear. When writing for radio, you must bear the listener constantly in mind. Find the most imploring voice for your story. Hold it like a tuning fork against every sentence you write. Craft stories which leave your listeners trapped in their cars, more drawn to the world you’ve created than the everyday plod of reality.
Find out more about the RTÉ Short Story Competition 2025, and how you can enter here.
