Craft Advice: Turning Drabbles into Micros!
✴︎ when your idea doesn't quiiiite fit into 100 words✴︎
You know what I’m talking about.
The work sparks to life from a drabble prompt, and you have the perfect idea… but your first attempt lands at 150 words. Of course. So you chip away, rewording, removing whole sentences, minimizing everything… and you finally reach the magic word count. One hundred words exactly.
Yep, it’s a drabble, alright. But is it a good drabble? I think we all know the answer to that.
And if you submitted it to the call anyway, your instinct was probably reinforced with a rejection.
But before you toss that drabble into the “dead to me” pile, consider if the problem was the size, not the content.
Let’s use a real world example.
I wrote a horror drabble for a Killer Penguins call entitled “Going Viral”:
Julian breached the penguin exhibit at 2AM, drunk and live on Tiktok. He lurched toward an emperor penguin for a selfie. “Buddy, you’re HUU–”
The penguin headbutted the phone, which skittered across the enclosure into the pool. Julian instinctively lunged for it, and followed suit.
Spluttering, instantly sober, he grabbed the faux-stone edge to pull himself out, only to be stabbed. Stabbed repeatedly, leaving his hands shredded.
Thirty penguins stood in silent solidarity, encircling the pool. Blood dripped from Buddy’s beak.
I’m screwed, Julian thought, simultaneously wondering when the morning shift would arrive, and how long he could tread water.
Good golly, that’s a lot of action crammed into a hundred words. I knew it when I wrote it — there was no room for anything to breathe and/or land. I submitted it anyway, and it was, rightfully so, rejected.
It’s a fun idea, though — killer penguins after hours at the zoo. I let it simmer in my “Unpubbed Drabbles” folder.
Over a year later, I saw a call for weird fiction to the prompt “black and white,” and I instantly thought of “Going Viral.” Time to plump it up a little, and see if it still had legs (or flippers).
First off, I still loved the opening and closing lines, so I knew I wanted to keep them as is. I took a hard look at the saggy middle and highlighted where I needed to add detail:
Julian breached the penguin exhibit at 2AM, drunk and live on Tiktok. {Describe the enclosure, the penguins — set the scene} He lurched toward an emperor penguin for a selfie. “Buddy, you’re HUU–”
The penguin headbutted the phone, which skittered across the enclosure into the pool. Julian instinctively lunged for it, and followed suit.
Spluttering, instantly sober, he grabbed the faux-stone edge to pull himself out, only to be stabbed. {Need penguin action details, Julian trying to pull himself out of the pool, etc} Stabbed repeatedly, leaving his hands shredded.
Thirty penguins stood in silent solidarity, encircling the pool. Blood dripped from Buddy’s beak.
I’m screwed, Julian thought, simultaneously wondering when the morning shift would arrive, and how long he could tread water.
Here’s a revised version, with the added material highlighted:
Julian breached the penguin exhibit at 2AM, drunk and live on Tiktok. The colony was dozing in loose clusters in the dim lighting, heads tucked beneath their wings, their bodies swaying almost imperceptibly as they balanced on their feet.
“Yo, check out this one!” Julian lurched toward an emperor penguin for a selfie. “Buddy, you’re HUU–”
The penguin headbutted the phone, which skittered across the enclosure into the pool. Julian instinctively lunged for it, and followed suit.
Spluttering, instantly sober, he dog-paddled to the edge of the pool and grabbed the faux stone deck to pull himself out. A rockhopper charged him and stabbed the back of his hand. Julian snatched it back, knuckle torn and bleeding – what the actual…? He kicked a few feet to the left and tried to haul himself out of the pool again. This time the emperor shot forward, aiming for his face. Julian ducked, and the bird’s beak sliced his scalp.
Julian tried to exit the pool repeatedly, and every time the birds would descend on him in a frenzy, stabbing his face and shredding his hands.
Thirty penguins stood in silent solidarity, encircling the pool. Blood dripped from Buddy’s beak.
I’m screwed, Julian thought, simultaneously wondering when the morning shift would arrive, and how long he could tread water.
OK, I established the setting immediately by describing the enclosure, then expanded the action sequence of the attacking penguins.
Definitely better.
One final pass to add any finishing touches:
Julian breached the penguin exhibit at 2AM, drunk and live on Tiktok. The colony was dozing in loose clusters in the dim lighting, heads tucked beneath their wings, their bodies swaying almost imperceptibly as they balanced on their feet.
“Yo, check out this one!” Julian lurched toward an emperor penguin for a selfie. He squatted next to the bird and threw a peace sign. “Buddy, you’re HUU–”
The penguin headbutted the phone out of his hand, which skittered across the enclosure into the pool with a hollow plunk. Julian instinctively lunged for it, and followed suit.
Spluttering, instantly sober in the frigid water, he dog-paddled to the edge of the pool and grabbed the faux stone deck to pull himself out. A rockhopper charged him and stabbed the back of his hand. Julian snatched it back, knuckle torn and bleeding – what the actual…? He kicked a few feet to the left and tried to haul himself out of the pool again. This time the emperor shot forward, aiming for his face. Julian ducked, and the bird’s beak sliced his scalp.
Julian tried to exit the pool repeatedly, and every time the birds would descend on him in a frenzy, stabbing his face and shredding his hands.
Julian spun in a slow turn, surveying the enclosure. Thirty penguins stood in silent solidarity, encircling the pool. Blood dripped from Buddy’s beak, each crimson drop spreading like dark ink in the water.
I’m so screwed, Julian thought, simultaneously wondering when the morning shift would arrive, and how long he could tread water.
In my tweaking:
I added some sensory details, like the sound of the phone hitting the frigid water, and the blood spreading like crimson ink
I added a couple more of Julian’s actions, to heighten his character or bridge scenes
Just little tweaks, but it felt like a complete story, now.
The final word count: 259. I now had a fully realized micro about killer penguins.
I submitted it to the “black and white” call, and it was accepted. But I have a confession: I think a big reason it was accepted was because of the title. I changed it from “Going Viral” to…
“And Red All Over.”
Get it?
NEVER underestimate the power of a good title pulling double (or triple) duty.
OK, time for some homework:
look through some of your less successful drabbles, the ones that were maybe a great idea but lacked execution due to the word count limitation.
choose one to play with expanding
highlight things you love and want to keep in one color, and places that need expanding in another color (you can either do this electronically, or print it out and have fun with actual highlighters)
don’t be afraid to experiment — switch the POV, or tense; start the action a little earlier, or later… remember, you’re just playing
Remember: your final step should always be reading it aloud for understanding and readability.
OK, people — now let’s SAVE SOME SAD DRABBLES!
What you can look forward to from Micro Markets: themed and unthemed calls, monthly micro contests, micro-lit mags that are always open, micro-focused anthologies... as well as some craft essays about writing microfiction and a place to feature YOUR published micros.
So dust off some of your tiny treasures, and let’s send them out into the world!
Great walk-through! Thank you!