19 November 2010

Chekhov round my neck

Recently I was delighted to be offered a chance to write a short story for a magazine.

Although I’ve written four novels, two non-fiction books, and more articles of different shapes and sizes than I could possibly count, I’ve never written a short story.

But I want to. I love reading them. This, I thought, was when it would happen.

And, I also thought, as I blithely accepted the generous commission to write “on anything, ideally with a sympathetic female lead character,” how hard can it be to learn? Hell, it’s only 2000 words – the size of an article I’d polish off in a day. And it always looks so easy when Chekhov does it.

Two weeks later, it’s turned into a full-time job. Equal measures fascination and sheer foot-thumping frustration. I’m dug down into a kind of bunker on my desk – walls of used coffee cups on every surface, crumpled scraps of chucked-out printed versions of the story that won’t yet work everywhere else. Miniaturised novels that didn’t quite squash into place, bonsai oaks with wonky bits, sprigs that sprouted wrong.

But I’m nearly there. I think. I hope.

And I have more respect for Chekhov than ever before.