L.V. DITCHKUS

NO - not stories about shorts! Short stories... If you want to write great short stories, you don’t need more ideas—you need sharper instincts. The first thing to understand is that short stories aren’t “small novels.” They run on compression. Every sentence has to earn its place. There’s usually a single emotional arc, a focused conflict, and a sense that something meaningful has shifted, and even if the plot itself is quiet. You’re not building a world so much as revealing

I’m in the middle of picking a mentor for my MA in Creative Writing at Wilkes University, and they don’t make it a casual decision. The program has a thoughtful system: you interview three to five professors, then both you and the faculty rank your choices, and the dean plays matchmaker based on where there’s a good fit on both sides. For the past few weeks, I’ve been deep in it—reading stories and novels by the professors on my list, and going down the occasional YouTube rab

I used to tell myself I was just “not in the mood yet.” I’d wait for the right kind of energy to show up. The kind where everything feels clear and doable. Trouble is, that mood had a habit of running late. What I eventually figured out is this: procrastination isn’t about laziness. It’s about avoidance. Most of the time, we’re not putting off the task itself. We’re putting off how it makes us feel. Maybe it’s too big and messy. Maybe it’s dull as dishwater. Or maybe there’s

In my Master’s of Creative Writing Program, I’m taking a screenwriting class. I chose screenwriting because I figured I’d learn formatting rules, maybe pick up some dialogue tricks, and better understand how films are structured. What I didn’t expect was how much it would reshape my thinking about my short stories. Screenwriting is ruthless about engaging your audience. Every scene must justify its existence. Every moment must either up the tension, deepen characters, or move