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Drabble Writing for Beginners: How to Write the Perfect Drabble
A Sample of Drabbles and Short Stories
From https://onlineidealab.com/how-to-write-drabble/:
Drabble Writing for Beginners: How to Write the Perfect Drabble
Saturday, September 19, 2020
Pushpita Singh
What’s a Drabble?
A drabble is a short form of fiction that is exactly 100 words long(excluding the title). It can’t be one word less or one word more. So with the basic structural limitation, it is really challenging to write and yet being creative and fun at the same time.
The purpose of the drabble is to illustrate brevity, testing the author’s ability to express interesting and meaningful ideas in a confined space.
6 IMPORTANT TIPS FOR DRABBLE WRITING
Here are a few important things that must be kept in mind while writing a drabble. These useful tips will undoubtedly help any drabble writer in their drabble writing journey.
1》Stick To Single Scene/Emotion/Event
Drabbles in terms of content can vary from serious, horror, fantasy, bloody, romance, experimental to anything. But the most important thing is to start and end with a single emotion or scene. The emotions or scenes must not grow or intensify as we have limited words to fit in. A slight change in the dialogue or emotion can reduce the impact of the story.
2》Idea Or Plot Must Be Contained
The basic storyline of a drabble should be clear in mind before writing. Ideas can’t expand in terms of characters, places or events. It must be a tight-packed piece where only the story is conveyed and unnecessary backgrounds are excluded.
3》Clear Structure To Be Followed
Like any other story, a drabble too has a beginning, a middle and an end. Beginning sets up the story, the middle should show progression and the end should provide the conclusion. Also, many writers follow a trend to start the story from the middle and then a brief introduction leading to the end.
4》Add A Twist In The Tale
Most of the best drabble writers like Brian Aldiss, Jonathan Hill and many more suggest following a concept of twist in the tale. The start and middle will take you in expected directions and end turns that around. So, always go with a sudden twist at the end.
5》Be Economical With Words
We all know economy rate matters! A bowler in cricket with the lowest economy rate is considered to be the best. Similarly, while writing a drabble, top thing on the mind should be the count of words. Every single word must mean something as we can’t afford to add one extra word. Always be ready to cut out the superfluous words. As a drabble writer, one must develop an ability to utilize “100” words in the best possible way.
6》Editing Is The Key
The first draft of any drabble is rarely anywhere close to 100 words and also very rate that this first version of the writing is worth sharing. So, editing is the key to achieving the required word count. Strip out anything which is not very important. For this, the writer must be brutal enough to slash unimportant words or actions but at the same time the core message of the story must not be lost, it should remain intact.
Hopefully, the above-discussed tips when kept in mind should help a drabble writer to sail through easily. Like any other writing, drabble writing is also fun. It can be seen as a snapshot or a trailer. A drabble is one story candy that is enjoyed for a very short time.
From https://www.writing.ie/members_blog/a-sample-of-drabbles-and-short-stories/:
A sample of Drabbles and Short Stories
Writing.ie | Member Blog Become a member to write blog posts
Short Stories/Poems/Drabbles
The Larder Thief
2am. All is quiet. There’s just me and the cats, slinking around in the dark.
I head up the street, sneaking between the pools of light until I reach my target: Number 22.
Hiding in the shadows of the door, I stop and listen. Perfect. No one is up. Carefully, I work on the lock and soon the catch clicks open. Pause. Silence. I push the door wide and slip inside. Success! I take a moment to slip off my shoes.
Sneaking into the kitchen, I start by raiding the fridge.
“Bryan?”
“Yes, Mum!”
“What time do you call this?”
Stark Infested Waters
I had been lying there, enjoying the warmth of the water and the relief from the heat of the day. I could hear a distant bell clanging in time to the lapping of the waves against the side of the boat. Floating in the sea in a half daze, all the tension had slowly oozed from my body.
Suddenly, I heard a cry, “Shark! Get out of the water!”
I spun around in surprise, sinking momentarily and swallowing water. When I surfaced again, I could see a fin swimming directly towards me. Looking behind, I knew that I’d drifted too far from the boat.
Adrenaline flooded through my body and I began to swim like I’ve never swam before in my life. I cut through the water like a mermaid, but the fin was still closing fast.
“Hurry!” my girlfriend screamed in terror.
Kicking out with my legs, I struggled towards the distant boat. It was a race I was never going to win. Already, my arms were turning to jelly and my lungs burned, craving oxygen.
Finally accepting defeat, I spun around to face my death. Images of Jaws filled my head, and I tried to remember the lessons I had been told about sharks. Did you punch them on the nose? Did you pretend to be dead? I knew that they smelled fear, and panicking wasn’t going to help me.
Taking a deep breath, I watched the fin getting closer … closer…
I braced myself, waiting for the shock as it surfaced, waiting for my first sight of those rows of wicked teeth. It was coming now. I could sense it rising from the water.
Then, I heard the strange gurgling chime of a dolphin, laughing at me.
I blinked, not believing my eyes.
The Bottlenose had stopped before me, mouth agape, laughing in that sing-song voice that they have.
I blushed, still not believing I was still alive.
It dived playfully and nudged me as I made my way slowly back to the boat.
Lost In Time
My footsteps ring out hollowly amidst the emptiness. The world around me is ravaged, deserted. They haven’t been here for so long, but the evidence is still clear. This was once someone’s home.
The detritus of their past existence still lingers, a broken doll amongst the rubble, a shattered photo frame, its picture yellowing now with age.
There is still life here. Bugs crawl around on the floor, ignoring my passage. Creepers and vines entangle on the walls, fed by the dripping water from the broken roof.
It wasn’t death that stalked here, and left this devastation. It was merely time.
Lady Killer (Part Three)
He could feel the blood rushing to his ears as he tried to hide his humiliation. It was hard to ignore the cackling hyenas’ from the far side of the pool. They’d been watching his moves, waiting for him to slip up.
The courtship rituals of a young hyena were like a jungle, filled with snake-infested pits.
“Hi there, you’re Lionel, aren’t you?”
He looked around in surprise. Standing there was an attractive female giving him the eye.
He waited for her to notice his cologne and run for the hills.
“Erm … yes.”
She sneezed violently. “Sorry, hay fever!”
Stonehenge
I remember the first time I saw the stones. Dawn was pinking the sky as I climbed over the fence and snuck into the field. I could feel their presence. Maybe it was my imagination running wild, or maybe it was something more: something ancient and magical.
Creeping through the morning mist, I saw the shadow of the megalithic monster before me. They are an impressive sight to behold. They make you wonder about times past and how they built this wonderful structure.
It was then that I was brought suddenly to the present.
“Hey you!” shouted the security guard.
Lady Killer (part One)
He strolled nonchalantly down to the pool, hoping that his mates wouldn’t laugh at him again. They were so juvenile at times.
It was a scorching day, perfect for a siesta and maybe later, if he got lucky, he’d finally talk Fiona into going beyond second base.
He’d barely sat down when they started messing.
“Ew! What’s that stench?”
Sighing, he rolled his eyes at them. “It’s called Lady-killer. I found a bottle of it lying around.”
“Someone probably tossed it away!”
“It’ll kill the ladies all right!”
They cackled along at their own jokes.
Young hyenas were like that.
The Lady Killer (Part Two)
The Hyenas spent the afternoon basking in the sun, cracking jokes and fooling around. Lionel was getting the brunt of it for using the cologne he’d found. He tried his best to ignore their jibes.
As the sun started to set, the ladies arrived. There was Fiona, the love of his life.
Of course he was wise enough not to share his feelings with the other lads. He ignored her for as long as he dared before sidling over. “Hey there, Doll.”
“Have you been rolling around in something? You stink!”
Lionel’s lust filled dreams faded as she hurried away.
The Devil’s Playthings
Mobile phones are electronic leashes. They watch our every movement. They go off when you sit down on the loo or when you are engrossed in a good football match. The Devil laughs each time they play their sweet music. It is an evil chuckle of delight.
They are not really powered by electricity. Within each battery lurks a tiny imp, who controls the machine – controls your life! He takes great delight in having the power suddenly fade out or lose reception during an important call.
Just when you finally get the high score on that addictive game … Gone!
Drabble: The Dark Woods
A walk in the woods helps me relax and release tension. The fact that I am dragging a body should be irrelevant. She always pestered me with stupid questions. Is my butt too big in these? Do you think I could do with losing a few pounds?
Standing here, sweating after dragging her fat arse up the hill, I wish I’d bought her that gym membership she was always harping on about. My lumber was starting to feel the effects of all this heavy lifting. Nearly there, I think. I wish she hadn’t passed out so far from the car.
The Witness- a drabble
The mob will never recognise me now. Even my own mother would walk past me in the hood. The FBI has done a great job on the witness protection program. No expense spared for their key witness.
Facial reconstruction was just the start of it. I’ve lost 50 pounds, and I am as fit as any High School cheerleader.
Looking in the mirror, I admire the new boob job, and then turn and admire my tight butt. I’ve got to admit that I look damned sexy.
If I could only get over the urge to stand up when I pee.
Drinks on a Friday Night: a silly drabble.
Two cannibals walk into a bar and order a couple of Bloody Mary’s. One of them samples the finger food while the other opts for a bowl of nuts, and pops one into his mouth.
Sipping their drinks, they begin to make small talk.
“How’s your day been then, Mbendy?”
“Ah, it’s a jungle out there, Mzulbi.”
“But I thought you had a cushy number with that American Public Relations company I thought you were in recruitment.”
Mbenby pops another dry roasted nut into his mouth before answering “So did I, but it turns out, it’s just another headhunting job.”
True Love
“Ye fecking bollicks!” she roared, squeezing his arm like she was throttling a chicken.
Wincing and trying not to show his pain, he murmured calmly, “There, there, just breathe.”
“Breathe! I’ll give you breathe when I get out of here. This is all your fault!”
She stopped ranting for long enough to give a loud shriek.
“You’re doing grand, babe,” he encourages, dabbing her head with a wet cloth.
With the speed of a cobra, she snatches up the cloth and hurls it at him. “You’re dead meat, Mister!”
“I can see the baby’s head now. Just one more push!”
The Black Widow
On the screen was a coffin, tastefully shrouded in red roses.
“Well this one looks promising,” said the mother.
“What do you mean!” exclaimed the daughter, “He’s dead.”
“Yes, but it does say that he likes walks in the park and loves dogs.” Her mother added optimistically. “Besides, he must be stinking rich.”
They read the online dating message again.
>>>My Swarkofski is currently unable to accept new messages due to a sudden and somewhat fatal illness. However, .if you would like to leave a number, he’ll get right back to you …just as soon as they’ve found a cure<<
The Black Widow, part II
My Swarkofski woke that evening, after a short time being dead. He rose from the coffin and inspected the nicely tailored suit that his manservant had selected for him. It was a good choice, if a little more gothic than he would have worn previously.
He looked over at a bowl of fruit with distaste. He found the idea of eating repulsive. He did, however, have an unquenchable thirst.
Switching on his laptop, he soon found the online dating site. He was pleasantly surprised at the many replies. His fangs extended in anticipation of blood.
The Hazards of Phone Sex.
The phone blared into life. Sleepily I grabbed it to silence the din. “Hello?”
“I love you!”
“Pardon?”
“I said … I love you!”
“Do you know what time it is?” I looked at the clock. “It’s three a.m, you gobshite! Have you been drinking?”
“Yeshhh … but that doesn’t change my feelings for you. I love you and I want to have your love-child.”
“Who is this?”
“Seamus!”
“Seamus?”
“Seamus, Seamus, you know!”
“Listen to me carefully, Seamus Seamus. You’ve got the wrong number. If you call again I will find you, and I will kill you, you cretin!”
A Nice Night for a Joyride
The skidded to a halt and looked around. Nothing.
“I think we lost them!”
“Phew, that was close. What now?”
“We wait for the heat to cool down and then head back to the city. I know a guy who’ll give us good money for this beaut,” he patted the dash of the black GT784 Super-turbo affectionately. “We’re going to be rich.”
Suddenly out of the darkness, bright lights appeared, blinding them. A huge monstrosity charged directly at them. The last thing they saw were the initials on the spaceship. I.R.A-Intergalactic Roads Authority.
Over the intercom, they heard “Bloody Joyriders!”
Bad News Comes Knocking
I received a ‘Dear John’ letter today, bearing me grim tidings. After reviewing the dire news, I sighed and accepted the inevitable with a heavy heart. A fond farewell to your sweet lips.
Your fragrance will forever tease me when I smell you on the breeze. No more shall we share those intimate moments together. I will miss you dearly. I know that I will dream of you often and wake imagining the taste of your ambrosia on my tongue.
A fond adieu.
Fare thee well to my scrumptious pizza and fat-soaked fries. My cholesterol level has betrayed us both.
On the Tip of my Tongue.
Unspoken words are usually better than words spoken in anger, and yet, they lie awake at night, weeping, wanting to be set free. They are like flowers that will never open, denied of their moment of glory in the morning sun.
They are the dusty manuscripts that never get read, let alone published. They can be the key to unlock the revolution that is going on inside your head. They can be your path to Eldorado.
They can be simply, No, or stop, or I don’t think that’s a great idea, lads. If let fly, they might save someone’s life.
From https://drablr.com/:
KC Storytellers 