Learning from Ng

In the introduction to the Best American Short Stories 2025 annual, Celeste Ng writes about skipping reading the introductions when she’s read the anthology in the past. Even more interesting, she describes the criteria for good fiction she discovered in the process of making her selections. These criteria can be aspirational; they might be expectations we set for ourselves. Excerpts are below. I’ve added numbers and altered paragraphing.

[1] First and foremost, the story had to grab me. Sometimes this meant an unforgettable premise, or a propulsive plot, or characters so fully drawn that I felt I would know them if I met them on the street. Sometimes it was charm, or humor, or an unexpected twist. The stories that ended up in the Yes pile were ones I couldn’t get out of my head, that I kept thinking about days or even weeks after reading them.

[2] Second, the story had to feel complete…. I wanted a sense that the writer had considered the story holistically, that every choice had been made deliberately, and that all the pieces fit together, even if the… [whole] picture wasn’t fully revealed. And by the time I reached the last line, I needed to understand something more about the situation than I did at the start…

[3] Third, the language of this story had to be of the very highest caliber. If a piece didn’t have sentences that startled or surprised me, or images that took my breath away with their absolute rightness, they usually didn’t make the cut….

[4] And finally … stories had to have heft … They didn’t have to be serious or sad… But I had to feel that this story and these characters were deeply important to the author, not just a thought experiment or a whim…. I also tend to gravitate towards stories that are in conversation with big topics, whether that means our current moment or broad-reaching and eternal themes…. The very best stories engage with more than just the purely personal, and this is what turns a good story into a great story.

Opening (and continuing) with desire

Two quotations from “Silent Movie” by Charles Baxter in his collection A Relative Stranger:

She was tired of men’s voices, of their volume and implacability. She had the idea that she would spend the day not listening to any of them. She would just shut them off. She would try to spend the day inside images, instead. She wasn’t sure it was possible.

 

“Loretta,” she asked, back at the florist’s, “how do I get rid of this guy?”

“Darling,” Loretta shouted, “first ignore him and then just move out.”

What she wanted was a vacation from words spoken by voices below middle C.

The first quotation starts the story; the second is taken from about the middle of the story. In both, the character’s desire is articulated directly, very directly in the second. A plan is also implied, as is the question of how well it can be followed.

Characters with desires that readers are aware of and can relate to are often characters that readers find engaging and interesting. The central question of the story becomes whether or not the character will satisfy his or her desire. This question and the character’s reaction to dangers that would prevent satisfaction can create drama in the way Janet Burroway’s Writing Fiction, for example, outlines. The directness of the articulation of desire and the character’s own awareness of that desire also characterize effectively.

So, where and how will readers of the fiction you are currently working on become aware of the main character’s desire? What dangers to the satisfaction of that desire are there in your story? Obviously, these dangers don’t have to be dangers to physical well-being or health to be dangerous. And what a character desires doesn’t have to be exotic, shouldn’t be, really, to interest readers.