By Lamont Buchanan, Editor Short Stories, Inc.

Note: This work was originally published in the 1945 "Writer's Yearbook". Extensive research uncovered no copyright renewal.

The dream of every pulp magazine publisher is to discover a title that will sell a few hundred thousand copies a month at twenty-five cents and no other publisher will know about it. For publishers are wolves, and most of them follow the ancient creed: "Never create, always pirate". The way they say this it rhymes.

The closest approach to a solution of how to make money and not have to worry about a brother publisher stealing your title, staff, and make-up department is Short Stories, Inc., managed by Dorothy McIlwraith, otherwise known as one of the smartest men in the business. In her string are Short Stories and Weird Tales; the former is a twice-a-month, 25c seller with the world’s most perfect title; and anybody in the office who brags about the number of copies sold is summarily liquidated and heard of no more. Among the pulps, Short Stories has always had the quality approach; authors have considered it right at the top of the ladder with Argosy and Blue Book.

Next to the throne, at Short Stories, stands Lamont Buchanan, and he has been standing there for three years. A bright, eager young man with enough spare time from his editorial job to write for Liberty and Argosy, Buchanan has endeared himself to writers because of the friendly letters of helpful criticism he writes. As a result, writers asked for more detailed suggestions, from Buchanan, about action story writing. It isn’t every writer who can sit down for a half-hour with an editor and learn what an expert knows about one phase of writing—say, action writing. Free-lancers who read this article have that privilege.

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You have written an action story. Or maybe you have honorable intentions. It is mystery, western, general adventure, war, or sports. There is one rule and an all-important one that applies equally to each of these story types. There must be action! It’s as simple as that.

"There’s a profound thought," you echo sarcastically. "I knew that ten WRITER’S YEAR BOOKS ago!" Perhaps, but do you apply that rule? Do you apply it where it does the most good? Where it pays off in your story? If you can honestly say yes and can point at a consistent sales record to the big action-adventure magazines, you probably already know most of the things this article is going to talk about. If you can’t, you’re like the thousands of sincere and potentially capable writers who are learning their trade the hard way, the way that is paved with mistakes and those blue, red, or white rejection cards.

Soon after I first came to Short Stories three years ago, I recall clearly an irate gentleman who dropped in to ask about the fate of a story. I’d read his yarn and it was not what we were looking for in the way of mystery material. I can remember how he leaned forward then, thumping on the desk with a large fist. He bellowed, "Why, I’ve got five murders in that story! What do you want—Jack the Ripper?"

I should have leaned forward, done some thumping myself, and said: "Look, your first murder doesn’t come until halfway through the story. You’ve got five opening pages of description that read like a real-estate brochure. You don’t give us any dialogue for a thousand words. It all adds up to a beginning that’s slower than Crosby’s horses!"

The Opening

Here is an excerpt from an action-story manuscript in our slush pile. It starts:

"Harry Willetts trudged through the snow… Somewhere ahead through the gloom was Old Elk’s cottage. Old Elk, who had sneered at him that day… Harry clenched his teeth."

Here is a beginning which doesn’t do the things an opening should do. You suspect that something is going to happen, but the reader is barely interested. There’s no workup of atmosphere, and you’re presented with a completely trivial motivation.

Let's glance a page or so on:

"He was still out of breath… He took the gun out of its holster… Harry’s lips drew back in a snarl and he threw the door open.".

We first learn that Harry has a gun. Tell us that sooner. And just who is the villain anyway?. Halfway through the yarn, we know that Harry is the villain, but still Old Elk hasn’t been drawn as much of a hero. Identification of "hero" and "villain" is neither clearly nor promptly made. The motivating force is inadequate. The fact that Old Elk is an expert "tracker" is not properly "planted" early in the yarn.

For good examples, cut out the first 300 words of ten different action stories. After reading them, type out just what the author has accomplished. Then compare them to your own. Have you accomplished the same things? It’s a little tedious and painful but you’ll learn quickly.

The Evolution of Action

Dorothy McIlwraith has a ready answer when persons ask what sort of stories the magazine is looking for: "A good story," she answers with a characteristic twinkle.

In handling an action story, you are dealing with something fundamental. It was, and still is, the very basis of all fiction. The slick story or the introspective piece owe their evolution to the lusty, virile action yarn. This type of story was first told centuries ago by some shaggy guy describing how he’d nearly been chewed by a bear. He probably grunted: "Me walking through woods. See bear. Bear see me. Bear chase. I just get here before bear catch!"

There in eighteen words is your first action story, copyrighted about 6000 B.C.! It got right to the point. But a twentieth-century reader demands far more. He demands action and smoothness too. He demands a good story with all the trappings of story-telling at its best.

Atmosphere and Plot

Don't describe the land of Jesse James down to the last cactus. Along about the third straight unbroken page of mesa and sagebrush atmosphere, there’s going to be some yawning. Have your story start like a sprinter leaving the mark. Put in the necessary description as you go along. Describe the Arkansas swamp through the eyes of a lonely rider in pursuit of a gang of guerrillas. Then the readers want the description.

Basic plot is not so hard to solve. "Everything’s happened that can happen… But if you can’t get new facts, get a new way of writing them up". Professional authors realize there are just so many fundamental plot setups. A writer must take those old setups and make them different by the introduction of fresh blood—a new character, a novel villain, or an unusual climax.

Take the basic yarn of a cowboy wrongly accused of rustling. Thousands of pieces have been written on that plot. But suppose the villain is a blind man led around by the girl both he and the hero are wooing. He worms his way into the hero's confidence. Then, the hero strikes a match and notices his rival’s eyes flick instinctively to the light. He realizes the man is posing as blind. These little twists are what make your story yours.

Dialogue and Authenticity

Many beginners have trouble with dialogue; it is either absent or unnatural. In favorite action-adventure magazines, at least eight out of ten stories have dialogue within the first few paragraphs. If you worry about dialogue, speak it out loud. You’ll realize that while "I do not care to accompany you to the ranch" is grammar-book acceptable, an action character would mumble: "Your hoss’ll keep ya company. Count me outta this trek".

If you are writing a mystery, play fair with your readers. Present all the clues in such a way that the reader doesn’t catch on until you want him to. Don't reveal a villain at the end with clues never mentioned in the story.

For backgrounds like the Southwest or Alaska, get your local background down pat before you start. Short Stories is read by people all over the world who really know these locales. If you don't investigate, you're liable to have somebody trout fishing where there are no trout.

In sports stories, real savvy counts. A ballplayer would say "hit for the circuit" or "lifted one out of the ball park" rather than simply "I hit a home run".

The "Feel" of a Story

An editor’s decision is often a question of "feel"—an intangible quality. Like the hole in the doughnut—not exactly tangible, but without it a doughnut’s not a doughnut. The "feel" is the total effect of that story on the reader. The entertainment value of your story is the measuring scale by which a manuscript must be judged.

Give yourself and your story every possible chance for success by following the accepted lines of correct story-telling and putting everything you have in the way of belief, energy, and ability into your yarn. Remember above all, what the action story needs is action!