What Happens When You Withhold Too Much Backstory?

Miniature writing lessons from my 100-word microfiction story, “Till Death, My Dear.”

We know what happens when you tell the reader too much, but what happens when you don’t tell the reader enough?

When I was in my undergrad studies, my fiction professors pounded many lessons into my brain, one of which was to trust the reader. They’re smarter than you think, and they’ll figure your story out if you give them just the right amount of information. But it’s a tricky balance to maintain, and if you’re not careful, you could confuse your readers by not providing enough or bore them to death by providing too much.

And I think this week’s story might have withheld too much from the reader.

This week’s writer’s note looks at “Till Death, My Dear,” a story centered around the theme of “Love transcends time.” I know, it’s a shockingly optimistic theme for a writer like myself, but what can I say? Sometimes we need a good love story. Regardless, I made sure to sprinkle in my characteristic bleakness, so it should be pretty on-brand for my writing style.

I hope you enjoy this detailed breakdown of “Till Death, My Dear.”

Read the story here for free (but make sure you come back for the Writer’s Note).

Till Death, My Dear

A Healthy Dose of Intrigue

And some not-so-subtle hints.

There’s nothing quite like a good mystery, and “Till Death, My Dear” offers it in spades.

First is the question of Granz’s identity, which is never fully explained (nor does it need to be in this story). Throughout this microfiction piece, I drop hints that Granz is not altogether human: drinking blood from a flask, fingers ending in claws, and his cynical view of human customs. Does any of this sound familiar?

Yup, our protagonist is indeed a vampire, even though the word isn’t mentioned once in the story.

Just a few sentences later, we continue to layer in the intrigue by placing an impossible age on Granz. How old is he, really, and what has he witnessed throughout the course of his lifetime? When you layer in questions like this, you create more reasons for the reader to keep reading.

While these questions can help string the reader along, it’s also crucial that you eventually answer those questions, either implicitly or explicitly… Which I may have forgotten to do with this story.

Conflict and a Strong Emotional Core

But is it enough?

“Till Death, My Dear” is dripping with different types of conflict, all of which serve to enhance the emotional core of the story.

For one, you have the conflict between the world of monsters and the world of humanity. While it’s not explicitly stated in this story, it’s uncommon at best for a vampire and a human to be joined in marriage. One has to wonder the struggles the two faced, the challenges that surfaced as they brought two different realities together as one. It couldn’t have been easy, that’s for sure.

And then you have Granz’s internal conflict of whether or not he should even visit his wife in the first place.

Again, it’s not explicitly stated why Granz is so hesitant to visit his wife, but perhaps it should have been. The ambiguity present makes you wonder if Granz is somehow responsible for his wife’s death. Was he the one who killed her, or was she an unfortunate victim of circumstance, perhaps killed because of her relationship with Granz?

While there is plenty of conflict in this story that drives it forward, I can’t convince myself that it’s enough; it needs something more, and I think I know what that is.

Opportunities for Backstory

And ways to provide crucial context

One of this story’s strengths comes from the shared sense of loss inherent to the human experience.

Everyone knows what it’s like to lose someone they love, so they can almost immediately connect with Granz on a surface level, even though he is not necessarily “human” anymore. The problem that arises here is that it’s difficult to care about a character’s loss when you know practically nothing about the characters and their relationship. More backstory, even something as simple as a brief memory of her–something to make her feel real–would go a long way toward making this loss more impactful.

“Till Death, My Dear,” like many of my other microfiction pieces, also suffers from pacing issues.

One moment, Granz is reflecting on the silliness of human burial rights, and the next he’s standing in front of his wife’s grave. There’s no transition, no in-between, no searching the headstones for the right grave. It’s implied that this is the first time Granz has visited her grave, so how is it he can find it so easily?

If I were to rewrite this story, I’d include a bit of a leadup to the gravestone discovery, as that would give Granz more time to stew with his thoughts, offering the reader more context and backstory.

Can a Story Be Too Vague?

Yes. Yes it can.

While “Till Death, My Dear” has strong emotions at its core, I can’t help but feel like it’s missing important storytelling elements that keep it from sticking the landing.

For one, the story withholds too much information from the reader and forces them to come to too many conclusions on their own, which weakens its impact. These issues could be resolved by adding in more background information to establish context. Whether this can be done in its current form, however, is up for debate.

What are your thoughts? What lessons did you learn from this piece of microfiction? Let me know in the comments.

As always, thanks for reading, and until next time… keep writing!

- Josh

🚨 P.S. Want to learn more about how to write microfiction? Check out my 30-Day Microfiction Challenge. And subscribe today to receive a free microfiction primer right to your inbox. 🚨

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