She is the author of Bluebird Day and Super Bloom. She runs the freelance writing and editing company Word-Lift and offers book coaching and ghostwriting. Her writing has appeared in Oprah Daily, People, L.A. Parent, Woman's Day, Writer's Digest, The Huffington Post…
Meet Megan Tady, the Guest Judge for our 2026 Short Story Competition! We had the special opportunity to chat with her about her work, plus gain her expert advice on the art of the short story. Read on to learn more about her and find out what she is seeking in a winning entry in the Q&A below!
You have published two novels, Bluebird Day (2024), recognized as a Washington Post Noteworthy Book, and Super Bloom (2023), which won Best Regional Fiction in the Northeast. Your books are consistently praised for how the characters leap off of the page, especially in terms of humor. How do you approach character dynamics, development, and dialogue? Does that process differ when writing a short story, where space is more limited?
When I develop my characters, including my secondary characters, I try to give each of them a few distinctive characteristics, traits, or mannerisms that set them apart—which also helps me distinguish them in my own mind. Maybe it’s a certain way of speaking, or a character who always leans in a little too close, with no respect for personal space. Maybe it’s a way of moving or gesturing, like steepling their hands together to clap in an excitable moment. Right now, I’m writing a secondary character who rotates through a collection of scarves. The key is not to overdo it—just a pinch of individuality can make a character come to life.
With both main and secondary characters, I also ask myself, “What does this person want?” Fiction is really about the journey toward that want—and throwing hurdles in the character’s way. Even secondary characters need their own mini story arcs, although those arcs are obviously tighter in a short story. With short stories, you can’t spend chapters slowly revealing who someone is, so every detail has to work harder. You have to choose them carefully. A single gesture, line of dialogue, or unexpected reaction has to tell a lot about a character and make the reader understand what’s at stake.
As for dialogue, my main tip is to read your dialogue out loud—whether for short-form or long-form projects. You’re aiming for believability. Is this really how your characters would speak? Does it sound too stiff? If your character is a child, for example, are you using words that a child would never say? Reading your work out loud is a great exercise!
You began your writing career in journalism, working for news organizations and nonprofits as you covered a variety of stories from around the world. From New Zealand to Belize to Los Angeles, you’ve conducted research and interviews in order to craft authentic stories. Now that you’re primarily a fiction writer, how does your journalistic background inform your current practice?
When I’m working on a novel, I always line up a string of interviews with people who know my topic best. I want to get as close to the subject as I can, and I’m aiming for accuracy—without my book reading like a research project! Super Bloom centered on a massage therapist, and I wondered, “What is that job really like?” I interviewed about ten massage therapists to learn about the joys and challenges of the profession. I asked, “What would surprise people to know about what you do?” and “Do you have a funny or crazy story to share about your job?” I was then able to pepper the book with some of those anecdotes and details, helping breathe believability into the story.
With Bluebird Day, I was lucky enough to connect with and interview several former Olympic downhill skiers. I wanted to know what it was like to compete at such a high level, and how these elite athletes navigated retiring at young ages and learning to do something completely new with the rest of their lives. The book also takes place in Zermatt, Switzerland, so I contacted various people there—including the mayor’s office—to learn more about life in the town. I also interviewed a Swiss avalanche expert.
Cold-emailing people gets easier with time. I always remind myself that people generally love to help, and they love to be asked about the things they care about most. As a former journalist, I also rely on other research skills, whether that means taking a close look at the streets of Zermatt on Google Maps to make sure my characters’ movements are accurate or reading books and memoirs about skiing. All of that research gives me a foundation of authenticity—and then my job as a fiction writer is to make the research disappear into the story.
Inspired by real events, your book Bluebird Day centers on a mother and daughter whose strained relationship is forced into proximity when they are stranded by an avalanche in a Swiss ski town. What a compelling premise! Because short stories aren’t always able to develop complex settings, they often rely on strange or unlikely situations to generate intrigue and tension. What is your advice to our young writers as they brainstorm the premises of their own stories?
The idea for Bluebird Day actually came from news headlines. In 2018, thousands of tourists were trapped in Zermatt when an avalanche snowed in the town. I tucked that story away, and when I decided to write a mother-daughter book, I pulled it back out, realizing that the avalanche was the perfect plot device to force proximity between my two estranged characters.
I think of short stories as snapshots—small, intimate moments that can unspool into something larger. Ideas can come from anywhere, including headlines, but you don’t necessarily need a huge or elaborate premise. Instead of brainstorming an entire world, think about one intriguing situation. Using the avalanche premise as inspiration, what happens when something unexpected ruins a vacation? How do your characters react to the disruption? What do they learn about themselves/each other?
I like to play with moments that make me curious. When I see a couple arguing on the street, I wonder: What’s their story? When I see a young mother swipe a weary hand across her forehead: What’s going on with her? When I see someone sit in the car for a beat and take a deep breath before turning on the engine: What are they thinking about?
Super Bloom actually started with that same kind of curiosity. I once got a massage from a very grouchy massage therapist. It wasn’t the most pleasant experience, but as I was lying on the massage table, I thought, “Now, what’s her story?” And from there, I started concocting a whole thread: She’d lost her boyfriend. She hated her job. She felt stuck in this town. None of that was true of the actual massage therapist, of course—it was simply where my imagination took me.
You can do the same thing. Pay attention to the little moments that make you curious about another person, and then give yourself permission to invent.
All writing is made better through drafting and editing, but it’s especially important when working in shorter forms. Do you have a favorite editing strategy or technique?
I read and reread my own work dozens of times, and I find that reading it in different formats—printed out, on my Kindle, on my phone—allows me to catch things I’ve missed on my computer. I especially love to send my manuscripts to the printer and have them spiral-bound. Then I can hold the manuscript in my hands like an actual book while still making tons of notes in the margins.
With each pass, I pay attention to different elements. I might read only for dialogue: Is the way my characters are speaking believable? Then I might read for pacing. I like to use the three-act structure, so I’ll check to see if I’m hitting my marks with the inciting incident, key events, climax, and so on.
I also like to check for loose threads. Did I introduce a plot point that disappeared somewhere in the middle? If you introduce something meaningful, it should carry through the book or story—or the reader should see it resolved in some way.
There’s a moment in Cinderella when the birds help Cinderella make her dress, flying around with strands of blue thread. I always picture those blue threads weaving through the entirety of my own project. When I’m editing, I’m looking for each one: Where did this thread begin? Where does it go? Did I accidentally drop it somewhere along the way? It’s a useful way to make sure the different pieces of a story ultimately connect.
What are you looking for in a winning entry? Do you have any other advice for the writers, especially those who are new to writing short stories?
I’m hoping the winning entry makes me smile or gasp or laugh out loud or tear up—that it evokes real emotion. I want to feel transported, so that for a few minutes, I’m inhabiting someone else’s world or seeing the world through their eyes. And I like to be a little bit dazzled by sentences.
My advice to new writers is this: Perfection kills creativity. Don’t let that little voice sitting on your shoulder tell you your story isn’t good enough, or that every sentence needs to be perfect before you can move on. Just keep going. Your story won’t write itself, and you’ll never discover what it can become if you don’t write that first draft. You can always make a story better once it exists. So get it down on the page first.