A vignette is a brief piece of writing that focuses on one moment, one impression, or one character sketch. It doesn't require a traditional beginning, middle, and end. Instead, it works more like a photograph than a film - freezing a single instant and rendering it with enough clarity and feeling that it resonates on its own. Vignettes can stand alone or serve as building blocks within a larger work.
Vignettes are fantastic training ground for writers because they force you to do the hardest thing in fiction: make a small moment matter. When you can't rely on plot to carry the reader forward, every word has to earn its place. Learning to write a strong vignette will sharpen your prose, your eye for detail, and your ability to create emotional impact in tight spaces.
The entire novel is built from interconnected vignettes, each one a tiny, luminous snapshot of Esperanza's neighborhood and inner life.
Hemingway's interchapters are spare, devastating vignettes - sometimes just a paragraph - that hit harder than most full stories.
Each chapter functions as a semi-independent vignette connected by the presence of the title character, building a portrait from fragments.
A vignette is complete on its own terms. It's not a story that ran out of steam - it's a form that intentionally captures a single moment.
The best vignettes are grounded in concrete, specific details. Vague impressionism without an anchor leaves readers drifting.
Write a 200-word vignette about a person waiting. Don't tell us what they're waiting for. Focus entirely on what they do with their hands, what they notice in their surroundings, and one small detail that reveals their emotional state. Resist the urge to explain anything.