.JPG)
 |
| Google Free Images |
I am working on a flash fiction piece that’s turning out to
be a challenge. It was going nowhere, so I asked one of my mentors, Steven Manners, to provide some insight on this conundrum. Based on my story, this is
what he told me:
“Because
of the compression, the approach needed is more like poetry.
The
key, I think, is to think in terms of multiple layers of meaning. The idea is
to present a simple enough scenario, then scratch away through language to open
up levels of interpretation for the reader. This is the postmodern influence:
not to tell a person a story, a beginning middle/end, but to force readers to
include themselves by "completing" the story.”
Although I applied Steven's valuable advice, I still needed the technical part of it. English author, David Gaffney posted some tips in The Guardian.
1. Start in the middle.
You
don't have time in this very short form to set scenes and build character.
2. Don't use too many characters.
You
won't have time to describe your characters when you're writing ultra-short.
Even a name may not be useful in a micro-story unless it conveys a lot of
additional story information or saves you words elsewhere.
3. Make sure the ending isn't at the end.
In
micro-fiction there's a danger that much of the engagement with the story takes
place when the reader has stopped reading. To avoid this, place the denouement
in the middle of the story, allowing us time, as the rest of the text spins
out, to consider the situation along with the narrator, and ruminate on the
decisions his characters have taken. If you're not careful, micro-stories can
lean towards punchline-based or "pull back to reveal" endings which
have a one-note, gag-a-minute feel – the drum roll and cymbal crash. Avoid this
by giving us almost all the information we need in the first few lines, using
the next few paragraphs to take us on a journey below the surface.
4. Sweat your title.
Make
it work for a living.
5. Make your last line ring like a bell.
The
last line is not the ending – we had that in the middle, remember – but it
should leave the reader with something which will continue to sound after the
story has finished. It should not complete the story but rather take us into a
new place; a place where we can continue to think about the ideas in the story
and wonder what it all meant. A story that gives itself up in the last line is
no story at all, and after reading a piece of good micro-fiction we should be
struggling to understand it, and, in this way, will grow to love it as a
beautiful enigma. And this is also another of the dangers of micro-fiction;
micro-stories can be too rich and offer too much emotion in a powerful one-off
injection, overwhelming the reader, flooding the mind. A few micro-shorts now
and again will amaze and delight – one after another and you feel like you've
been run over by a lorry full of fridges.
6. Write long, then go short.
Create
a lump of stone from which you chip out your story sculpture. Stories can live
much more cheaply than you realise, with little deterioration in lifestyle. But
do beware: writing micro-fiction is for some like holidaying in a caravan – the
grill may well fold out to become an extra bed, but you wouldn't sleep in a
fold-out grill for the rest of your life.
What
about you? Have you written flash fiction? Did you find it easy to write?
