Prose Workshop:
Writing "Flashes" with Helen Hagemann @ the Fremantle Arts Centre,
Friday, 5th February 1pm-3pm. This is a refresher start for the year. We will be writing short stories of no more than 100 words. Exercises will also give writers the chance to practice short prose of 33 words. Class to read
various examples of this fiction, from
100WordStory.org, Mike Jackson and others. Writers will have the opportunity to be published on
Writing at the Centre's website and also will be informed about other markets for this genre.
Flash fiction captures the essence of a story. In a snapshot, the
subject is usually in front. The background takes a seat behind your
conscious mind. You know it's there, but you are focused on the
subject.
Example: Picture a child catching a bright, red ball. what do you
see? Action. What's the background? I didn't tell you, but you
probably saw a flash of one. Your own experiences detailed the sentence
for you. Maybe you saw the child outside since that's where balls are
usually thrown. Maybe you saw a young child because the ball is bright
red. Older children play with basketballs, footballs or
baseballs--usually none of these are red. Did you see sunshine? Was
that why the ball was bright? Did you see grass and trees? Or did you
see city streets and buildings? That would depend on your perception of
outside and ball playing, wouldn't it?
Make your words Work
Use strong, active verbs and few if any linking verbs and adjectives.
There is no time in flash fiction for a lot of description or detail
or for much characterization. The writer must depend upon the readers'
experiences to fill in the gaps. Dialogue-driven stories are great for
quick action, character and conflict development.
Writing flash fiction is an excellent exercise to tighten your
writing--to pack as much action in as few words as possible. You can
use flash fiction as the core idea to develop longer pieces--even
novels. It helps identify the four elements of fiction: Setting,
Character, Conflict and Resolution.
One-word sentences can work for you. They get attention,
convey meaning with their punctuation and say whole paragraphs in just
one word. They are great hooks.
MORE ABOUT FLASHES
Here's some great advice from this year's Bridport Prize (UK) Judge
David Gaffney about writing flash/short-short stories.
1: Does it have a beating heart?
A good short-short story should have a strong idea at
its core, and you should be able to feel this idea beating away
underneath every sentence. You may not be able to see it, or be able to
explain what it is; but if it's a good story, you will know it is there.
2: Is it too cold or too hot?
A healthy short-short story can be flaming hot with
desire, or cold, distant and awkward to handle; what matters is
consistency. A story which is chilly and standoffish most of the way
through and then suddenly pulls you up with a volcanic reveal at the end
can be disconcerting and ultimately unconvincing. Temperature
variations need to managed carefully and dramatic changes for which the
reader hasn't been adequately prepared should be avoided. A punchline
ending which yanks you out of the story world can destroy your belief in
what you have read so far - like falling into an icy pool after you've
been bathing in the sun.
3: Do its eyes follow you about the room?
A good short-short story is aware of you reading it. It
never turns its back on its audience. It is in the room with you at all
times. So no tricks of POV, flashbacks or show-pony foot work. If you
push the short-short story it pushes back. The story should feel real.
It shouldn't smell of wiki-research. Every change of gear will have been
earned and will feel as if it was the only thing that could have
happened in those circumstances. You are watching the story and the
story is watching you. Because with the short-short story you have
created something real with a life of its own.
4: Is it breathing?
A healthy short-short story will expel puffs of air from
an aperture somewhere in its centre. Long, powerful bursts. This is the
first sign that the story might be a real living thing. But breathing
can be faked. So apply the following tests. Does the story hold your
interest with every line? Short-short fiction allows the language no
rest, and every word has to pay its way. Are there regular points of
interest in the choice of language and in the concepts introduced by the
story? We need to know at all times that the story is breathing, the
story is alive. That someone who knows what they are doing is in
control. So don't make a zombie story. Make your story alive and real.
Avoid worn-out tropes, cliches, stereotypes and previously-loved ideas.
Not all call centres are boring, not all environmentalists are good, not
all old people are nice, not all council workers are jobsworths, not
all artists are worthwhile, and not all chain shops are evil.
5: Can it hear you?
While reading a good story you will have questions. You should
have questions. Where is the action happening? Who is talking? Why are
they telling me this? And why are they telling me it now? Ask these
questions of the story and if it cannot answer, call the nurses.
6: Is the pressure too low?
Sometimes a short-short story is just too low-drain. It
demands too little of the reader and of the writer. A pleasant vignette,
a neat collection of words that describes a moment with no sense of
urgency or jeopardy. If this is the case, class A drugs or adrenaline
shots may be required.
7: Is everything intact?
Count the extremities and check that all essential parts
are there. If everything seems to be there, but it feels as though
something is missing, that's a good thing.
Good short-short fiction will have a sense that
something has been removed, a vital part amputated. The teller of the
story knows something that the reader doesn't. We can sense a presence,
humming from within the story like a distant generator, haunting us like
the pain from a phantom limb.
April 25, 2016
