MORE ADVICE ON WRITING MICRO-FICTION

SHARPENING THE BLUE PENCIL
By G. W. Thomas

Micro-fiction is a symptom of the Internet. The shrinking attention spans of surfers drive the quickest jolts of "story" (usually with a twist) in Red Bull sized shots. Only an impatient and distracted audience (and who wouldn't be with millions of websites to choose from) would crave such tiny doses of fun.

Now, all that sounds like bitching, of course. But should it? Why write micro-fiction (stories under 100 wrds.) or flash (stories under 500 wrds.) at all? I do believe there is a value to writing such small works. If I didn't would I be the editor/publisher of FLASHSHOT? Here's some reasons:

1. Learning to Edit - having to sweat over every word allows a writer to learn which words are crucial and which are window-dressing. Compare these two versions:

CHRISTMAS PARTY (Version 1 - 139 wrds.)

California 1846

"What's so funny?" asked one of the men gathered around the robust figure in the red suit. The large man's eyes sparkled with an elfin curiosity. His outlandish garments were decorated with silver and gold.

"Your last name. I have a flying reindeer with that same name."

"You mean those deer that brought you here through the blizzard?"

"Yes, terrible weather this year--" The large man put down his coffee cup at a strange sound out in the storm. Was something going on out there in the swirling snow? "I thought--"

"It's nothing," the men said as they shuffled their feet. No one looked him in the eye.

"Well, I should be going. Gifts to deliver." He chuckled again. "That's funny. The Donner Party."

"Yes, hilarious," the men all agreed as they lifted their axes.

CHRISTMAS PARTY (Version 2 - 99 wrds.)

California 1846

"What's so funny?" asked one of the men gathered around the robust figure in the red suit.

"Your last name. I have a flying reindeer with that same name."

"You mean those deer that brought you here through the blizzard?"

"Yes, terrible weather this year--" The large man put down his coffee cup at a strange sound out in the storm. "I thought--"

"It's nothing," the men said.

"Well, I should be going. Gifts to deliver." He chuckled again. "That's funny. The Donner Party."

"Yes, hilarious," the men all agreed as they lifted their axes.

Looking at these two versions, you can see the second one has all the necessary mechanics, while the first less necessary details. Ultimately, the only thing that matters is that Santa gets eaten by the Donner Party. The parts that have been removed are not essential. The reader can fill in some of these details or they simply don't matter.

2. Learning to Suggest - Suggestion can come from the title, a story mechanism or simply placing two things together in the story. You may cut off the beginning of the story and suggest something has happened, or you can do that with the ending, where the reader must fill in the next logical steps. This saves you valuable wordage if the reader can supply what is missing.

A SUDDEN CASE OF STORY FEVER (Suggests Beginning)

"And the light coalesced into a shining figure that burned spears of pain into my brain. It was the saddest moment of my life, filled with the tang of loss and ultimate fulfillment. For several seconds I just sat there wondering if I had been touched by the hand of God." He stopped and let the golden light of his tale hang on the air.

"You were doing a hundred in a sixty. But the sasquatch and the ghost of Hitler were a nice touch."

"Thank you, Officer."

"Here's your ticket."

"Three hundred bucks!"

"I charge by the word, too."

CROKER'S POND (Suggests Ending)

They laughed when I bought Croker's Pond. Only eight thousand! Who's laughing now?

I sit on the patio and watch three ducks swim. These waters that are supposed to be haunted by Croker's old ghost. His body was lost when his wife hit him with a shovel.

She disappeared too-later--but the bloody trail from my kitchen said she hadn't walked away.

The Crokers are probably in Florida. Those two ducks bob around on the pond.

I like the green-headed male. He feeds, knowing there's nothing to fear.

Yah, that lonely old duck she knows better.

Who's laughing now?

In the first story, we can assume that the man who tells the fantastic story was speeding, the cop pulled him over and asked him for his license and registration. The writer doesn't have to give any of that. It's a cliché situation we can all imagine from getting real tickets or watching it on TV.
The second story is being told by someone who doesn't see what's coming. We don't actually get to see him get eaten by the monster in the pond. We don't have to. Those disappearing ducks suggest what his fate will be.

3. Learn to Tell a Story - this sounds almost idiotic but through writing micros you very quickly learn what will satisfy the inner need for a real story. You can't hide behind "great characterization" or "wonderful description". You simply have no time for those. Micro-fiction that fails suffers almost exclusively from lack of story. This isn't to say you have to record every word of it. (That's where suggestion works.)

This leads to the question for some: what is a story then? Without getting into pages and pages about "rising action" and 'denouement" we'll use put it simply as: something has to happen, it needs to be significant or amusing, and a change should come out of it. If your story is over and someone hasn't been changed by the experience in a big way or an amusing incident hasn't happened to them, then it's not enough. In the two examples above, a man got a speeding ticket by a funny cop and another man got eaten by a monster. These are the two extremes: an amusing incident versus life-and-death. In both cases, the reader gets something for their 30 seconds. Here's another example of a full story:

A TRUE CANADIAN STORY

John shook his head. "It's all too 'samey'," he said looking at the fish on his plate.

"Ordinary," Abby agreed. "I wish-"

But she never finished the thought for a noise in the trees near their table tore them from the food. A cow moose ran by, moving at a speed many people would not believe a moose capable of.

A second later a grizzly bear, eight hundred pounds of death, ran into the clearing beside their table. It stopped and looked at them with beady eyes. The animal made a decision and continued after the moose.

"Samey - I mean salmon-sounds good," finished John.

In this case, John and Abby start out being bored with life, then get a sudden reminder of why boring can be good. They are changed by that sudden incident. It is a complete arc from one state to another.

The lessons that can be learned from writing micro-fiction are transferable. What you glean from scribbling these short-shorts, then wheedling them down to polished little gems will improve the writing of other kinds, such as poetry which uses a similar technique (though without the requirement of telling a story), fiction, especially dialogue, and even play-writing and screen-writing. Micro-fiction is about making each word do its job, sometimes several jobs.