I talked with a friend today about
what we do when we can’t seem to work on any of our stuff. She writes short
stories. She called them short stories, but I’ve read some of them and know
that they are very short stories, flash fiction. I told her I write pages of
freewriting that sometimes comes out as weird little essays. I hadn’t yet done
the readings for the week or I might have confessed to writing essaykins. I
think of them as nothings, throwaways, practice on the way to bigger, better,
more important writing—my real writing.
I don’t even reread them most of the time—but sometimes I do and sometimes I’m
secretly pleased, but I still think of them as nothings.
I enjoyed writing the segmented
essay I experimented with for class—mostly because it was done in short
bursts—I started with a list of thoughts and memories then wrote each one, not
worrying about how long it was—of course they were all meant to hang together
around specific themes, not stand on their own, but I still enjoyed the
permission I felt to write these short vignettes and wonder that I haven’t
thought of it as a legitimate form before.
In “Of Fire and Ice” Moore comments
on the appropriateness of short pieces for the “digital domain.” I admit that
when scrolling through Facebook I’m much more likely to read something short
than a longer essay. The online format crimps my attention span. And short
pieces are ideal for blog posts. The field is ripe for flash non-fiction, in
fact it is already happening—perhaps it is the lack of a name, the fact that is
has not been designated as a clearly defined category that I have not
considered these little pieces to be real writing.
What are your experiences with
reading and writing flash non-fiction?
I like that Moore relates these pieces to Haiku because the power of the flash non-fiction is fulfilled in their brevity. Like Haiku the writer doesn’t haphazardly throw words onto the page but carefully chooses the language that reflects their meaning most efficient and faithfully. Moore’s analogy of being dropped into the fire like a smoke jumper is not only apropos but also didactic in that is shows a writer that flash non-fiction begins and ends in the heat of an idea—never giving the reader time to preconceive before being thrust into the action. In a way it’s not unlike the contrast between theory and practice, in longer essays the reader has time to see what’s coming and prepare a defense, in flash non-fiction that preparatory time is cut away so what is left is pure reaction, pure meaning and I like that. However what make this genre powerful is also what problematizes it. Being dropped into the action might also illicit the reader to flight and at the expense of meaning—if the action is to hot the reader burns up along with the forest. I think it’s this careful line between fight and flight hot and cold that makes flash non-fiction so appealing to me. As a writer I feel I need to craft every word so as to poise my meaning in a way that is precisely calculated. I don’t have the freedom to play—but I like that.
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ReplyDeleteI can appreciate why the word “flash” would carry a certain amount of appeal for today’s audience who are accustomed to their daily diet of text messages and 140 character tweets. We have become very busy people who believe that there is value in fitting as many activities as possible into a 24 hour timespan; and the only thing better than sitting down with a good story for fifteen minutes is the satisfaction of reading a good story in its entirety in fifteen minutes.
ReplyDeleteBeyond the whole time crunch, though, I have always enjoyed good flash fiction. I respect the craft. To be able to construct a whole story with a beginning, middle, and end about complex characters and change takes skill and a fine-tuned editor’s touch. Yet, I find flash nonfiction not only entertaining, but compelling. I’ve always thought that I was attracted to the realness of it; the containing of concrete, full-bodied truth on one or two pages. Yet, now, I think it has more to do with the narrow focus of it. I was struck with Cooper’s comparison of the genre to miniature figurines in a model train set in Moore’s “Fire and Ice,” the similarities between the characteristic details of the little plastic people and the small “secrets of human nature.” Both are easily overlooked without a closer look and a narrow focus. It makes you wonder what truths are being missed by looking at life with a wide angle lens.
By the way, Seuss’s “Turd” is one of those pieces that promises to stay with me for quite some time. What a wild ride as a reader—from judging the frivolity of vain idiosyncrasies to respecting their use in personal survival. I am glad the “woman” is nameless because, in some ways, she represents all of us.
Please excuse my stuttering. It's Monday.
DeleteThe way you describe your vignettes rings true for me, Sharli. I also never thought of them as falling within a legitimate form, even though I like to read flash nonfiction. I'm intrigued by your ideas on flash cnf being ideal for online spaces. I read some articles in this month's Writer's Digest, which incidentally was all about CNF, and I wondered about using my blog -- which began as academic in nature and has evolved a bit, though I find I still try to have some profound message or tend towards being didactic -- as a place to deposit some of my short (typically very abstract) pieces. My short pieces aren't usually created for any other purpose other than to get out some of my thoughts about a different piece I'm working on. For example, I'm trying to write an essay and mostly keep "I" out of it, but it keeps trying to spin into abstraction or obnoxiously play up metaphor. I finally relented and wrote a thing that I actually kind of like, and it helped me get out some stuff and refocus on my larger essay.
ReplyDeleteAnyway, my rambling leads to this: I love flash CNF ('The Father' is one I've read before and it has stuck with me), but I find it intimidating because there is the pressure of being brief yet packing a punch. Your post reminds me that maybe some of us are unknowingly writing in the form already, and maybe there is more we can do with those shorter pieces that initially came into existence just for the sake of getting thoughts onto a page. Maybe we can mold them into something worth sharing.
I really like what you said, Christopher, about how brief works, which often cut away all but the "heat of meaning," are disarming for readers because they don't have time to prepare much defense. "Turd" was kind of like that for me. I'm also glad that you mentioned Moore's wonderful smoke jumping metaphor, which was the best part of "Fire and Ice." When I've taught flash nonfiction, what I've really loved about it is how it gives writers permission to focus on feeling rather than probing ideas. As you know, I live the intellectual work of essays, but how refreshing to have more limited ambitions: to simply trying to get to the feeling of a situation. There are always ideas there, too, but there isn't enough time to unravel them.
ReplyDeleteSorry to keep bringing up the rear on these posts but I always forget to look over the weekend. Anyway..
ReplyDeleteI think flash fiction is another vehicle, another way, to build, test, our writing skills. Why not give it a go when the muse strikes? I have a bunch of thinks I've started which are short, but they tend to just be descriptive - here's a bunch of trees, there's someone ordering ice cream, and the story part, the drama, is hard for me. But I do feel it's freeing. It's a way to get a spontaneous thought out on paper and then, if it seems to have merit, work on it more diligently. I seem to then find that they sometimes fit into a larger whole - there's actually a theme in these shorter fragments - that, with some effort, complement each other in something larger. Segmenting helps this. Given the Internet, I think flash CNF will give lots of folks opportunities to write who wouldn't have considered it otherwise, and that's good. A rising tide...
After expressing some apprehension about experimenting with the form, I began thinking about poems that I've written in the past (the ones based on concrete moments/experiences) and I thought about a couple things: 1.) Some of these moments were pretty powerful (they packed a punch), 2.) I'm not that great of a poet, and 3.) the content might be better served as a flash nonfiction essay.
ReplyDeleteThe next essay I'm workshopping will be a flash piece and I'm very excited to dabble in this new genre.
I think I too will try and write one of these flash nonfiction pieces. For me, it seems they embody a purposeful moment in time: some specific instance is being shown to us for a particular rhetorical reason/effect. In reading the examples, it appears the qualities lie in moves such as: Minimal or highly focused reflection (as seen in the turd piece); focusing on a particular and brief period of time; a dramatic situation of some sort; a strong voice or style; generally more narrative and less dialogue; a powerful, slightly ambiguous ending. Do others notice any other features?
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