Flashing

National Flash Fiction Day is nearly upon us (May 16^th, if it isn’t already in your diary), so it seems like a good time to write a post about flash.

The term ‘flash fiction’ is one I’ve only recently started using – previously, I called my own flashes ‘micro fiction’. I think one of the reasons there isn’t a standard expression, is that flash is a widely under-appreciated genre (which is why so many writers are getting excited about NFFD).

Although flash fiction has plenty of history (think of Ernest Hemingway’s wonderful six-word story, For Sale: Baby shoes, never worn.), it doesn’t carry the same weight as other literary genres. But a good flash is a complete story, with as much potential for wheedling its way into a reader’s psyche as a novel. To work well, it requires economy of language, precision and confidence... and this makes for very exciting reading.

Flash fiction is ideal for new media, where the filters are loose, so of course there’s bad flash out there; maybe this is why we don’t respect it as much as we should. But there’s so much brilliant writing out there and the internet is our gateway to that. I’m still exploring what exactly makes a successful and exciting flash, but what an incredible journey it is. One of the reasons I love this genre is because it fits so neatly into the busy life of the modern reader. You’d have to be super-insanely-busy not to have time to read a 100 word story.

So how can we celebrate National Flash Fiction Day? Here are a few ideas:

• Pre-order your copy of Jawbreakers, the NFFD anthology: you’ll get it at a reduced price if you do, and that way you’ll have a selection of flash to read over breakfast on the day.
• Join Calum Kerr, the man we have to thank for all this NFFD goodness, for his flash fiction write-in. Those of us who have limited connections with Winchester University can take part virtually. I’ll be at work during the crucial hours, but I plan on squeezing a flash into my lunch break!
• Head to the official launch of NFFD (if you happen to be in the Southampton area).
• Look at the NFFD events page and see what’s happening near you.
• Get yourself a copy of Tania Hershman’s new flash collection, My Mother was an Upright Piano. She’s one of the best flash writers I know of, and although I haven’t had chance to buy my own copy yet, I’ve heard some of the stories, and her last collection, The White Road and Other Stories, was wonderful.
• Download the Ether Books app for your smart phone. There’s more than just flash on there but it’s a great way to read fiction on the go.
• Join me on Twitter (@jadamthwaite), where I will be continuing my daily story-in-a-tweet challenge for #ThePush. Follow @goosefat101 for the prompts – what better day to join us than on NFFD? Twitter is a fabulous opportunity for the flash fiction writer. Not everything you write there will be great, but the beauty of Twitter is that it doesn’t care. It’s a great place to play with the process.
• Finally, keep up to date with everything that’s happening for NFFD by following @nationalflashfd on Twitter.

Lucky 7

Officially, I stopped doing memes a while back, because they tend to cause me unnecessary stress. So why, when I get tagged in the most terrifying meme I’ve ever seen, do I suddenly start playing again? I think it’s because I feel like a little humiliation might be helpful for my novel. I think it might be good for me to share a snippet of an early draft so that I push myself more, so that I can say – eventually – look how far I came.

Anyway, whatever the reason, today we’re playing Lucky 7. Martha Williams kindly tagged me in her post and here I am (almost) accepting the challenge. Here’s what I have to do:

1.       Go to page 7 or 77 in your current manuscript

2.       Go to line 7

3.       Post the next 7 lines on your blog

4.       Tag 7 other writers to do the same.

So here it is, from seven lines down the seventh page in the first draft of my novel (which currently has no title), a little narration from my central character, Meg:

I can feel it in my arms and legs, a cold current, as though my limbs have turned to ice.  I try to get back to the original screen, pressing the buttons hurriedly, the clock counting me down to disaster.

And then it happens.

I get to choose between OK and Exit and I dart for Ok, my thumb quick on the button, and somehow, what happens is not OK but, I suppose, Exit and I’m left staring at a blank screen.

Shit.

I stare at the screen until my eyes are blurry and the guilt goes numb.

Minutes pass.

The next thing I’m aware of is Anna’s key in the door.

I feel it before I hear it, somewhere deep in my stomach, crawling up my shoulder blades like cracks in a glass. My ribcage amplifies my heartbeat; I hurry to put the camera back on the mantel piece.

Actually, that didn’t hurt as much as I expected!

The thing I find the most stressful about memes is tagging other people. I’m just neurotic enough to spend the whole afternoon worrying about whether I’ve tagged the right people and whether they’re likely to be annoyed about it. So today, I’m going to cheat. I’m going to say, if you want to play, tag yourself. It’s a frightening task but I think it might be good for us. If you want to take the challenge, tweet me or leave a comment, and I’ll link to you in this post. It’s the only way I’m going to get any work done this afternoon!

Image by Mike Baird

Books at Bedtime

For complicated and not very interesting reasons, we sleep in the same room as our books. I thought this arrangement would annoy me; I have an irritating attraction to things being done properly and large book collections are not normally found in the same rooms as beds.

Last night, before I turned the light off, I looked around the room in satisfaction. I love looking at all the titles climbing towards the ceiling, leaning against each other like penguins. It occurred to me how warm our bedroom is, how we don’t hear as much from next door as we do in other rooms: the books insulate us, an extra blanket at night.

There’s also nothing like seeing all your favourite authors stacked up against the wall every morning for reminding you how much harder you need to work. Sometimes this is disheartening; mostly it’s just the kick I need. That’s what comes of being quietly competitive.

My wardrobe is in my writing room, which is much less inspiring, but, having lived in normal bedrooms, I think I quite like the reversal.

Only thing is, we’re running out of shelf space...

National Flash Fiction Day 2012

There are lots of unnecessary Days knocking about, but finally there’s one I’m really proud to be a part of.

National Flash Fiction Day is fast approaching (16^th May). Instigated by Calum Kerr, it’s new on the scene, and I think it deserves some publicity. Flash fiction is a medium I really enjoy: fully-grown stories told minimally. There’s nothing for making sure every word counts like limiting the number you can use.

The celebration of micro-fiction kicked off with a competition, which I’m very excited to have been commended in. There are some excellent stories up there and I’m flattered to be in such good company. Go and have a look!

 National Flash Fiction Day 2012 Competition Results

 First Prize:

‘The Worst Head in the World’ by Angela Readman

Second Prize:
‘Black Hole’ by Dan Carpenter

Third Prize:
‘Meredith’ by Amy Mackelden

Highly Commended (in alphabetical order):
‘New Shoes’ by Jenny Adamthwaite
‘Sad Lover’ by Jason Bagshaw
‘She’ll Leave You For A Man’ by Kirsty Logan
‘New Build’ by Clare O’Brien
‘Alterations’ by Tim Stevenson
‘Relieving Mafeking’ by Alun Williams
‘First Person’ by Martha Williams

Congratulations to all the winning authors.

Grace

I’m sitting at a brightly coloured octagonal table with seven other children. We all have lunch boxes; we’re waiting for the school-dinner children at the other end of the dining hall to be served. And then the headmaster, who is sitting at one of the hot-dinner tables, hushes us into a silence punctuated by hungry swallows and yawns, and, in unison, we say: For what we are about to receive, may the lord make us truly thankful. Amen. And we eat. This is the lunchtime ritual. We know it like the backs of our hands.

I was a) a child and b) non-religious at the time, so I didn’t really think about what we said. It was just the thing that came before food. I had an almost Pavlovian response to it. Even now, I can taste chicken spread sandwiches and orange squash when I think of those words. It was all about the anticipation.

While I’m no longer a child, I’m still non-religious, and I haven’t had any cause to say grace since I left that school at the age of 11. But I have come to appreciate its value as an expression and recognition of gratitude, and as a way of slowing down, taking less for granted. It’s still not something I do, but it’s something I’m interested in, something I think would be worth trying.

The Wikipedia entry for grace says, “in many indigenous cultures around the world... the saying of grace does not signify human dominion, but rather recognition of a plant or animal's giving their life...” Grace does not have to be religious. It is possible to observe this ritual without giving thanks to an entity you may not have faith in.

I have a friend who’s in the habit of bowing at meal times. I’m a little too self-conscious to pull this off comfortably, but I love the way he does it: sometimes little more than a gentle nod of the head; sometimes his hands pressed together as though in prayer and that nod towards the person who has cooked the meal. That waiting, that prolonging of anticipation and that thankfulness is a valuable addition to a meal. I should try it.

Image by Albrecht Dürer