But what shall I talk about with no story to launch the discussion off!?
As I was publishing (blogging?) most of the first chapter of Missing Pieces I already had the rest written. So my week would go something like: post/edit/commentary/blog/edit/post and so on. Since for the past few weeks I've been writing the next chapter this quite chilled pace has been disrupted. It's been post/write/edit/write/write/write/write/write and so on. So my SF blog and other endeavours fall by the wayside a little.
I don't mind. I love writing. That's kind of the point. I don't mind if I never do this for money (although, you know...), I mostly want to tell stories. That does of course mean I want people to read my work, and like it... I want to tell the stories to someone. The larger the audience, the better... one day, maybe.
In the meantime. I'll just keep myself and my friends entertained. =)
So I'm just about to start publishing the next chapter of Missing Pieces. It's about half written, a little more than, which makes it different to the first chapter which was pretty much finished when I started. I'm also picking the order in which they're published, instead of the first chapter which was in the order they were written (except for a couple of festive concessions). There's a really good mix (I think), of genres and lengths and styles. There's some more fanciful, playful pieces, some serious fantasy, some heavy SF... it's gonna be fun. ;D
One of the things that (hopefully) you'll see coming through in the later half of this chapter is a major influence on my life... Roald Dahl. I read all of the kids' books when I was younger, but I'm just now reading some of his adult stories, some of his Unexpected Tales. I can't believe I managed to do a creative writing degree and was never made to read these. They are, for the most part, so well handled; the characterisation, pacing and plot development are superb. And taking the obvious twist, nodding at it and passing it by... is brilliant. If you like short fiction, you should read them.
Wednesday, 22 December 2010
Friday, 10 December 2010
Writing Nightmares
Ambiguity is always fun in writing. Getting the balance right is hard though.
Make it too obvious, give too much away and the reader is left feeling disappointed. Make it too obscure, and the reader is left confused.
Of course, this also depends on what you are trying to achieve. Do you want it unclear, or do you want it resolved, but with an edge of uncertainty. I mean, once the beast is slain, do you want it unclear as to whether the beast really killed everyone or if it was one of the protagonists... or do you want the beast slain, but a flash of something dark in one of the protagonist's eyes, the beast lives on in them?
Hmm... that wasn't entirely clear was it. It may be even harder to write about writing ambiguously than the ambiguous writing itself.
So in This Bedtime Story are Audrey's devils real, or are they just night terrors she has conjured up over missing her father? Obviously, I like the weird, so I'd like to think their is more to this world than most of us get to experience. If you know my writing you'll probably er on the side of the weird being the truth. But then, maybe those are just the nightmares of a child with imagination, the early stages of a writer like me.
I tend to try for the less obvious edge of ambiguity. I guess I'd rather leave someone confused than disappointed. Certainly in the past I know I've left people more in a state of WTF than I might have intended. But I would rather credit readers with intelligence than think they need everything spelled out to them.
There is danger in overworking it too. Less so in micro-fiction maybe. The X-Files, for example, was better when it was just It's aliens! No it's the government! when it carried on a few seasons with aliens/ government/ aliens/ government/ aliens/ government ad nauseum, I got a bit bored.
Ideally, obviously, you want to hit that sweet spot. Where the reader thinks they know what the truth is, but there is still a delicious edge of what if?, a splash of maybe.
There's a distinction to be made between ambiguity and suspense too. Or maybe a demonstration of symbiosis. And I think I've really been talking about something between the two. Because ambiguity covers a whole lot more than just a suspenseful ending and a lingering sense of unfinished business, although it is a great tool for that kind of effect.
Sometimes, ambiguity can just be bad or unclear writing. But when it is intentional and controlled I think it is something brilliant and interesting. Ambiguity is the opening of a discussion between the reader and the writer. What do you think is happening here?
Make it too obvious, give too much away and the reader is left feeling disappointed. Make it too obscure, and the reader is left confused.
Of course, this also depends on what you are trying to achieve. Do you want it unclear, or do you want it resolved, but with an edge of uncertainty. I mean, once the beast is slain, do you want it unclear as to whether the beast really killed everyone or if it was one of the protagonists... or do you want the beast slain, but a flash of something dark in one of the protagonist's eyes, the beast lives on in them?
Hmm... that wasn't entirely clear was it. It may be even harder to write about writing ambiguously than the ambiguous writing itself.
So in This Bedtime Story are Audrey's devils real, or are they just night terrors she has conjured up over missing her father? Obviously, I like the weird, so I'd like to think their is more to this world than most of us get to experience. If you know my writing you'll probably er on the side of the weird being the truth. But then, maybe those are just the nightmares of a child with imagination, the early stages of a writer like me.
I tend to try for the less obvious edge of ambiguity. I guess I'd rather leave someone confused than disappointed. Certainly in the past I know I've left people more in a state of WTF than I might have intended. But I would rather credit readers with intelligence than think they need everything spelled out to them.
There is danger in overworking it too. Less so in micro-fiction maybe. The X-Files, for example, was better when it was just It's aliens! No it's the government! when it carried on a few seasons with aliens/ government/ aliens/ government/ aliens/ government ad nauseum, I got a bit bored.
Ideally, obviously, you want to hit that sweet spot. Where the reader thinks they know what the truth is, but there is still a delicious edge of what if?, a splash of maybe.
There's a distinction to be made between ambiguity and suspense too. Or maybe a demonstration of symbiosis. And I think I've really been talking about something between the two. Because ambiguity covers a whole lot more than just a suspenseful ending and a lingering sense of unfinished business, although it is a great tool for that kind of effect.
Sometimes, ambiguity can just be bad or unclear writing. But when it is intentional and controlled I think it is something brilliant and interesting. Ambiguity is the opening of a discussion between the reader and the writer. What do you think is happening here?
Wednesday, 1 December 2010
Strangers and Pitfalls
I've never really been able to write comedy, any more than the odd moment of humour at least. This Pit is probably one of my most comical pieces, which says it all really. I hope you find humour in the bizarre... ;)
One thing that commonly suffers in micro-fiction is character description. Shorter shorter fiction will always have certain restrictions, which is why you have to work hard to evoke a sense of what you are conveying, and let the reader's imagination work hard too. With characters I often try and convey a sense of personality rather than physicality, I think that is probably the more important aspect to convey. People will often have their own, different ideas of what a character in a book will look like, but the personality is the key: it is (for the most part) what makes them who they are.
So it's probably odd that a stranger who has less than half a story and no name gets more description than most of my other characters.
"He had unruly dark hair, stubble and a tan trench coat. He looked like a TV detective."
Odder still that I describe a stereotype, and then confirm that stereotype. But it is (I hope) an instant image. Whether you picture the pulp detective from a book jacket, or a Columbo type figure, you still have a picture. The words have done their job.
This Most Unfrabjous Day and This Alien Land both go into physical descriptions. For the former it helps establish the characters, the chalk and cheese partners and the physical state of Barry, which is a mirror of is decaying mental state; in the latter the first half of the story is character (or creature) description, because that is the story...
I think one of the ways flash fiction falls into the cracks between prose and poetry is that, in a very poetic way, they are often trying to capture and evoke a single image or feeling, a snapshot of something, real or otherwise. They try and pin something down so that it can be released fluttering and free inside your mind. But flash fiction is a scene or a snapshot, something captured from something larger; for me fiction should be synonymous with story - micro-fiction is a story in miniature to me, a glimpse of narrative, one or two steps of a larger journey.
Of course there are many arguments to be had in all directions as to what exactly constitutes poetry and what constitutes prose. And what separates the two, or even if they need be separate... It is in this no man's land, this fertile wasteland, that flash-fiction falls.
One thing that commonly suffers in micro-fiction is character description. Shorter shorter fiction will always have certain restrictions, which is why you have to work hard to evoke a sense of what you are conveying, and let the reader's imagination work hard too. With characters I often try and convey a sense of personality rather than physicality, I think that is probably the more important aspect to convey. People will often have their own, different ideas of what a character in a book will look like, but the personality is the key: it is (for the most part) what makes them who they are.
So it's probably odd that a stranger who has less than half a story and no name gets more description than most of my other characters.
"He had unruly dark hair, stubble and a tan trench coat. He looked like a TV detective."
Odder still that I describe a stereotype, and then confirm that stereotype. But it is (I hope) an instant image. Whether you picture the pulp detective from a book jacket, or a Columbo type figure, you still have a picture. The words have done their job.
This Most Unfrabjous Day and This Alien Land both go into physical descriptions. For the former it helps establish the characters, the chalk and cheese partners and the physical state of Barry, which is a mirror of is decaying mental state; in the latter the first half of the story is character (or creature) description, because that is the story...
I think one of the ways flash fiction falls into the cracks between prose and poetry is that, in a very poetic way, they are often trying to capture and evoke a single image or feeling, a snapshot of something, real or otherwise. They try and pin something down so that it can be released fluttering and free inside your mind. But flash fiction is a scene or a snapshot, something captured from something larger; for me fiction should be synonymous with story - micro-fiction is a story in miniature to me, a glimpse of narrative, one or two steps of a larger journey.
Of course there are many arguments to be had in all directions as to what exactly constitutes poetry and what constitutes prose. And what separates the two, or even if they need be separate... It is in this no man's land, this fertile wasteland, that flash-fiction falls.
Wednesday, 24 November 2010
Round and round and round and smash.
One of the things I love about writing is that it's never doing the same thing again and again and again. OK, so there is the editing process, and for This Merry Go Round I spent some time moving individual lines up and down in an attempt to get the flow of information, the build and the pace right. But most of writing is about thinking of new things, creating new things exploring new situations, or exploring old situations in new ways.
This is especially so with micro-fiction, of course. I mean look at me, at least 52 new stories in a year. 104 if my other planned project goes ahead. Plus other odds and ends.
I recently wrote two pieces for a micro horror competition, on microhorror.com. You can read both of them here. They haven't announced the winners yet and since this is the first year I've entered I don't know if having been posted means I'm out of the running or whether they post all of the entries before announcing. There's some really stiff competition, some really creepy stuff. It's been really good just keeping an eye on the site and reading everything else that's been posted. =)
This is especially so with micro-fiction, of course. I mean look at me, at least 52 new stories in a year. 104 if my other planned project goes ahead. Plus other odds and ends.
I recently wrote two pieces for a micro horror competition, on microhorror.com. You can read both of them here. They haven't announced the winners yet and since this is the first year I've entered I don't know if having been posted means I'm out of the running or whether they post all of the entries before announcing. There's some really stiff competition, some really creepy stuff. It's been really good just keeping an eye on the site and reading everything else that's been posted. =)
Sunday, 14 November 2010
Memories and Empty Spaces
The older I get the more my memory becomes full of empty spaces...
Space is an interesting concept. Particularly empty space. Whether that be outer space or not. You can fill empty space with all kinds of things. But you can also just tell people something is there and let them fill it with their worst fears. Some of the best monster films hardly show the monster at all.
But what if all the space out there that is reassuringly full of stuff became suddenly empty?
I wrote This Empty Space months ago, as I did with all of these 'lost and found' pieces, so it's very odd that it happened to come up for posting the same weekend as the deadline for a micro-horror competition with the theme of 'space'... (Although I actually bumped it off Halloween Sunday for cowboys and zombies)
You can see a little experimental style coming in with This Empty Space, with the two longer paragraphs focussing on a character each. It feels a little odd to have such big paragraphs in such a small piece, but I think it works ok. The more I think about the story, the more I think it is quietly terrifying. Never my intention, and not because everything has disappeared, but because the last humans (under the best intentions) are just left drifting forever in cryo-sleep (or suspended animation, whatever), never to wake again, never to die but never to live.
We go to sleep every night relatively assured that we will wake up the next morning. I should think if they ever invent some kind of suspended animation then it will become a genuine phobia for some people in not knowing if they will be awoken on time. A sort of existential fear of re-awakening well past your due-date. (covered in various SF films/ books already, I know)
One of the interesting things about the advancement of technology is that we fit more and more into less and less space. Particularly when it comes to data and data storage. The inspiration behind These Memories.
It's a story, or at least the kernel of a story, a key piece in the jigsaw. It's about so much being so little, and whether worth should be judged by size. It is less than one hundred words. Ninety-seven to be precise, or ninety-nine with the title.
Is there a term for a story in just a hundred, or do I lump it in with all the other stories of less than two thousand? Why do I even say ‘less than two thousand’. That’s an odd number isn’t it? Most of the Missing Pieces are less than a thousand. But since micro-fiction, as I see it, should be ‘about a thousand words’, that sometimes means more than a thousand... Micro-fiction or flash fiction or nano fiction or whatever nomenclature you choose (and it is your choice).
Is it a discipline to write to a specific word count? Certainly I could have tweaked this to hit exactly one hundred words.
If you’re writing to a specific word count, it can be restrictive. I write 100 word book reviews for a magazine... and as you might guess from my longer reviews on Space-Time Industries it's often a difficult task to cut it down so much, you definitely lose a lot. But then for the purposes of the magazine it's needs to be that short. From my experience stories have a natural size. Trying to bulk a story up often results in it being dry and too slow, trying to cut it back can make it seem too choppy and disjointed.
Obviously there are times when editing up or down is necessary, when you want those kinds of effects, when the word length interferes with the pace or tone. I’m talking about editing purely for the sake of word count though, and I don’t think it’s so much a discipline as an affliction, or an excuse. If you can, through harsh editing, keep all your stories below a thousand words, is that a good thing? If you get it to a thousand words, spot on, does that mean it's finished and as good as it can be?
I don’t think so. If the story is better for it, then great, it needed that editing anyway. But if you’re cutting some vital flourish, some depth, purely for the sake of word count, then maybe you’ve just pruned the life out of it.
One thousand and three great words is better than a story missing three words that it needs.
Space is an interesting concept. Particularly empty space. Whether that be outer space or not. You can fill empty space with all kinds of things. But you can also just tell people something is there and let them fill it with their worst fears. Some of the best monster films hardly show the monster at all.
But what if all the space out there that is reassuringly full of stuff became suddenly empty?
I wrote This Empty Space months ago, as I did with all of these 'lost and found' pieces, so it's very odd that it happened to come up for posting the same weekend as the deadline for a micro-horror competition with the theme of 'space'... (Although I actually bumped it off Halloween Sunday for cowboys and zombies)
You can see a little experimental style coming in with This Empty Space, with the two longer paragraphs focussing on a character each. It feels a little odd to have such big paragraphs in such a small piece, but I think it works ok. The more I think about the story, the more I think it is quietly terrifying. Never my intention, and not because everything has disappeared, but because the last humans (under the best intentions) are just left drifting forever in cryo-sleep (or suspended animation, whatever), never to wake again, never to die but never to live.
We go to sleep every night relatively assured that we will wake up the next morning. I should think if they ever invent some kind of suspended animation then it will become a genuine phobia for some people in not knowing if they will be awoken on time. A sort of existential fear of re-awakening well past your due-date. (covered in various SF films/ books already, I know)
One of the interesting things about the advancement of technology is that we fit more and more into less and less space. Particularly when it comes to data and data storage. The inspiration behind These Memories.
It's a story, or at least the kernel of a story, a key piece in the jigsaw. It's about so much being so little, and whether worth should be judged by size. It is less than one hundred words. Ninety-seven to be precise, or ninety-nine with the title.
Is there a term for a story in just a hundred, or do I lump it in with all the other stories of less than two thousand? Why do I even say ‘less than two thousand’. That’s an odd number isn’t it? Most of the Missing Pieces are less than a thousand. But since micro-fiction, as I see it, should be ‘about a thousand words’, that sometimes means more than a thousand... Micro-fiction or flash fiction or nano fiction or whatever nomenclature you choose (and it is your choice).
Is it a discipline to write to a specific word count? Certainly I could have tweaked this to hit exactly one hundred words.
If you’re writing to a specific word count, it can be restrictive. I write 100 word book reviews for a magazine... and as you might guess from my longer reviews on Space-Time Industries it's often a difficult task to cut it down so much, you definitely lose a lot. But then for the purposes of the magazine it's needs to be that short. From my experience stories have a natural size. Trying to bulk a story up often results in it being dry and too slow, trying to cut it back can make it seem too choppy and disjointed.
Obviously there are times when editing up or down is necessary, when you want those kinds of effects, when the word length interferes with the pace or tone. I’m talking about editing purely for the sake of word count though, and I don’t think it’s so much a discipline as an affliction, or an excuse. If you can, through harsh editing, keep all your stories below a thousand words, is that a good thing? If you get it to a thousand words, spot on, does that mean it's finished and as good as it can be?
I don’t think so. If the story is better for it, then great, it needed that editing anyway. But if you’re cutting some vital flourish, some depth, purely for the sake of word count, then maybe you’ve just pruned the life out of it.
One thousand and three great words is better than a story missing three words that it needs.
Monday, 1 November 2010
A Stranger Shade of Pale
At the time I wrote This Pale Stranger I was judging a micro-fiction competition. Open to anybody, any subject, the only restriction the word count. In the first ten stories there were two about vampires... I began to despair.
And then I wrote my own vampire story.
There is nothing wrong with writing a vampire story, of course, but it's difficult to do it well and be original these days. But it can be done. Park Chan-Wook's film Thirst is a great example, the lead character a devout priest learning to deal with vampirism and the new urges it brings, superb stuff. Let the Right One In, again, an excellent approach to the subject. Both of these go into the psychology of the vampire and find fertile ground for story-telling there.
I will not claim mine has any of that depth, it's a bit of fun, the undead in the wild west, and I like it. I'm not sure why I went with the Nosferatu style of teeth, maybe just for something different.
This was going to be longer. In my head the stranger saves the sheriff, then they spend the night clearing the town, burning the bodies and the stranger says his final line as he rides away, not into the sunrise because, well...
But, all that would have been filler. For the sake of micro-fiction it would have to have been so much tell and not enough show (again with the show and tell!). It would have been a few paragraphs of sweeping events, the whorehouse; Jed’s mother, maybe; the superstitious, drunk native; blood and guts and gore. To justify itself beyond the punch line it would need human drama and characterisation, it would need to be fully humanised – a longer short story, not just a missing piece.
I like this idea of a racial war between the undead; the zombies and the vampires. They are both so similar in some ways, the hunger and the undeath. But the vampires have thought...
One day it may become a longer piece. A larger part of the puzzle.
And then I wrote my own vampire story.
There is nothing wrong with writing a vampire story, of course, but it's difficult to do it well and be original these days. But it can be done. Park Chan-Wook's film Thirst is a great example, the lead character a devout priest learning to deal with vampirism and the new urges it brings, superb stuff. Let the Right One In, again, an excellent approach to the subject. Both of these go into the psychology of the vampire and find fertile ground for story-telling there.
I will not claim mine has any of that depth, it's a bit of fun, the undead in the wild west, and I like it. I'm not sure why I went with the Nosferatu style of teeth, maybe just for something different.
This was going to be longer. In my head the stranger saves the sheriff, then they spend the night clearing the town, burning the bodies and the stranger says his final line as he rides away, not into the sunrise because, well...
But, all that would have been filler. For the sake of micro-fiction it would have to have been so much tell and not enough show (again with the show and tell!). It would have been a few paragraphs of sweeping events, the whorehouse; Jed’s mother, maybe; the superstitious, drunk native; blood and guts and gore. To justify itself beyond the punch line it would need human drama and characterisation, it would need to be fully humanised – a longer short story, not just a missing piece.
I like this idea of a racial war between the undead; the zombies and the vampires. They are both so similar in some ways, the hunger and the undeath. But the vampires have thought...
One day it may become a longer piece. A larger part of the puzzle.
Saturday, 30 October 2010
Infernal Passions
Writing can seem eternal and infernal sometimes... you take out a word, you put it back in. You swap two phrases in a sentence back and forth. You think you've got it right... you go away, come back, and... decide it was better the way you originally had it.
But writing is a passion, it has to be, because there is no instant success (for most people, at least) you have to keep going, keep trying.
I’m going to talk a little about process. When I said last time about the way I intended that story to work (with an easy image, then an intrigue hook, then a narrowing of the plot), I was simplifying. I should clarify: I did not have this in mind when I began. I had an idea, and I wrote. When the first draft was out I saw the shape of the story and I was able to hone it. Much in the way I have heard that sculptors or whittlers say the shape of the final piece is already there within the stone or wood and they are just uncovering it; discovering it, if you like.
This is where the editing comes in. The major stuff like shuffling whole paragraphs or removing whole sentences and the minor tuning, the odd word or two. I've been doing a lot of that this week. Trying to write a couple of pieces for a horror competition.
Ideally, one of your best editing tools is space. Time to step away from the story, step back, and return to it later with fresh eyes. Something I didn't really have time for. However, there is another great tool, which is other people. Whatever it seems like in your head, as a writer you have full access to the intention of the story, which an outsider does not.
So those stories have been despatched... I'll let you know if anything comes of it. Just trying to get my name out there really.
I can’t remember where This Infernal Waiting came from. I’m not convinced the transition from establishing shot to story is thoroughly smooth. I think, again, it is too much tell and not enough show. But I like the opening and in this case I am going to indulge myself and let it slide. Not very professional but then... no one is paying me, so I can allow myself a little indulgence now and then. ;)
Having said that, I do think the story is the strongest so far. You might argue that the set-up seems more of a limbo than an inferno, but that makes for a far less interesting title...
Also, I've thought of a name for this first collection of stories. It is a pleasing metaphor:
Lost and Found
Since it is a collection of Missing Pieces. Since the whole project was born out of me losing my way a little and trying to find my way again. When this initial run is complete I will probably re-order the collection and produce a preferred reading order. The order I would have the pieces in were they ever to see print.
But writing is a passion, it has to be, because there is no instant success (for most people, at least) you have to keep going, keep trying.
I’m going to talk a little about process. When I said last time about the way I intended that story to work (with an easy image, then an intrigue hook, then a narrowing of the plot), I was simplifying. I should clarify: I did not have this in mind when I began. I had an idea, and I wrote. When the first draft was out I saw the shape of the story and I was able to hone it. Much in the way I have heard that sculptors or whittlers say the shape of the final piece is already there within the stone or wood and they are just uncovering it; discovering it, if you like.
This is where the editing comes in. The major stuff like shuffling whole paragraphs or removing whole sentences and the minor tuning, the odd word or two. I've been doing a lot of that this week. Trying to write a couple of pieces for a horror competition.
Ideally, one of your best editing tools is space. Time to step away from the story, step back, and return to it later with fresh eyes. Something I didn't really have time for. However, there is another great tool, which is other people. Whatever it seems like in your head, as a writer you have full access to the intention of the story, which an outsider does not.
So those stories have been despatched... I'll let you know if anything comes of it. Just trying to get my name out there really.
I can’t remember where This Infernal Waiting came from. I’m not convinced the transition from establishing shot to story is thoroughly smooth. I think, again, it is too much tell and not enough show. But I like the opening and in this case I am going to indulge myself and let it slide. Not very professional but then... no one is paying me, so I can allow myself a little indulgence now and then. ;)
Having said that, I do think the story is the strongest so far. You might argue that the set-up seems more of a limbo than an inferno, but that makes for a far less interesting title...
Also, I've thought of a name for this first collection of stories. It is a pleasing metaphor:
Lost and Found
Since it is a collection of Missing Pieces. Since the whole project was born out of me losing my way a little and trying to find my way again. When this initial run is complete I will probably re-order the collection and produce a preferred reading order. The order I would have the pieces in were they ever to see print.
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