My favorite thing about flash fiction is the artistic freedom it allows. Within its rigidity, skilled writers can find inspiration to experiment and create that would never be possible in less defined mediums. It has a unique ability to blur the lines between prose and poetry, crafting worlds and emotions not elsewhere possible. But with all this potential, beginning writers (and even accomplished veterans) are often intimidated, wondering where to start.
Splickety prides itself as a community that nourishes the art of flash fiction, not only by publishing exquisite stories, but also by instructing and mentoring talented authors in this rapidly growing genre of storytelling. And one foundational principle we encourage all beginning flashers (no, not that kind) to remember is that, even though you’re writing a story that can fit on a single page, it is still a story—one with a beginning, middle, and end. It doesn’t need to use a traditional three-act structure, but it does have to complete an arc in order to leave a reader satisfied. That arc is much quicker than with short stories or novel-length, but it’s still there.
The principles contained within this all-important fact could (and do) fill entire craft books, but I’m going to focus on one specific pitfall I’ve seen lately: the resolution. I’ve spoken many times on the importance of a satisfying climax. The easiest way to accomplish this is with some sort of big reveal or twist (NOT a deus ex machina, for the love of Deus) that ties into the beginning and subtle clues/nuances throughout the story. Of course, that’s not the only way (thank Deus), but it tends to be a great place to start.
The thing is, this type of climax has a major pitfall in flash fiction because authors seldom know where to put the final punctuation mark. Most of the time, they are afraid of writing too much, and thus diluting the impact of their climax (not to mention going over the word limit). So instead, they clip the story off right at the apex. BOOM. The End. Consider the following line:
“Good thing he chambered a single live round with all those treacherous blanks.”
Not bad, huh? But if it was the last line you read after going on a literary journey (no matter how short), it would leave you with a raised eyebrow, like seeing a magician disappearing in a cloud of smoke. It’s a great one-liner, but it leaves the reader feeling a bit cheated. Compare that with the following:
“Good thing he chambered a single live round with all those treacherous blanks.
As he squeezed the trigger, he couldn’t help noticing a pair of red squirrels flitting around in the trees over Sam’s shoulder.”
Take a second to really dissect the structure. In the first example, the fact that there was a live round in the chamber is the huge reveal. It really doesn’t matter what else the story is about. The lethal bullet is the punch line. In the second example, the line about the squirrels could be significant, or not. It could reveal some minor foreshadowing earlier in the story, it could reinforce a theme, or it could be completely ambiguous. It really doesn’t matter, because its job is to give us a half second to digest the climax without taking away from it.
In some ways, this final line may actually be more important than the climax because it gives us a chance to appreciate the big reveal before turning the page. And more importantly, it actually enhances the climax by giving us a poignant scene to weigh it against.
Striking that balance between, “Gotcha!” and, “Blah, blah, blah,” can be a challenging one. Just remember, flash fiction is founded on this principle: give the reader everything they need, and not a word more. It takes practice and patience, but we’re writers. If it were easy, everyone would do it.
AUTHOR BIO: Andrew Winch, Splickety’s executive editor, writes backyard adventures with an otherworldly twist. Check out his weekly adventures at raisingsupergirl.com, follow him on Twitter @andrewjwinch, and like him on facebook.com/andrewjameswinch.
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Andrew, Thank you for enlightening me on this issue. I love your example, especially the squirrel reference, I have ADHD so I would notice the furry critters. We appreciate Splickety and your vast wealth of knowledge. I look forward to reading more.