Notes On Writing The Very Short Story

Subsoil (short story)

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There are several ways to describe the flash fiction story: as a short drama, as a significant event given a resolution and as a complete short story contained within a few hundred words.

Because flash fiction is so short, much of the story must be implied; and this means that the writer of the very short story must put the right words in the right order so that the reader’s imagination completes what is only implied.

It is this inclusion of the reader in the creative process, to a much greater degree than in any other genre of fiction, that is the real beauty of flash fiction.

When flash fiction is good enough, it is art.

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The Short Story As Theater Of The Mind

The Oxford Book of English Short Stories

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There is no doubt that a well-written short story is a small drama; what we writers have to constantly be aware of when we create our small dramas is that drama does not take place on a page or on a computer screen.  Words are just symbols.  They can represent things that we can see, hear, taste, touch, smell or things that we cannot know with our senses like feelings, emotions and thoughts.

You cannot see a thought.  However, you can see the expression on the face of a person that the thought is the parent to.

What is important to remember is that our short stories take place in the imagination of the reader.  In other words, the reader completes the act of creation.

This fact has important implications for the writer of the short story.  Give the reader just enough and not a bit more; the reader does not want to be spoon fed the story.  Because he or she wants to have some fun, too.  The reader wants to help you finish the story.

Try not to over write your story.  Just provide the dots and the reader will connect them. 

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Fiction: The Label by Vivien Jones

Photograph of Brittania statue, taken 13th Jun...

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It was the most beautiful t-shirt. White, light and sleek. Perfect cut. Ashley twirled in front of the mirror, loving herself from every angle. It was so cool. She grinned at the assistant. 

‘Go on then, where is it ?’ 

The girl tried to look interested but it was 4.00 pm on a Saturday. 

‘Where is what?’ she asked. 

‘The label.’ Ashley spoke in her isn’t-it-obvious voice. 

The assistant shrugged. She came close to Ashley and ran her fingers along the hems and seams of the t-shirt. 

‘There isn’t one.’ She concluded.  

It was Ashley’s turn to be puzzled. This was a designer outlet, not just a shop. Of course there was a label. Unless…….. 

‘Not having a label – wow!’ 

This could be the start of something. She could be a trend-setter, first with the newest thing.  The ultimate in cool. Wasn’t there some cigarette adverts ages ago that never said the name of the cigarette ?  She looked in the mirror again. It looked just as good but something was bugging her. 

Just how would her friends know without a label?  What if they thought it was only High Street?  Ashley blanched in fear.  

No sale.

The End

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Vivien Jones lives on the North Solway shore in Scotland where she writes poetry, short fiction and drama pieces for performance, often in collaboration with the early music group she plays with  www.thegallowayconsort.co.uk  She has been widely published in each of these genres in the UK and is a regular reader at literary events.

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