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Writing Wednesday: Flash Fiction and The Word Wood

March 20th, 2013

It’s that time again, Writing Wednesday here on the blog! This week I’m going to talk a little bit about flash fiction. My own personal experience with flash fiction is pretty limited. It’s something I’ve only recently started reading on a regular basis and I’ve rarely attempted to write it. I’m not an expert but I know someone who gives top notch advice about flash fiction and I’ll talk about her a little later.

For someone who wants to try something new, or someone who is looking to try out writing, I think flash fiction can be a wonderful tool. For a beginner, I think this can create some great habits for description. When your story needs to be five hundred words or less, every description matters, every piece of dialogue matters. In truth, every single word matters and they should all be chosen carefully.

I came to the conclusion that, in my opinion, flash fiction and poetry are really kindred spirits. I began studying poetry in college because my fiction professor thought it would help me hone my descriptions. It worked, my imagery become stronger and tighter because of studying poetry. I think writing flash fiction can exercise some of those same muscles. You need to get right at the heart of the tension, the center of the scene, and the pacing needs to be just right.

If you’re interested in flash fiction, The Word Wood is a great place to check out. The site has some great writers with wonderful stories. The stories are short in word count, but not in scope and depth. With multiple writers working in multiple genres, there’s something on the website for everyone to enjoy. Who knows, one of the stories might even inspire you to write something of your own.

If you’re interested in learning how to write flash fiction, I’ll direct to my friend R² Writes. You can find her first post on the subject here, and her second one here. She’s also one of the writers for The Word Wood, so you can check out her writing and see some of her advice in action. If you end up having questions about the subject, feel free to contact her over on her blog. She’s always happy to talk about writing and flash fiction is something she’s incredibly familiar with.

Now it’s your turn! Do you write flash fiction? Are you interested in trying it out? What techniques do you use in your own writing to keep phrases and descriptions concise?

Writing Wednesday: Giving Feedback

March 6th, 2013

Hi, everyone! It’s Writing Wednesday here on the blog again! Today I’m talking about critiques, the importance of giving thoughtful feedback, and how to handle the work of others. As always, these are just my thoughts. I know that this subject can turn into a heated debate. I’m not saying my way is the only way, or the best way, it’s just the one that works for me.

Over the years, people have told me that my feedback is often thoughtful and insightful. In truth, I don’t really know that my feedback truly deserves the praise it gets. I tend to say what I think and everything I say is in the interest of making the piece better. To me, it’s always been a simple goal. Recently, someone (let’s call them Vinny Von Varlow) asked me to give them advice about looking at the work of others. The people around Vinny Von Varlow didn’t seem to value, or react well to, the feedback given to them. So Vinny came to me with the hope of sharpening his skills.

This request made me think about what qualifies as good feedback. I needed to think about what I was doing, consciously or unconsciously, that made people respond well to my advice. I also thought about advice I had received in the past, what advice I liked and didn’t like. What made me listen and what made me dismissive.

The first thing to keep in mind is that the person came to you for advice on their story. One of the most common errors I see in workshops comes from a disconnect between the advice giver and the person receiving advice, the writer. The advice giver should always try to remember that they’re helping the writer mold a story. Think of it like clay. The writer has handed you their clay and said, “I’m trying to make a komodo dragon.” The person giving feedback should then proceed to give advice on how to make the clay look more like a komodo dragon. It’s rarely appreciated when the feedback is, “komodo dragons blow, make a duck.”

To give thoughtful feedback, you need to try and see what the writer is going for and help them accomplish it. Pinch the clay here, reshape it there, and say, “if we added some more clay to this spot, it might look better.” Sometimes it’s hard to do this, I know. We start reading someone’s piece and think… there’s so much potential with this idea. Get rid of these characters, add a few over here, and really, the plot should revolve around this person rather than that person. Do all of that and you know what you have? A completely different story. A different story created by someone other than the writer.

There are exceptions to this rule. One time a friend came to me looking to brain storm new ideas and directions for a character. He wanted to make major sweeping changes to the plot arcs and characters. We had a lot of fun with it. However, when someone doesn’t ask you to do that and you take it upon yourself to demand major changes to plot, lore, and characters, it probably won’t be appreciated. In truth, it’s a very simple idea. When you give advice, make sure you’re helping the writer tell the story they want to tell. If you move away from that and begin telling the writer to write the story you want to tell, of the one you want to see them tell, you’ve missed the mark.

Also, in my experience, overwhelmingly negative feedback doesn’t really help anyone. One of my professors would make a checklist for himself. Essentially, it was a checklist of the most important writing elements that need to be present in every story. So I’m talking about things like a coherent structure, developed characters, and so on. When he came to three major issues in a story, he would stop there and focus on those three issues. He would educate the person on how to improve in those areas. He would then mention that there are some other problems, but note that fixing these three large problems needed to come before anything else. This created two feelings, a sense of priority because these things need to be fixed first, and a sense of hope because the story hasn’t been torn apart at every level.

I’ve heard a few arguments about feedback and I don’t mind saying where I stand. Some people believe that writing workshops should be vicious camps where everyone gets torn to shreds and people are forced to tears. Others have told me that they believe students and writers can benefit just as much from only getting positive feedback. I think they’re both extreme. So here’s what I believe. When someone does something write (and they usually do something right), praise it. Tell them it works, tell them it’s good, tell them it’s the strongest part of their writing. When something needs to be improved, point it out. However, don’t just point at it, explain how it can be done better.

This is crucial, don’t just announce that what they’ve done is wrong, tell them how they can do it better. If I point at a character and say, “that character is flat,” why should the writer listen to me? On the other hand, if I say, “this character seems flat. I would like to see more tension and conflict from the relationship she has with her husband. Her kids are driving her crazy but her husband doesn’t help, does this make her think back on the dynamics of her parents and the house she grew up in?” That’s decent, or at least it’s a start. A writer can grab onto that and think about what will make their character better instead of focusing on the negative aspect of the comment.

Vinny Von Varlow had made some of the larger missteps that I mentioned. I’m happy to say that since making some adjustment to his methods, his partners react better to his feedback. This is great for everyone. He feels useful, the working relationship is mended, and his partners will probably spend more time giving him thoughtful feedback in the future. Like I said, this is what works for me. I’ve seen it work for a few other people as well, but that doesn’t mean it’s the only, or best, way.

Now it’s your turn! What does thoughtful feedback mean to you? When you receive feedback, what makes your listen and what makes you dismissive?

WRITING WEDNESDAY: USING PERSONAL EXPERIENCE

February 20th, 2013

Hi, everyone! It’s Writing Wednesday again and this week I’m writing about using personal experience in your stories. I decided to talk about this because it’s something I struggle with. I’ve tried many times and I haven’t really had much success with it. This is one of the reasons that I tend to stay away from writing non-fiction about my own personal experiences. Actually, it’s part of why I was hesitant to start a blog.

Right now, I’m working on a novel that requires me to dig deep into my own life. It’s fiction but I’m drawing a lot from my life. Certain people, places, and situations are inspired by things I was involved in or witnessed a few years ago. However, the story as a whole is fiction and I’ll label it as such. The title of fiction allows me to take creative license with dialogue and situations.

My difficulty with pulling from personal experience usually comes from being too close to the subject matter. Being too close to the subject matter can go in a lot of directions, so today I think I’ll focus on writing about a relationship or friendship. This is what I’m pulling from right now so I can discuss some of the challenges I’ve faced.

The difficulty with writing about something like a relationship is creating tension that brings in the reader. A common mistake when beginning to write a non-fiction piece (or pulling from personal experience for fiction) is something I’ll call “assumed importance.” The subject is important. Why? Because it happened to you. Well, that’s great but it needs to be important to the reader as well. The significance of this moment, day, month, or year needs to be shared with the reader in a way they can make their own.

I’ve worked through this issue a few different ways. The most useful technique has been to write out a whole scene or argument that I can remember. Then I let it sit for a day. When I come back, I put on my fiction glasses (they have googley eye lenses, a miner’s light, and horned, glittered, brimstone rims) and I alter things. I add things to make a point clearer but mostly I cut things. I cut the uninteresting things people tend to say but keep the stuff that sounds natural, as well as interesting. If this is near the beginning of a story, or introducing a new character, I then write down why it’s important. Not why it was important to me, but why it’s important to the narrative as a whole. Then I try to work that in near the beginning as well as I can.

To be honest, working in personal experience, especially relationship troubles with family, friends, or a significant other, takes a lot of work. It can be harder than just making it up because there’s personal attachment. Everything feels important but, in truth, not everything is important. Why do it? Well, I’ve seen people produce some really potent writing when bringing in personal experience. If you can distance yourself from the subject and treat it like a story, you’ll find that you can do the same thing.

By the way, if you’re in a fiction workshop but secretly write a non-fiction story, brace yourself for a difficult workshop. In non-fiction workshops, I’ve encountered a strong sense of respect among writers and certain subject matter. It’s non-fiction, we’re all aware that the things mentioned usually happened near the people writing about it. If you disguise your non-fiction as fiction, people won’t react the same way in a fiction workshop because they assume you’re making it all up. So, for example, if you’re writing about a relative that passed away, your classmates won’t hesitate to tell you that the character may not be relatable or likable. They’re not doing this to be mean (I hope), they’re doing it because they assume the story fiction. I’ve seen this, and things like this, happen many times over the years. It’s always heartbreaking to see someone break down over a situation like that. So that’s my warning, since I’m already talking about personal experience, fiction, and non-fiction.

Also, I should mention something else near the end here. We all drop in personal experience from our lives. Whether it’s internal struggle over doing the right thing, or a fight with a significant other, these things have a way of coming out. What I’ve written today is just about trying to consciously work in large chunks of personal experience into your writing.

Now it’s your turn, do you work personal experience into your own writing? What challenges have you encountered and what techniques do you use to overcome difficulties?

Writing Wednesday: Establishing Characters

February 13th, 2013

Last month I wrote about reader expectations and how failing to meet such expectations can result in the loss of a reader. Right now, I want to talk about how to establish a character quickly within your own writing. Introducing a character and trying to convey something meaningful about can be a tough balancing act sometimes.

When you describe someone, maybe a friend or character, you probably strive to say the most with as few words as possible. If you’re writing a novel, short story, poem, etc., this is very true.

During residency I was asked about one of my former professors from undergrad. I had mentioned that, while he didn’t know anything about fantasy, he taught a few genre writers and genuinely helped them. Well, this prodded someone to ask what I meant by “he didn’t know anything about fantasy.” A fair question, so I told her…

He’s a great writer, his readings are amazing, and he has a gift when it comes to teaching. However, when I mentioned the word “werewolf,” his only point of reference was Teen Wolf with Michael J. Fox. When I mentioned “elves,” his only point of reference was Keebler.

Not only did I make my point pretty clearly but what I said was absolutely true. When I use that description, I’m usually making the point that someone can help a beginner with their writing, even if they lack knowledge of the genre. It’s always meant as a complimentary statement because he’s an incredible professor and friend.

My example was to establish the person with a specific purpose. When first introducing a character, you want to portray a dominant feature about them. You want the reader to feel like they know something about the character other than just physical traits. Let’s take a look at an example from John Cheever’s story, The Swimmer.

“He was a slender man— he seemed to have the especial slenderness of youth— and while he was far from young he had slid down his banister that morning and given the bronze backside of Aphrodite on the hall table a smack, as he jogged toward the smell of coffee in his dining room.”

So this guy, an older man, slender, slides down a banister and slaps the backside of a statue. To me, it says that while he’s not young, he has a young and potentially immature personality. He’s also jogging in the morning, so he’s probably a morning person. The reader knows that this man, young or not, has a lot of energy. All of this is done while creating an image for the reader to enjoy. We can see the man doing this while simultaneously picking up on what it says about his character.

Sometimes, I like to think of type of introduction as answering two questions. What do you want to convey about the character? How can the character interact with immediate surroundings so deliver that message? This isn’t the only way to introduce a character but this is one useful way to think about it. This method is extremely useful for minor characters because the reader spends less time with them. Therefore, you as an author have less time to establish who they are, what they want, and why the reader should pay attention to them.

So now it’s your turn, what kind of introductions do you like to read or write? What other elements can an introduction employ to be impactful? Can you think of any memorable character introductions in stories you’ve read?

While this isn’t an official citation, I do like to give sources for things I use on the blog.

Cheever, John (2010-07-23). The Stories of John Cheever (Kindle Locations 12280-12281). Random House, Inc.. Kindle Edition.

WRITING WEDNESDAY: A RIFT AMONG WRITERS!

January 30th, 2013

Hey, everyone, it’s Writing Wednesday again! This week won’t be talking about writing advice. Instead, I want to focus on something I’ve heard a lot about lately. During my residency at SHU, the topic of literary vs. genre fiction came up pretty often. However, the focus wasn’t on what people enjoyed reading. The focus was on how genre writers have been treated in various academic settings. Other students brought up this issue everyday while I was there and I quickly realized that my own experience didn’t match the majority.

If you’re taking part in Seton Hill’s MFA program, you probably came from a school where you received (at least) an undergraduate degree. If you’re like me, your undergraduate experience was probably where you experienced some of your first writing workshops. Now, I know this isn’t true for all SHU students but that was my experience. I enrolled in seventeen writing workshops during my undergraduate career. My background covers fiction, poetry, non-fiction, and screenplay writing, pretty much in that order. When you go to graduate school, you bring your own set of experiences. This doesn’t just mean how many workshops you’ve taken or what your degree is in, but also how your work has been received in the past.

My undergraduate school, Stetson University, was a great place to write. Their creative writing program was relatively small but I never felt boxed in because the professors were incredibly open-minded about writing. I felt encouraged to write literary fiction as well as genre fiction. Their goal focused on writing well, not writing to a specific audience.

Various students shared their experiences with me and I was shocked by what I heard. Apparently, a lot of undergraduate professors won’t even accept genre work. They won’t teach it, they won’t accept it, and they try to stamp it out wherever it appears. Maybe you’ve had a similar experience. There’s a pretty big problem with this approach. I’m in a program full of genre writers. I’m in a program with people who have been published and people who will be published in the future. Well, genre writers who feel slighted by their former literary professors may carry those feeling over to literary writers in general. These feelings (on both sides) create an unnecessary rift in the writing community.

My own experience was very different. I wrote what I wanted to, when I wanted to, and everything was received equally. I’m still friends with literary writers and I have nothing bad to say about my undergraduate professors or their creative writing department. A woman in one of my undergraduate workshops went on to get a three book deal shortly after graduation. She wrote, and still writes, genre fiction. Other students in the class went on to publish literary short stories. They had the same peers, the same professors, and the same encouragement from people in the department.

Let’s take a quick look at Cormac McCarthy’s The Road. In short, this is a story about a man and his child trying to survive in a post-apocalyptic setting. Now, I love The Road and spent quite a bit of time studying it for a research paper. During my research I came across various critics arguing about whether or not The Road is genre fiction. Well, it’s post-apocalyptic and that sounds a lot like science fiction to me and other seemed to think so as well. However, many critics claimed that there was a lack of other science fiction elements. They also argued that the writing style belonged to literary fiction. Everyone is right. The Road is literary science fiction and I think it’s an absolutely great piece of writing. Obviously, I’m not the only one.

The simple truth is that genre fiction and literary fiction aren’t going anywhere. Creating animosity, holding onto animosity, and poking each other with sticks won’t actually accomplish anything. If someone keeps a talented writer out of their classroom, they’ve only succeeded in telling me that they like to put personal preference above creative productivity. Let’s not do that. Instead, let’s write, write well, and give each other a pat on the back when we accomplish that goal.