Trying My Hand at Flash Fiction

I started a story a while back that rapidly turned into just a rambling heap and didn't really go anywhere. Inspired by this story I decided to see if I could edit my own story down to less than 800 words and still tell something of a story. Of course I've written less than 800 words many times for marketing copy or web copy or magazine articles, but flash fiction is new to me. And, it's fantasy, so the challenge of some amount of world building was there, too. Tricky, but a good challenge.

So, for your perusal and consideration, I give you "Jovari's Wells." Please let me know what you think!

_____________

Kamari glared at the sky and cursed the sun. Tausiq stood before a line of men waiting to see the Prophet. “Tasi,” Kamari said. “Lend me your waterskin.”

“Empty.”

Kamari wiped her brow. Scarred arms, tired eyes, disheveled headdresses – a line of duplicate women stood before her, stretching away from the temple and into the hopelessness of Jovari’s Wells. The wells had dried up centuries before, but the city smelled of theatrical determination to survive. Cisterned water was rationed; only those who had taken their place in the Tapestry could drink it. Scarce food, scarcer hope – the the lines grew longer every day, the scars got deeper, the Rapture more sought-after. To reject the Prophet was to reject the will of the AllGod; to reject the AllGod was to reject food, water, life.

To reject the AllGod meant exile to the Wastes.

The Willers lived out there – those who lived by choice. Those who refused to submit to the Prophet – who deemed death in the elements better than death by destiny.

Kamari shuddered. And hoped.

Temple doors opened and closed; brief coolness washed over Kamari. A man took his parchment to Tausiq. “The Prophet has spoken,” Tausiq said. He signed the parchment. “Go take your place in the Tapestry.”

Kamari signaled to next woman. “You seek guidance?”

The woman held out an arm. Scars ranged from faintly visible to silver and raised to barely healed. Kamari picked up her small knife with its bone hilt. “May the AllGod give you guidance through his Prophet,” she intoned. “May you join the others in the Tapestry.” She took the woman’s arm and found rare unmarred skin; blood dripped into a ceremonial bowl from the fresh cut and formed a small pool. She placed a clean cloth on the woman’s arm and gave her the bowl. “Go in peace.” The woman entered the temple.

Kamari’s head ached under the heavy headdress. “Tasi, I’m going to get water.”

He threw her his waterskin. “Fill mine, too.”

She entered the temple and closed her eyes, the marbled floors giving sweet relief from the heat. She tired of looking at the mosaics that told the stories of the AllGod and his Prophets. She just needed water.

Kamari filled both waterskins with fresh, clear water from the temple fountain. She splashed some on her face and wiped it with the fabric that trailed from her headdress before she returned to the heat. “Here. Next time you can fill them both.”

“I thought you’d want the break from the heat.”

“I’m not your serving girl.”

Chosen by the Prophet as Gatekeepers, bonded by ancient ritual when they were toddlers, Tausiq and Kamari weren’t brother and sister, but as good as. A serving woman cared for their physical needs even as the Prophet’s priests taught them spiritual matters. The Prophet himself remained secluded.

The temple door opened and the woman she had given entry emerged with a look of vapid peace. “The Rapture,” they called it. “Parchment,” Kamari prompted.

“What? Yes.” She handed Kamari the parchment. Blood trickled down her arm. “A Weaver. I’m to be a Weaver.”

Kamari looked at the woman’s hands – thick, calloused, meaty hands. “Are you certain?”

“I felt the Rapture.”

Kamari looked at the woman’s arms. “You’ve seen the Prophet before. Have you never felt the Rapture?”

“I feel it every time.” Enthusiasm tinged her voice.

“But you keep coming back to seek a new place.”

Doubt flickered. “What?”

Kamari signed the parchment. “Go. Take your place in the Tapestry.”

The woman’s look of bliss returned; she took her parchment and walked away back into the city.

Tausiq watched the exchange as he let another man into the temple. He motioned Kamari to his side. “What were you doing?”

“What?”

“Why did you question her Revelation?”

“Her arms – she’s been here before.” She lowered her voice. “Don’t you ever wonder? Or think –”

“Don’t start that, Kamari. It’s the way the AllGod made it. Just sign the papers.”

“But –”

“No. You’re talking like one of the Willers. I won’t hear it.”

The Willers. She looked out across the Wastes. Distant mountains beckoned with desolate, raw hope – something that only seeded Kamari’s breast in the darkest hour, in the private coolness of her cot in the temple bedroom she shared with Tausiq.

But my place is chosen. Kamari returned to her station.

A man opened the temple door. “Go, take your place in the Tapestry,” Tausiq intoned. The man walked away, blood trickling toward his ankle from a fresh wound.

The next face, the next scarred arm. Kamari looked up. “You seek guidance?”

Happy Endings


The wonderful Sarah Lapolla asked a question this week that got me thinking about endings... She asked if a book can be great literature if it has a happy ending. (She also broke up with vampires last week; for this, she has my eternal devotion and gratitude.)

I think it's a little too complicated to classify any ending of any story as "happy" or "sad." More important, I think, is whether the ending flowed naturally from the story and the characters. I'd rather ask, "was the ending satisfying?" To me, that's far more important.

Sarah over at Smart Bitches, Trashy Books blogged about the "happy for now" ending. I love what she says about real life - no one gets to "wallow in the warm mud of happiness without any extra effort." Life is messy, complicated, unsatisfying, and confusing most of the time. Happiness has to walk alongside all of that other stuff.

My novel has a "happy for now" ending for the protagonist, but not so much for his love interest. He chooses her, but she distrusts him because of his previous choices. The next book will focus on her and her choices more. Will she choose him amidst the chaos and fear of a coming war? Hm... Wait and see...

What do you think? What are some of your favorite satisfying endings in literature? Do you like the "happy for now" ending or the happy ending or the sad ending?

I Just Had the Weirdest Sensation....

....Like maybe I might be writing stuff that's good enough for other people to read.

Huh.

So this is confidence, eh? It's kind of.... I dunno.... Ookie.

I read an excerpt from a new book that is going to be released shortly by Tor. I won't say the author's name or the title of the book, but this is a previously published, fairly successful author. My reaction to the excerpt? "Eh, it's okay." Not "OMG I HAVE TO READ THIS BOOK THE DAY IT COMES OUT!!!!" Not, "I wouldn't read this book in a million years." Just -- well, ambivalence. The writing is fine. The plot is no dumber than my own -- which is reasonably dumb at face value. The author uses a lot of dialogue, and so do I, so that didn't turn me off. I just wasn't blown away by it.

Here's what I took from that: "If this writing is getting published -- if this is good enough to make a successful author -- then MY writing is good enough."

This is my happy thought for the day. I'm going to revisit my old cheerleading habits and follow in Jessica's footsteps now: "I love my CHARACTERS! I love my DIALOGUE! I love my whole BOOK! My whole book is GREAT! I can publish ANYTHING."

Whew. That should carry me through the weekend. Have a great one, y'all.

Why do You Keep Turning Pages?

I've been thinking a lot lately about what makes a story really compelling -- what makes a story capture a reader, draw the reader in, and leave the reader simultaneously satisfied and wanting more. And as I've considered this idea, I've thought about some of the books that have really impacted my experiences as a reader and some that I know have impacted others. Here's what I've decided: You have to give the reader enough, but not too much.

What the heck?

I think you have to give the reader enough of a start that he or she takes what you've given and runs with it, creating a visual image of the protagonists and the antagonists, imagining the scenes and the conflict, and hearing the dialogue in his/her own head. You have to give enough direction that it plays out ALMOST like a movie in the reader's mind.

Rob Parnell suggests it's about questions -- posing questions in the story so that the reader must keep going to get the questions answered. A refreshing reader's perspective on what makes her keep turning pages is offered by Laura Miller of Salon.com.

What about you? What are some of the most compelling novels you've ever read? Why were they compelling?

Who's on First? Or Third?

A recent comment from a writer friend on my Facebook page got me wondering: As a reader and/or a writer, which do you prefer -- first person or third person narration?

I confess: I don't like first person as a reader or a writer. My basic issue with first person as a reader is a trust gap -- when I read in the first person, my trust radar automatically goes on and I wonder if the person is telling me the truth. I realize this may say more about my own personal trust issues than about first person narration, but I think that there is a link. Narration from the first person POV should engender trust with the reader, and a lot of things can really wreak havoc with that trust. If the first person's voice is inconsistent or unauthentic, trust issues crop up.

As for writing in first person, I have a very simple reason for not wanting to do it: My characters whine too much. I hate whiners. I certainly don't want to create them.

Tara Harper gives a good overview of both forms. Stuart Evers of "The Guardian" discussed the problems with first person narration back in 2008. And just so you don't think I'm playing favorites, read Bill Bowler discuss the pitfalls of third person narration.

What about you? Do you prefer first person or third person narration -- in your reading or your writing? Why? What do you like/dislike about either form?

Characters are Like Onions... Or Parfaits...

I have this great friend who is like an onion. I'm pretty sure I thought of her as an onion even before Shrek told Donkey that ogres are like onions. Every time we get together, a new layer of her personality or past reveals itself through conversation. Bear in mind that this is a friend I've known for over 20 years, and still I'm discovering her backstory.

I'm discovering the importance of backstory in my writing. When I started writing this novel, I had a vague picture in my head -- a few images, one character, a little bit of a world. The first draft was shallow, thin, watery. I went back and did some character sketches, delved deeper into the world and wrote more of its history, and discovered something really interesting: The person I thought was the main character was, in fact, more of a catalyst character. While she's vital to the plot, she's actually the person who acts and is acted upon to change the main character.

I wrote more. I studied the main character. I picked my husband's brain and tried to figure out what makes a guy tick (I don't think I've got that figured out yet). As I wrote, I discovered that the hero's story was an internal struggle more than an external struggle. There are external forces influencing him, and he has a task/quest that must be completed, but the real story is about him overcoming his own prejudices, assumptions, baggage, and emotional/intellectual/spiritual/physical blockages that prevent him from embracing who he really is. At least I hope that's what I'm conveying.

I've gone back now and written pretty much the whole life story of my main character from the time his parents met to the time he finally left home for good at the age of 20 or so. He's had a lot of crap thrown at him. When he talked about it in the novel, I didn't realize the depth of emotion he had. When I wrote it as backstory, interesting emotions and reactions and details emerged. He's more of a person now. For the good, I think.

I also found it interesting that when I wrote his backstory, I alternated between his mother's POV and his POV and included scenes with other minor characters who might crop up now and then in the book series (note my optimism). As they all talked, I uncovered details that I can use when refining the novel to make the plot thicker and juicier.

The intriguing thing is that I've discovered the girl I thought was my main character really didn't have much backstory. It was easily summed up in a few paragraphs simply because she had such a sheltered upbringing and was still fairly young when the story started. Now, because of her experiences in this novel, she has more of a story to tell. Book two belongs to her; the blank page she was when book one began has been written now, and book two will tell how she grows and changes and makes choices that drive her to where she needs to be.

So, when all is said and done, I will have probably close to 50,000 more words of backstory about my main character. What will I do with it all? I don't know. I might use some of it to help build my platform -- publish snippets online or use it as teasers to get people interested in my story. I might use some of it within the novel in "flashback" form (even though I HATE flashbacks). Mainly, it's been a remarkable exercise in uncovering the layers of this character.

Linda Rohrbough discusses the importance of backstory in this article, and K. M. Weiland shows how to work the art of iceberging.

What about your characters? What are they not saying that you need to hear?