(I'm not a big fan of the term "flash fiction." You'll have to forgive me.)
In his 'short story club' on substack, George Saunders did a whole commentary and exercise on what makes a short short. Indeed, on what makes a story a story.
Here is the story club piece, "They're short, they're cool, how might I write one?," although it is paywalled.
This passage in George's essay struck me as particularly insightful and helpful:
"The end result of such a quick story, if it works, is to produce a moment of surprising magic/mystery/clarity. In the second after reading, one feels that pleasantly stunned feeling, as if, yes, some coherent and original notion has just been passed on, but we can’t say, exactly, what that notion was - it’s irreducible, and that’s why the piece exists: to remind us of that one small, real thing in the world that we might never have noticed before but that is, at some level, familiar to us - it gestures at something regarding our lived experience."
Not every short can or must do this, but it sure is wonderful when they do.
Sometimes there are memories that live in the soul. They remain suspended there, hanging in silence, darkening around us long before we are able to understand them. They feel like an endless ocean into which we keep sinking.
Brock, this is excellent! So much to like in here, the underlying theme in the story and prose. I’m a massive fan of the concept you’ve addressed here, how and why stories change. Wonderful example of what flash fiction can be. Appreciate you sharing it here.
Matt—I can’t tell you what this means to me. You were one of the readers I had hoped would read this story. Really getting down to the end of my novel—sanding down all the edges, adding all those intricate character details—I hope you stick around for what’s coming with my Fiction going forward.
Once more, this response means a lot. Thank you, Matt.
I always like when you can feel something coming but you’re not sure what. The feeling of being held (down) against your will is right there in the opening, she wouldn’t wait for anyone to ask, she’d just tell it. So when we get to that, it’s not completely out of the blue.
this is masterful. hats off!
Haunting as hell. This was a great read, incredible compression.
Thank you, Dawyn. Exactly the intended effect. I’m so glad it seems to have come together.
Damn. Big impact in a few words this.
Thank you very much for reading, and for this comment, Josh.
Big surprise at the end
I found this short short by Kafka to be utterly fascinating.
https://flashfictiononline.com/articles/give-it-up/
(I'm not a big fan of the term "flash fiction." You'll have to forgive me.)
In his 'short story club' on substack, George Saunders did a whole commentary and exercise on what makes a short short. Indeed, on what makes a story a story.
Here is the story club piece, "They're short, they're cool, how might I write one?," although it is paywalled.
https://georgesaunders.substack.com/p/theyre-short-theyre-cool-how-might
This passage in George's essay struck me as particularly insightful and helpful:
"The end result of such a quick story, if it works, is to produce a moment of surprising magic/mystery/clarity. In the second after reading, one feels that pleasantly stunned feeling, as if, yes, some coherent and original notion has just been passed on, but we can’t say, exactly, what that notion was - it’s irreducible, and that’s why the piece exists: to remind us of that one small, real thing in the world that we might never have noticed before but that is, at some level, familiar to us - it gestures at something regarding our lived experience."
Not every short can or must do this, but it sure is wonderful when they do.
Damn dude. I was not expecting that turn at the end. I felt it in my gut.
Great job.
Thank you, friend. Sincerely. Always greatful to have you reading.
heavy stuff!!
Heavy is my wheelhouse, Cattanach! Thanks for reading man.
always here for it, brother man!
Sometimes there are memories that live in the soul. They remain suspended there, hanging in silence, darkening around us long before we are able to understand them. They feel like an endless ocean into which we keep sinking.
Wow. Tight and powerful.
Thank you Stephanie. These responses are so encouraging.
Wow. Is this real Brock? It feels real.
It’s a metaphor, perhaps. I don’t want to say more than that.
Ok
It’s real human writing, of course! (If that’s what you meant)!
It is really good writing. Completely pulled in.
Clever and dark!
“Clever and dark” . . .
I’ll certainly take that. Very kind of you to drop in, Larisa. Thank you for reading.
Great work!
Oh my goodness
Brock, this is excellent! So much to like in here, the underlying theme in the story and prose. I’m a massive fan of the concept you’ve addressed here, how and why stories change. Wonderful example of what flash fiction can be. Appreciate you sharing it here.
Matt—I can’t tell you what this means to me. You were one of the readers I had hoped would read this story. Really getting down to the end of my novel—sanding down all the edges, adding all those intricate character details—I hope you stick around for what’s coming with my Fiction going forward.
Once more, this response means a lot. Thank you, Matt.
I always like when you can feel something coming but you’re not sure what. The feeling of being held (down) against your will is right there in the opening, she wouldn’t wait for anyone to ask, she’d just tell it. So when we get to that, it’s not completely out of the blue.