The structure of Mother-Mother Wasp Mother reminds me of a lesson we did in a course I took at Writers Studio NY. We copied the technique of a particular story who also used repetition in its phrasing. I enjoyed trying that out in a short story I wrote, however I did receive some recent feedback from an editor that the repetition used took them out of the story a bit. It’s all subjective, of course, but I find it an interesting way to add emphasis.
I'm a poet who has been thinking and wondering about Flash and I started a little late on this course, but I'll catch up. This first exposure was great!
'Cost of Admission' was the flash that tugged my heart strings. It beautifully sets a scene upon which the reader can project their experience and sentiment. The anticipated carnival is an event to mark the end of one chapter and the beginning of the next, romantically juxtaposing the possibility of violence, unhealthy snacking, crying babies, litter and waiting, with the thrill and longing of so many other experiences left unwritten; sweetness, music, laughter, belonging, community, summer. The transformative power of the ferris wheel looking down on the ocean of trees is a holiday for the senses, and this new perspective allows us to reimagine the space we live and dream in. It got me, oof.
Thanks for the wonderful stories! Reading good examples is a great way to learn in general but it's also a way to narrow in on what makes me tick. Excited for the coming weeks!
I liked how Collective Nouns turn on target as noun. I liked how Wasp used the songs to speak for the absent mother and was structured with the months of the summer. Priest was a new use of the word for me and was in part about the underlying brutality in a smiling face, it made think of the way college administrators have turned so quickly on their students.
Hi Jo and thank you for this course - most of my fiction is shorter, so this is a course that I'm excited about. Quick question - you identify six types of structures - circular, fragmented, woven, repetitious, upside down and inside out. I think I know some of this but am intrigued - an you give a sentence or two defining each? Many thanks - David
I really enjoyed all of them, and I'd like to highlight Kim McGowan's story. I have attempted to write a flash fiction piece about my ex before, but I kept feeling like it needed more context or dialogue and it always ended up feeling long and clunky. McGowan's piece showed me it doesn't have to be that way, and it honestly inspired me to write about it right now! Inspiration was waiting right around the corner for me, it seemed.
Hi Kyrie! I love that piece, too. It's such a revelation to get so much story across in such a tiny chunk of prose. I hope you can delve into your story in a similar way! Later on in the course we're going to be talking a lot about 'writing around the subject' in this way... A very useful technique!
Thanks for joining in. Looking forward to seeing what you come up with. :)
Wow. I know very little about Flash Fiction but I read all of the sample texts and I'm already hooked. I was especially drawn to Mother-Mother, Wasp-Mother. If I wasn't enrolled in a flash fiction workshop I would see this as a lyric essay, or some form of creative nonfiction. Could you help me discern the difference? I'm largely a poet but very interested in stretching my literary wings. ;-)
Isn't it just beautiful? I can't speak for this particular piece but I know there is often a lot of CNF tied up in flash (my own included!) and there's a very grey area between the two. I love the phrase 'lyric essay', that fits perfectly here, for sure.
I suppose the difference in Mother-Mother, Wasp-Mother would be the magical realist element, which spins it into a whole new realm of narrative than a straight non-fiction piece?
And yay for poets joining in with flash! Again, there's so much crossover, I think the two genres/mediums work so wonderfully together. Enjoying on watching you spread your wings!
There is SO much poetry in "Mother-Mother, Wasp Mother" and "Collective Nouns for Humans in the Wild" - as a poet, I love the idea of playing with language like this in a different genre.
I am such a massive fan of Ani King and Kathy Fish! Such distinctive voices in flash. And I'm so glad we have some poets on this workshop - there is SO much language to play with, and I think both approaches (flash and poetry) tap into something a little different in the brain...
I'm not going to talk about Kathy's amazing piece only because it's already been mentioned! I also loved "Cost of Admission" by Cheryl Pappas. To me, the concept (or I guess I'm working on the deeper meaning already) is the lengths we go to in trying to forget our lives are as small as they are: trees clearcut, guns a cock away from shooting, babies crying bloody murder, ant colonies destroyed.
I also noted a circular structure and imagery. There's the shape of the Ferris wheel itself and the story ending on the wheel again. And when the ride ends we’ll be right back where we started. The way Pappas reduces us to popcorn-chewers and sandal-wearers gives kind of a dehumanizing, sci-fi vibe. I really admire writers who can pull off a story like this in one sentence!
Wonderful observations, thank you so much for sharing. I love this story too. So tiny but somehow manages to conjure up all that imagery and secondary meaning. You're so right about the circular shape reflecting the wheel, and the turning of our lives. I always feel like this one has an almost cinematic overhead view, as if we're looking down from high above.
The magic of flash, eh? So many more great stories to share. I hope you stick around and keep sharing your insights!
Hi Jo! After reading the stories, and I like the Collective Nouns the best, I wrote this:
It’s Not Just the Battery
Flash Fiction
By Lori Harvill Moore
I’m stuck. Again. And this time I’m dead stalled in the fast lane, which quickly forms my prison on I-10. I can’t see the walls but I know they are closing in as each car exceeds the speed limit to my left, leaving behind a ghost of a doppler effect. Through my rear-view mirror I watch a big rig slowing behind me, then it barely squeaks around, trying to melt into the flowing traffic like it’s any other day west of Tucson. For a few seconds while the truck stops beside me, I could have reached out of my dirty window and touched that driver’s door. I don’t, though. I remain glued to the Nissan’s seat inside a useless conglomeration of metal and high grade plastic.
“Mom?” My daughter calls from her car seat, and my ears readjust to her tiny voice. My son stays sleeping in his smaller seat. My hands shake in my lap, and I double check that the emergency flashers are working. I can’t tell her that we are safe because I can’t lie. “Start the car, mom,” she says. Now the shaking snakes up my arms and into my neck, beginning an internal earthquake.
“I can’t, sweetie.” I try to tone down the inevitable high pitched staccato sound of my voice. I am not successful. The shaking moves into my chest, igniting a firestorm of anxiety, and down my legs, consuming the rest of the nerves previously untouched. Later I will question the psychological impact of this experience on my children.
“Are you okay, mam?” An officer appears at my window. Will the man in blue save this little clan of a family?
“No, I’m trying to get to Phoenix,” I say. “It won’t start.”
“Is there someone I can call for you before I order a tow truck? Your husband perhaps?”
“He’s the one I’m trying to leave,” I tell the officer.
Really excited about this. Collective Nouns was my favorite (I'd never read it!) because it seemed like both prose and poetry, and because of the unexpected use of some of the nouns.
I signed up for a micro fiction contest in three rounds (ultra-micro: 100 words) called NYC Midnight. The first round was back in April and I'm still waiting for results. The deal is that at midnight they give everyone—everyone meaning 5000 people—a genre, a word and an action. You have 24 hours to turn in a story.
Since I actually wrote two, I'm going to share the one I didn't submit, just for the joy of having people to share it with!
My genre was horror, which I was secretly thrilled about because I've never read or written horror in my life and the whole purpose of entering was to be pushed. I had to use the word "connect" (could be part of a longer word, and someone needed to light a fire. The story I submitted was a gruesome (but true to the original) fairy tale. This one is not gruesome, no trigger warnings needed. Here it is.
When I returned to the entrance, the earthen muscle wouldn’t open.
“Takes a year,” an old voice called.
I whirled, “a what?”
The pensioner shrugged.
For months I tried unsuccessfully. Then I passed time wandering. Through identical neighborhoods, infinite vacant hotels, a thousand doors in disconnected walls. Saw not-quite people, mouths open like fish. Tiny mouths, big faces. Big mouths, tiny faces.
On day 365 I returned, desperate, mad.
“You’re back,” he’d lit a fire and was eating hare. “Hope you didn’t open any doors.”
Thanks. Wonderful post with great info.
The structure of Mother-Mother Wasp Mother reminds me of a lesson we did in a course I took at Writers Studio NY. We copied the technique of a particular story who also used repetition in its phrasing. I enjoyed trying that out in a short story I wrote, however I did receive some recent feedback from an editor that the repetition used took them out of the story a bit. It’s all subjective, of course, but I find it an interesting way to add emphasis.
Thank you! I love them all♥️🙏🦋
I'm a poet who has been thinking and wondering about Flash and I started a little late on this course, but I'll catch up. This first exposure was great!
'Cost of Admission' was the flash that tugged my heart strings. It beautifully sets a scene upon which the reader can project their experience and sentiment. The anticipated carnival is an event to mark the end of one chapter and the beginning of the next, romantically juxtaposing the possibility of violence, unhealthy snacking, crying babies, litter and waiting, with the thrill and longing of so many other experiences left unwritten; sweetness, music, laughter, belonging, community, summer. The transformative power of the ferris wheel looking down on the ocean of trees is a holiday for the senses, and this new perspective allows us to reimagine the space we live and dream in. It got me, oof.
Thanks for the wonderful stories! Reading good examples is a great way to learn in general but it's also a way to narrow in on what makes me tick. Excited for the coming weeks!
I liked how Collective Nouns turn on target as noun. I liked how Wasp used the songs to speak for the absent mother and was structured with the months of the summer. Priest was a new use of the word for me and was in part about the underlying brutality in a smiling face, it made think of the way college administrators have turned so quickly on their students.
Hi Jo and thank you for this course - most of my fiction is shorter, so this is a course that I'm excited about. Quick question - you identify six types of structures - circular, fragmented, woven, repetitious, upside down and inside out. I think I know some of this but am intrigued - an you give a sentence or two defining each? Many thanks - David
I really enjoyed all of them, and I'd like to highlight Kim McGowan's story. I have attempted to write a flash fiction piece about my ex before, but I kept feeling like it needed more context or dialogue and it always ended up feeling long and clunky. McGowan's piece showed me it doesn't have to be that way, and it honestly inspired me to write about it right now! Inspiration was waiting right around the corner for me, it seemed.
Hi Kyrie! I love that piece, too. It's such a revelation to get so much story across in such a tiny chunk of prose. I hope you can delve into your story in a similar way! Later on in the course we're going to be talking a lot about 'writing around the subject' in this way... A very useful technique!
Thanks for joining in. Looking forward to seeing what you come up with. :)
Wow. I know very little about Flash Fiction but I read all of the sample texts and I'm already hooked. I was especially drawn to Mother-Mother, Wasp-Mother. If I wasn't enrolled in a flash fiction workshop I would see this as a lyric essay, or some form of creative nonfiction. Could you help me discern the difference? I'm largely a poet but very interested in stretching my literary wings. ;-)
Yes! I felt the same...and really want to know if it really is a piece of fiction. Such a powerful piece!
Isn't it just beautiful? I can't speak for this particular piece but I know there is often a lot of CNF tied up in flash (my own included!) and there's a very grey area between the two. I love the phrase 'lyric essay', that fits perfectly here, for sure.
I suppose the difference in Mother-Mother, Wasp-Mother would be the magical realist element, which spins it into a whole new realm of narrative than a straight non-fiction piece?
And yay for poets joining in with flash! Again, there's so much crossover, I think the two genres/mediums work so wonderfully together. Enjoying on watching you spread your wings!
Wonderful, thank you. I look forward to playing in this realm. ;-)
There is SO much poetry in "Mother-Mother, Wasp Mother" and "Collective Nouns for Humans in the Wild" - as a poet, I love the idea of playing with language like this in a different genre.
I am such a massive fan of Ani King and Kathy Fish! Such distinctive voices in flash. And I'm so glad we have some poets on this workshop - there is SO much language to play with, and I think both approaches (flash and poetry) tap into something a little different in the brain...
I'm not going to talk about Kathy's amazing piece only because it's already been mentioned! I also loved "Cost of Admission" by Cheryl Pappas. To me, the concept (or I guess I'm working on the deeper meaning already) is the lengths we go to in trying to forget our lives are as small as they are: trees clearcut, guns a cock away from shooting, babies crying bloody murder, ant colonies destroyed.
I also noted a circular structure and imagery. There's the shape of the Ferris wheel itself and the story ending on the wheel again. And when the ride ends we’ll be right back where we started. The way Pappas reduces us to popcorn-chewers and sandal-wearers gives kind of a dehumanizing, sci-fi vibe. I really admire writers who can pull off a story like this in one sentence!
Wonderful observations, thank you so much for sharing. I love this story too. So tiny but somehow manages to conjure up all that imagery and secondary meaning. You're so right about the circular shape reflecting the wheel, and the turning of our lives. I always feel like this one has an almost cinematic overhead view, as if we're looking down from high above.
The magic of flash, eh? So many more great stories to share. I hope you stick around and keep sharing your insights!
Mother-Mother Wasp-Mother was my favorite for its beautiful rhythm and slow unfolding of the disaster of abandonment. Heartrending.
It's so gorgeous. And YES that rhythm and gradual growing dread... And the ominous background hum of wasps. Gives me shivers!
Yup me too, right at the top for me
Hi Jo! After reading the stories, and I like the Collective Nouns the best, I wrote this:
It’s Not Just the Battery
Flash Fiction
By Lori Harvill Moore
I’m stuck. Again. And this time I’m dead stalled in the fast lane, which quickly forms my prison on I-10. I can’t see the walls but I know they are closing in as each car exceeds the speed limit to my left, leaving behind a ghost of a doppler effect. Through my rear-view mirror I watch a big rig slowing behind me, then it barely squeaks around, trying to melt into the flowing traffic like it’s any other day west of Tucson. For a few seconds while the truck stops beside me, I could have reached out of my dirty window and touched that driver’s door. I don’t, though. I remain glued to the Nissan’s seat inside a useless conglomeration of metal and high grade plastic.
“Mom?” My daughter calls from her car seat, and my ears readjust to her tiny voice. My son stays sleeping in his smaller seat. My hands shake in my lap, and I double check that the emergency flashers are working. I can’t tell her that we are safe because I can’t lie. “Start the car, mom,” she says. Now the shaking snakes up my arms and into my neck, beginning an internal earthquake.
“I can’t, sweetie.” I try to tone down the inevitable high pitched staccato sound of my voice. I am not successful. The shaking moves into my chest, igniting a firestorm of anxiety, and down my legs, consuming the rest of the nerves previously untouched. Later I will question the psychological impact of this experience on my children.
“Are you okay, mam?” An officer appears at my window. Will the man in blue save this little clan of a family?
“No, I’m trying to get to Phoenix,” I say. “It won’t start.”
“Is there someone I can call for you before I order a tow truck? Your husband perhaps?”
“He’s the one I’m trying to leave,” I tell the officer.
Oof. You really build up the sensory tension in this.
That slow-mo of the truck passing close enough to touch.
"my ears readjust to her tiny voice"
"I can’t tell her that we are safe because I can’t lie"
And then the kicker of the ending. Nicely done.
Really excited about this. Collective Nouns was my favorite (I'd never read it!) because it seemed like both prose and poetry, and because of the unexpected use of some of the nouns.
I signed up for a micro fiction contest in three rounds (ultra-micro: 100 words) called NYC Midnight. The first round was back in April and I'm still waiting for results. The deal is that at midnight they give everyone—everyone meaning 5000 people—a genre, a word and an action. You have 24 hours to turn in a story.
Since I actually wrote two, I'm going to share the one I didn't submit, just for the joy of having people to share it with!
My genre was horror, which I was secretly thrilled about because I've never read or written horror in my life and the whole purpose of entering was to be pushed. I had to use the word "connect" (could be part of a longer word, and someone needed to light a fire. The story I submitted was a gruesome (but true to the original) fairy tale. This one is not gruesome, no trigger warnings needed. Here it is.
When I returned to the entrance, the earthen muscle wouldn’t open.
“Takes a year,” an old voice called.
I whirled, “a what?”
The pensioner shrugged.
For months I tried unsuccessfully. Then I passed time wandering. Through identical neighborhoods, infinite vacant hotels, a thousand doors in disconnected walls. Saw not-quite people, mouths open like fish. Tiny mouths, big faces. Big mouths, tiny faces.
On day 365 I returned, desperate, mad.
“You’re back,” he’d lit a fire and was eating hare. “Hope you didn’t open any doors.”
My heart collapsed. ”Why?”
”A year.”
I stared, uncomprehending.
”Apiece,” he chewed. “Happy anniversary.”
"...a thousand doors in disconnected walls. Saw not-quite people, mouths open like fish. Tiny mouths, big faces. Big mouths, tiny faces."
Love this repetition and progression — and then paying off each of those doors at the end. True horror!
Also good luck with the NYC comp, it's a great challenge! I'm waiting for results of the screenwriting round 1 which are due out tomorrow... :D
Thank you for taking the time to read it and write me back! Sorry for the delay. If you're willing to say, how did the screenwriting round go?
This is fantastic, Jo. Really clear and interesting. Thanks for the shout out for Collective Nouns, too.
I mean, it’s obligatory reading at this point! Thank you so much. ☺️