Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Our Fabulous Flash Has A Flashy New Home
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Words & Images: Why "The Children's Factory" is the AA Flash of the Week
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Why "On Becoming a Bird" is the AA Flash of the Week
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Magic Eye
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Showcasing Henry Zaballos's Short Film of Stace Budzko's "How to Set a House on Fire"
Friday, March 12, 2010
Keeping Your Ass in the Chair
As I near the end of the rough draft of my novel, I'm finding that I paid so much attention to braiding the main storylines together that I failed to notice all the loose hairs I dropped along the way. I know that stray hairs are supposed to be tamed by the hairspray of revision, but you try ignoring a shrieking chorus of the what-about-mes and see how much progress you make! I would be galloping happily along and then--bam!--fallen tree. Sure, I could leap over it, but every time I tried that, the chorus only screeched all the louder: What about me?
These brain banshees made the nails on a chalkboard sound like Mozart.
These were the moments I most wanted to check Facebook, play with Bo-Bo, study Greek, clean the toilet, torture myself with articles about Sarah Palin, and just generally invent hours of distraction under the guise of letting the fiction problem percolate at the back of my brain. But detours cause delays, and every day I'm still--still, STILL--working on this (expletive deleted) rough draft, I'm in grave danger of inappropriate laughter (yesterday, I laughed at a student when he told me how bummed he was that the only win his team logged during the entire football season was the result of a forfeit).
So for the sake of my sanity and social niceties, I kept my ass in the chair and forced my fingers to keep moving on the keys. And then the weirdest thing happened. Out of the corner of my eye, a character I hadn't realized was even in on the present dilemma showed up on the screen in my head and started hauling off that tree (oh, just stay with me a minute because telling you what he was actually doing would make very little sense given that you haven't read a lick of my book). I started to describe what the character was doing, and soon the tree was gone, and I was back to galloping.
In her novel, "The Fiction Class," Susan Breen says writing description is "like watching a Polaroid picture develop--first come the blurry shadows of the central forms, and then the details emerge slowly."
Yeah. What she said.
But I will add this. Our job as writers, then, is to keep our asses in our chairs long enough that our Polaroids make themselves known to us. Because once those Polaroids appear, you're not going to want to move your ass until your fingers have done their keyboarding thing.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
One We Love: This Won't Take But a Minute, Honey - a Chapbook by Steve Almond
FLASH FICTIONS:"Because she was a tough girl from the Jersey shore she spoke most eloquently by injuring others..." The opening of Death Song"When I was young, mother used to dance naked on her marriage bed with a sweaty bosom while papa was away on trips. The nanny took me onto her lap and whispered red secrets and the world rushed at me like pollen..." The opening of Young Body DreamESSAYS ON THE CRAFT OF WRITING:"...readers are drawn to stories not because of your dazzling prose, but because they wish to immerse themselves in a world of danger. More precisely, in the heart of a particular character on the brink of emotional tumult..." From 4. The Only 2 Qs About Which the R Truly Gives an S"Plot is the mechanism by which your protagonist is forced up against her deepest fears and/or desires." That's actually the whole of, 17. A Quick Definition of Plot"Enough with the arrogance of metaphor. Place your trust in precise details. Place your trust in verbs." From 24. Metaphors Almost Always Suck
Monday, February 22, 2010
Story: A 12-Step Program
1. We admit we are powerless over Story—that our writing lives have become unmanageable.
2. Come to believe that a Story greater than ourselves can restore us to sanity.
3. Make a decision to turn our lives over to the care of Story as we understand it.
4. Make a searching and fearless inventory of our writing.
5. Admit to ourselves and our writing community the exact nature of our wrongs.
6. We’re entirely ready to remove all these defects of character.
7. Humbly remove our shortcomings.
8. Make a list of all characters we’ve harmed, and become willing to make amends to them all.
9. Make direct amends to such characters wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.
10. Continue to take narrative inventory and when we are wrong, promptly edit.
11. Seek through workshop to improve our conscious contact with Story as we understand it, praying only for knowledge of Story, and the power to carry this out.
12. Having had an awakening as the result of these steps, we’ve tried to carry this message to readers and writers everywhere, and to practice these principles in our work.