The Devil is in the Details

Reading like a writer series

Photo by Ben White on Unsplash

I’ve been reading a lot of short fiction lately – micro-Fiction, flash fiction, short stories. There are so many great stories to read (I sometimes wonder when I will find time to write!) Reading is one of the best writing tools we have.

Recently, I participated in a wonderful Masterclass on Flash Fiction taught by Helen Phillips. (If you haven’t read her work, drop what you are doing and buy one of her books. If you like Flash, I suggest starting with And Yet They Were Happy – She is a flash master!) We read and discussed a handful of flash fiction stories in the workshop. Through discussion, we learned how each writer created worlds that magnified moments that became a story. I feel like I left the workshop with a new set of tools. I love this approach to learning.

So, I thought I would share my “reading like a writer” thoughts from this last week with you. Hopefully, it will spark your own internal monologues, and if so, please feel encouraged to share your thoughts in the comments!

Here are a few of the stories I read this week and a little bit of what I noticed as both a reader and a writer:

Rubberdust by Sarah Thankam Mathews

This story is brilliant. The writer’s use of detail and her approach to language pulls the reader through the story. I found it impossible to stop reading.

• Notice how Thankam draws attention to how words are pronounced: “(We pronounced it ri-CESS.)” and “(we pronounced it DIE-vorced),”… this is such a subtle tie-in to the Meta-Cognition section of the story towards the end, where she pulls us out of the story to reflect on her own writing:

“I send the story in to my writing group. They are mystified and slightly uncomfortable. Why is the little girl the only one left without a name, they ask.”

Now, as the reader, I want to go back and re-read the whole story. The story is fiction – but how much of it? Does it matter? Am I missing the point? How much of my own cultural reference am I imposing on the story? Thankam has created a new layer of the story for me to explore.

• Notice how the section breaks create forward momentum and zoom into specific moments.

• Notice how the Thankam creates a silk-thread connection to the reader by NOT naming the little girl. She has made the little girl both anonymous and intimately known. The reader can almost become the little girl. The little girl becomes both the least and the most important aspect of the story – like a dual-faced mask.

What did you notice?

In the First Draft the Baby Dies by Lindy Biller (CW: child death/abandonment, genocide)

There aren’t words to describe what this story made me feel – visceral, gut-wrenching feelings. How does Biller do it? (Technically speaking, that is… obviously, the subject matter carries its own weight here.) If you haven’t already, read the Author Interview, where Biller talks about the piece in her own words.

• Notice how Biller uses the musicality of language (rhythm, repetition, lyrical prose) to evoke feelings:

“Mama, Aghavni whispers, her voice like dry grass, but I pull her and her sister along, not looking back, my chest lighter and also heavier, and I can feel the film of sweat my baby has left on the front of my dress, an imprint in the shape of her body, I can feel the ghosts of her hands and feet pressing into my flesh.”

• Notice how she uses imagery to propel the reader into the heart of the moment. She doesn’t shy away from the terrible. Instead, she creates an image that transcends it. The mother and her children literally transform, and thus the reader is transformed.

• Notice how she uses the title to add even more depth to the story.

• Notice how the concrete details of the setting are an anchor point for the surreal nature of the prose.

What did you notice?

Boy by Tochukwu Okafor

I will be honest here; this story made me cringe while reading. But it also made me breathless and antsy and compelled to re-read it. There is something brutally authentic about it – like the story has been pared to the bone, and all that is left is an open wound.

• Notice how the whole story is told in 2 sentences. This type of long sentence broken up by commas creates an urgency to the story. The reader almost starts to read faster and faster as they search for the long pause of the period and a chance to digest what they have been reading. Okafor doesn’t give the reader that chance until almost the end of the piece.

• Notice how the use of “you” connects the reader directly to what is happening. This isn’t someone else’s story… this is your story.

• Notice how the specificity of the details creates a palpable authenticity which forces the reader to stare wide-eyed at the scene (and adds to that cringe factor)

What did you notice?

And finally, the best 6-word story ever:

Longed for him. Got him. Shit. —Margaret Atwood

I’d love to hear what you are reading this week.

Happy Writing!