Flash Fiction Chronicles

I found myself snared by a detective story last week when a stranger e-mailed me from California. He’d found an article I’d written on children’s book author and illustrator Holling Clancy Holling (Paddle-to-the-Sea) and wanted to know if the man had ever served in the Army. I replied that nothing in my research popped up, but I was cc’ing the director of a historical society in Michigan devoted to enshrining Holling in children’s literature.

A daily exchange of e-mails among the Californian, the archivist and me in New Jersey continued for a week as, together, we uncovered the probability that the jacket with the buck sergeant’s chevron was indeed one Holling wore in 1918.

I love these out-of-the-blue queries. There was the National Parks Service employee putting together an exhibit who wanted to know more about my write-up on the actual first shots kicking off the Civil War—not those at Fort Sumter, but a battle at Fort Barrancas, Fla., four months earlier. And another query from an amateur historian—like me—asking about King Philip, who nearly drove the colonists out of New England, “I understand [Philip’s] head was displayed in Plymouth for 25 years. Is there any documentation as to what happened to the head after the display?” (No, and neither do we know what happened to Einstein’s brain after it was dissected and distributed around the world.)

Often, there’s no positive response. One person wrote from Holland, “I think I’m descended from Willem Kieft, the notorious governor of New Amsterdam [who massacred hundreds of Raritan, Wecquaesgeek and Wappinger tribes people].” It’s doubtful, I replied; Kieft was drowned at sea while being recalled to England. Or the high schooler stating, “I’m writing a paper on Bacon’s Rebellion [Virginia, 1675]. Can you tell me everything you know?” No, dammit! Do your homework.

It’s likely that writers welcome the figurative knock on the door that rescues them from the horror of filling a blank screen with captivating words. The unsolicited e-mail certifies the writer as expert, at least in the petitioner’s eyes. Receiving an accolade, like the elusive Pushcart Prize, or being included in an anthology also is validation that we’re doing something right.

But I have a deeper sense of appreciation for readers who respond. A writer’s fiction or non-fiction is broadcast to the world, receiving hundreds of hits on Big Pulp, Bewildering Stories, Military History Online, and other sites. This is information sharing—not communication. It’s akin to winking at a woman in a dark room: You know what you’re doing but not sure if she’s getting the message. Communication only takes place when a reader comments or writes back. And isn’t communication what we’re all searching for? Someone who responds like Holden Caulfield, who says, “What really knocks me out is a book that, when you’re all done reading it, you wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it”?

Yes! This is what the Internet has given us. A medium that encourages comments and questions to complete the circle of communication. That’s why I write. And respond to readers’ questions and comments. You can e-mail (w.giersbach@att.net) anytime and I’ll get back to you. Unless you ask me to do your homework.

Walter Giersbach’s fiction has appeared Bewildering Stories, Big Pulp, Every Day Fiction, Everyday Weirdness, Lunch Hour Stories, Mouth Full of Bullets, Mystery Authors, OG Short Fiction, Northwoods Journal, Paradigm Journal, Short Fiction World, Southern Fried Weirdness, The Short Humour Site and Written Word.  Two volumes of short stories, Cruising the Green of Second Avenue, have been published by Wild Child (www.wildchildpublishing.com).  He also served for three decades as director of communications for Fortune 500 companies.  Walter’s website can be found at http://allotropiclucubrations.blogspot.com.

I’m afraid to go into the file cabinet filled with my writing.  My limited organizational abilities have lumped together a score of published pieces with the rejected or unsubmitted orphans that just don’t work.  Either I killed the idea or editors have responded:  “After careful consideration, we’ve decided we won’t be able to use it.” 

And they end with the kiss-off benediction: “We wish you luck in placing it with another publisher.”

Some stories are saved from oblivion by the suggest ion that I rewrite.  One editor wrote, “We loved your story [about dolphins that had adapted to human incursions into their territory] but the last sentence stumped us.”  My chief character finds herself pregnant and the dolphin lover has migrated north to Alaska.  Sorry, Editor, the story hangs on this punch line and I’ll submit the piece elsewhere.

Every Day Fiction’s panoply of sharp-eyed slush-pile readers encouraged me last week to rewrite another piece I thought was pretty good if not perfect.  And I shall rewrite because Camille Gooderham Campbell and company pointed out where my story had gone astray.

No, my difficulty lies in handling the orphan rejects.  Should I cremate them with only a small prayer?  Save them because there may be a plangent phrase or image worth resurrecting?  Shred them to keep my heirs from crowing over my failures?

Wouldn’t it be nice if there were an archive of failed efforts, like Jasper Fforde’s brilliant Well of Lost Plots where all unpublished writing resides?  My flash story “Alien Nation” (read “Alienation”) about a werewolf vegetarian would sit next to Fforde’s “unread and unreadable Caversham Heights, a cliché-ridden pulp mystery.” 

My three novels—begun but never completed—would collect dust until some literary archeologist cried “Eureka!”  And “Gaslighting,” where I poured my heart into a tale of spousal abuse ending with a Halloween murder, would lie comatose.

Or—and this is the germ of an idea—could my orphan stories be posted where struggling writers might find they serve as the perfect prompt needed to re-energize their spirits?  I would get a credit line, much like F. Scott Fitzgerald did when he failed to turn in a satisfactory script for Tender Is the Night.  And the new author, bound for the Elysian heights of publishing, would add insights into the successes and failures of humanity.

Let me think about that before I take out the trash.

Walter Giersbach’s fiction has appeared Bewildering Stories, Big Pulp, Every Day Fiction, Everyday Weirdness, Lunch Hour Stories, Mouth Full of Bullets, Mystery Authors, OG Short Fiction, Northwoods Journal, Paradigm Journal, Short Fiction World, Southern Fried Weirdness, The Short Humour Site and Written Word.  Two volumes of short stories, Cruising the Green of Second Avenue, have been published by Wild Child (www.wildchildpublishing.com).  He also served for three decades as director of communications for Fortune 500 companies.  Walter’s website can be found at http://allotropiclucubrations.blogspot.com.

The house is quiet, and smells of my favorite jasmine candle. Outside, Texas is thundering rain on the roof and windows. I can write for hours like this. I like to think maybe today, I will get the chance to do so. The honest truth is this thunderstorm will pass in about twenty minutes, the house will be alive with voices sooner than later, and my candle will burn out. Then it’s back to the perfectly non-ideal writing environment, but you know what? I’ll still write. Nothing can keep me from it.

My inner self drives me to write, not my outside circumstances. The voices in my heart gather from experiences, and drive my fingers to pick up that pen and paper and scribble like a mad woman. Various emotions, thoughts, memories, take on a personality and demand a life of their own. I let my muse write whatever it wants. This is where magic and power lies. If I handcuff my muse to a turkey platter and demand it write turkeys, it will write turkeys, but the turkeys, unlike Edward, won’t sparkle. Powerful writing is dependent upon you giving boundless freedom to your muse to roam and develop.

Life. So much simple life eats up our time, just the normal things you need to do to get through a week, a month– jobs, commuting, dating, spouses, children, family members, family issues, friends, neighbors, college, illness, loved one’s deaths, car accidents, doctor appointments /dentist / hair appointments, church, holidays, yard work, paying bills, getting a second job to pay the bills, and oh yeah, having fun –that when you have a spare second, that moment in the evening when the world is quiet, dark, and you are left with your own thoughts, a glass of wine on your desk, and a blank computer screen, it’s so easy to let the negative voice come out.

It discourages you because: another reject, there are those ‘other writers’ that are better than you, you don’t get grammar, what the heck is a ‘sympathetic character’? Or is it ‘pathetic character’? Are you supposed to be outlining plots or do you go all willy nilly all over the place- omg, does your writing suck? You feel like it sucks. Is this just a pipe dream? Your spouse/ girlfriend/ boyfriend/mother/preacher/brother/best friend/ co-worker thinks your writing is lame and childish – who reads anyway? What if the preacher finds out your character said the F word, and he thinks you are the one really saying the F word, but you really honestly don’t say the fucking F word, but he might think you do…

On and on and on these thoughts go until your glass of wine is gone, and you wonder what the preacher would think if he knew you just drank a glass of wine, and then you remember you have to take your grandmother to chemo tomorrow. You feel tired, drained, discouraged.

What happens next is what separates the people who succeed from the people who don’t. It’s not about genes, money, health, good looks, or ‘natural talent’. It’s what happens with that very next breath and decision you make. You either:

1) Stand up, drop your glass in the sink, brush your teeth, flop in bed exhausted – another day done and gone. You will rise tomorrow, none the closer to anything. In fact, you are falling backwards from your dream because you lack the motivation to move forward.

Or

2) You tell all your doubts to go hell heck. You sit down and force those thousand or five hundred words. If you are writing a novel and the muse wants to write it – write it. If you are worried about grandma’s chemo because the nurse can never find her frickin’ vein and you know its going to hurt when the nurse inserts the needle, fishes around, draws it out, stabs it in again – you write a story about that anger, that fear. You just write it. And then, if you are writing flashes or shorts, you submit it – even if you think it sucks and it probably does. Doesn’t matter. You do it anyway. Someone will publish it. You keep writing, day after day. Night after night. And when you are done writing, you read.  You read because you need to keep that creative tank filled with how the pros do it. You do it and you keep on doing it. You’re more exhausted than you would have been without writing and reading, but it’s okay, because you are working your dream, what you want.  No one can take that from you. No one.

And this is what I’ve been doing.

I hope this speaks to you. I hope this causes you to ditch those doubts, fears, fatigue, and just go for it. Magic beans, golden pens, or supportive friends aren’t going to fulfill your dreams as a writer. Only you can do that, butt in chair, writing away when the whole world is sleeping or falling apart around you.

Decide not to let outside circumstances be a barrier to your muse. Let your inner voice speak, and write it – no matter what. Trust you to be you. This is your life, your dream. The only way to make it as a writer is to jump in heart and soul. That sounds so cliché’, huh? Sometimes the truths in life are cliché’. Deal with it.

My muse wants cheesecake. So far, the ingredients can be difficult to come by, but it tastes great, and it just keeps getting better.

Jodi MacArthur serves imagination raw on an open flame. Bring your fork to www.jodimacarthur.blogspot.com. Published online and in print, she is working on her first novel, Devil’s Eye.

When my story “Nipped in the Bud” posted on Every Day Fiction in August, I was eager to see the sort of feedback I would receive.  And then I saw what people had written.  Oh boy.  Reader comments ranged from calling it “hokey” to “it just doesn’t seem to go anywhere.”  I cringed, but I couldn’t really complain.  After all, when my own mother read “Nipped in the Bud,” her first reaction was, “That’s awful!”  She understood the story, and it horrified her.

If one of my greatest supporters says that, I can’t really gripe about comments from strangers.

However, I’ve seen other stories on Every Day Fiction and elsewhere get similar feedback.  Some authors don’t take it well.  They respond to every negative comment, getting both apologetic and defensive.  It leaves me wondering – will this author keep writing?  Or will these harsh words convince them to stop submitting?

Internet anonymity inspires people to type words they wouldn’t dare say face-to-face.  Honesty is important, but so is tact.  Instead of subscribing to the motto of, “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all’ people do say very un-nice things to total strangers – and people get hurt.  Some give up writing.

I’m not at that point now, but I have been in the past.  When I was a teenager, I vowed to be a published novelist by the time I was twenty.  Unfortunately, I didn’t have the spine to make a real attempt.  Two of my well-meaning uncles approached me and told me that I was putting my immortal soul in peril by writing fantasy.  My college creative writing teacher witnessed me reading a fantasy novel and was aghast.  “That’s not a real book,” he said.

By the time I was nineteen, I wasn’t even sure what to read anymore.  As for writing, I stopped completely.

Yes, I was a wimp.  Writing and rejection require a hard shell, and I couldn’t cope.  I wanted my writing to please everyone – which was downright impossible, no matter the genre.  It took me another ten years to mature and take my writing seriously and understand that criticism is part of the business.

Time and time again, editors advise writers “don’t take it personally.”  There is truth to that.  However, as a writer – especially a vulnerable beginner – some people will have a harder time separating themselves from their writing.  That doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be given negative feedback.  It’s necessary.  It’s how we grow and improve, whether the project is flash fiction or a full novel draft.  But even if a story comes across as complete nonsensical garbage, that doesn’t mean it should be described in comments that way.  Tact and respect are not antiquated notions.  At least, I hope not.

I can handle my story being hokey and sometimes misunderstood.  As long as some people get it – and enjoy it – that’s what matters.  If I’m going to put my soul on the line, I don’t want it to be a total waste.

Beth Cato’s work has appeared in places such as Every Day Fiction, Niteblade Fantasy and Horror Magazine, Crossed Genres, and Six Sentences. A full list of her publication credits is available at BethCato.com.

Recently I was invited to submit to a new market, and even given a prompt with which to work, but none of my initial attempts were panning out. Then, random perusing of the Internet gave me this interesting bit of trivia – there is a clock tower in Ireland, in Cork, which has four faces, and each face tells a different time. This inspired the thought: “What if, rather than three of those faces being wrong, all four are right?”  Breakthrough!

Wait, and somebody even wrote a poem about this clock? Get outta here! The story practically wrote itself! Seriously, I’m not sure why I showed up that day.

Research can take a number of different forms, each of which serve different purposes, and all of which are invaluable to honing the craft of writing. Here’s a few:

Reading other stories in the genre is research, as you need to see how it’s been done, learn the conventions of the genre, pick up tips, etc. Don’t put blinders on to what’s going on in your chosen field.

Names are important, so don’t just randomly grab a name from a phone book. Make sure characters have period-appropriate names, and be aware of ethnic implications (of surnames in particular). Look out for historical or pop culture significance that might color a reader’s view of a character. There are plenty of resources to check (my personal favorite is Behindthename.com). Don’t overlook the meanings of names, there’s rich material there for inspiration. I’ve jump-started stories based purely on some interesting meaning of a randomly-generated name.

History matters. It seems silly, but there it is. Even if you’re radically changing the history of a place, it’s important to know what really happened, how the people lived, how they thought. Not just the bare facts of how many people lived in what city, but what their philosophy was, what the issues of the day were, and so forth. What’s the difference between a 20^th century hero and a 16^th century brigand? How did people talk in the 1200s? Or even last year? A single bit of slang can transport the reader to an entirely different decade.

Technical vocabulary can make or break a story for some readers. Tom Clancy has legions of followers who read his work simply because he can, step by step and with all the right technical terms, describe how a nuclear reactor on board a Russian submarine can melt down. Does the gun in your narrator’s hand use shells or bullets? Was the city hit by a meteor or a meteorite? Is this cop a detective or a constable? Does this patient need blood or plasma? Some portion of the audience, maybe even most of the audience, won’t know the difference, but some will and they’ll nitpick themselves out of enjoying the story. Then they’ll post about it somewhere online.

Research is important to creating realistic and believable people and settings, and just as important in flash fiction as in a novel. Be as familiar with the subject matter as possible, because for your flash piece it needs to be summed up in a sentence, or a few words of dialogue. You won’t have the luxury of a whole chapter to explore the ideas.

Most of all, let research inspire your stories. There’s so much available in the real world that’s interesting, it would be a shame not to take advantage of the free ideas. Research is not a chore. And it gives you a good excuse to check out a lot of cool books.

Alexander Burns lives in Fort Worth, Texas. He writes because he doesn’t have a basement in which to build robots or time machines. His work has appeared at Every Day Fiction, A Thousand Faces, 10Flash, and forthcoming from The Future Fire.

Did you receive my query?  Did you receive the follow up message I sent you a week later?  If you have received either, please, please, just tell me that you have.  That’s all I need to know.  If you don’t have time to critique me, I don’t mind.  If you had no time to read it, send me a rejection note anyway; just a simple “thanks, but no thanks,” is all I ask.

A critique may bruise the ego slightly, but I come away from it having learned something.  A polite rejection note is slightly less enjoyable, but at least I know where I stand with the editor.  The type of rejection that burns me every time is the silent treatment.  Was it something I said? Is my idea so stale that it doesn’t deserve a response?  Or can I continue to tell myself that I’m a flawless writer; maybe some technical issue caused the silent person at the other end to never receive my work?

It feels like I’m screaming into a snowstorm in a remote location.  I’m completely blinded, except for a moment where the snow stops or a breeze pushes the snowflakes to reveal a faint promise of a solid object.  A few solid objects could help lead me through the storm, so I could actually get somewhere.  The snow blinds me again, and as I reach out, I find nothing.

The journey of getting my work published has just begun this year.  I’m pleased to say that I have had some success; I have been published a few times, so maybe I should not complain.  The rejection responses are something I was prepared for; the silent treatment, not so much.  I still continue to wander through the storm because I love what I do.  I just wish I could find more solid objects, find a path, or perhaps find some kindly person with an extra pair of ski goggles to lend me.

Yvone has come out of the closet as a writer.  She always puts a little extra care and love into herEnglish assignments, and has taken to writing lyrics very seriously, even though they would never be heard in the genre of music she used to sing.  It finally dawned on her in 2009 that writing is a passion; so here she am, tinkering away at the keyboard constantly, and loving it for everything that it is.

She has written news articles for her local sports paper.  Blogging is her new hobby.  Read her here.  She’s taking it slowly because she has also joined the ranks of motherhood – times two – in the last two years.

It’s summer and toodling through various writing sites this week, I remembered that August kicks off  ”Submission Season,” the time when college literary types head back to school and brace for the mudslide of submissions coming their way.

I’ve been writing for years, but I haven’t always subbed with any consistency.  In the old days of  “No simultaneous submissions,” I’d send a piece to one venue and then wait three to six months before the postman delivered an SASE with my returned story.  Clipped at the top would be a  slip of  paper addressed to “Author”  followed by the cryptic message, “No thank you.  This piece does not suit our current needs.”  Okay.  So.  I’d rewrite the story (I can always find something to fix, change, deeper, scrap) and send it out to the next lit mag on my list.   And wait another six months. 

There were so few places to submit, it took so long to hear back, and I was so unsure of my abilities that it was tough to stick with the writing, to have the sense of progress.  While writing groups and writer friends can do a great deal to help someone come into his or her own, it is the relationship with the market that produces professional writing.

The submission process is better now.  With the advent of the internet, online literary and genre magazines, email, and submission software, there are fewer trips to Staples for envelopes, less waiting in line at the post office, and even better, a real possibility for dialogue between author and publisher, even if such a relationship consists of nothing more than several submissions and several rejections in a row.  The time between sub and NO is usually shorter than it used to be and that alone makes learning the craft much easier for new and emerging writers.

A while back, I decided my goal for the year would be to get 100 rejections. Yes. I know. That’s weird, but if I’d called my goal  “To Get Published,” each rejection would mean failure.  While I had limited power over an editor’s choices, no one could stop me from writing and submitting.  So I played a trick on myself.  I changed the language.  By making “rejection” my goal, I could not fail.  The power shifted to me.  

Quality was in my power too.  Even if my goal seemed to be negative, what would be the point of writing lousy stories?   I had to make them the best stories I could.   Then if a piece was rejected,  I’d be one story closer to my goal 100.   If it was accepted, I’d open a bottle of champagne.

The goal of 100 rejections forced me to write more often, with more commitment and awareness of what professional writing looks like.  After writing, editing , polishing, and submitting one story, I have learned to write another story and another and another.  This is a good thing.  I don’t have time to sit around to see if the first 5 or 10 places reject me. I have more rejections to apply for!  

So I write a new story and send it to 5 or 10 other magazines.   It encourages me to write with purpose and to submit to the best market for each piece.   And the more I write, the better I get. 

Maybe I won’t make my 100 rejects per year.  I haven’t yet, but that’s not my goal.  Not really.  The jig is up.  I’m onto myself. 

And while getting published is certainly a wonderful result of all that work, it ’s not the goal either.  I’ve been published and it’s very cool.  But writing is really about–oh, dear, I’m going to sound like an American Idol contestant–the journey.  What turns out to matter is learning the craft, becoming aware of what works and what doesn’t, acquiring skills, and allowing imagination and passion to find the page, and maybe someday writing something really good. 

Here’s to Submission Season!  I hope I get to open a couple of bottles of bubbly this year too.

To read Gay Degani’s stories online, visit her Words In Place blog.

Scott M. Sandridge is the managing editor of Fear and Trembling and the author of over a dozen short stories and 60+ reviews. His work has appeared in Anthology Builder, Every Day Fiction, Mindflights, and Ray Gun Revival as well as two “best of” anthologies (Distant Passages, Volume 1 and The Best of Every Day Fiction 2008), and was a Top Ten Finisher in the 2008 P&E Readers Poll. His podcast novel, The Silverblade Prophecy, was recently nominated for the upcoming 2009 Parsecs award. More information can be found at http://smsand.wordpress.com.

Q & A

Flash Fiction Chronicles: Scott, tell us a little about Fear and Trembling and your own involvement with the horror genre and with the e-zine.

Scott: Fear and Trembling is a magazine of Christian Horror for Double-Edged Publishing. We seek horror that has the classical feel (e.g. the Hammer horror films, Stoker, Poe, and Lovecraft) that is suitable for Christian and non-Christian readers alike.

Ironically enough, I primarily write space opera-style science fiction and heroic fantasy (although I have been told my fantasy can get pretty dark). I’ve only had two Horror flash fictions published. I was reading slush for Ray Gun Revival when John Kuhn asked me if I wanted to join F&T’s editorial team. At first I read slush for both webzines while also helping John Kuhn out with proofreading and promotion. When John Kuhn left his managing editor position, I decided to take up the reigns temporarily until a better managing editor could be found. A year and a half later, I’m still there.

FFC: When was the e-zine founded and what is its mission?

Scott: F&T went live in June of 2007, and its mission is to provide good, spine-tingling Horror that doesn’t blatantly violate Christian principles but can also be enjoyed by everyone. Sometimes, doing so can feel like walking on a razor’s edge, but so far we’ve managed to not cut ourselves too bloody with that razor.

FFC: Where does the title, “Fear and Trembling” come from?

Scott: The simple answer is I don’t know. F&T is the brainchild of John Kuhn and Taylor Kent, and I have no clue what goes on in their warped psychotic minds….

FFC: Your tagline is “We’ll Scare the Death out of You!” so it’s obvious F & T is an e-zine that focuses on the genres of horror, dark tales, and fantasy. What do you consider the basic conventions of horror fiction? What kind of conventions would separate horror from dark tales or fantasy?

Scott: Anything that scares or shocks you or both is technically horror, so horror is the one genre that can be found in almost every other genre fiction to one extent or another, so there’s really no separation, per se, but a sliding scale of degrees. I think that if the story’s primary purpose is to scare or shock you (e.g. Brian Keene’s City of the Dead) then it is Horror in the genre sense. The primary purpose for dark fantasy is not to scare or shock you; although, such elements will be found in it to one extent or another. No, dark fantasy is the anti-hero version of all the other fantasy subgenres (except perhaps sword & sorcery which is a whole other discussion entirely), for in dark fantasy the main character is often the monster (e.g. White Wolf’s Vampire: The Masquerade – Clan Novel series, or Carrie Vaughn’s Kitty Norville series) and the concept of Good Vs. Evil tends to get blurred a bit—even the usual “good guys” tend to have, well, a few personal problems.

FFC: Speaking of genres and sub-genres, I saw a reference to “splatterpunk” in one of your interviews with Ty Schwamberger, author of the novel Night School. What are “the sub-genres” in horror these days?

Scott: Dark fantasy and dark science fiction (which are more cross-genres than sub-genres), splatterpunk (the gore-fest slasher flick), classic horror (like the old-style Hammer horror films), Christian horror (which often tends to center around faith and the crisis of), zombie fiction and vampire fiction (yes, they’re so prevalent now that they’ve been made into their own subgenres), supernatural horror (e.g. Stephen King novels and movies), supernatural romance (don’t ask), dark erotica (again, don’t ask), torture porn (e.g. Saw), bizarro, and surreal fiction. I think I got it all pretty much covered…for now.

FFC: Any new trends in genre?

Scott: Zombie and vampire fiction has been on the rise again, and Carrie Vaughn has breathed new life into werewolves (and it’s about dang time, too). Surreal and bizarro fiction has been rising up from the underground, and Lovecraftian goodies (or should I say baddies?) abound.

FFC: The guidelines specify, “We want atmosphere. We want hair-raising conflict. We want to get to know characters—real, multi-dimensional people we are able to care about—who just happen to be facing horrifying realities. We want to face those realities with them, to hang on through the twists and frights of the plot and to root for them all the way.” If a writer wants to submit to F & T, is there anything beyond the general guidelines they should know?

Scott: Yeah. Send me a story that features the Dover Demon, and I’ll be your friend for life. Of all the urban myths out there, I’ve yet to see a story about that bizarre little critter. I mean, the Jersey Devil’s getting some attention (thanks to Robert Dunbar), but poor DD just keeps feelin’ left out.

Hmmm…I wonder if there’s a theme-related contest brewing in my mind…we’ll see.

FFC: Let’s talk a little about the “horror” slush pile. At what point in reading through a submission do you realize you might consider that story or not. What are the turn-offs? What makes you sit forward in your chair to read?

And you pay?

Scott: It might be different for the other slush readers (but something tells me otherwise), but for me it’s the first three sentences. If you can’t grab my attention and hold it for at least that long, don’t expect me to read the whole story. I just don’t have the time to waste. Even if my slush readers did, I don’t. Nothing personal. That’s just how picky I am. And my slush readers tend to be even picker than me.

Now, if, by the time I’m halfway through, it feels like you’re not really going anywhere and are just meandering along, you’re going to lose my interest, period. Sorry. But get ready for a rejection.

Usually, if I can manage to read all the way to the end without skipping parts, then you’ve got a very good chance of getting accepted.

And yes, we pay. It’s only $5 for now, alas, but at least it’s not FTLOI (yet).

FFC: How many stories might you get in a given month? What percentage is usable? How many do you publish?

Scott: We tend to see about 20-30 stories per month. Of those about 20-25% are good, and of the good ones we might pick half or all of them, depending on whether or not we’re already well-stocked for accepted stories.

FFC: As a lover of horror and its related genres, who do you recommend aspiring horror writers read?

Scott: Stephen King, Edgar Allen Poe, Mary Shelley, Bram Stoker, H.P. Lovecraft, Brian Keene, and Eugie Foster (especially her dark fairy-tale remakes). There are plenty of others, but they’re good to start with.

FFC: Anything else you’d like to add?

Scott: Yes. The Dover Demon rules!

Well, okay, the Jersey Devil is kinda cool, too.

FFC: Thanks, Scott, for taking the time to help writers better understand the horror genre.

Scott: Anytime.

Find Fear and Trembling on the net at http://www.fearandtremblingmag.com/index.html

Guidelines: http://www.fearandtremblingmag.com/guidelines.php

I’ve been thinking about the value of entering writing contests. Is a writer a gullible fool to fork out entry fees and should we eschew contests who charge them? Or is the very process of entering (and losing) contests a necessary part of our craft?

I think a serious writer needs a strategy. I spent my childhood years scribbling snippets of stories for friends and family. Lovely pastime! My readers told me I was brilliant; I basked in their unqualified praise. Then I grew up. I learned there are no short-cuts to getting published. That you have to work damn hard at it, and you have to have a strategy. You have to court criticism, and failure.

Success, I’ve concluded, is measured in your ability to accept failure and keep moving forward. I’d go further, in fact. Failure is your friend. It gives you a line in the sand, a measure against which to work. You might think that a hundred failed entries, or failed submissions, would equate to a feeling that you’re unequal to the task you’ve set yourself. But the writers who give up, in my experience, are not the ones with a hundred rejection slips under their belts. They’re the ones with one or two rejections or maybe none – because they didn’t ever work up the courage to put their writing out there to be judged. Perhaps they told themselves it was pointless because contests are a rip off and a crap shoot. Funnily enough it’s often not a lack of confidence that stops a writer subbing their work. It’s ego: “Of course they’d never award a prize to such innovative writing.”

A serious writer knows the value of failure, is intimately acquainted with its sharp edges and its blunt tone. Remember Peter O’Toole in Lawrence of Arabia, holding that burning match until it’s ash between his fingers? “Of course it hurts. The trick is not minding that it hurts.”

About this strategy business, then.

So few magazines pay money and even fewer have a profile with agents, publishers, editors – all the people you need to get onside if you want to make a living as a writer. Sure there are bound to be contests out there which operate as commercial ventures but these are generally easy to spot. Having been part of the Fish Awards in Bantry last year, I can tell you that it’s a labour of love for the people behind the venture. It cost me about ten pounds to enter but the prize money was close to six hundred pounds – I call that a good return for my investment. More importantly, it got me right in front of readers, learning important lessons about the hard end of the business. I got quizzed at length by a scouting agent, face-to-face. I’m trying hard to think how else I could secure that sort of exposure if I eschewed all contests on the grounds that I was getting ripped off.

I’m under no illusions; I’m a grown up. Fish was a calculated investment. And even had I got nowhere I’d have counted it valuable in the sense that unless we keep putting our heads above the parapet, keep courting the slings and arrows, how will we know we’re getting anywhere? It takes nerves of steel to keep pushing our work out there to be judged, to be rejected. But without that process I think the danger is this becomes an exercise in ego-stroking. There is an acid test in the judgement of peers and professionals. Sure it’s a crap shoot, to an extent. A lot of it comes down to the subjective opinion of an individual or two. And luck. But I’d be interested to hear people’s thoughts on how else we can get ahead, get better, stronger. Persuade me!

Sarah Hilary is a frequent contributor to Every Day Fiction  (Lolita’s Lynch Mob is an all-time favorite) and on other flash sites around the web.  Check out her blog, Crawl Space, where she lists all her online writing and then check out her other brilliant FLASHES of fiction.

As I read submissions in the slush pile at Every Day Fiction, I realize that many writers do not have an understand of what flash fiction is. Camille’s definition is a great place to start.

BUT FIRST, WHAT FLASH ISN’T.

Flash is not some accidentally thrown together words that seem to flow through a writer’s fingers without much thought. Yes, it’s true that some writers are skilled enough, and/or gifted enough to not have to edit very much, maybe even just proofread, but believe me, that’s not me and I’d take any bet that that isn’t most of you out there.

Flash is not a prose poem.

It’s not a vengeful spew about killing someone without developing character and complexity.

It’s not an extended paragraph used to set up a punch line.

It’s not an anecdote-slice-of-life-guess-what-happened-when-I walked-out-to-get-the-newspaper-the-sun-was-blinding-and-I-tripped.

It’s not an article, sermon, op-ed piece.

It’s not an obituary-like report on someone’s life.

SO WHAT IS FLASH?

Good flash is governed by the same reader expectation as any other fiction writing. Check Aristotle. Check Robert McKee. Check Chris Vogler. Heck, go read the bliss man, Joseph Campbell. Readers expect certain things and Camille tells you what they are: a hook, a story arc, and strong prose.

I want to add on more thing, good flash like all good writing should have some point to make, a reason for being that somehow, in small or large way, reveals a universal truth, a moment that brings to the reader a smile, a laugh, a tear, a “Yep, ain’t that just the way life is.”

So when thinking about writing flash, it would be helpful to keep in mind some of the words and phrases that should apply to any piece of flash:

surprising, fresh, original, intiguing, new

compelling content, unique situation, interesting choices made by characters, anchored by time and place, has conflict, has tension, active protagonist, action not activity, complexity not complication, delivers an ending that is unexpected but inevitable

precise language, clear distinct voice, specific detail

Words you don’t want associated with your flash:

bland, mundane, vague, trite, dashed off, trickery, passive, predictable, nothing happens, no sense of place, unclear, not cohesive.