I love the way that time and segments can create structure in microfiction. The power of implication is heightened by indicating a passage of time, of using white space to skip all the insignificant parts of a character’s life so we can focus on the more monumental mini-scenes that stand in for their entire lives. Flash is often about letting us experience the major moment(s) in a character’s life and skipping all the rest. The risk is the possibility of a loss of context, but the gains of brevity and velocity often outweigh these risks. A great example of this kind of story is “Vows” by Kara Vernor.
She says she’ll never marry. She’s 18 and wants the open road, wants sex in every United State. She’s sampled only the West Coast, though heavily.
I often dislike one-word titles as they often don’t do enough work to set up the context of a compressed story or they miss the opportunity to add metaphor or theme, elements that in flash often are only implied, so why not take advantage of this space before the narrative starts to guide or intrigue the reader? But here, Vernor intrigues us through how the title and the first line are in opposition. We often think of “vows” as a positive, a way of confirming something, of a promise to do, but there is also the binary opposite of not doing, of promising refrain, of not acting. Opposites are a way of imbuing microfiction with tension, of implying a cosmic or mental conflict rather than a physical one. This tension reveals this specific character in the opening line, and then Vernor uses specific wants to give this character agency. And this last line might be a bit of exposition, but it actually adds context, so it’s important to show us just where this character is at in her journey. This is why context is important, because we want to know what is at stake for the main character; we want to know in which direction they are headed, how they might tackle the conflict. So many stories lack this information or it comes too late in the narrative.
We should do it for fun, her guy friend says. Drive to Vegas, say I do in a chapel with Elvis, get an annulment before the hangover wears off. In lieu of rings, they heat up lighters and brand them into each other’s hands.
Vernor is so smart to complicate her desires, to put something in her way, from the vow she makes in the first line. This is a great way to add escalation to a micro-story. It’s not plot per se, as there’s no chain of causation from the first segment to this second segment, but that white space implies that some time has passed, that maybe in this moment she is ready to break her own vow, to make another vow? Notice that there’s no marking of her age here, but the white space implies that she is older than she was in the first segment. That life has happened to her between the segments. That maybe something has forced her to reconsider, but we don’t know exactly what that is. We have to imagine it! This is the extra work that compression creates for the reader. It can be a thrill or a chore, depending on the reader, but it’s the right move to make when you only have 100 words to craft this specific story!
Even the ask by the friend is an attempt to make a vow and then “annul it” so they can have the experience but not be held to it. They want to cheat the vow. The specific details are great here, at showing how this scene could take place, how it gives her a choice. Notice that Vernor skips the internal thoughts and feelings; there’s no room for it, but we do get her choice; it’s implied by her action! Branding themselves shows us that they do it, that it goes from the hypothetical to have actually taken place. This is a swift but important craft move. So much is skipped, and so much relies on action, on our brief experience of the scene in one sentence.
But we can’t end here because it doesn’t fulfill the tension in the opposites made by the title and the first line. Our first lines or opening paragraphs often control the structure and timing of our stories. They start a clock or give us a map toward resonance and conclusion. Is the initial conflict challenged or avoided? Will it end like we think, or will it go in a better, more unique direction?
Now 43, she drives the four square miles between her studio apartment, her post office job, the laundromat, and the corner market, that brand on her hand on the wheel.
Yes, give me that age marker again! Look how time has passed and how much is unspoken in the white space! I’m intrigued to know what has happened in the intervening years, whether she has kept her vows, whether she has gotten any of those younger wants? Answering the questions developed by the opening is often a great way to think about ending a story. Can any of them be answered? If so, how? Here, our section shows us a glimpse of her life at 43, where she lives, what she does for a job, where she shops, and that tight shot of her finger, the brand still there, but yet no mention of the friend she married in Vegas, no mention of any other lovers or a lover in her life now. And I love the irony of wanting to have sex in every state and her being tied to a job that services one town, one zip code. She’s stuck, but the mail can still travel. It’s the perfect choice for a job for this character as it reveals so much and adds depth through its metaphor and irony! Both of these elements are necessary to add depth when writing such short stories! They fill in some blanks for the reader without using lots of words or extra scenes!
Maybe there were so many scenes that Vernor could have written, could have included in this story, to give more context, to reveal this character more fully, but that was not Vernor’s aim here, and we still know this character; we still experienced life with her, and we still feel something after reading, and all in 100 words. Sometimes, that’s all the words we need to tell a story.
Prompt: Consider how you can use time to show movement or a shift for your main character! Start them young. Give them something they refuse to do or refuse to give up, and have them break this promise to themselves! How can you make this specific and fresh, unique to your character? Who will be the antagonist? Who will make them break this promise? Then use white space, skip ahead in years, and show us where your character is now! How have they shifted? Is it better or worse? Make sure to use implication and allow the reader to make some inferences!
Recent Flash I Love:
Two by Evan Nicholls
Professor Malloy’s First Lesson Back Teaching University English 101 After An Extended Maternity Leave by Leila Murton Poole
Salt Husband by Claudia Monpere
Summer of Love by Jeff Harvey
Love 1992: A Catechism by Deesha Philyaw
Try This At Home: Find a one-word title you’d like to write about. Start your first sentence of the story in opposition in some way to the meaning or connotations of this one-word title. Find ways to make your character take action/make choices that continue to show how they are in opposition to the title word. Build context through short informational sentences that help us see the character’s struggle. Use white space to create mini-scenes and to skip over not-as-important events in the character’s life. Is there another character who can make the character consider not being opposite the one-word title? Where could this take the story?
Write with Me:
The lovely people at Writing Workshops have made a dedicated page to my class offerings with them! Three opportunities so far for 2024! Check it out!
There are a few spots left for the early 2024 mentorships!