IN PRAISE OF SHORT FICTION

By Raegan Teller

Let me begin with a confession. Until recently, I turned my nose up at short fiction. I admit it. I was a novel snob. The late actor Cary Grant once said, “Ah, beware of snobbery; it is the unwelcome recognition of one's own past failings.”

My failure to appreciate the value of short fiction was founded in a misbelief that it takes a lot of words to tell a good story. Even though I had studied stories by Eudora Welty, Ernest Hemingway, Mark Twain and others in various college classes, I wasn’t sold on the unique value of short fiction. I still longed to be immersed in longer works.

Well, that was then. Now, my life is crazy and over-scheduled at times. I love to read, but I simply don’t have time to enjoy novels as much as I used to. So, I have re-introduced short fiction into my reading.

To address this no-time-to-read issue many of us have, the Richland Library and dozens of other places across the country have installed short-story kiosks. You press 1, 3, or 5 minutes to choose how much time you want to spend reading a story, and out spews a story, printed on a strip of eco-friendly paper about four inches wide. These kiosks are showing up in airports and other places all over the world in effort to encourage all of us to read more with less time.

As a writer, I have another confession: short stories are harder for me to write than a novel. It took me years to figure out my novel-writing process so I could arc appropriately, manage subplots, plant red herrings, develop characters, construct scenes, and then pull all those pieces together into a coherent mystery novel. Erroneously, I thought writing a short story would be a piece of cake.

What I’ve learned is that short fiction is truly an art form unto itself, not just a shorter, easier version of something else. On the bulletin board above my desk I’ve posted Hemingway’s famous six-word story: “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.” It’s a reminder of how powerful a few words can be and how difficult it is to wield that power artfully.

As another reminder of the significance of short stories, I recently read an article about the large number of movie scripts adapted from short stories. Here’s just a few: 2001: a space odyssey, Brokeback Mountain, The Shawshank Redemption, 3:10 to Yuma, and Minority Report. There are many more.

Now that I’ve had this epiphany about short fiction, what does that mean for me as a writer? For one thing, I’ll give as much attention to developing my short-story writing skills as I do to novel writing. That means I need to write more short fiction, seek critiques, and keep learning. And I’ll re-read some of the great stories and learn from the masters. Most importantly, I won’t ever turn my nose up at short fiction again.  Promise.

THE LATEST ADDITION

Meet Another Columbia II Blogger

TRAVIS PAGE

Travis graduated from White Knoll High School in 2007.  In college he studied Mechanical Engineering, Biology, Biochemistry, Architectural Engineering and briefly thought about trying to get into Pharmacy School.  However, after ten years of becoming familiar with different disciplines he ultimately learned that what he needed was a more traditional 9-to-5 job to make ends meet while he continues to pursue the things about which he’s most passionate.  He’s a bodybuilder, you may have seen him on a community theatre stage and now he is taking on writing.  Maybe you’ll see him in a publication one day.

Travis's first post on this page follows.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS from a NOVICE

By Travis Page

I am only 29 years-old, but I’ve taken on many new endeavors over this past decade of my life: powerlifting, bodybuilding, mixed martial arts, acting, and blogging to name a few. The process of mastering a craft gives my life meaning and purpose. To me, the struggle of learning something new is very engaging, even when it’s frustrating. I’ve heard throughout the years that writing isn’t easy and as I begin pursuing this craft I understand how true that is. I feel it now. That’s also what makes me feel like a real writer and it’s exciting.

The arts can be taught to a degree, but there isn’t a formal way to develop an artist. There is no step-by-step method that can guarantee an idea “works.” You have to keep trying it in different ways. The process of etching out an idea intrigues me. I suppose I’ve never truly tried it before. Sure, I’ve written papers over the years for school assignments, I’ve acted some and put together my own videos for a YouTube channel, but you don’t often get useful feedback on the job you’re doing when you simply throw your creativity out there like that. How can you even be sure that your thoughts and ideas are being communicated? No one will tell you what they really think. That’s why I like workshop. You get a fair and unbiased sense of how your work is being received.

Writing is something that’s worth doing to me, therefore I feel obligated to do it well. For now, I’ll wear my jester’s hat while I figure out this next endeavor for myself. I’m really looking forward to what I can learn about the craft from everyone. I have a bunch of ideas. We’ll see what I can flesh out.

FAITH IN FANTASY

By Kasie Whitener

The very best fantasy novels all have a faith structure.

The faith structure is the myths, legends, and religions of the world being created. When an author works out those things, he or she has developed a foundation for social morality and for characters’ aspirations.       

•  A young girl may discover she has talent for magic but knowing there’s a possibility that she does comes from stories she’s been told: myths.
• A knight might wish for glory in battle but believing he can achieve it comes from knowing others have done so: legends.
• A character might ask a higher power to intervene, but the habit of doing so and the faith that the higher power will respond comes from training: religion.

Authors who work out the faith structure for their fantasy novels are imagining the world before their characters arrived and after their characters have gone. How was that world made? How will that world persist?

When I started reading a new vampire series recently and within 50 pages had not seen any evidence that this author had worked up the faith structure, I put the book down. While “vampires” and “faith” might seem mutually exclusive (the church has always campaigned against the evils of gothic horror), all conscious beings that persist must have a moral code and that code is established by a faith structure.

In Jacqueline Carey’s Kushiel’s Dart, we are introduced to a faith structure born of a lead prophet and his companions who settled this world, each of whom had a particular realm of humanity. Tribes of humans are associated with a particular companion and their professions, families, and customs are all part of that heritage. Carey’s faith structure is so complete, I find myself wanting to identify with one of the tribes. This is not unlike Harry Potter’s Hogwarts School of Witchcraft sorting people into houses.

Many fantasy novels employ Ghost, Fae, Goblin, Trolls, Elf, or Wolf lineages and rely upon the already-established rules that govern these beings. For example Fair Folk, Fae, or Faeries cannot lie but they can deceive.

We know the lineage or heritage of a character will determine behavior and that competing lineages set up drama for a novel. But establishing a new faith structure takes time and creates a tremendous amount of exposition which must be carefully incorporated into the story. That’s why the best novels do it: because it takes time and craft and purpose.

When I decided to build a faith structure into my vampire novel, I researched the existing mythology: how vampires came into existence, what they worshipped, how they reconciled things like death and birth. I wanted something new, but something that paid homage to the craft of vampire storytelling, something that showed I’d done my due diligence.

A faith structure makes some things sacred and other things forbidden. It creates rules that govern individuals and communities. Without it, a vampire novel is just a new chapter of fiction in someone else’s fantasy.

MINING YOUR SURROUNDINGS

By Sharon May 

I assume that all writers try to be observant of the world around us. The more I write, the more I try to notice details of my surroundings. As a result, my ability to provide better descriptions and to capture realistic dialogue is improving.

Coming back from a family visit in Kentucky recently, I noticed the ram-shackle, blue and white truck plugging along US 23. Hard not to notice. Usually, I think of houses, not vehicles, fitting that description. I lingered before passing to absorb its appeal, to remember as many details as I could.

The Ford Ranger looked to be at least twenty years old – rusted in many places, so buckled that the cab and bed met in a V mere inches above the highway. Covering the bed was a self-designed, man-made top that made the truck seem about to tip over at any moment. No doubt the male driver was the builder of the contraption. No woman would take to the road in the truck since it was neither safe nor aesthetically pleasing.  

The top-heavy bed cover was one-and-a-half times the height of the truck. Its white plywood walls trapped what looked to be all of someone’s worldly belongings, which looked to have been quickly thrown in. The packer also tied some stuff to the edges of the contraption, one of which was a large gas can for those inevitable emergencies such a vehicle would have. Just as I got ready to pass, I imagined the driver’s appearance as well as the opinions, prejudices, and thoughts he might hold. He looked as I imagined – older, bent but not broken, and rather disheveled.   

In Amsterdam, Peggy and I found The Seafood Bar and ate the most incredible shellfish. The place is always packed. The owners of the restaurant have tried to accommodate the crowd by putting in as many tables as possible, which leads to a cramped environment.   

I wasn’t intentionally eavesdropping, but there was no avoiding it. Since I was only a foot away from the tables to my left and right, I felt and tasted the tone of the other diners’ conversations as well as heard most of the words. The Asian couple to my left acted like young lovers until the food came. The male was so intent on his food, he forgot all about his date. To my right were two 30-ish, well-dressed women. Don’t know their relationship, but their food-play was rather seductive, and I imagined they were on a secret rendezvous.

Not only did I learn more about how people converse, I understand better what they don’t say, but still communicate. I am horrible at including body language in stories, so this experience made me realize how much is said in silence or in the slightest movement.

Awareness is essential for a writer. Often we are so busy getting from place to place, we are not attuned to our surroundings. Take the time to observe.