Wednesday Wanderings

When I first started writing, I thought of myself as solely a novelist. Writing short stories had no appeal – or so I thought. Even back then, I participated in fandom, and wrote short tales about my characters, though somehow – perhaps because this was for the love, never professional – I never really thought of that as “real” short story writing. Or maybe because rather than creating a story out of new elements, I was taking snippets from character backgrounds or transcribing / filling in scenes roleplayed with other fandom folks. I did short fiction for a fantasy e-zine I ran for a time, but they were all very much serials: (mostly) self-contained segments, part of a larger arc.

So I told myself I had no interest in being a short story writer, that I was going to write and sell novels, and I believed me. When I did start writing short fiction, it was with purely mercenary intent: at the time, novelists had more luck with short story sales to back them up. Then I found out – horror of horrors! – I really enjoyed it.

More than that: I’ve been working pretty steadily on my novel projects of later, but took a break to work on a so-called flash piece. (I say “so-called” because the first draft clocks in at 1,333 words.) The satisfaction of setting up the opening, keeping a tautly wound plot, and then – most of all – finishing the story was glorious. I’ve also been mulling on a couple poems – which, for me, entails looking at forms I want to play with – and brewing on a fairytale reworking.

I’ve come to the conclusion I need the break and the change in pace, taking a step aside from the marathon of a novel to write something more contained. … relatively, because I am a big fan of the, “Yes, but …” ending, where the current tale is wrapped up, but the story implies there’s more to come.