Monday
At some point, in writing about flash fiction, I wrote that flash is for the fearless. Considering that I am not the least bit fearless and I write flash, I imagine there is a syllogism out there that proves I have committed some kind of logical fallacy:
All fish can swim.
I can swim.
Therefore, I am a fish.
Actually, all I remember about logic in college is repeatedly hitting my head with the textbook. I find, though, that I'm not alone in talking about how courageous fiction writers are. And I think really? So here's a top ten list of reasons we might not be as courageous as we sometimes think we might be.
- When the talk about my story (if indeed anyone is ever talking about my story) gets too close to the heart of things, I can always yell in frustration, "You idiots! It's fiction!"
- Rather than confront who is really at the heart of my fears, I sit at a desk making fictional characters go through a series of challenging obstacles. And even that fills me with dread.
- I could go into battle (i.e., write) or I could go to a conference to hear others talk about their battles (i.e., writing). Like those romantic knights who leave their desks to search for the Grail, I often choose elsewhere, perhaps not realizing that it is the Grail search itself that has made home a wasteland.
- Carpal tunnel syndrome. Paper cuts. Clove cigarettes. The personal suffering I risk for my art!
- In submitting, I take the chance of having one or more strangers send me a note that says,"Dear Author, We decided to pass on this piece. We wish you the best of luck in placing it. And please fill out the enclosed contest, lifetime subscription, and charity donation forms." And yet, in spite of such personal rejection, I endure!
- Every word counts! That's a lot of pressure for us sensitive writerly types.
- It's one thing when the Atlantic or Tin House rejects you. It's another when You Write We Publish It Journal of Flash says that your flash didn't quite fit as part of an emerging mix.
- If indeed anxiety is caused by an inability to tolerate uncertainty, then one might argue that I write for as long as I can tolerate the not-knowing, and that, one might argue, isn't very long at all.
- Is it prose poetry? A story? Instead of deciding, I call it a piece. How's that for going out on a limb of commitment?
- I am much braver knowing I have that safety pill of Xanax in my pocket.
For further reading, check out FlashFiction.Net's suggested readings of flash fiction and prose poetry collections, anthologies, and craft books, by clicking here.
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