ben white

Here is my thesis:

Death is an event, not a story.

Here is my second thesis:

A description of one or more (unhappy) people is a character sketch, not a story.

A story implies motion. It’s not just description. Something needs to change.

With regards to the twitter-sized fiction that I read on a daily basis, this means that the reader should be able to at least infer some change taking place, either before, during, or after the actual words of the piece itself. After all, this isn’t a summary or a synopsis. We’re talking about an iceberg here: the tip is showing above the water, but we know the vast majority of all that ice is underneath the surface.

Now, what about twitter-fiction for twitter-fiction’s sake—who cares? Plenty of my Midnight Stories are not actual stories. They’re character sketches, scenarios, premises, scenes, moments, etc. You could think of it as a writing journal that I share on the internet. Some pieces are finished; many are not. Fine fine. In fact, not all good pieces (of any length) are stories. That’s fine too.

But for Nanoism (including the great contest we’re running through the end of the week), I’m looking for characters I’m interested in and a plot that’s at least mildly discernible. The problem with unhappy relationships and death (especially murder, argh!) is that I don’t care. As Hint Fiction guru Robert Swartwood says in this post (that I completely agree with), you don’t want to write “a story that many other writers would probably come up with at some point.”

And if your story involves someone thinking pithy thoughts during a plane crash, a wife getting revenge on a cheating husband, a husband going ballistic because of an annoying wife, a murderer just plain murdering someone for no particular reason—then you probably have.

Robert Swartwood is hosting a big contest to celebrate Hint Fiction’s birthday and keep us excited for Hint Fiction: An Anthology of Stories in 25 Words or Fewer, which comes out in November from Norton. Incidentally, Amazon has a good price right now for preorder, so you might want to jump in on that deal. But in honor of Hint Fiction—a form in which the title is the linchpin on which the success of an entire piece can rely—let’s discuss the nano title.

The angle for a title (for fiction of any size) is usually a summary or some key/noteworthy words. Perhaps a rephrasing. Moby Dick is about, surprise surprise, Moby Dick (more or less). Most, perhaps even the “good” ones, don”t bring anything new to the table. Fine—but when you write a story that is only 140 characters or 25 words or less, that’s actually pretty inexcusable. You worked hard to cram as much story as you can into a sentence or two, and you’re telling me you couldn’t think of anything else to add? That title could’ve been a whole new element, supported a completely different layer of interpretation. It can do something.

With a novel, titles are often placeholders or descriptors (i.e. The Magician, or something else equally mundane and logical). With micro- and flash-fiction, the usual maxim is that every word counts. That’s actually a lie. There’s plenty of relative fluff even in really compelling stuff. Maybe it counts, but it’s not necessary. But if a title makes up 10-30% of the total word count, it’d better be necessary.

My rule of thumb for a nano title: if the story reads the same way with or without the title, then the title isn’t carrying its weight.

In the best case scenario, the reader feels drawn to come back to the title as a means of tying the experience together. In good Hint Fiction, the twist—if there is one—isn’t at the end: It’s in the title. It’s that last puzzle piece, the one that fell under the couch that you couldn’t find for hours. If the title isn’t conveying some new information (more characterization, plot, setting, location, punchline, backstory, something), then try again. After all, you only had 25 words to tell a complete story (and it could always be a little more complete).  I’ll leave you with a playful example from PicFic’s recent anniversary series.

Except NASA
As the asteroid hits, no one says, “I wish I had spent more time at work.”

Notice that the title (whether you like the story or not) draws the reader’s attention to a completely different aspect of this story. Without the title, it’s a very macro, globalized, everyone-is-the-same story. But the title narrows our focus down to a small group with a very different experience. It asks us to go back and think on it those extra seconds. In other words, the title matters.

I received my contributor’s copy of Harvard Book Store’s Microchondria yesterday in the mail. It’s that great pocket size and a pretty neat project. And since I was fortunate enough to earn two out of the forty-two spots, my stories also make up 1/21 of the final product (one, “Consumer Reports,” is a traditional short short; the other, “Desperate Measures,” is Hint Fiction). Excerpts from the foreword:

On February 1, 2010, the call went out: Harvard Book Store would produce a book of original short short stories.

On Monday, March 1, 2010, at 5:15p.m., the first copy of Microchondria was printed in Harvard Book Store on Paige M. Gutenborg, our in-store print-on-demand book machine.

Thirty days ago, this book didn’t exist. No one knew what would be in it or what it would look like. Now you are holding a copy of Microchondria in your hands. Now you are going to read it.

We think that’s pretty awesome.

I think that’s pretty awesome too. HBS in the only independent book store I think I’ve ever spent significant time in, and, you know what, why just sell books? Why not also make books? They have a party. They have readings.  They have wine. They print out copies. They sell the copies. Everyone has fun.

It’s a singular book buying experience.

HBS is the bookstore and the book publisher. Afterward, it’s available on their shelves and online here, with more copies just a few minutes away thanks to POD technology. Welcome to independent publishing in 2010.

I have a new story up at Everyday Genius, called “Milestones.” Thanks go to March editor Laura Ellen Scott, now slated to be the fiction editor for Prick of the Spindle, which should be good things for LES and good things for POTS, so cheers all around. I like acronyms.

This story is actually based on a news bit from last December about a Taiwanese man who “beat” World of Warcraft by essentially doing every in-game task. Of course, my understanding is that the new patch added new achievements (makes the game unbeatable doesn’t it?). There’s also a good chance that the “man” was actually more than one player sharing an account, but hey, this is fiction, right? Let the record also state that I used to exclusively wear cargo pants and cargo shorts in my youth.

While you’re there, read “13 Ways of Looking at a Roadtrip” by Barry Graham, which went up in EG last week. Now that is an ending.

David Backer of FictionDaily has a guest post over at The Millions, Long Live Fiction: A Guide to Fiction Online. It’s a great, positive look of a newcomer to the world of fiction publishing online. A year ago I also literally had no idea these sites or the writers that populate them even existed. When you discover online fiction, the words seem never-ending:

What’s changing is access. I might read a short story in a magazine in Australia. Then I’ll follow a link to a new journal that’s just popped up in York, England. Then I’ll read an author bio and find the author’s blog, which has more of her writing and links to other magazines and the magazines and blogs of her friends in Nashville, New York, Portland, Austin, etc. The et cetera continues indefinitely. I find new places everyday. More and more and more writing.

Backer went searching for new fiction. He found “gobs and gobs of it,” and is happy to share the results. Part of his rundown is a very charitable view of twitter-fiction, particularly of my taste for Nanoism:

The difference with White’s stuff, both his own writing and the writing he publishes, is that in it you can see the litwit taking shape as a valid form, shaped by our technology, for getting at the truth.

Overall, an excellent introduction to why “Fiction is dead, long live Fiction,” and a great illustration for why sites like FictionDaily will help us navigate the endless story-seas for more manageable journeys.

And speaking of truth, here are two more Thaumatrope stories. The first, in particular, we must be wary of as we step into the future.

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