Dave's Anatomy: My History As a Writer, #17: Flash Fiction and Jergen Kohaut's Blues

The story, "Jergen Kohaut's Blues," begins with a break-up. That's typical for blues, of course—"Since my baby left me." This story, however, broke some new ground for me. First off, it was a long story, finishing at a little over 27,000 words—a novelette, I guess. These days, longer stories are more difficult to market. The combination of short attention spans and employment of sound-bite theory to everything from news reporting to politics has reinforced this tendency toward shortness. One of the things it has spawned is flash fiction.

I don't write flash fiction and I don't like it either. Just as an experiment and to see if I could do it, I've written and published a couple of flash stories, stories under 1000 words. Now, though, I see calls for stories under 500 words and even under 100 words. And I see word count restrictions creeping downward.

It seems impossible to me to write a story in that short a space. Stories are made up of plot, character, narrative, setting, symbol and theme (the formalist set of elements). I don't see how one could construct a plot, engage in character development, describe a setting so it creates a proper psychological environment, develop incisive narration, possibly include symbolism, and develop a theme using so few words. There is a technique to it, and I can see the challenge there. But it seems to me that such writing is more a verbal construct than a story.

Verbal construct is a term I have come up with for a lot of what I see now, especially in journals that print literary fiction. The old notion of a story with a beginning, middle and end; a plot that has conflict, rising action, climax, falling action, and denouement has been replaced in part with the idea that a work of literature is a creation using language—a sharp, brilliant creation that startles us and perhaps gets our attention but is not a story in the traditional sense.

In The Paris Review a while back I came across a story called "Imperatives." The whole thing consisted of imperative sentences:  "Keep off the grass. Do what I say. Obey the rules and don't drive over 55. Use the rear door for deliveries." This went on for ten pages! There was no story, only a collection of sentences in the imperative mood, the mood of command. I marveled that someone could write something like this, coming up with so many imperative sentences; so did the editor of The Paris Review, I guess, because he or she published it. But it was not a story, really, it was a verbal construct. Many of the things I encounter in journals are like this, though they are not often as extreme as "Imperatives." But they usually focus on a character with an obsession, a quirk, impulsive tendencies, or some weirdness. Nothing much happens in the story. They are well-written and the language dazzles. But the elements of story, listed above, are absent.

"Jergen Kohaut's Blues," is long, which means it has the time to develop the elements of a story. The plot unfolds with a conflict and then complications. Jergen's relationship with his live-in girlfriend is on the rocks. Hannah is using drugs, thinking he doesn't know. She has become clingy and obnoxious. Jergen loves her and they have been thinking about marriage, but her behavior is complicating things. 

 In the midst of this, Jergen has a chance to back up Sossity

Chander, whose marriage has broken up, and who is on the make to psychologically retaliate against her unfaithful husband. She and Jergen end up having a short affair. Hannah's behavior enables Jergen to justify his affair and the two of them split. He becomes Sossity's boyfriend, though, he soon finds out, boy-toy would be the more accurate description. Still, there are perks. She pays him for backing her up. He stands in with her band a couple of times and ends up playing for her, first as a back-up musician, then as a full-fledged member. As time goes along, he starts to realize that his relationship with Sossity will not last and begins to remember Hannah. A chance meeting with her, however, convinces him that their relationship cannot be salvaged.

This is the plot of "Jergen Kohaut's Blues." The conflict is between Jergen and Hannah, but also between Jergen's love for her and his ambition to be a rock star. When Sossity Chandler hires him, the door to success opens, but he must do it without Hannah, whom he really loves. He must turn his back on her in order to achieve success as a musician. He also soon realizes that Sossity's love will be short-lived and that she is only interested in him because she is angry at her ex-husband and is having affairs because of this. He will eventually be dropped. Still, he wants to make it big in the musical world so he allows himself to play the role of willing lover.

You could never develop a plot like this in 1000, 500, or 100 words. The difference would be between a painting and an artist's preliminary sketches—the difference between a full-length drama and a two-minute skit.

I admire people who can write flash. And a lot of people seem to enjoy it. Still, it is sui generis, one of a kind, unique, a thing unto itself. Flash fiction is not a story in the traditional sense of the word. There is plenty of room in the literary world for variety. My concern, however, is that the tendency flash fiction represents—the tendency toward brevity—will restrict stories that take time and 

space to develop.

 More on "Jergen Kohaut's Blues" in my next blog.

If you like reading about blues, you'll love my novella, Strange Brew. 

A new anthology, Arthur: King of Ages, about the many incarnations of Arthur, features my story, "Arturia," which takes place in the future, Arthur is female and leading an alliance of twelve planets against a powerful intergalactic army. If you like high fantasy with a twist, this text is for you.

For more titles, check out my Writer's Page.  

Comments welcome!