by Mayumi-H | Apr 6, 2013 | Fearless, Short Stories
This week, Lillie McFerrin’s prompt for her Five Sentence Fiction challenge is “WORDS.”
I went a few different ways with this prompt, at first…though, my initial flash fiction idea – while based on a true story – pushed the vulgarity a bit too much than I like to do for a public challenge. So, this little vignette, taken from the early days of Fearless:
By AstroHurricane001 at en.wikipedia [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
“The loss of artful conversation”
Stretched upon the sand, beneath a canopy of stars, with the rhythm of the rolling current nearby, the lads often turned reflective.
“I think,” Neville mused softly, “with all this technology, and the culture of instant messaging, mankind’s lost the skill of artful conversation, like the poetry that used to exist in the days of Shakespeare, or Milton: what happened to that, where’s all that gone?”
With his head laid in the pillow of Amber’s lap and soothed by both the sound of waves and the gentle drift of her fingers through his hair, Ross hummed, and murmured, “There might be something to that. But,” he added, his gaze finding Amber’s as he opened his eyes again, “for some things, I don’t think you need conversation.”
That settled the lads for a long minute, until Niall sniffed, and declared:
“I’m gonna bring back ‘rad.’”
I’ve spoken on this blog about making art with words before, so I don’t think it needs repeating. I do often wonder, as Neville does, if the immediacy of communication hasn’t taken away some power of words, though. When was the last time we made efforts to write real letters, rather than emails, or instant messages on a phone?
Or, perhaps, I’m just waxing nostalgic, and that old power of lyricism in dialogue has been replaced by something else. What do you think? How do WORDS speak to you?
by Mayumi-H | Mar 27, 2013 | Process
Most folks likely didn’t notice, but I was away last week, “away” meaning cramped into an editing suite, poring over timecode and doing frame extraction. I’m back again, but last week’s work has stayed with me. Mostly, because editing video always makes me think of this scene: the Warriors gang fighting off the Baseball Furies, from the 1979 film, The Warriors.
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zL0ipXUD-uU?rel=0]
Oh, Ajax, you pithy pugilist, you!
A fight scene without a soundtrack instantly feels much more violent than a fight scene set to music of any kind. That silence can often work in a filmmaker’s favor. Director Walter Hill says he wanted to preserve a cartooniness with this scene from The Warriors, so he kept the music in. That’s not a critique, for musical sound and rhythm can also do a fine job of adding tension, excitement, and drama, just as well as silence. It all depends on how it’s used.
When we write, we’re not given the luxury of pumping music at our readers. So, how do we create the same level of tension with words alone?
One idea? Choose your words carefully for more than just their meaning.
Writers often think they work in silence, because words are static on a page. But the rhythm of words can be just as important as what they mean. Poets and lyricists understand this better than most other writers, because their space, time, or meter is often limited. But even the self-proclaimed short story writer or novelist shouldn’t ignore that poetic ear.
Try speaking your scene aloud. You’ll hear how the choice and cadence of each word interacts with the ones to follow, and how those interactions affect the way your story is told.
Have you ever read a story that was just he said after she said, all the way down the page? There’s nothing wrong with that approach – it’s certainly serviceable to a story. But, words can move people by more than just their definitions. Why not let them do that?
Now, lots of writers and editors will tell you that prose and poetry are two different styles for a reason. That’s not incorrect. And, it may not be the best idea to turn your action thriller into a garden of flowery prose. That’s not what I’m saying, though. I’m saying, words should fit the moment, theme, and emotion of the story being told. Even readers advanced enough not to have to read aloud will still hear those words in their heads.
Study a good action scene. The words and ideas come quick, like lightning, one after the other. No time to describe in minute detail. Why? Because it slows the reader down. On the opposite hand, study a moving scene of gentle emotion. Words move more slowly, here, like leaves drifting on the wind, spiralling to a quiet settling on the ground. An argument will crackle, snap, and finally flare up like a paper bag thrown on a fire; a sex scene will start small and grow, mounting higher and higher until it crashes like a wave against a beach, where it eases down to foam again.
Brian Robert Marshall [CC-BY-SA-2.0], via Wikimedia Commons
Do you have any such rhythm techniques when you write? Which are your favorite types of scenes to write? Why?
by Mayumi-H | Mar 2, 2013 | Fearless
I’ve had a long, tiring week of other people telling me what to do and how to do it, so I decided to make a fiction post strictly for myself. Luckily, Kellie Elmore’s Free Write Friday offered me a prompt that kept me from going completely off the rails. As it is, I’ve adhered only marginally to the confines of the prompt, which happens to be “Serendipity.”
Mature situations described below. Nothing graphic, but you should probably skip it if it’s not your cup of tea.
“Again, for the First Time”
Stehendes Liebespaar, Otto Mueller [public domain image]
The warmth and comfort of his embrace soothed – the easy rhythm of his gentle snoring even more so – but it was nearly tea, and her belly fluttered a bit at the idea of doing something nice for him. So, easing out from beneath his arm, she scooted to the side of the bed and clambered from the blankets, reaching for her clothes.She dressed with quiet speed, but, turning back toward the bed while straightening her dress, she paused, to drink in the sight of him.
Even tousled and dozing, he was fine, a blond, bronzed demigod built lean, long, smooth, and strong. Just the thought of touching him – of him touching her – made her blood pound once more.
Maybe he was wicked, as Sam had warned. But, she’d never shied from risk. And maybe he wasn’t as refined as the boys who used to try to ply her with their stylish clothes and fancy cars. But, they’d never made her come.
Her nerves tingled at the memory, not even an hour old. He’d done it once. He could do it again. And again, and again, and again…!
She closed her eyes, but not looking didn’t stop her from remembering: the smell of the sea in his hair, the taste of it on his lips, the fine scratch of grains against her naked skin where their bodies came together.
When she’d first set foot in this tiny, unassuming village, she’d never dreamed she’d be standing here, flushed and eager for the touch of a man so unlike her norm. She’d wanted only simplicity after watching Mum wither, a fresh start someplace new. Maybe a pleasant distraction, if one presented itself. But not this stirring, this bubbling, this tremendous burst of feeling in her heart that threatened to turn her small and vulnerable again. Next, she’d be telling this beautiful beast she loved him –
Her belly quivered anew, and she opened her eyes. Her cheeks burned as she looked at him again.
Love.
Pulling her lip between her teeth, she stifled a foolish, girlish giggle.
But first, tea.
Coming off the tips of my fingers, this little moment is unrefined and mostly stream of consciousness. But, isn’t that what free writing is supposed to be all about? If not good, at least unfettered? I hope so. Because I don’t even know what good writing looks like, from me, any more.
I’ve spent so long in Ross’s head, examining one of the story’s moments from Amber’s point of view was a treat. She’s girly and a-flutter and I don’t care that she’s not breaking stereotypes or carrying a banner for the feminist revolution. I like her the way she is. Maybe because she’s me, and I’m tired of the sisterhood getting up in my face for wearing dresses that cling and heels that make my calves pop and enjoying the sensation of my husband’s hands on me in a playful grope.
I should probably end with a question, as I’m supposed to do with a blog post, leading you to comment and engage. But I wrote this for me and I only posted it to keep to my schedule. So, instead, I’ll end with a hope: that you are well, free of the pressures of work and rules, and able to indulge unhindered – just a bit – in your own private universe, at least for a little while.
by Mayumi-H | Feb 23, 2013 | Short Stories
I seem to be ping-pong-ing with my challenges, lately. Hope that’s all right with everyone. If not…well, too bad.
This is week 78 for the 100 Word Challenge for Grown-Ups, provided by Julia’s Place. For this week, Julia says the prompt is:
…what does it taste like…
There were no specific rules about including this phrase in our submissions, so I just ran with the spirit of the prompt.
“In His Kiss”
He smelled clean, electric, like a fresh summer rain that prickled her nostrils every time she drew breath. He felt like it, too: skin slick beneath her fingers, lips wet as he pressed them to hers. His body gave off a flowing heat she felt in wavy vapors as he took her in his arms.
Whispering his desires around their mouths, he pulled her to the ground, plucking gently at her buttons.
She let him do it all. Because she couldn’t go back to the farm. Not after that first kiss, when she’d tasted this fate on his sweet lips.
I’d considered calling this one “A Taste of Things to Come,” but, that just made me think of Shang Tsung.
No raunch, this time. Just good, old fashioned sweetness.
can remember to do so. This prompt provided some fun practice.
As writers, we paint with words to describe. Most often, those words relate to the visual sense. But, what are your next favorite senses in description?
by Mayumi-H | Jan 30, 2013 | Process
Many artists – sculptors, poets, fantasists of all kinds – attribute inspiration for their work to what they call their Muse.
“Hesiod and the Muse” – public domain image
Not to be cruel. Because, as artists, we’re all rather flighty individuals, with our minds dwelling at least a little bit in the clouds. That’s okay. Without dreamers, society would be pretty boring. Actually, it likely would have died away by now, without any high thinkers, who wrote some of the most important words of our civilization, from “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” to “We hold these truths to be self-evident….”
But ascribing your talent to some sort of divine guidance is – oh, I’m just going to say it. It’s kooky. More than that, though (and I’m going to catch a lot of flak for this, I know), it’s lazy.
Now, before my ever-dwindling group of blogging and writing friends decides to pull out the lynch ropes, let me clarify.
I’m not talking about artists who decide they need to step back from their art and re-prioritize; those folks know they’re just putting a muzzle on their Muse for a bit. Nor am I talking about the artists who simply know themselves well enough to decide they’ll make their art when it suits them, all in good time.
I’m referring to the people out there who complain they have no inspiration to create…while they can still pick up a videogame controller for hours on end, or head out to the pub the whole weekend long. That has nothing to do with the attention of your Muse.
Now, I completely understand the charm of having some seraphic creature looking over your shoulder, telling you which way to move your pen. And I, myself, believe that – in the throes of a story – a character or characters can take over, using their voices to weave new and intricate tales I’d never even considered while I was in the plotting phase.
But, don’t be misled by the flowery notion of a Muse. Those character voices are your voices. Any new paths toward which they may pull you are functions of your own creative subconscious. It’s a wonderful experience, to guide a story in an unexpected direction, based on the whim of a single word or phrase. But you have created that word, those phrases, that heretofore unknown story arc that turns your hunter into the hero, or your princess into the warrior demon. It didn’t come from any outside force.
What are you waiting for?
It’s not the idea of the Muse with which I take issue. I take issue with the idea of waiting on a Muse to move your pen (or hammer, brush, bow, or lens). That takes the power of creation away from the artist. Even worse, it takes away the responsibility for that creation. When an artist whines, “I’m waiting for my Muse,” that’s just an excuse for being lazy.
You cannot wait for some capricious, aetherial harlot to come knocking on your door, tapping at your shoulder, whispering into your ear that now is the time for you to make real all your hopes and dreams. No outside force is going to make your art for you. You are the only one capable of that. You. Or, I. Nobody else.
Blaming a Muse for lack of inspiration or failure to produce the story, the music, the picture you want is a cop-out. When you call – when you make the choice to apply yourself to your art, whatever it may be – your Muse will come. And, if she doesn’t, you go get her. You grab her by her flowing toga, and you drag her over to your workstation. Because you can’t afford to wait for her.
Because you are your own Muse.
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3C3poU_0sK4]
Now, for those of you still with me after that little tirade, tell me: How do you motivate yourself?
_-_ca1919.jpeg "Otto Mueller - Stehendes Liebespaar (klein) - ca1919")
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