. Spinning .

So here we are at Day #75 of the 100 Days Project. I hate it when what I might consider a landmark day produces less than top quality output. I was thinking of waiting and marking off day #76, or #83, or whatever came up again as a good one but I’m just too rigid for that, so I’m stuck with what came to mind. More on this later…

The first image is of a main folder file called “100 Days 10″ meaning, the Summer 2010 project. It holds each story file along with an Image folder and the Tinderbox file that organizes the whole project for me (more on that at Hypercompendia).

This next shot is of the Tinderbox file itself, and the organization by relative theme, genre, word count, along with some terrifically helpful Agents that I’ve already used to sort stories by submission and publication.

I’ve committed myself to joining a weekly story project (for 52 weeks) and another for the first 24 days of August (with the final week for editing). All told, I believe I’ll be writing about 140 flash fictions between the last week of May and the last week of August. Just to keep them together I’ve double-posted at my 100 Days those extra 24 stories, keeping the theme of the day as offered by John Timmons’ videos. So there’s a #71 and #71B, etc. up through #95. And here I’ve sort of run into both good and bad as a writer.

On the one hand, practice truly does help the mind conceive ideas and plots more quickly, and with flash fic, learn to put it down concisely and make best use of every word. If possible. And here’s the down side: while I realize that some of these stories are the best writing I’ve ever done, some of them revert back to a traditional storytelling style that I just don’t like anymore. With these, the whole story probably sucks, and that’s why I didn’t work them harder–though I have thrown many away and started from scratch.

Once I had the format down of posting the daily stories on separate pages here, I started adding in images with each story just to break up the text a bit, even with ten stories to a page. I’ll note here that I also started Password Protecing the pages after a group was done because I noticed Google grabbing the images. I’ve always felt bad about an image I posted once of my Dad years ago, driving a new lawn tractor. There’s no way of keeping Google–and others–from making images part of their public collection. They cover their asses with “may be copyrighted” as if people pay any attention to that.

Anyway, what this got me doing is playing in Photoshop and today, when I was grabbing a file image to post here of the Image file, I discovered Mac’s “cover flow” view and love the way it came out:

Ain’t that neat?

And this:

And this:

It’s neat to be getting some photography in, though I roam the house to find something that will suit the story and even the cellar stairs have been photographed. I’m using my little Vivitar 3.5 megapixel digital that I got years ago and it’s doing the job. What I’m learning is to explore Photoshop’s capabilities. Layering, adding in images, pulling out sections of photos and dropping them against other backgrounds, playing with opacity in the layers.

So not all the stories are literary marvels and not all the images are expert manipulation. I’m learning. And I have twenty five days left to go.

Well it’s Day #71 on 100 Days, and tomorrow will be Day #72. It will also be Day#1 of the 24/7 Challenge.

Will I be able to keep up? What I’m going to try to do for the next three weeks is use the John Timmons’ video of the 100 Days Project to develop two different stories if I can. If only one comes through–so strongly that I can’t see another concept out of it–then I’ll fall back on some photo sites, perhaps Jessica Somers’ since I do love her work and an image can often spark a thousand words with no problem.

Oh, I forgot that I’ve been including an image with each of my stories for 100 Days. It’s been a lot of fun experimenting with Photoshop and not always depending on their Filter Gallery alone to make something from a photo I’ve taken. It’s been a learning experience and for today’s, when I needed a puddle I was able to make do with a glass tabletop and some fancy footwork in the program.

Oh yes, and I’m still keeping up with the 52/250 Challenge as well, which (thank God!) is a weekly submission.

I haven’t been keeping up on the weblogs as I used to, but then, thank your lucky stars for Facebook and twitter so you don’t have to read my rants and feel the cosmic waves of my temper tantrums like you used to.The beauty of tweets and FB is that I can let off steam and go back–usually within a half an hour–and delete the stream.

Just noticed when I came on to post that it’s somewhere around 5,750 blog posts here, with 4001 comments! That doesn’t include Hypercompendia’s posts nor the blogs I’ve started and let die in the past seven years.

I’m not slowing down to a stop here though. The drop-off is mainly because I don’t post as much personal stuff anymore, haven’t read as much in the past year, and have been concentrating a lot on writing. Funny thing though, even though my goal was to get published, now that I have been, each story of mine that I see under a heading other than my own, while thrilling, doesn’t mean any more than just writing.

Yeah, the writing’s the big thrill.

I’m having great fun with the 100 Days Project, now up to Day #35. What I’m noticing are the patterns that emerge from a dedicated and sustained effort.

For example, in daily writing, even when given a starting point or impetus such as John Timmons’ video clips, the initial reaction determines whether it’s going to be an easy write or a labored one. I’m delighted when it leads me to an immediate opening sentence because that usually indicates an edgier piece, one that sings with magical realism or sarcasm in the guise of story.

The tougher ones are more traditionally structured. More woven by the elements of narrative arc, character, dialogue and setting at the forefront and often calling for the fun meter to be bypassed in favor of story. That’s when I’m glad I chose to include images in the works. Photoshop is extraordinary good fun, like recess or play time in school.

Today’s piece (#35 A Night at the Opera) had me hot on the trail using metaphors and a bit of the magic of the absurd in the writing, but just as with Jesus who’s impossible to photograph, I had to break down and draw something to suit story. That wasn’t so fun, but since I’ve had visual art published before, I overwhelmed my embarrassment with reminders of deadlines and went at it with pencil and paper then turned it over to Photoshop for a small effect addition that covered a lot of the flaws.

While some may have found the daily commitment too grueling when the summer sun beckons them away to foreign beaches and dreams, most of the participants have stuck with it and you’ll find some tremendous writing–Steve Ersinghaus can always kick me out of the normal world into an odd place where imagination can really tell story–including a terrific bunch of poets–Steve’s wife, Susan Ersinghaus, is producing some amazing work–and artists such as the baby-heavy and nature-inspired Carianne Mack Garside, who started this tradition off in 2008, Janette Maxey with some beautifully executed paintings, Jessica Somers who has an incredible eye for composition, and just too many others to name. It’s well worth checking out: 100 Days 2010.

Wow. Just learned something that maybe I knew but forgot or forgot that I knew: the importance of placement, of spacing, of a simple paragraph break.

Example:

“He said she just wanted a shoulder or money or something like that and that most likely she was pilled out or drunk. He said he’d take care of it and call her back.

Now he felt bad that he hadn’t.”

versus

“He said she just wanted a shoulder or money or something like that and that most likely she was pilled out or drunk. He said he’d take care of it and call her back. Now he felt bad that he hadn’t.”

This is the ending of today’s 100 Days story “Reaching Out a Hand” and while the paragraph is longer, I think these three sentences represent the point. In the first draft, there is an expectation of some monumental conclusion, drama, explanation based on the importance that a new paragraph instills in a reader. The simplicity here of the conclusion diffuses the impact of the ending. It doesn’t measure up to the build.

In the second case, what (so far) is the final version, It flows into the ending, does not require a pause for a punch line that falls flat. Before you know it, the story is done and that is the impact.

While I’ve been weaning myself off of Facebook and twitter to concentrate more on keeping up on the weblogs, I’ve also gotten myself busy keeping up on the sidelines with the 100 Days Project.

There are some thirty or so folks involved in the project this year, artists, photographers, writers, cinematographers, poets, cooks, coders, and more all of whom are dedicating some part of each day to producing a work inspired by John Timmons’ film clips or something sparked by another artist’s interpretation of the piece.

I’m finding the early morning kick of viewing the short bits of film, the freedom to interpret, and the discipline of a deadline to be an excellent incentive to keep the imagination active and the words spilling out into mainly flash fiction–all flash fiction so far but I’m open to poetry, short story, or hypertext should that be the best path for the story.  What’s been fun to do is either find an image from my personal file or take a photo to fit the story. Maybe because of last year’s hypertext stories that I produced in the summer project it just seems strange to be done with each before night-time. That’s probably what drove the addition of images.

Some of these stories may be submitted, most I intend to hold onto and do some thinkin’ on. Not all have excited me, but there are a few that I particularly like as a more polished form of the narrative. For right now, and to prove that I’m still here and busy, they’re available here: 100 Days – 100 Stories.

Well yes, I do go back and edit throughout the day–it’s just a habit that tears me between the rush of a story completed and the knowledge that it could have been better. #3 is based on a roadtrip, #4 on change–or the perception or hope of change. Or, the unexpected change of self rather than other.

Still have to work something out about the setup, WordPress Page not being an update-able link, yet I don’t want to put the stories into this weblog as posts as I did with the hypertexts of last summer (as well as listing them on a single Page). So the technical, even in traditional text story, still influences presentation–neat!

Watched Timmons’ starting video this morning and knew exactly what my story was going to be. Started once again with the opening line and trusted it to stay strong all day while I was away before I wrote it down. It was still there when I came home. Story #2 Lies, is based on a film clip of a beautiful woman primping in the mirror as a voice muses the concept of face transplants.

Because I hadn’t really planned this whole thing, I simply put up a page (permanent link to the right, 100 Days – 100 Stories 2010) and the top entry will be the newest, just as weblogs work. However, since I’m writing the stories in Tinderbox, I may just attempt to put up an html template for each so that perhaps if I get into hypertext or images with text, it’ll be more consistent. So the format may change. Or not.

I won’t go over the whole thing again here, but on Hypercompendia I posted about organizing my efforts, both in hypertext and traditional, in Tinderbox and what that has revealed to me: the need to write more regularly and edit or toss old stuff. What I think I’m going to do through this summer is write a short piece daily–I’m better with deadlines than leaving it up to my own lazy self–along with this year’s 100 Days 2010.

It was an intense but productive summer last year and I don’t think I have the drive and confidence to make myself do it unless I believe that I’m supposed to (there they are again, the black shrouded nuns of my youth), and I’m easily fooled into believing whatever I choose.

There are currently about a dozen story files on my desktop that range anywhere from an opening sentence to a fully complete (but not something I’m happy with) story. In a main file, there are dozens of stories that I really need to rewrite or just inadvertently drop into the blackness of lost.

And I will have to clean some stories to the point where I’m just so anxious to have someone read them that I’ll submit since I haven’t submitted much for a while except in a few spurts of ambition.

Should be a fun summer.

It started with this article by Jason Sanford, sent to me by Dorothee Lang (Blue Print Review), Who Wears Short Shorts, Micro Stories and MFA Disgust. in StorySouth.

Jason brings up some valid points about the changes in the literary market:

That’s right—being a writer in today’s lovely world of fiction and creative nonfiction is like reliving 70′s TV hell, where that Nair commercial jingle has been conveniently rewritten into “Who writes short shorts?” Poetic vision rarely shows up. After all, how can you express vision in 100 words? As for plot and character development, give those antiquated goods to Goodwill. All that matters with short shorts is a competent writing style and a desire for lots of publication credits.

Now I don’t necessarily agree with the “all that matters” statement, since there are many fine publications with editors that are still looking for story even if its only six words long. But from the writer’s point of view, it’s fairly easy to rack up a bunch of publishing credits with the mountain of new online journals cropping up every month. Nowadays, it’s more common to cross your fingers and hope they don’t get bored with the whole thing and pull the plug and that’s where the time and worry is spent on the part of the writer if your piece has been accepted–with record speed.

While Mr. Sanford goes on to explain what a short piece is capable of doing, he has argument with what is passing for short story:

Instead of demonstrating depth and vision, 99% of the published short shorts are merely sight gags, inside jokes, scene descriptions, or scattered details from some writer’s life. Yet this is exactly what currently passes for quality writing in the world of short shorts. The editors of Brevity, an online magazine for nonfiction short shorts (published on the site of the highly venerated Creative Nonfiction), say as much in their guidelines: “Brevity publishes concise literary nonfiction of 750 words or less focusing on detail and scene over thought and opinion.” Detail and scene over thought and opinion? For the record, detail and scene do not a story make, any more than slapped-together descriptions of your last Disney World vacation make a poem.

I have to agree; I just recently posted on this as a matter of fact. I’ve seen too many such ‘stories’ that I’d consider only a single event out of a story. We are given no depth of background of character nor any hint of what’s ahead for him. It seems that the short story–flash, let’s call it, though I’ve seen longer stories be as inept in creating a narrative–is a case of writers thinking that they too can do it and anything goes. Similar to how free-form verse both added a wealth of creative freedom as well as a helluvalotta crappy poetry.

Sanford goes on to debunk the theory that flash fiction is the result of demand from a society that is in Time Warp #10. Then he tackles the universities that churn out Creative Writing Majors with no sense of ingenuity but who at least don’t make as many mistakes since the short format may inhibit excess description and setting. Sanford sums up (though I would strongly recommend reading the whole article) with this:

The problem with most short shorts is not the genre—it is that they are being written by writers who are not committed to the true exploration of voice that’s at the heart of great literature.

Next I read Ann Pino’s Five Great Reasons for Novelists to Write Flash. And here I agree that just as with poetry teaching metaphor, brevity, and imagery, flash offers the writer the opportunity to exercise the editing and rewriting skills:

Writing flash requires you to be ruthless, aggressively paring anything that doesn’t add value to your story.

Then comes the kicker, touching on the question of online publishing, Eliza Victoria, in Online Publications: Who Benefits? names names. There has always been the question of publication value; some, such as the New Yorker, being considered in the uppermost eschelon with several tiers established by longevity and quality of writing pyramiding beneath them. Now the new question of online versus print tried to establish itself as a standard of valuation but that’s not working as more and more of the creme de la creme have found it necessary to at least partially go online in order to maintain readership.

Eliza points out the obvious:

So: why an online publication? From the viewpoint of a publisher, one factor to consider is that online publishing is cheap. Compared to a print publication, an online publication is easy to set up that it can actually begin – and even remain – a one-man endeavor. For example, the now defunct (and quite brilliant) Lone Star Stories listed only one person under “Staff” – publisher and editor Eric Marin.

To start an online publication, all you need is a web-publishing platform (Expanded Horizons, for example, publishes using WordPress), good internet connection, submission guidelines, and time that can be devoted to going through the pile of submissions. Compare this with the money you’ll have to shell out in order to produce your first print issue, factoring in the cost of printing, distribution, and the like.

I’ve published magazines. Since high school, three of ‘em. I’ve edited when cut and paste literally meant scissors and Rubber Cement (so you could move columns and ads around). Changing typeface, sizes, adding images, all that’s so much easier with a computer and so much cheaper and faster than working with a printer. Time and money both saved. And more pros for e-zines:

For a writer, online publications also have their appeal. The online space is a site for experimentation, as shown by Adam David’s use of hypertext in his short story *snip*. On a more practical level, submissions to online publications are also cheaper to transmit, as a writer only has to e-mail a story, or submit via an online submission system. This beats the traditional method–printing out a manuscript, buying stamps, enclosing a SASE and lining up in a post office–by a mile.

And the biggest plus of all for the writer: with so many–like hundreds and hundreds–to submit to without cost and easy as pushing a button, the hardest part is keeping track of what was sent where. Another barrier broken down by internet publication is the “no simultaneous submission” statement that most writers, often waiting six months for a reply, lied about anyway. (I didn’t, but then the Catholic rose  in me and the face of an angry nun causes sweat to form and I just couldn’t do it.) This of course means that anybody who thinks they can write (an estimated 95% of the population) is sitting in their jammies writing single-paragraph stories and bombarding the market with their words.

So yes, there’s good and bad news with all that technology opens up. I believe that as the print/online status question fades into the background, replaced by the short/long dilemma, there will always be a standard that fine writing sets for itself.

Do read the articles and follow the links offered.

(UPDATE: via Dorothee Lang (Blue Print Review), this most interesting echo of my own feelings: Jason Sanford, in storySouth — this may even call for another post.)

Just remembered that May is Short Story Month (no, I don’t know who started it) and since I made a conscious effort not to conform, I’m thinking of writing a short story a day throughout June.

This goes contradictory to my nature of editing and polishing (though some of my best published stories are those written on the fly). Last summer I wrote a story a day in hypertext for 100 days. While some are really good, the majority are eh and have more value as a learning of format and narrative than for actual story I think. I’m still working on editing them and this is a lot more time and work than I’d already put into them–probably an average of ten to twelve hours per story–originally. Particularly now, when there are several places on the hard drive and in different forms (Tinderbox, html) as well as the online version to update if a change is made.

So do I write my June away? Traditional or hypertext? Or should I just play with clay…

In reading around the web this morning, particularly political topics but more personal and opinionated ones as well, I came across a tweet from New Scientist that offers a visual that illuminates the power of perspective on our beliefs as well as our reasoning.

In writing, it gives us the opportunity to show story from different points of view (as in Faulkner’s). In life, it should show us why and how someone sees something so differently than we do. It should breed tolerance and understanding, if not agreement.

Along with an easy answer of why and how what we think we see is not always truth: “Impossible Motion“

So now the trend is short story, flash fiction anywhere from 140 characters to abide by twitter-fic, to as much as 1500 words or so, depending on whose definition of flash versus short story we’re using.

Love it. However…somebody back at the education level needs to explain exactly what flash is, and how it works. A short scenario without at least intimating at story is not a story; it’s a vignette. Story doesn’t have to be complete to work, but it does need a beginning and an ending that is either revealed by the author or, Barthes-style, left up to the reader to write.

Even at Fictionaut which is one of the largest communities of great writers I’ve seen online is beginning to get some crap that passes for story. Writers need to understand that a single exchange or interaction between two characters can be a profound narrative, or it can be a fantastically interesting moment that should have included a story in there somewhere. One of the most annoying questions directed by the professor of my Creative Writing classes has been, “What’s the story?” or “Is it a story?” I hated that but anticipated it in every CW and Contemporary Fiction class after a night’s reading. It was, I see now, the most vital part of all the words put together to form a narrative. Theme, imagery, tone, voice, arc, conflict, denouement, exposition, resolution, climax–all take second, etc. place to story when writing a story. If it’s a bit of time taken out of a character’s life and doesn’t have a story, stay home and write the next chapter. If it’s a feeling, maybe it should be a poem instead.

Meanwhile, the best way to learn is to learn from the great storytellers, the writers who have mastered the skill of brevity in story. You’ll know. You won’t be left scratching your head and wondering what you’ve just read.

Got my panties in a twist this morning but spent a good part of half of my mind thinking about the implications of social networking and the creative writer. It started when I posted on twitter and Facebook that I had a story published and just out with an e-zine, and provided the link to the piece. I received one comment and one “Like” on FB. Now more than half of my “Friends” on FB are writers, many of them more local and in-person friends as well as FB friends. It made me feel bad.

I know, I know: not everyone has the time to read never mind comment on all that’s posted daily on these social networking sites, and no one has the same habits or routines. I tend to read at Fictionaut and comment there, especially to new writers who are talented and may need the kind words. And it’s not set in stone, but in my experience it seems that the writers who excel at their craft, who put their heart into the words whether poem or story, are the ones who most likely need the reassurance that they are indeed writing something that others enjoy reading. There are those who don’t, who have the self-confidence or don’t require any validation but that’s often because they’ve already been convinced by others and have come to accept their work as good or they aren’t really that good but merely believe themselves to be and don’t care what others think. But in the deep dark place where our heart and soul and mind have meetings, we usually still find the input of others to be essential to our belief in ourselves.

Then we get into social networking. And, reciprocity. And, not hurting somebody’s feelings for overlooking them.

Once the network spreads too wide, this is bound to happen. We all make up our own rules I suppose, just to keep sane. I personally try to make sure that I post a comment on the artist/writer’s initial posting, or at the very least, the first notice I get of a showing, a publishing, or whatever. A simple “Like” will do, though a “Congrats!” takes only a second longer. I always go and read the story and uh-oh, there’s a place to leave a comment there too sometimes. I try to do so. Then you might get a half-dozen more FB notices from friends on this same item. Are you supposed to comment on all of them? I don’t. As long as the writer/artist knows that I’ve viewed his work, I think that’s sufficient.

Now there’s a lot of benefit to social networking besides the pat on the head; there’s the hitching of one’s wagon to a star, and that’s what I avoid doing. There’s a lot of folks wanting to be noticed–I’m one of ‘em–but I just can’t find it in myself to schmooze in hopes of catching the eye of an editor or publisher, or work the web just to benefit my own status. There are folks out there that need  and there are folks who are just plain needy. It’s hard, but it’s best for me to learn about people and see what they’re asking for before I give what I can.

Facebook, MySpace, et al, have created some monsters and have resulted in some terribly unfortunate suicides because of fragile egos. Why do we let folks we really don’t know very well get to us so deeply?  Because, we’re human. Because we leave ourselves wide open to a select group. The internet expands that select group to hundreds of people if we choose. That’s a helluvalotta people to allow to influence us.

It’s hard to sell yourself; the soul of a poet is often at odds with that of a marketing expert, though the two combined make the best whole. After I whined, friends came to the rescue through the medium and emails and it made me feel rather foolish and yet, in the back of my head there’s still that feeling that I shouldn’t have needed a double-call to acknowledge. Or develop a thicker skin but then, thick skin would prevent one from feeling what we want to put into words that will move others as well.

Exactly a week ago I was sleeping off the drunken effects of a 24-hour sit in Arts Marathon where together with anywhere from two to eight writers I spent a solid day devoted to the creation of story. Not that the first 18 hours were so different than many days spent here at home where the laptop overheats out of sheer use and never seeing the darkness of a closed lid.

What I feared most in this endeavor was the camaraderie, the physical bodies in the writing room as well as the  visual artists dancing by and the entertainment of live and boom-boxed sound. I am a solitary soul, even more so in my writing time. It was amazingly satisfying to see, however, that stories came through regardless of what was going on around me. That sentences could hang while I listened to someone else talking, and then miraculously continue on their way. That the only time I was bothered by the living beings around me or found the necessity and ability to completely shut out the environment was when I was coding into hypertext and making bits and changes that applied to some but not all of the templates. These things were carried in my head and distractions did take a minor toll on efficiency.

But the surprise was there. Looking back now I can reason the changes in my writing style. First, I’ve written so much in the past couple years that I find myself writing while watching television. I can do both without losing either story line. Also, the 100 Days project of last summer, and the slew of new stories I’ve written since December to meet deadlines and challenges have taught me the way to pick up on an idea and run with it. This was nearly impossible back in the days of Creative Writing Class and the five-minute exhortation to produce based on a simple premise. “No!” I used to cry; “Can’t do it! I don’t work that way!” I moaned with self-pity. I felt that the muse must find me, must strike with the opening line and from thence I could grow a story. I also needed complete silence, preferably a room empty of people completely.

It’s nice to have matured in both how I write as well as how I write. It’s a necessary thing to accomplish for the serious writer.