Is Flash enough?

 

Is Flash enough?

Twelve years ago, after decades of academic writing, I returned to creative writing. My son Reuben, a prolific musician, was in his teens and as band mum I found kupu arriving whenever I traversed the North Island in a waka laden with adolescent energy and band equipment. But I wrote those words down, because intuitively I felt the stories needed to be told. They still come unbidden.

Since childhood I've had an intimate connection with Te Ao Tūroa, and observing interpersonal relationships, and I believe this comes through in my mahi. Finding words for difficult topics seems to be the road I've taken, albeit at times a confronting one. 

I did a year of creative writing night classes (before they sadly stopped offering them at high schools - why on earth did that happen?). And to be honest, having a poetry manuscript heartily rejected in my early twenties meant I simply walked away from it. I didn't believe I could write creatively, until being in an environment where sharing our mahi was encouraged. I've since learned that being an 'emerging writer' has absolutely nothing to do with age, despite what the industry might say. 

Fast-forwarding, because this is about Flash, I completed my Masters of Creative Writing at AUT in 2015. Initially I had wanted my thesis to be a collection of interlocking short stories, in that I enjoyed writing them, but was encouraged to do a novel. That languishes in a cobwebbed box but an award-winning short story transpired (before being banished to said box). 

While working full time, I came across the world of Flash Fiction and writing short pieces was something that was manageable. I read more short-form work (believe me, once you start looking there is a wealth of it). Flash can meld prose and poetry, is layered with meaning and, if it's good, is likely to be read again. It works on the premise that less is more; finely honed it can cross boundaries, genre, setting and time and is infinitely more than the sum of its parts. 

Flash Fiction is a newish term in the literary world but short form fiction is familiar to writers, narrators, lyricists and teachers. It has been around for eons such as short stories, prose-poetry, lyrics, traditional myths and fables. 

To write Flash requires commitment, focus, and patience. I usually begin with a snapshot (e.g. a sound, kupu, kōrero, or observation), then deepen or expand upon those details. What I love is that Flash doesn't give everything away; it leaves out details for readers to discover or imagine for themselves. Despite working within a tight word count, my preference is to utilise white space on the page to create breathing room for the reader. Flash requires a beginning, middle and end. Well-written Flash is crafted so that the reader experiences an emotion intensely, and they are drawn to return to the story again - be that to tie up loose ends or to be left in limbo wanting more.

While Flash might be a compressed form don't be fooled by that because it is expertly distilled and every word counts. There is no room for extraneous detail — but plenty of space for experimentation. I also see Flash as a way to explore deeper issues and enjoy the challenge of refining my stories. Sometimes pieces can sit for years before they emerge resplendent. It might be short form whānau but that doesn't mean it's easy to write! 

I've always been outside the square but it seems there is a certain amount of snobbery (dare I say it?) within the literature scene in Aotearoa. What appears to constitute worthy praise seems limited to novels, poetry collections or literary non-fiction. Flash Fiction in Aotearoa has been like an underground genre and despite my best descriptions of the form, people still think it's prose-poetry or poetry because of the word count. There are some extraordinary kaituhi in Aotearoa who write Flash but the majority have needed to find publishers overseas because of a lack of validation here. 

My latest collection Gaps in the Light was published in the UK with Ad Hoc Fiction, who has led resurgence in the form, in conjunction with other international publishers. We have an incredible (yet solitary) collection in Aotearoa, Bonsai: Best small stories from Aotearoa (CUP 2018) and one publisher Flash Frontier — but we need more. 

Aotearoa, there is an entire world of FLASH on your doorstep. Check out local National Flash Fiction Day events on Tuesday, June 22nd and get your Flash on! 

Note: Kupu, inspiration. Te Ao Tūroa, the natural world around us. Mahi, work. Kōrero, a conversation or discussion.  Whānau, family. Kaituhi, writer.


Iona Winter

Iona Winter (Waitaha/Pākehā) lives in Ōtepoti Dunedin and her hybrid work is widely published and anthologised in literary publications internationally. She creates work to be performed, relishing cross-modality collaboration, and has authored three collections, Gaps in the Light (2021), Te Hau Kāika (2019) and then the wind came (2018). Skilled at giving voice to difficult topics, she often draws on her deep connection to land, place and whenua.

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