this sentence was a painting

why some novel pieces can't be short stories...

this semester i'm taking a fiction workshop class and a short story writing class. both classes are ten weeks long, and will be ending in a few weeks.

when i first started this semester my main goal was to challenge myself to learn and understand the dynamics of short story writing, and to further or should i say deepen my understanding of fiction writing.

i can honestly say that i am finally confident that i understand fiction writing. notice i said understand. i have not, by any stretch of the imagination or pen mastered it, or even "learned" it.

fiction writing is not something you master or learn, it is something you continually work at understanding and crafting. it is very much like art.

fiction writing is art.

in art, a piece is never abandoned, it is simply abandoned at interesting places. (not my quote...someone else..but true).

if we really understand fiction writing, and let's just say creative writing as a whole, we know that it is the art of understanding, interrupting, and relating the stories of life and humanness.

that is my definition. that is what i've come to understand creative writing, and more importantly fiction writing as.

the key word is art, it is an art...how do you color this or that experience, how do you shape it, how do you present it, how is it to be viewed...how is it to be consumed. all of these things are why i believe we can never truly master or learn art..we simply learn how to deal with each particular piece of art in its context. the next one may be different.

a cupcake or a slice of cake? the difference between a short story and a novel.

so, now that i have given you my definition of fiction/creative writing...let me share with you how i am coming to learn and understand the short story.

the first thing i've learned is that a short story is not a teeny-tiny novel, nor is it a long poem. a short story is itself a separate unit. it has different goals, objectives, purposes.

here's an analogy. a cupcake and a cake.

sure they are very similar, they have the same ingredients but their experiences are different. when you look at a cupcake you don't see a slice of cake, you see a complete dessert. not a piece of a whole like a slice of cake is.

a short story is the same, it is not a piece of a novel...it is its on unit of story telling. it has its own beginning, middle, and end. it has its own rise and fall, it can (and should) stand alone.

i didn't understand this when i first went into this semester. the concept of the short story to me, having spent the last year working on a novel, was a small chapter from a greater novel.

a short story was a piece of a greater whole. i was wrong.

this week, in my short story writing class we started work-shopping our stories. one lady read her story and though it was well written, there was lots of great imagery, the characters were fairly well sketched, there was a lot of questions at the end of her reading. we all felt like we didn't have questions answered, we didn't know the purpose, the whys, the who's. we wanted more, we felt sort of incomplete.

when she was finally able to respond (because during work-shopping the author cannot speak until everyone else has spoken and discussed the piece) she shared with us that she thought of the "story" as a sort of prologue or chapter one of a larger novel.

"ahhhh" we all sung out collectively, "well in that case...let us re-read it and give you our thoughts"

why would you have to re-read it? let me explain.

when a reader sits down to read a short story and a novel they come to the piece with different expectations and hopes. when we sit down to read a novel we are hoping to be brought into the reading spell...we hope to enter a world that is outside of our own, that will capture our hearts, or imagination, that will entertain us, challenge us, and push our thinking and/or feelings...for a while.

for a while.

we expect to invest time into the piece. we do not expect to finish reading it in one sitting. we want to linger in it, we want to be captivated and taken on a journey with the characters and hopefully the author and ourselves will get out the way...and we will live and feel with the characters. that is successful fiction writing.

all that for a while...that is the key word...for a while.

now, when a reader sits down to read a short story they expect to have their imaginations captured, to be entertained, perhaps challenged and/or pushed in their thinking and feelings also...but...for a short while.

for a short while.

the investment for a reader into a short story is a much smaller span of time then for a novel. when we sit down to read a short story, we have the same expectations, but we have some other ones added on. we expect to have our questions answered (to some degree) by the end of the piece. we expect to have an understanding of the purpose of the story, and of the characters. we expect to know why the author is taking our time to tell us about these particular characters in this particular setting dealing with this particular issue. sometimes the ending doesn't come together in a neat box, but we still have some sort of understanding about the character/situation at the end.

here is another expectation of short story readers: we expect to finish the piece and have all of that by the end, which should come in one (maybe two but your pushing it into novella realm) sittings.

this to me is the difference between short stories and novels.

with novels, chapters do not have to end neatly and answer question, in fact it is advised that they don't. in novels you have time to set the scenes, use time to establish settings and or characters. not so much time in short stories. you have to set the scene, sketch the characters, set up the problem/situation and bring it all to a conclusion in a small space of pages/reading time.

this is why not all novel chapters cannot be short stories.

getting back to the girl in my class. she asked us, so what should i do? tell you (the reader) why he does this or that, explain how this happens, answer this question, or not?

the answer? it depends.

if it is a short story, you cannot leave your reader not knowing more about the main character(s), why s/he has this problem, how did s/he get there, and why and how it can only be solved by this or that character. as a short story reader i would resent you, you gave me all the questions -- and never answered one of them. you raised the tension well, you brought me to the climax of the story and never resolved it, never gave me a release or satisfaction.

now...if this was a prologue or chapter one, i am happy. you are giving me my money and time's worth because i want to keep reading. i have questions. i want to know why. i want to know more. and i will pull the book away from my nose and eyeglasses...look at all the pages ahead of me and settle in to find out. very content.

with a novel you have time. not so much with a short story.

now there are other things to learn about short stories...there are so many different types of short stories and approaches. that's another post or two.

but the first thing to consider when deciding if a story is or should be a short story or a chapter of a novel...is to consider the time of the reader, and approach it accordingly.

if you want to take your time, or have a long story to tell...you've got a novel. if it is shorter than a novel...novella...and you've got a short story...be mindful of your readers expectations and write accordingly. meaning...structure your story/plot accordingly.

me and my writing

i am proud to say, i have written my first true short story. it is completely isolated from the novel i've been working on (meaning i didn't turn a chapter into a short story - though i may one day). it is about 2200 words/8 pages...a slice of life story, and i think it is good. in other words, i like it.

i'm going to try and workshop it in the remaining class time i have...and hopefully it will be ready to send out within the next two weeks.

my professor in my short story class has already let me know he has an editor of a literary magazine he knows and wants me to send it out to. i don't know the literary magazine yet, and it isn't a sure thing that she will accept it, but it is a lead and he has told me he thinks it is a marketable story.

i agree.

after having the experience of writing a short story, i'm not so sure i know how i'm walking away from it. i don't know if i want to write more or not, and i don't know if i consider one easier, or more advantagious than the other.

my experience was hard, but not on the same level as novel writing. writing a novel is a long haul of work. there is so much to write, and keep track off, and to consider. it is a stupendous amount of work. but it is also wonderful. i don't feel rushed when writing in my novel's world...i can take the time to explain and create beautiful images and rich characters and settings.

not so much with a short story. but, with this short story i spent a couple of weeks sweating over the story and then came away with something beautiful. i've spent a year sweating over my novel. there is relief in sight with a short story, and you feel a sense of instant gratification (when compared to a novel). and also with a short story, you can work hard for a month or two (depending on how well/fast you write) and then have something to send out and get instant (publishable) feedback. the process is no where near that fast with a novel..unless your some mega talent, and only then -- maybe.

the hardest thing i encountered with writing my first short story was finding an idea i could write well and quickly (meaning page numbers not time), and of course not turning it into the first chapter of a longer novel/novella. there were also so many images, metaphors and such that i wanted to include that i didn't have the space or "reading" time to include ( i was trying to write something ten pages and under).

i think, well, i hope that now that i feel i have a good understanding of the difference between a short story and a novel when grains of story ideas come to me i will know if it should be a short story or novel...and will treat it accordingly.

we can't forget poetry, but i'm not educated enough to speak on it. but what i do know is that a poem should tell a story too. so, being that poems are generally smaller than short stories...poems are in my eyes that much harder to do right. you have even less time to tell the reader what you want them to know. not to mention all the other things that come into play with poetry.

one day i'll have to take a class on poetry, for now i'm being a true autodidact and reading books to educate myself.

now..go out and read some art!

peace and writing...

ki

 

no longer mrs. know it all

i'm a couple of weeks from going back to school. it seems like i shouldn't say "going back to school" because i have been taking classes for the past year at my local university's extension program and that surely fills the bill of school.

but there is a difference, and i am going back...i'm going back to a university. it has been fourteen years since i have been at a university.

fourteen.

this past wednesday was my birthday, and for my birthday (since e took off work) i wanted to visit my new campus, walk around, get my i.d. taken care of, and familiarize myself with the campus.

the first thing i did was go to the information desk and ask where do i go. simple right? no...i looked at the young (student worker) lady behind the desk and wondered what did she see. here i was...locs full of grey, two small children and husband in tow...completely lost, asking about an i.d.

i wondered if i looked old. not old in the sense of aged...but old in the sense of "experienced." i'm a mother...of an 8-year old and 6-year old...i've been married for almost 12 years, surely i don't look the part of a new uni student. i wondered what she saw, i remembered when i was her age (at my first university) and the concept of family seemed so far, and "old" to me. again not old in the sense of age, old in the sense of "adult."

well, she told me which direction to head in, and i (well we) started down that direction. it was mid-day so the building was alive with students studying, walking to and from class, going into the computer lab, etc. i had to look misplaced because a kind, young (but older than the student receptionist) lady, who was immaculately dressed (she was an employee), stopped and asked me if i/we needed help finding something.

she pointed us in the right direction, and then i knew...i looked out of place.

i looked down at my outfit, cute jeans, fuschia pink tennis shoes, handmade heart purse, colorful scarf...nice jacket...it was raining...so I didn't look too bad...i thought. i made an effort...afterall it was my birthday and i was taking an i.d. picture, so it wasn't my clothes, at least i hoped.

as i reached the office where my i.d. would be taken i thought about my locs...this morning there was a lot of grey...a lot of fuzz...my re-tighetening appt. two weeks away...i thought, maybe that's it.

e whispered him and the kids would wait out in the hall for me. i opened the door and slipped in quiet as a mouse. i was focused on being polite, professional...and i don't know what else. i stood at the desk and a lady busy making copies in the back called out to me if i needed help.

when she approached and i told her i needed to get my i.d., and that i was a new student she started asking me questions...did i have my schedule, who sent me, what paper work did i have, etc. i had nothing...but i did know my student number was all i could manage.

i was thinking...now i'm really standing out...what student doesn't have all her "official" paper work..how could i have forgotten all that important stuff.

she was a bit irritated, but content to look me up in the computer by number...and while she waited for the computer to come to life and confirm that i was in fact a student, i looked back and through the glass panneled door. my son was standing at the window, his newly landscaped mouth of incoming and outgoing teeth open wide, his eyes bright, and his right hand up waving back and forth to me; hi mommy he mouthed.

i smiled at him, and he formed his two happy hands into a heart...which means in six-year old boy talk, "hi mommie, i see you, i love you...can i come stand next to you and see what your doing and ask questions in my loud, squeaky voice." i mouth "hi" and "i love you" back to him and promptly turned around before he started with the hand-clasped begging gestures.

with a six-year old, heart jesturing, tooth-missing boy standing at the door waiting for me...i knew i stood out.

once she found me, i had to produce i.d. and from there she took me to the back and i shyly stood up against a vanilla white background and got my i.d. picture taken. on my 34th birthday. i was instructed to come back the first week of class and pick it up.

i went out to the hall...reconnected with my family...and we started to "explore" the campus. we had to ask where the bookstore was twice, or was it three times. we walked around the bookstore looking at the prices of books...e going pale...and then stumbled out...trying to "explore" more.

i noticed that people looked at us like they were trying not to look like us. and the more they did it, the more i tried to act normal, with a husband, eight-year old, and six-year old in tow. me and e could of easily parented half the students we crossed, i thought. or was i just exaggerating?

thankfully...the rain, which had stopped for a short time...enough to let us get onto campus...had started back...enough to give us an excuse to get off campus.

when we got to the car i told e how out of place i felt, how i felt like a visitor...like i didn't belong.

everything i thought i knew about being a college student, what if felt like, what the atmosphere was like, what to do, how to navigate the buildings...everything was being washed away on the car windows with the rain.

i was an adult student.

can you explain financial aid, pre-reqs, office hours, and what i can do with this major again to me?

i used to know everything, and i do know somethings still...to some extent. but i have been gone for so long that this is a different experience for me now. i'm not sure that i'll get enough financial aid to fund my education anymore; i've been jaded. i'm not interested in social groups, clubs, and what pep rallies are coming up, unless of course my eight and six-year olds can attend. i'm not looking forward to hanging out in the dining hall and talking about campus gossip or what professors are tripping this semester, unless of course the dining hall has allergen-free and family meals.

this is a whole new expereince for me. i am an adult student. on campus housing? i have a mortage and a summer vegetable garden to plan.

things are going to be much, much different for me this time around.

my last try at full-time college i worked three jobs, lived on campus and had lots and lots of fun. this time? i'm a stay at home, homeschooling mom with a garden, and an almost thirty-nine-year old husband of eleven, nearly twelve years.

this time i have gray hair, and snacks and reading books in my purse for my kids. this time i have to manage homework and studying in between cooking dinner, cleaning house, schooling my kids, and taking care of anyone who is either sick, or recovering from a knee scrap.

that is the difference of fourteen years.

a family. a husband. a daughter. a son. a home. a garden. a pet bird.

so much to prepare for this time. scheduling classes around children, how will i fit homeschooling and their summer golf-classes into the schedule. how will having a husband in a graduate program change things. what type of laptop do i need, how will i take notes? paper and pen? or laptop...or an ipad (trying to justify and sneak one of those in).

but truthfully...so many things are different for me now as an adult student, but yet the biggest difference?

my gratitude. oh, how i don't take a college education for granted. i don't want to just get through with it...i want to excel at it. i want to graduate with honors. i want expect to get an a in every, yes, every class. i plan to sit at the front of the class, instead of sitting with friends (if i even make any). i plan on working ahead of schedule (you never know as a parent when a child, or spouse may come up sick). i plan on getting the most out of every single class i am in.

this past year, the classes i've taken towards my fiction certificate...i've gotten an a in each and everyone of them. before that, when i was trying to get my general ed classes out the way at the local community classes, i got all a's and one b. my transfer g.p.a? 3.61 and that is not good enough for me.

before...my first shot at full-time college...i spent a couple of semester on academic probation. not because i wasn't smart. but because i wasn't focused. i didn't know what i wanted. i didn't know who i was. i was working more than going to school. i didn't have the support that i have now. i didn't even have a computer...i had none of the advantages i have today. none.

this time...all of that has been turned around and i have a new chance. and this time i'm going to do it right.

i think now that the reason i stood out so much wednesday and the other times i've gone to the campus is because i've gone with my kiddos in tow...holding both of my hands as i walked and tried to find my way around campus.

i like that though. i like having them on both sides of me...with e behind me, his hand in the small of my back, gently guiding, protecting, and supporting me.

fourteen years has done me well.

ki.

i hope you all will join me as i set out on this new journey...and try to blog about my progress.

thoughtful resolutions.

Resolutions are like open blue skies with wispy cirrus clouds. They excite me and float around my mind, reminding me that the rest of my life is always in front of me. As if life is right there, waiting for me to catch a new wind.

This year I sat down and took a lot of time to think about what I want to accomplish. I thought particularly about the emotions or things I wanted to feel.

And these are what I came up with: love, peace, joy, awe, confidence, gratitude, creativity, accomplishment, and reverence.

Once I knew what I wanted to feel, it was very easy to then come up with actions that will lead me there.

2011 Resolutions

Writing/Education/Professional

• write (just about) daily
• learn how to write poetry
• incorporated color into my writing outside of words
• finish "the women"
• work on crafting sentences
• finish my fiction writing certificate
• develop my writing flow
• learn grammar and syntax
• read more (including reading all of Toni Morrison)
• be a better blog writer

Spiritual

• meditate
• keep a gratitude journal

Garden/House

• garden year round and always have something edible growing in my garden
• grow (more seedlings) and build a cold frame
• knit socks 
• bake bread regularly
• become a better housekeeper
• love and decorate my home

Creativity

• try art journaling/make art books - bookbinding
• learn something completely new (as in never done, or thought about doing)
• paint (for myself)
• visit art museums in spring/summer

Family

• spend more quality time with edward
• be a more structured teacher to the kids, but stay loose and open to their imaginations

I keep going back over this list in my mind because I believe it's giving me a sense of drive and purpose that I've never had. I feel this sense of power within coupled with a feeling of hope. I feel like I'm aligned with my purpose, like I'm on the right track.

The best part of it all? This blog, this new space, is my own open blue sky waiting for me. I'm really looking forward to a whole new beginning, and an extension of all that is already great.

All it takes is one day to change the rest of your life!

Peace, Ki.