I will admit here, if you have not noticed by now, that in most areas of my life I tend to jump in, scream and curse loudly, jump out, walk back in, and settle in real nice and cozy-like as a life strategy for facing new things.
Over the past couple of years, after reading some of the more contemporary writings of late–newly published in periodicals I guess you’d call it–I was of the opinion that modern fiction was so beyond me in both writing style, narrative, and concepts, and I felt hopelessly lost, inadequate, unintelligent, jealous, or was completely missing the boat. I have not really felt fulfilled by a good 80% of the stories I’ve been reading and wondered if I was just too traditional and not “with it” or was perhaps too preoccupied to understand them. I decided I just didn’t like contemporary fiction and it was often painful to read.
One of the most important things to come out of my ongoing Contemporary Fiction class that I didn’t catch in Creative Writing was how to read a story. In my readings now, I find that while I am not missing the story line and plot, I am picking up some of the little nuances of style more readily than mere reading for pleasure, and the pleasure is doubled because I can stop and appreciate the writing as much as if not more than the story itself.
If this interfered with my enjoyment, I would not pursue this line, and probably curse fate for leading me on this path. But it does not, and what I’m finding instead is that I actually find myself reading more slowly, and verbalizing my reactions: Wow. Man, how did he do that. That’s beautiful. I’ll bet that’s what that is. Oh!
Angela Carter’s “The Company of Wolves” is one that’s currently getting me high. Beautiful imagery that’s almost old-fashioned in contrast to the stark minimalism of some contemporary fiction. But the last sentence in the paragraph slams you right into blunt reality:
“There is no winter’s night the cottager does not fear to see a lean, grey, famished snout questing under the door, and there was a woman once bitten in her own kitchen as she was straining the macaroni.”
Straining the macaroni? Wow.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
Halp!!! I need someone to help me get over my minimalist tendency with my writing.. I know its good to deliver the most in the least, but my story is officially wrapped up with the dramatic climax.. and I cant just leave it there! Any suggestions?
Minimalist tendencies are good, very good. Often hidden within imagery is the most direct path to the picture, while sometimes it tends to lead one away from the main trail by intention. Why not post your story on Wanderlust and open it up for critique? Or, e-mail copies to those whose opinions you trust? We’d love to help!