Microfiction by Sue Whytock

Here at Wivenhoe Writers we have been writing micro fiction during lockdown. Before joining the group, I had never written anything shorter than 1,000 words. I had never considered writing micro-fiction, had always seen myself as a short story writer and memoirist. Now, though, I am converted.

My conversion to the micro or fast fiction form came via The Scottish Book Trust and a monthly competition they run called ‘50 Word Fiction’. The competition is free to enter and has four categories to submit to: Adults, Gaelic, Young Writers aged 12 – 18 and Young Writers aged 5 – 11. Every month there is a theme and the theme must feature in your story of no more than 50 words. I have entered many times, with themes as diverse as Wildflowers, A Mountain Walk, Sewing and Hello, From the Future. These prompts are fantastic writing exercises in themselves and they have changed my attitude towards fast fiction. I have now written for competitions where the word limits range from 100 to 360 to 500 and 1000 words.

These micro fiction pieces have value in themselves but can also be extended and incorporated into ideas for a longer piece of fiction. Various members of Wivenhoe Writers have entered the competition; Helen Chambers has been successful and won it and I have just won the latest competition – the theme was exercise and each of submitted a story as a writing group…exercise.

What is striking is the variety of responses to the same theme and we have shared our work in the group and made suggestions for edits and improvements to one another, so it has really been a collaborative creative process. If you are feeling ‘blocked’ or if a more substantial piece of work feels overwhelming at the moment, I can recommend diving into micro-fiction and The Scottish Book Trust is a great place to start.

The current theme is ‘seal’ and the deadline is March 30th. Find my winning entry here on the Scottish Book Trust website.

Examples from Wivenhoe Writers on the theme Exercise are below:

*****

Kenneth worshipped physical fitness. He prostrated himself on its altar daily via exercise bike and abs-cruncher, and spent squillions on a personal trainer, but still the flab remained around his middle. A mystery.

Passing the baker’s window he considered which delicious pie he would take home and enjoy tonight.

*****

Sprint on the spot; squat, lunge, stretch, repeat.

Sprint after dustcart with bin bags.

Lunge, struggle with children’s maths, stretch for answers. Feed squabbling children, burpees after lunch.

Sit up for video call.

Squat to clean kitchen floor.

Plunge arms in washing up.

Plank onto the sofa, stretch.

Repeat tomorrow.

*****

Priya recalls her instructor’s voice. ‘Bring yourself into the room.’ Concentrating on the now, Priya breathes in and blows out, remembers to drop her shoulders and engage. Prone to backache, she adjusts her posture accordingly. ‘Exercise your writing muscles daily,’ the voice repeats. Priya taps the keyboard and types.

***** 

She leaned on the pedal and they were off, slowly, a rusty creak with each turn of the wheel. Sluggish tyres crunched and complained on the path as she clutched the age-spotted handlebars.

‘Aye you and me both,’ she murmured, ‘but it’s a fine day for a birl.’

If you would like to learn more about the craft, Helen Chambers runs a micro-fiction course for The Writers’ Company and several of our own Wivenhoe Writers’ have attended the course and found it inspiring and stimulating. Her winning Scottish Book Trust microfiction can be found here on her blog and is entitled: 'A Day at the Seaside'

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Fishy business

Photograph by Ben Russell  

http://bensonrussell.com

So it’s 10pm when Marcus and I go into Ma Murphy’s Bar and Grocery Store in Bantry, as invited. Our eyes ache from tiredness (we got up at 4am this morning) and it’s noisy with Sunday-night locals, so we know it’s got the craic, despite its Facebook credentials. We congregate in the less-remarkable back room and shout, strain to hear each other, strain to remember whether we’ve read that person’s piece: ‘Oh, you’re THE Helen,’ and we reverentially pass round a single copy of the Fish Anthology 2018, surreptitiously checking for our own names. After half an hour I admit defeat and we slope away, only to find later that we weren’t the only ones to leave early.

On Monday at 6pm, cheered by a day spent exploring gorgeous Bantry Bay and the faded gentility of Bantry House, we congregate in The Windward Room of the hotel and receive copies of the Anthology. It is beautiful, and I flick back and forth through mine, reading the bios. What follows is excellent. All the attending writers in the Anthology – poetry, flash fiction, memoir and short fiction - are to read one page, and one page only of their piece. As winner, I go last. Some pieces are familiar – I remember them from when I read the proofs. They are varied and superb, and, ninety minutes later when it’s finally my turn, I have become very nervous. Everyone is so talented. My writing is no better than theirs. I was lucky the judge plumped for mine. They’ve largely funded their own trips, and mine is largely paid for (well, it will be, if and when I get my cheque!).

Some authors have just launched straight into their writing; some have explained and justified it; more frequently they have handed out bountiful thanks. They’re getting fidgety and they want to get to the bar by the time it’s my turn. I walk to the front aware I am shaking, and that my voice will wobble. I need to control myself. I pull an ex-teacher joke out of my foggy brain: ‘As a retired teacher, I can’t tell you how excited I am to be reading to a room of grown-ups who aren’t going to need the loo in the middle,’ and it gets a laugh and some friendly heckles. I laugh too. It’ll be OK. Now I can relax – I think this is the precise moment when the photo is taken, and I am smiling, thank goodness – and I read my page from Clippings, from the start, no explanations, no thanks (I did that when I found out I won), just straight into it. The applause at the end is far warmer.

After, that we mill around for a group photo and chat, and this time, I can match faces to stories. We chat longer in the bar. They are a fantastic group. I meet the radio-play writer who was shortlisted for flash fiction, the short-story writer who came second in the memoir, the guy who’d never written before, the accomplished writer who had two pieces in the top ten (and has been previously published by Fish). Some comment intelligently about my piece; some vow to go off and read it. This is a prize for ‘emerging writers’ but we’re none of us spring chickens! We connect on social media, such is the way of the world.

The next day, Marcus and I head North up the Wild Atlantic Way to the beautiful Dingle peninsula – County Kerry proper, and holiday proper – before two nights in fascinating Cork city. I read the Anthology at every opportunity and now it means so much more. I exchange messages with other writers and receive and send unsolicited messages of praise. I have had a fantastic time, and truly have had the luck of the Irish. Thank you, Tilly Emmerson and Fish Publishing!

Copies of the Fish Anthology 2018 will soon be available at the Wivenhoe Bookshop, and direct from fishpublishing.com.  The anthology is the 'culmination of a year's work, trawling through thousands of submissions to the Fish Short Story, Short Memoir, Flash Fiction and Poetry Prizes. The judges were Billy O'Callaghan, Marti Leimback, Sherrie Flick and Ellen Bass respectively.'

Fish short-story prize-winner- Helen Chambers of Wivenhoe Writers!

I want to scream this from the rooftops: I’ve won the FishShort Story Prize for 2017/18 and this exciting, overwhelming, wonderful news has had to remain below the radar for nearly three weeks. I’m just about bursting!

The email, when it arrived (I’d submitted the previous November and, as advised, forgotten about it), was so unexpected and such a surprise, that I asked Marcus, my long-suffering husband, to check I’d understood it correctly. He agreed with me – I’d won! This means that it’ll be published in their 2018 anthology, that I’ll hopefully get to visit the West Cork Literary Festival in July and meet some of the other shortlisted writers and hear their work, but also so much more than that. I’m aware that it’s a prestigious competition and it’s going to make my writing CV look so much more impressive!

I’ve been walking around in a daze since then. I’m truly delighted. It’s a huge boost to my confidence, which, as a writer (I can definitely say I am a writer now!) tends to fluctuate wildly. Writing can be a lonely activity, so feedback – from friends, other writers and especially competition judges, is always welcome and helpful. I’m glad that judge Billy O’Callaghan liked my story ‘Clippings’ as I’m aware that a preference for one shortlisted story over another can be rather subjective. I’m especially fond of my protagonist, Tilly, as I’ve spent so much time with her, and I’m sure she’d be pleased for me.

The judge said:
'Clippings – Just exceptional. I was a bit sceptical at first of the structure, but the story unfurls wonderfully. Incredibly emotional, truthful and heartfelt. Beautifully drawn characters. I read this several times over the past two weeks and as I sit here now, I want to read it again. It’s a story that has left a deep impression on me.'

It’s boosted my enthusiasm too – to revisit a novel I’d put on hold, to carve out proper writing time for myself instead of letting it drop down the priority list, and most importantly, to keep writing. Don’t any of you ever give up – you never know what’s round the corner! Many thanks to friends, family and writing friends for their support and encouragement, and most especially to The Wivenhoe Writers, who all know Tilly too.