On Returning to Flash

a prompt, a tease, and a new way to dance with the muse

There’s something bittersweet about completing a long-form creative project. I usually have two going, and in the last few years, those two projects have been a commercial novel, Chaos Magic, and my collection of personal essays. This latter project has kept me company for a while, long before I started writing about it. And part of me didn’t want it to end.

The problem is that I think it’s done. I thought it was done six months ago, but then I kept tweaking.

Recently, River Teeth selected a short version of this collection as a finalist for their contest, which is a true honor (finalist from them is big for me). Also, a notable agent chatted with me on Zoom after reading a long sample and told me how much she loved the voice, the story, and the delivery. (She also said what amounted to the following: “If only you were famous or related to someone famous. Or had a bestselling novel out already. Do you happen to have a novel about the same topic in a drawer?” Which sounds shitty but isn’t. It’s business.) Her confidence in the project, to me, was a nudge not a disappointment. This woman reads a hundred times more than most humans.

There are more signs, but I’ll stop the list there. The point is that while I haven’t found the right publisher, these acknowledgments are the warning dings. I can’t keep tweaking and revising. Put a fork in this manuscript—it’s done.

So with Chaos Magic (I’ll share the cover soon!) and this fierce little CNF manuscript being released like balloons (or grenades), I’ve decided to pause any new long-form work for a while. Not so much to quit but to take time to reinvigorate my muse by turning up the music and finding a faster beat for us to dance to.

Photo by Drew Dizzy Graham

This new rhythm is all about keeping things “short” in the form of flash fiction, flash CNF, and prose poetry. It’s a form that is not only timely in our impatient, digital age, it’s fun.

I recently wrote an essay on aging, for instance. It was fun to construct. I was going to try to find a venue, then decided to post it here instead because why not? It’ll illustrate the process I’ll outline below. This aging essay is an exercise in taking a single concept and kneading it until it becomes something cohesive and sweet.

I plan to continue this approach. I’m working on a short essay about charisma (excuse me, Muse, I’ll dip you now). Next, I’ll approach the concept of impatience, then human connection and division, then masks, gardening, then . . . I have a long list.

In revisiting the short-form work, I’m remembering how tempting it is to skim the surface of a subject, throw in a few fancy words, and add a nice rhythm with a little alliteration, a little amplification, and a few analogies. And end up with rambling thoughts that are pretty but lack cohesion.

So on the advice of a fab writer, Carolyn Zaikowski, I’ve returned to a practice I abandoned a few years ago. I’ve begun using mind maps to organize my thoughts. For a non-linear thinker like myself, the mind map is a way to see the multifaceted in a simple, graspable image.

Here is an example of my essay thoughts a week before I share the piece.

I can’t wait to share the actual piece next week.*

Flash is a beautiful form in our times, at least for me. It’s great fun. So if you need a little break from your longer work or have completed what once feels daunting and now feels like a gaping hole in your life, join me! Try the following:

1. Pick a single word.

2. Identify the concept behind the word (which is personal to you).

3. Make a mind map about all its potential angles.

4. Pick those that call you.

5. Write.

*Update: I accidentally posted it early. You can read it here.