At the beginning of June, an Instagram challenge hosted by @jennybravobooks floated into my view thanks to @meghangorecki. The challenge was to write a #LittleFiction every day of the month. When I bopped into the challenge, I already knew I wouldn’t be able to do every day. But, flash fiction has always deeply intimidated.
Writing short anything has never been my gift. I am wordy. I just am. And I accept it.
But, trying out #LittleFiction was pretty fun for me. And, I thought that I’d collect a few of my favorite snippets to share with all of you. (And by the way, a few of these are fodder for a novella I’m working on.)
The Challenge of #LittleFiction
So here’s the deal. Grab a note card and share a story. No rewriting. Just do it. Here are five little scenes that I came up with.
I love airports because I love traveling. But airports are this weird middle ground where anything can happen so I just wanted to have this moment for a character where she’s on the verge of something…but what?
If you are an American and have ever traveled to another country or met people from another country, you will also meet their stereotypes of Americans. And nothing is so frustrating as being stereotyped simply because of your nationality.
Here, I wanted to explore the pinch of pride alongside the need to reorient yourself. Pride and vulnerability side by side. Do you see them?
Heartbreak is such a personal experience, is it not?
And my obsession with aerial silks even touches my writing. I just can’t help it. I love the aerial arts so, so, so much!
If you feel like leaving a #littlefiction in the comments or sharing one Instagram, tag me (@CordiallyBarbara) so I can read it!
#LittleFiction
After grabbing a glass of water from the kitchen, I wandered aimlessly around my childhood home, looking at the old photographs that dotted the wall and every possible flat surface. The house seemed frozen in time; photos of a bygone era, a happy care-free time. My gaze caressed the familiar happy, young, faces of my parents, beaming back at me thru the glass of the frames. They seemed so carefree. I allowed my mind to drift back to a time when my mother was still living. I could almost hear her laugh at my childish jokes, and see her smile at my father when he’d come home from work. My fingers grazed over the grand piano, the one I’d spent many hours at, playing over and over the new pieces given to me. Everything was dusted and clean; almost too neat, like a living shrine, un-lived in.
Trisha, I love that you shared this #littlefiction here. Thank you! It’s beautiful. You created such a space where I felt the stillness of the memories even as they danced through my mind. If you wanted to elicit sadness and nostalgia in me, you did it. Hands down.
Hahaha. I need a pick me up now.
But I have to also say that I know a place like that. A place that is pregnant with old memories but too still because the loved ones have journeyed ahead of us once again.