Sam Ruddick - Tiny Revelation

Sam Ruddick

Tiny Revelation

In essence, flash fiction is no different from longer fiction. First and foremost, it needs an arc. It must begin in such a way that compels the reader to read more, and the tension must continue to escalate right through to the ending, which must leave the reader moved. That said, the similarity often (though not always) ends there. A story approaching 1,000 words may have time for character development, for a fully realized plot and setting, but I am speaking here of the very short piece, the piece which demands my attention for 500 words, trying to convince me that despite its brevity it still has something substantial to say.

There are natural limits to what a piece of flash fiction can do. It might make you laugh, but it is unlikely to make you cry. There simply isn’t time to get as invested in the characters as you would need in order to be heartbroken. Flash fiction that attempts to elicit this kind of response from the reader seems maudlin; it asks too much. It can be poignant, but -- unless by some coincidence you happen to relate to a piece almost perfectly because you read it at a vulnerable moment -- it’s not going to make you weep, and even if it does it’s not going to change your life the way a novel might. The best a piece of flash fiction can hope for is to be remembered fondly.

The best way to accomplish this is still by using an arc, though it may not look that way at first. You may come across a piece that seems to be just a series of statements -- no apparent characters, no apparent plot. But when there doesn’t appear to be a character, it is the narrator who assumes that role. It is the narrator whom the reader gets to know. It is the narrator, the writer hopes, whom the reader will care about. In the absence of an obvious plot -- John went to the store, where this thing happened -- the piece must still build to a crescendo, an emotional climax that fulfills the promise of the first few sentences in an unexpected way. We need to be surprised, not by a trick ending, but by the feeling we get from reading the piece. At their best, these stories will make you pause, tilt your head and say “oh,” providing a tiny revelation, a new way of seeing, or a new way of saying something you’ve seen and been unable to articulate.

Sam Ruddick’s stories have appeared in nearly a dozen publications, including The Santa Clara Review and Voix du Vieux, with more work forthcoming in The Red Rock Review and Gulf Stream.