fwriction

Flash Fiction Week comes to a close. I hope you’ve enjoyed it, and that you come back and read these wonderful stories again and again. Special thanks to Guernica and SmokeLong Quarterly, for being endless wells of gorgeous writing.

There’s only one writer, to me, who can end this week in a manner worthy of flash fiction: Lydia Davis. If you want to learn how to write brilliant stories in few words, pick up her Collected Stories, right now. Any of the stories from this NPR excerpt could be today’s story of the day, but I’ve chosen just one: “How Difficult.” It’s linked here, and the full text is below. Happy Flash Fiction Week!

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How Difficult

For years my mother said I was selfish, careless, irresponsible, etc. She was often annoyed. If I argued, she held her hands over her ears. She did what she could to change me but for years I did not change, or if I changed, I could not be sure I had, because a moment never came when my mother said, “You are no longer selfish, careless, irresponsible, etc.” Now I’m the one who says to myself, “Why can’t you think of others first, why don’t you pay attention to what you’re doing, why don’t you remember what has to be done?” I am annoyed. I sympathize with my mother. How difficult I am! But I can’t say this to her, because at the same time that I want to say it, I am also here on the phone coming between us, listening and prepared to defend myself.