[stylist] Flash fiction-- looking for feedback

Thu Jun 29 17:50:51 UTC 2017

Alyssa,

This is just a scene. Flash fiction, while not exceeding 1000 words, has a conclusion with beginning and middle. It also has character development, and we know little about this character other than they are lesbian, vegetarian and hiding both from their family. What is the impetus of this story? What is the arc? There's currently no arc.

Also, I would cut the opening paragraph and jump right into I'm sitting at the dinner table. It's more immediate, and we get that the character is vegetarian and lesbian by what they do. No need for redundancy in the narration.

As is, I'm not interested in this character, but we know little about them. Currently, not enough to make us invest.

Bridgit

-----Original Message-----
From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of Alyssa Frierson via stylist
Sent: Wednesday, June 28, 2017 6:38 PM
To: stylist at nfbnet.org
Cc: Alyssa Frierson <alyssafrierson at gmail.com>
Subject: [stylist] Flash fiction-- looking for feedback

Hello,

I've recently written my first piece of flash fiction, tentatively titled "Lying Lady Lover." It might be part of a series; I'm not sure yet. I've pasted it below. I was wondering if I could get some feedback. Does it hold your interest? Would you read more stories with this character?
Thank you.

You should know that I am a girl who likes girls. You should also know I have not told my family about this part of myself. I want to become a vegetarian, but I’m not sure why. It feels like the right thing to do to help save the planet. My family doesn’t really know this either, though I think they suspect.
I’m sitting at the dinner table, cutting into my sausage and pretending it’s a zucchini. My sister, Amelia, is sitting across from me, yammering on about some boy at school, letting her food get cold.
As I mash my fork into my potatoes, I think about the pretty girl I saw on the bus earlier today. She got off two stops before me, near the hospital. I tried not to stare as she walked past, tried not to notice how she smelled of coffee or how her hair fell in thick dark ringlets down her back.
I’d also tried not to notice, as she walked away, her tight jeans and even tighter t-shirt, purple with some writing scribbled across the front. She’d sat across the aisle and down a little to the left of me, and I’d been able to tell a few things about her when I stole quick glances. She looked in her early twenties, about my age,. She wore no makeup or jewelry, except a silver bracelet on her right wrist. Her purse was on her lap, and— “Maggie?” Amelia breaks into my thoughts.
“What?”
She puts emphasis on every word, sounding annoyed. “Pass the potatoes.”
I do, glancing at her half-empty plate before I chase a pea around my plate with my fork.
She’s saying something else now as she mashes her potatoes, but I’m not listening. I’m still thinking about the girl on the bus and wondering where she went when she got off, what her name is, if I’ll see her again.

--
Alyssa Frierson
Blogging at:
http://diabetesdiary.dreamwidth.org/

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