Why should people read short fiction?

I don't think anyone should read short fiction. I don't think it should ever be put forth as something you must read, as somehow worthy, as something other than the absolute joy and pleasure that those of us who read short stories know they are! I think perhaps this is part of some kind of situation that has arisen - short stories, perhaps like poetry, have come to be viewed as weighty, as "difficult", as "not fun to read". The kinds of short stories I love are those that are storms in miniature teacups, (to borrow someone else's quote, can't remember who!), but that's not for everyone. If you visit the Short Review you see the entire range of what a short story can be - crime thrillers, humour, erotica, chick-lit, lad-lit, mystery stories, literary fiction, science fiction, fantasy... So, I'd rather put it like this: If you love to read, if you love a good story, if you want to be moved, to laugh, to cry, to be shaken to your boots in the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, and your not reading short stories along with everything else you read - well, you're missing out! 

How about what the difference between writing longer stories and flash?

Over the years, my writing process has changed and metamorphosed – and I am still learning about what works for me! This is something I want to stress: when I talk about my writing process, it's about what works for me. This is something I've had to learn and am still learning. I spent a long time either doing what other people said were certain “rules” about writing – and especially about revising your writing – or feeling guilty because I was doing it “wrong”. Finally – three years after my book came out – I understand, after asking many other writers how they do it, that there are no rules, every writer does it differently, does this odd thing we do in the way that suits them, or me, or you. So, when I talk about something like the difference between writing longer stories and flash, it's just the difference for me,  but if that in any way liberates a writer to try something different, as has been the case for me when I've read about other people's strategies, that's great.

So, it used to be that longer stories would take months, if not years, to come to some kind of completion. They generally begin with an opening sentence appearing in my head, an opening with a strong voice, whether of the character or the narrator. I will start writing, but then at a certain point I will have to stop and wait til the story tells me what happens next. It's very much not a question of me deciding on a conscious level what will happen. I wait, something happens inside subconscious, and at some point I'll know the next part. Of course, once the whole story is down, that's not the end; then I let it lie for a while (I am trying for at least a month's rest) and then try and look at it with fresh eyes.

Writing flash fiction has from the beginning been an entirely different process, where the method of writing is “flash”: I set out to write a very short story in one sitting, with the aim that as I start the story, I also start to finish the story. It feels like a physical thing, like I am flinging the words onto the page/screen in an almost violent, visceral way. I have written over 100 flash stories like this, most in a 20-minute burst. But this, of course, doesn't mean they have taken “only” 20 minutes to write, because I believe that this method brings up some pretty deeply buried “stuff” in my subconscious, stuff  that I may have been mulling over for months or even years. I believe that 20 minutes is the period of time I can write without that Editor voice in my head waking up and realising what I am doing, and for this reason these flash stories have tended to allow me to take more risks, be more experimental -with content and with language – than in the longer works. This flash writing provides instant gratification, a different kind of gratification from the satisfaction of working on a short story over time.

What's happening now is a kind of moving towards a middle ground – I am writing longer stories in which I am permitting myself a similar kind of experimentation, and am also writing flash fiction in several sittings instead of short bursts. I like this, I like watching my process changing and evolving!

Are there any particularly good examples that you've seen in the competition entries you've judged?

I judged the Sean O'Faolain competition last year and I was the sole judge, which meant I read all the entries – and there were 849 in total! It was quite a task, one that I am delighted to have done but not that eager to repeat. It was a great, great honour to be asked to pick the ones that I loved, with my particular tastes and prejudices. The story I chose as the winner, Eddie by Nikita Neilin, brought me to tears every single time I read it. It is shorter than the word limit for the contest – around 1300 words -  and it is a seemingly very quiet story, the portrait of a man, an ex-con, trying to get back to normal life. But it is in fact a kind of poem about tragedy and hope, about the people we pass on the street that we don't notice, about the small moments of joy. It has a way with language, a rhythm that is utterly unique, that sweeps you along inside it. If you were to analyse it, you would probably think that nothing much actually “happens”, but this is a story which tells of a whole life, nothing said directly, everything implied. This is a story that has stuck in my brain, and I am very glad for that.

The story that I and the other four judges almost unanimously awarded first prize to in last year's Bristol Short Story Prize was only 350 words long, entered for a contest whose maximum word count was also 3000, as with the Sean O'Faolain competition. As with Eddie but using an even greater economy of words, Valerie O'Riordan's Mum's the Word is a deeply shocking story which managed to accomplish more in only a few paragraphs than all the other entries in many hundreds, or thousands, more words. And in some ways, the horror that she portrays needed only that 350 words, any more would have diluted it, or would have made it almost unreadable. Valerie gave us absolutely everything we needed, a well-rounded character, a beginning, middle and ending which left no doubt what was in store for the main character.

What works better in longer fiction and not in flash?

This is like asking how long is a piece of string! I adore flash fiction, I'm quite obsessed, but I read so many short stories of every length (my latest favourite is Memory Wall, by Anthony Doerr, which is 85 pages long) and so, given that, it is very hard to answer. I do think that flash fiction lends itself to more surreal and experimental writing, that a reader will willingly suspend more disbelief if they see that the story is a page long – and that is a part of flash fiction, being able to see the end as you begin reading, that I believe affects the reading experience. Many flash stories are on the blurry border between fiction and poetry, or prose poetry. Of course, there are many wonderful experimental longer stories. I would rather say that a great story is a great story, no matter the length. No more than that!

How do you streamline your work for flash? Is there a lot of sacrifice involved, should you as a writer just learn to let go of certain things in order to bring the story down to its bare bones or do some stories just need to be told with a certain brevity?

As I mentioned above, I always set out to write a story of a certain length when I write flash. For several years I wrote only flash fiction, as I was promoting my book and had absolutely no space in my head to carry a story-in-progress around. So, I didn't write “long” and then cut it down, but I know writers who do. Now my writing process has changed and I find my natural length has increased, and that I am writing short short stories over time, not in one burst. But still, I have an idea how long a story will be when I start writing, inasmuch as I can sort of tell if it will be under 1000 words – which is how I classify flash – or over. I don't believe you need to let go of anything to write flash. A short story is already so much about what is not said, a great story, of any length, should not contain anything superfluous, but what superfluous means depends on the story. There is a wonderful two-page flash story in the anthology Flash Fiction Forward by Grace Paley which I use when I do flash fiction workshops, to illustrate how you don't have to forgo descriptions, you don't have to speed up the action, you don't have to stay within a very short time span or limit the number of characters. As I said at the beginning – there are really no rules at all!

A selection of Tania’s flash fiction will appear later this month as October’s Story. Please register here to receive this, if you are not already a member.