Tag Archives: Writing

April 16, 2012

Once Upon a Time Flash Fiction Entry Possibility #1 (The First of a Four Day Blog Series)

By Eva Rieder

Generally, I try to post about every three days—but today will be the first of a four part, four day series…with a twist!

I found the “Once Upon a Time Flash Fiction Writing Contest” last week, gearing up for National Flash Fiction Day over in the UK.

THE THEME: “Unexpected Fairy Tales.” THE RULES: 350 words (or less) of flash fiction about an “unexpected” fairy tale.

I decided to go for it…however, me being me, I had so much fun I couldn’t write just one! (Read: I like to have options, hence the five different types of lotion in my bathroom vanity and three different shampoo types in the shower at all times. Go figure.) So I wrote three. Three quick little tales to debate over for entry—but here’s the fun twist: I’m going to let YOU decide which one I should enter!

Starting today, I will post one of my entry possibilities each day. Then on Thursday I’ll post a vote box and you, wonderful you, can help be part of my decision process for which piece to enter.

I’ve never really tried my hand at flash fiction before—it’s short, sweet, and oh.so.rapidly to the point. I had a great time with it, and I hope you enjoy the pieces I created. All three are extraordinarily different, and for lack of a better plan, I will simply post them in the order I wrote them. 🙂

Thanks so much for being part of the vote on Thursday, and please feel free to share your thoughts and comments at the bottom of this post. Also, I have included a link to other entries if you’d like to check them out. They’re quite entertaining!

All right, here goes (and I better start before the length of my intro exceeds the piece!). Today’s possible entry, the first of three:

 

Henrietta’s Love Song

Henrietta was a pianist.

Or at least, she thought she was a pianist.

Really what this meant was that on any given day, she would rush home with the faintest red tinge across her puffy cheeks, her breath caught in her throat from the frantic run she’d endured all three miles from the prison she called her high school, and then, throwing herself through the front door with a half-grin at her tired mother, she would drop her bag and plop down in front of the piano.

And then she would play. Long, careful strokes across the freshly polished keys, her raggedy voice tuning in here and there as she pressed the notes that sounded like a fairy tale to her, the whimsical melody that played all day in her head as she stared at him.

Him.

Charlie.

Her buddy on the track team, the most handsomest beautiful boy on the planet that she couldn’t stop thinking about ever!

“Henrietta!” her mother shrieked from the kitchen. “Do we have to do this? Again?”

Henrietta closed her eyes and played, her eyes pinched so tightly shut as she played blind—yes blind, for she didn’t need her eyes to see Charlie’s melody in her head!—and she played until her fingers blistered, that image of him in her mind.

“Seriously, Henrietta, this has got to stop.”

But Henrietta ignored her mother, playing the same song for what would be the twenty-seventh day in a row, some Bach piece that she hummed when he passed her on the 100 meter stretch of the track… “I really like your shoes, Henrietta.”

“Your phone, Henrietta!”

She paused, her fingers folded ever so gently, frozen.

“Caller ID says ‘Charlie,’” her mother said.

Henrietta slammed her hands down on the keys, her breath tight in her chest as her mother thrust the phone against her ear.

“Henrietta,” Charlie said, his voice trilling like the notes of her song. She leaned into it, sighing, delighted, hoping…

“I think you left your shoes in my bag. Come and get them.”

***

Feel free to share your thoughts, and thanks for voting on Thursday!

To check out other fantastic entries, be sure to head over to the OUAT website and scroll down to the bottom of the page.

6 Comments   |  tags: , , , | posted in About My Work, On Writing, Right Back at Ya!

April 13, 2012

Playing with Setting

By Eva Rieder

Writing setting is all about creating a location and making it as real to the reader as possible. Some authors spend a great deal of their exposition on setting, while still others choose to infuse it more gradually throughout their work. No matter what the method, the act of building setting is essential, since it helps to create the very atmosphere and tone that will embrace the readers approaching your work.

This week I flew to visit some of my family. Most of us have been on an airplane at least once in our lives, making it easy to identify several common features: cramped seats, narrow aisles, tiny bathrooms, packaged peanuts or pretzels, miniature drinks, grouchy people, rickety tray tables, and colorful emergency pamphlets. As I sit on the plane, I always try to find some enjoyment in elaborating on these features. I think of it as playing with my setting.

I’ll start with a simple statement: It is 8:40, and I am on an airplane. Then I’ll begin to add some key details.

I am on an 8:40 p.m. flight, wedged uncomfortably into my uneven seat due to the broken spring beneath my left thigh. The plane reeks of stale pretzels and a potential sanitary issue in the nose-end bathroom.

As the flight attendants begin their speech about the procedure should we experience a sudden change in cabin pressure, I add in a few more details.

The air that spews from the vents above is doing nothing but suffocating me with a steady stream of hot air, making it more difficult to breathe against the surrounding stench.

The man next to me sneezes without covering his mouth, and after stealing a quick glance in his direction, I add more to my mental image.

The hum of the jet steadily increases, but not as rapidly as the sound of breathing that pours from the stuffy nose of the man to my right. He squirms in his seat, sneezing repeatedly until I’m forced to peer away. At the same moment, the little girl to my left tugs off her sweater, her sleeve nearly smacking me in the jaw.

Suddenly I realize that the dismal light above is not going to provide much to read by, leaving me little to do but continue my imagined ride. I do, after all, write fiction. Why not make this airplane scene go in a slightly more fantastical direction?

The girl looks up to me, her eyes glowing a light shade of green. She grins, her teeth sharp against her rose-red tongue and her lips pursing together when the man to my right sneezes again. She peers past my shoulder, her eyes slitting narrowly at him as the plane hits some turbulence. It bounces us violently in our seats in a manner that somehow does not seem to affect her.

The man sneezes. The girl licks her lips. Across the aisle, another man stands from his seat, so I add this in too.

Despite the captain’s direction for us to remain in our seats, a lanky man across the aisle stands from his chair, beginning to chat up the flight attendant before he heads toward the nose-end bathroom in a near run.

Then:

A thud sounds from the left of the airplane, as if something hit the plane and bounced repeatedly along its side. A shadow passes over us, the darkness outside creeping in, mimicking the growing smile from the girl in seat 7A. The chill looming over our row makes the sneezer in seat C and me in seat B start to shiver convulsively….

The joy of setting is that it can effectively set the tone for the work to-be. I have  no idea what to do with my airplane vision so far, but when I make a few tweaks and tie all the setting details together (as well as a little characterization and some information to build a scene), here’s what I have:

I buckle my seat belt on the 8:40 p.m. flight, my body pitched at an uncomfortable angle thanks to the broken spring beneath my left thigh. The plane reeks of stale pretzels and a potential sanitary issue in the nose-end bathroom, and the steady stream of hot air from the vent above makes it even more difficult to breathe against the stench. While the hum of the jet steadily increases, so does the ragged breathing that pours from the stuffy-nosed man next to me. He squirms, rocking our seats as he sneezes repeatedly, forcing me to peer away. As I turn, the little girl to my left tugs off her sweater and nearly smacks me in the jaw with her sleeve. She mutters, “Sorry,” before looking up at me, her light green eyes glowing. When she grins, her teeth press sharply against her rose-red tongue. The man to my right sneezes again and the little girl purses her lips together. She peers past my shoulder at him as the plane hits some turbulence and bounces us violently in our seats. She is not affected, her eyes slitting narrowly when the captain directs us to remain in our seats and a lanky man across the aisle stands from his chair. He chats up the flight attendant before running toward the nose-end bathroom at full speed.

A repeated thud sounds from the left of the airplane, as if something hit the plane and bounced along its length until it flew off into the nothingness behind us. Immediately a shadow passes over, the darkness outside creeping in, mimicking the growing smile from the girl in seat 7A. The sneezer in seat C and I start to shiver convulsively…

Though it is most certainly not a finalized scene, the setting aspects already have me thinking of where I could go from here. Playing with setting like this is a good practice to hone in useful details for writing, even if this particular piece never comes to life in a real story. The feel of the plane, and the random acts of the people around me on the plane, are all items that could be stashed in a mental rolodex of story components.

As I’m thinking about this, the lights above the walkway randomly start flickering, causing a gasp from some of the other passengers. I smile, then close my eyes to take a nap before we land…the sound of 7C’s stuffy breathing in my ear.

Happy Friday the 13th, everyone!

10 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , , | posted in On Writing

March 31, 2012

Don’t Just Do…Live!

By Eva Rieder
Since I was a little girl I’ve been a storyteller, a writer, and a dreamer, always planning to one day be an *author*—that very person you imagine when you whisper the two melodic syllables aloud…but it’s only been in the last few years that I’ve honed my focus, and in the last year that it’s become even more to me: my soul, my heart, my love, and my passion.

So a few weeks ago, just after my first post (“The Journey”), I had an inspiring phone conversation with my mother. We discussed my freshly tuned writing focus, and like a breathless girl admitting her crush I told her my plans—Kyresa, the other books, the blog, the short stories, the networking, all of it. My mother listened patiently, and after a few proud mom compliments she said, in a dreamily soft voice, “Honey, you have it figured out now! You are no longer just doing…you are finally living.” I nearly burst into tears with her sweet words of encouragement, because I realized my mom was right.

Follow your dreams, and live them.

For the first time in my life, I feel like the stars I’ve always reached for are possible. The dreams I’ve always had are right there, at my fingertips, and I will no longer just do; I will live. I have never been more motivated. I have never been so happy and so fulfilled. I truly feel like I have realized what my life means to me, and that I am going to make all of my dreams happen by living this passion. My passion. Tough day, illness, heartache, bills—none of it matters anymore. I have a goal, a dream, and a wish, and it is to live this one life as thoroughly as I can by letting my fingers run across this keyboard as excitedly and quickly as my imagination dreams it, and as rapidly as my heart beats through it.

I have found my peace through writing. You, dear reader—you may be there already, or you may be on the path to finally reaching everything that you dream as well. Whatever the case, I encourage you to follow your heart, to unburden your soul, and to find that true passion within yourself to not just do…but live.

To finally live your fantasy.

6 Comments   |  tags: , , , | posted in Musings from the Heart, On Writing

March 10, 2012

How Does One Write?

By Eva Rieder

Ink and paper are sometimes passionate lovers; often times brother and sister; and occasionally mortal enemies. —Terri Guillemets

Upon learning that I love to write, several of my students have stared at me with big, incredulous eyes and slight expressions of horror. Sometimes, they even mutter the most startled of questions:

“How do you do that?”

“You wrote a novel, Miss Rieder? How could you write that long? I hate writing!”

“Whhhhyyyyy?”

I suppose there may have been a time that I didn’t love writing as much as I do now, long, long ago and beyond the farthest reaches of my memory. The truth is, all of us who love writing still have moments where we despise this torturous thing we do, when the act itself feels akin to gauging one’s eyes out with a dirtied, garbage disposal-marred fork.

But then it comes to you—that rush of an idea, that slick purge of words, phrases, and sentences all joined together by a neat sequence of punctuation and tempo. Your blood warms, your pulse races, and you delve right back into that which you love and enjoy. You forget the agony that was your momentary frustration. It’s as if, once again, you’ve found your passion, and by letting the words pour onto the screen before you, you have let your soul free to discover something trapped deep within, ready to emerge onto the world.

So what do you do to get there? How do you practice the art of writing enough to be able to feel that spark more easily and more often? How, exactly, does one write?

I am by no means an expert, nor would I claim to be. However, I have found that by diligently sticking to it over the years, the time it took to produce something became less of a strain and instead, a treasured activity. Here are some of the strategies that led me to enjoy writing more regularly:

  • Write everyday. This is the best tip any writer will ever give you. I’ve read it a thousand times over, and each time, I vigorously nod my head in agreement. Whether you write in a journal, set a daily word quota for your book, jot a poem on a café napkin, or simply carve out x minutes to ignore the world and write a few sentences, you’ll get there. My favorite strategy? Once the kids leave for lunch, I try to write for ten minutes before I eat. What I’ve written churns around in the back of my mind for the rest of the day, and then at night I can flesh the ideas out further.
  • Carry post-its everywhere. This is both a helpful assist and a colorful way to decorate everything in your life—my white kitchen cupboards have a minimum of six pink or yellow post-its of ideas, phrases, names, or characters at any given moment, all jotted down on post-its while I was at the gym, in the car, at work, or out with friends. Keep them in your bag, your binder, or even your wallet.
  • Turn off the phone when you write. I break this rule for myself all the time, and when the phone rings I kick myself for forgetting. If you’re writing, write. Ignore the the rest of world, you have something to do.
  • Watch the people around you. That alone can inspire characters and story lines that you long to tell about.
  • Read the first page of your favorite book. Remember the spark of excitement you felt when you read it the first time? Use that sensation as inspiration to create something just as intriguing for your own audience.
  • Force yourself to sit in front of the keyboard for a specific length of time. No internet, no games; just you and an open document. A white screen is blinding. Black words on it are far less jarring. Start writing!
  • Keep a card catalog of ideas. These may be transfers from your post-its, or just something you do in your spare time. I have a file divided into three parts: one for names, one for ideas, and one for settings. Even if I’m not using something from the file, sometimes just thumbing through it gets me motivated.
  • Don’t forget to take a break. This may seem like a total contradiction to my first recommendation, but once you’ve been writing faithfully everyday and you’ve built a momentum, you occasionally hit a wall. It happens. Take the evening off and relax with a good book, letting your brain dwell on someone else’s hard work instead of yours. Tomorrow, pick it up again.

There are thousands of strategies out there—you just have to find the set that works for you. If you really want to write, eventually you’ll find your rhythm and will be able to stick to it. Practice and patience—and lots of time—will eventually turn writing into something that you love.

Happy writing, everyone!

Comments Off on How Does One Write?   |  tags: , | posted in On Writing

March 1, 2012

The Journey

By Eva Rieder

I have been writing for as long as I can remember. If I trace back far enough, I think it all started with a children’s Halloween writing contest in the local paper when I was about six years old. I remember a limit of 500 words. I also remember thinking, “How can I possibly tell this story in only 500 words?”

In sixth grade I wrote “The Bear with a Tutu,” a short story about a ballerina turned into a bear by an evil witch. I don’t remember much about this piece except that it lives in a fire-safe box in my office, and more importantly, that my teacher wrote some incredible words on the top of the first page: “Eva, this is so creative. Please never ever stop writing!” She was an inspiration to me, and so I took her words to heart.

For every breakup, I wrote a poem or twenty; for every stress, I grabbed my journal; and for just about everything else, I delved into the mind of that little girl who wrote about a tutu-wearing bear. I also began to feast on the works of some of the most creative authors in an eclectic array of genres, leading my writing to transform from fictional biographies (strangely about more ballerinas), to horror, and soon after fantasy—and it was in this genre that I found I wanted to thrive. I had a wonderful mentor at the Institute of Children’s Literature who pushed me to create the first three chapters of a young adult book, and in college I had a professor who encouraged me to delve into more mainstream, deeper work, leading me to fall equally in love with the contemporary/mainstream style, and also the idea of writing for adults.

Several years later, I’m still writing—although my journey has been a bit of a wild zig-zag across multiple paths and far too many years of distractions. I have a day job and about fifty hobbies, but I also have a passion to write, and for the rest of my days I intend to live my life immersed in this passion.

And so, I welcome you to join the folds of what Eva Rieder always intended for herself to be, and I thank you for your thoughts and ideas as I navigate that which is truly the center of my being. Perhaps, along the way, life will lead you to a similar place—with a promise to follow your true passion.

12 Comments   |  tags: , | posted in Musings from the Heart, On Writing