OH MY WORD. We’ve made it through a WHOLE YEAR of spectacularly awesome flash fictionning here at FF. Have I told you lately how crazy I am about all of you? Thank you, thank you. And I can’t wait to see y’all tomorrow bright ‘n’ early for the kickoff of the #Flashversary. Don’t forget–Monday at 7:30am Washington, DC time!
Our final farewell is organically bred by country gal Jaz Draper, who has brought her unique style of wit and love for dialogue to FF. Thank you so much, sweet Jaz, for your awesome contributions this past year! I’ll always be grateful for your time & spirit.
Judge Jaz Draper says, So this is my swan song: the last judging assignment for Flash Friday 2013. One year plus a few weeks ago, I walked into the Edinburg library 2 weeks into National Novel Writing Month and met a wonderfully supportive group of writers. No, I did not finish my novel, nor have I had much time to devote to it. But over the year I’ve gotten to read a lot of fun, thought-provoking and creative flash fiction written by our little community. Did I say little? I know Rebekah is thrilled with how our group has grown!
Since this is my last assignment and because I’m in a food coma, I asked Rebekah to be easy on me. She obliged by limiting you all to 100 words plus or minus 5. But once again, she selected a spectacular prompt and you, my dear writing friends, did not disappoint.
I don’t feel like I have many words of wisdom to offer you except: write. Just write. Whenever you can; wherever you can. I should heed my own advice, I know. Remember to always check your spelling and grammar and syntax, but do it after you get your ideas down. And practice good dialog because dialog brings characters richly to life.
Good luck. I’ll be watching…and reading and hopefully doing some of my own writing. Namaste.
BITS ‘N’ PIECES
Jaz says: Each of these phrases reflects the title of the piece in simple summation. Brilliant.
John Cosgrove, Photographic Memories. “Grandpa didn’t hear me. His mind was decades away from here.”
Jacki Donnellan, Strands. “It must be tamed, though achieving this may hurt. And it cannot cling, nor weave itself into tangles.”
Ladyhazmat, The Watcher. “Plucked from her bed like a piece of ripe fruit, she’d been peeled and parted, her tender flesh consumed by an insatiable ill on a moonless, winter night.”
Hannah Streett, Losing Meaning. “The letters jump around in their silly little jig, switching partners so often that I lose their meaning.”
Dieter Rogiers, The Wager. “As the clock gobbled up the minutes, well past the hour, a sense that all was not well set in.”
Patricia Carroll, Untitled. “If thinking got me here, how do I unthink?”
Jaz says: Both of these pieces are macabre in their twist on what should be happening in a classroom.
AJ Walker, “The Practical.” The last sentence, “Unfortunately there were no graduates from Robertson’s School for Spies in 1913” brings everything together rather nicely.
Rezzi, “The Smell of Smoke.” Wow. Tough school, this one. I could palpably feel Robert’s panic. Nice, tight writing.
SECOND RUNNER UP
Today’s Chapter, “Cheese.” This piece leaves me asking myself over and over: “Did he take a picture or shoot ‘the one that starts the great war’ with some James Bond-esque camera that’s really a gun? A little time travel, some angst, and a bit of mystery. Well done.
FIRST RUNNER UP
James Marshall, “The Adventures of H.G. Wells, Schoolteacher.” I like the unexpected reason the desk was empty. Several writers centered their stories around the empty desk, describing missing people (and the reasons they were missing were very creative). But the invisible student woven into a well-known story was a clever yarn.
DRAGON WINNER IS….
Although there were several takes on the Indian School which aptly captured the injustice of the time, I really liked the link between Erin’s title “Reservations” and the reservations the young girl was having about the rigid, uptight white society oppressing her freedom. The phrases ‘gloriously naked’ and ‘running bare-skinned under the warmth of the sun’ and the comparison of her dress to a tipi call to mind delightful visions of the unconditional freedom and oneness with nature that was taken from the Indians in a subtle way.
Congratulations, Erin! Here is your updated Winner’s Page, a totally awesome but retiring dragon eBadge (below), and your winning Tale. Note: Because of the #Flashversary, there will be no #SixtySeconds interview this week. However, we look forward to getting to know you better as a judge for the first quarter of Year Two!
I wanted to strip off my clothes and run into the distance, travelling deep into the unknown, gloriously naked.
“Stop fidgeting!” my sister scolded, as I fought with my pinafore; stiff and unmanageable, it was more akin to a tipi than a dress.
“Cultural Assimilation” they called it, but in truth it was cultural assassination and schooling was a key weapon in their arsenal, aimed squarely at me on a daily basis.
If all “Americanisation” could offer was dusty rooms, starchy frocks and endlessly dull words about dead white presidents, it was little wonder I daydreamed about running bare-skinned under the warmth of the sun.