I’m in the early stages of trying some shorter fiction. Which, I’ve never done well, the little of it I have done . . . and even my few paltry attempts at short stories were a long time ago. But anyway, I wanted to give it a shot for a couple reasons.
One of them is there are just too many ideas. All kinds of little ideas have been collecting in my notebooks, especially Louisiana themed stuff, and I know it’s far too much to go turning into novels. Not that most of the ideas could even hold up a book. The only point being, I’m thinking if I can gain some skill in shorter fiction, I’ll be able to actually write more of the little ideas I have.
It’s also easier to get short fiction published in journals, especially online ones. I haven’t done too much poking around–and, let’s face it, how many folks actually read old school literary journals anymore? I certainly don’t–but from what I’ve seen, there’s a growing market for content. I had a modest taste of success myself last year, when a journal specializing in crime fiction published a character sketch of Neville Breaux, the fiddle and accordion player who, as a teenager in Beaumont, Texas, swam under a barge on a dare. Neville appears in All Saints Day of the Dead.
Anyway, this is where my head is at tonight. Short fiction. And first lines. Here’s one I’m working on now:
Though he wouldn’t realize it until a decade later, long after it would’ve done him any good, his country music phase pretty much corresponded directly with the drinking.From an untitled short story about something or other.