Microfiction: the Tiny Genre with Big Meaning
Microfiction. What the heck is it? When you look it up, the definitions are as varied and jumbled as those of its parent genre, flash fiction. Understandable, as the walls between those genres are as thin as spiderwebs. The key difference is their word count, yes. But also, I think, their level of detail. Their manipulation of time itself.
Flash pieces can often get up to 1,000 words. Even if it doesn’t seem like it, that’s a lot of time to waste. An ocean of space to fill with articles and extra description, with dialogue that might or might not be necessary, or an interior thought that was better left inside the mind. I’m not saying that all flash fiction is like this—rather the opposite. I only want to expose the possibility of those pitfalls when given the opportunity to fill up a bigger word count.
I think that’s why I enjoy the idea of microfiction so much more. Generally 300 words or less, these pieces come and go in the space of a few deep breaths, a single favorite song. They’re the definition of a fleeting moment. And they are some of the hardest pieces that any writer could take on.
But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try.
Think big, while keeping small
If you’re someone who’s used to long-form writing, the idea of a 300-or-less word piece might give you a little shake in the knees. While some might be able to dive into the new form with ease, it still makes sense to practice and test the waters before full-form submersion. Knowing how to approach this kind of writing and how you can play within it will only help you—and give the most space for experimentation! To get you started, I have two small exercises with massive imagination potential.
The Art of Noticing
Begin by choosing an object, a person, or a singular idea (note: it’s better if it’s in your line of sight). Choose something that has the opportunity for growth, description and background-wise, but can stand on its own. Then ask these three questions:
What does this object/person/idea feel in the moment of time that you’re writing?
What is their one core desire—their goal, their need, but more importantly, their want?
Will they get it? How does that make them feel?
Now take those answers. And write three sentences.
They can vary in length and run on if you choose. But there must be three, and you may not exceed 300 words. In fact, I dare you to keep it below 100! Don’t feel that you have to structure your piece in the same order as the questions. Mix them up or blend the answers with each other. Play with where those lines sit on the page, how splitting them up creates new meaning. Experiment with language. How can you convey the most through differing word choice or taking out words completely (especially articles, the bane of short pieces)?
Song Challenge
Any time music and writing connect, magic happens, and this practice is just one example. I use this exercise daily in my writing practice 1) because it’s so speedy and 2) because it’s the most fun.
The first thing you must do is choose a playlist—the hardest part of this exercise. It can be one you’ve made or one someone else has, but I’d recommend choosing a long one (an hour or more). It makes this more of a challenge that way. Once you’ve chosen a playlist, shuffle it and pause on the first song that pops up. That duration time is now your stopwatch.
In the space of the song’s duration, write. That’s it! Use the song as your prompt, mimicking the atmosphere and mood in how you write, what words you choose to land on the page. If you need to, listen to the song once through before going back and writing. And remember, this isn’t a time for perfect grammar. Don’t think too much with this one, or waste time crossing out words. Whatever is written, let it happen.
Vary Your Reading
A sentiment all writers have heard, no doubt. But for good reason. To inspire work in one form of writing, it’s often helpful to look at how other genres accomplish aspects of it.
For microfiction, I recommend digging into poetry—both prose style and the standard stanzas. Many poets are masters of conciseness, conveying big ideas within lines the length of your pinkie finger. Not a fan of the ones on the page? Listen to the lyrics of your favorite songs instead. How do they accomplish a similar thing?
Aspects of microfiction can also be found in the longer works of novels or short stories, especially in the ever-important first paragraphs. They’re the attention-grabbers, and (if effective) are packed with concentrated atmospheres that encompass the feeling of the book as a whole. Flip to the beginning of your favorite works, read the first paragraph. How does the author use details in setting/ character/ interiority/ atmosphere to set a scene in a short amount of time? How can you apply that to your practice in microfiction?
At first approach, microfiction can be a very daunting genre. How does one collapse such massive ideas into a palmful of passing sentences? I’m not going to fool you into thinking it's easy. But then, what genre can be described as easy to write? Still, there is something in the fleetingness of these pieces, the beauty in how they say so much in such a short amount of time. How could you not try for yourself?
