| One day last summer, I had an errand to do ten minutes’ drive or half an hour’s walk away from home. Even though the route, along a fairly busy road, isn’t particularly pleasant, I prefer to walk, both for the exercise and to feed my writing. So I grabbed my raincoat (it was that kind of summer) and laced up my boots. On the way back, the sun came out at the moment I levelled with a track I’d never previously taken. It was time to investigate. |  |
Tarmac gave way to a muddy path through a field with a housing estate beyond. It looked like a dead end, and I’d have to double back past the dog walker who’d already clocked my absence of canine companion suspiciously, until I came upon another path through some trees. Nerd that I am, discovering new walking routes (sometimes by getting lost) gets me all of a flutter, so I was disappointed when it eventually led me to a churchyard not far from the road.
 | Okay, I thought, that mismatch between expectations and outcome is the kind of seed that can grow into a story. But cemetery stories are too much of a cliché; though I have lots to say about grief, it would be overkill (ouch!) to set it in a graveyard. So what if it was about something different, or it looked at grief in an unfamiliar way? |
An hour later, I was at the keyboard, the opening sentences clamouring for release. Because I knew it would come out in under a thousand words, I got it down all in one go. The ending came to me as I was writing. When I turned off my laptop, it felt like a good day’s work. On the Monday, I did some edits; on the Tuesday, I sent it off. It’s not my best work, but I was pleased with it, and also surprised at what was, for me, a rapid turnaround. But fast writing doesn’t make for quality, and it took almost a year of tweaking until it was accepted for the web version of the short story fundraiser Stories for Homes.
If you’re going to read “No Hard Feelings”, this might be the time to follow the link. But please come back, because I’d welcome your views of what I’ve been writing about.
I like emotion-driven fiction, which often entails a focus on the dark side of the emotions we’d rather not have. But there’s one thing worse than painful emotion, and that’s not having any feelings at all.
What, no feelings? If you’ve ever been depressed, you’ll know what I mean. There’s a place beyond sadness where it’s as if the whole system’s closed down. The person might go through the motions of living but, underneath, they’re dead inside. It’s a kind of self-protection (as in this 99-word flash "At Home on the Tennis Court?"), that makes the person, like Ellen in my story, particularly hard to reach.
But how to convey that convincingly? Writing “No Hard Feelings” made me realise how much I rely on even small fluctuations in mood to create a story. I’m not sure I managed to excise emotion from that piece completely and even then I’d made it easier for myself by introducing the checklist from the day centre to highlight there’s something wrong.
If you’re going to read “No Hard Feelings”, this might be the time to follow the link. But please come back, because I’d welcome your views of what I’ve been writing about.
I like emotion-driven fiction, which often entails a focus on the dark side of the emotions we’d rather not have. But there’s one thing worse than painful emotion, and that’s not having any feelings at all.
What, no feelings? If you’ve ever been depressed, you’ll know what I mean. There’s a place beyond sadness where it’s as if the whole system’s closed down. The person might go through the motions of living but, underneath, they’re dead inside. It’s a kind of self-protection (as in this 99-word flash "At Home on the Tennis Court?"), that makes the person, like Ellen in my story, particularly hard to reach.
But how to convey that convincingly? Writing “No Hard Feelings” made me realise how much I rely on even small fluctuations in mood to create a story. I’m not sure I managed to excise emotion from that piece completely and even then I’d made it easier for myself by introducing the checklist from the day centre to highlight there’s something wrong.
| There’s no emotional checklist in my debut novel, Sugar and Snails. Diana struggles almost as much as Ellen, but her vulnerabilities are hidden behind the competent woman with the successful job. I thought I’d achieve this by showing the consequences of her disturbance in a self-harm scene in Chapter 1, but it proved a challenge to get it right. Early feedback suggested readers were puzzled by her detachment, especially as, at that point, she wasn’t able to tell them why. It’s no use my donning my clinical psychologist hat and protesting that that’s exactly the state of mind in which people self-harm. My job as a fiction writer is to show not tell. |  |
 | I made it a little easier for myself and my second novel, Underneath. Although my protagonist, Steve, is detached from his own painful emotions, it’s clear to the reader there’s something deeply wrong. There’s more about this in this series of posts on the mental health issues in Underneath. The Child in the Clothes of the Criminal Victims, villains and vulnerability Compassion for the Criminal, Condemnation of the Crime Child, lover, jailer: The three faces of Steve Fictionalising the Mentally Disordered Offender |
I guess it’s important to me to try to write about what cannot be said; sometimes it’s even what cannot be known. It seems something of a contradiction to try to put into words what, as Ellen says, there are “no words in the English language for … no answering echo in another’s soul”, but that’s where I’m aiming. Any thoughts, or examples of good writing about absent feelings, would be most welcome in the comments box below.
| It’s great to be part of the Stories for Homes project, which is raising money for the homeless charity Shelter. On a slightly smaller scale, Sarah Brentyn is inviting writers to compose flash fiction to support hurricane relief. I’ve tried to join in once already, but was over the fifty-word limit – a case of not having time to write something shorter – and slightly off focus to boot. So I’m having another go. |  |
  | I’m pleased to be posting this in time for World Mental Health Day. Two years ago I posted on mental health dignity in fiction, collating representation in novels across the lifespan. I was unsure initially whether I’d have anything to contribute to this year’s theme of mental health in the workplace, until I remembered my bugbear of the compassionate leave policy that assumes grieving can be completed in three days. Not very helpful, especially in a mental health service! Here’s my flash fiction take to fit with #Flash4Storms: |
Helpful compassionate leave policy?
– Five stages. A day for each?
– Great! Over within the working week.
– Don’t need a day for denial. Denying can be done at the desk.
– Four days?
– Can’t we drop Acceptance? That’s when you’re over grief.
– Three days, perfect. Anger, Bargaining, Depression and back to work.
– Five stages. A day for each?
– Great! Over within the working week.
– Don’t need a day for denial. Denying can be done at the desk.
– Four days?
– Can’t we drop Acceptance? That’s when you’re over grief.
– Three days, perfect. Anger, Bargaining, Depression and back to work.
| There’s still time to enter the “when I grow up” flash fiction contest – click on the image for instructions. But if you missed the deadline, or want to write a different theme, don’t worry, as the contests will keep on rolling until the end of October. |  |
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