This Writing Life

Novellist Ian Hocking: accidentally best-selling since 2011

Category: flash fiction

Flash Fiction: Cat

This week’s flash fiction must be in text form and quite brief, I’m afraid. The podcast takes a while to do and I’d like to concentrate on the current novel. If you’re subscribed to the podcast, then (i) why not let me know? and (ii) don’t worry, the hiatus should be brief. This week’s flash, [...]

Charlie’s Diary: Bang, Bucks, and Delivery in Recompense

Charles Stross has posted some typically thoughtful comments on the nature of length in fiction. What, exactly, is a short story and how does it differ from a novel? Can a novel itself be a chapter? It’s a truism of the writing business that short stories are not like novels. There are any number of [...]

Fiction Flash

This week’s fiction flash audio podcast has been posted. It’s a story by Neil Ayres (who has a co-blog with Alia Whiteley).

Friday Flash Fiction

Today’s audio instalment is up over at http://ianhocking.com/Fiction_Flash/Fiction_Flash/Fiction_Flash.html.

Flash fiction

Question: Is flash fiction an art form in itself, or an excuse to write for about thirty seconds, look challengingly at the cat and say, “And”? Who knows. But flash fiction – also known as sudden fiction, Kato-from-the-cupboard prose, and mashed stanza – has a peculiar appeal. It’s short; sharp. Very occasionally shocking. You’ll find [...]

Fiction flash: Mix tape

There is an element of capture and preservation in the act of creating a mix tape for a friend. ___ is a poet. He understands metric; blends new words as hues from the primes; writes with a wooden foundation pen. It is summer as he swaps out the second cassette. James Brown for The Kinks. [...]

Flash Fiction: Stone Sun

It is all for a right turn of the head, mid-field, and there is the sunset. The mud explodes from foot to foot, from foot to foot, and the now-gone sun makes a stain. My airless mouth hangs in shock. My hands flop and a stone trips me back to last Friday, discussing the hard [...]

Fiction flash: The Pilgrim

His sadness is my sadness; this man in the subway with his back against the tiles and a Russian-looking cap open by his crossed ankles. His eyes are hard on the cap. He might be expecting magic. I wonder, passing, giving up none of my money, whether his stare is an answer to coming police [...]