One week,
on the now-defunct flash fiction site, Rammenas, there was a competition in
which contributors were asked to write a story about a particular photograph
which featured two people in a street. The entries were very varied and show
how different people respond in different ways to a writing stimulus. I was
struck, though, when I noticed that one submission got significantly more
responses from visitors than the others. It was good, but not better than them.
(In fact, for me, there were several others that were much better in terms of
their use of narrative and ‘literary’ techniques and their impact on the reader.)
It made me wonder about the value of any comments – not just those directed at
him, but all the others. I mean, if the commenters were genuinely appreciative
of the genre, why didn’t they read and say something about some of the other
stories?
The answer,
apparently, was that it’s a function of a Twitter group called #fridayflash. You post your story, tell your
followers about it, they retweet, etc., etc. At this point I have to admit that
I don’t ‘get’ Twitter. I’m on it, I do tweet very, very, very occasionally, but
I can’t imagine logging on and reading through pages of snippets, most of them
about things which don’t interest me. On the other hand, another online friend,
who knows what she’s talking about, insists that it’s the best way of raising
one’s profile.
But my
worry is that, in the end, it isn’t about writing at all. If someone reads a
flash fiction story and offers a critical analysis (however short), I’d have
thought that their interest in the form would extend to sampling others in the
genre, especially if they were treating exactly the same subject. And, if it
doesn’t, how valuable or legitimate are their reactions or opinions? It seems
that they’re simply saying ‘OK, this shows I’ve read it and been nice about it,
now go and read mine’.
I suppose
what I’m saying is that this devalues writing. I wouldn’t discourage anyone from
writing – quite the reverse. I comment
on people’s stories and articles, unless I think they’re bad, in which case I’d
rather say nothing than be negative. But the impulse to comment on the work of
others in order to encourage them to read yours often produces false notions of
the quality of the writing. Because if I read a flash fiction story which is
total rubbish, I’m not going to say so because then that writer wouldn’t be
well-disposed towards me and wouldn’t read me. Or, if he did, he’d be inclined
to look for flaws, even if only to prove that I was a lousy writer and
therefore didn’t appreciate him. I was recently asked to review a newly
published first novella and, frankly, I didn’t understand why it had been
published at all.
It’s all
down to the very necessary commercial pressures we face as we try to sell our
books in a crowded market place. Those pressures are already distorting the
values that should apply to our writing; we shouldn’t do anything to encourage
them.
2 comments:
I agree, Bill. This also brings up the subject of reviewing books for people you know, whether you like them or not. I think you can always find something good about the work to comment on. I could never "trash" anyone's work, no matter how bad I consider it to be.
Jean, your comment makes me realise that I've said we shouldn't encourage bad wiring but, at the same time, I confess that I don't want to discourage people from writing. It seems a paradoxical attitude but I know what I mean, and I'm in total agreement with you.
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