It is official: I’m tabling a particular short story because I now hate it.
Got critiques last night on a short story that I have revised and revised and looked at again and again and again. I did all this work because as I wrote it I felt that hum of “This is one of the best pieces I’ve written.” And, in some ways it was. The description was solid. The situation tricky. Flannery O’Connor inspired it.
The problem is that there is no friggin’ point to it. I don’t really have strong motivations for the characters, and when you blow your characters up at the end, you really need to give them some motivation. Ya know? Plus, you should really know what you want to say with a piece. I just wanted to blow stuff up, and sad to say, blowing stuff up does not a good story make.
Jenny writes dark fiction that her mother hates. Her stories and essays have appeared in Across the Margin, Pantheon, Shimmer, Black Denim Lit, Skive, and others. When she’s not writing her own stuff, she’s reading mysteries for Criminal Element. When she’s not writing fiction or reviews, she’s writing/directing/performing/designing plays at Springs Ensemble Theatre.