A long post on brevity
ADDENDUM: Due to comment spam on LJ, I've had to disable comments on this journal.
*Blows dust off journal* Yikes, it's been a long time since I've posted here, hasn't it? I suppose it's only fitting that the first thing I have to say here in four months is about . . . well, brevity. I've been trying to gear up for fanfic again by drabbling lately, and drabbling always makes me wonder about narrative economy and whether it's really so much of a virtue as people say. When it comes to story-telling, is less really more?
A standard piece of writing advice is to CUT DOWN ON THOSE EXTRA WORDS! For me this is advice that I need desperately, since I've never met an adverb I didn't like, and really can't be happy or content unless every noun has been adorned with at least one adjective if not five three two. Okay, so, yes, I personally need to CUT DOWN ON THOSE EXTRA WORDS. But does there come a point when a narrative short form becomes so short that it doesn't give readers enough time to relax, sit down with a fizzy beverage, and enjoy themselves -- to let the story to lull them into its fictive world?
It would be immensely comforting if the answer to this question was just plain "no," but I suspect the answer is really "yes, but only if the writer knows exactly what she is doing." Which is depressing, because this answer doesn't let us hapless drabble-writers off the hook. We have to TRY to tell a complete story, or at least evoke a complete story by depicting one of its scenes so vividly that the drabble somehow gestures toward the shadowy outlines of a much larger sequence of events.
And yikes, that task is so difficult that I for one think I've managed it, erm, once, in another fandom. But I keep drabbling anyway, because
a) attempting the almost-impossible is good for the soul even if you fail;
b) drabbling is a good writerly exercise that lets you see how much you can strip away;
c) most importantly, drabbling lets you experiment with characters you love, lets you come at them from different angles.
This kind of experimentation seems particularly useful for characters like Harry and Draco, who are so . . . hmmm, volatile. They're such a potentially explosive combination that their story could turn out a thousand different ways depending on the phase of the moon, or the wrong word at the wrong time, or the right word at the right time, or, well, anything. The possibilities are endless, and drabbles let you entertain a lot of them in a short time, so you can see which one of them wants to germinate into a full-blown fic.
That's the theory, anyway. The practice is beneath the cut, for anyone who'd like to give some mini-H/Ds a spin. All three of these 100-word drabbles were originally posted on on hd100, and since my take on the pairing can vary dramatically, I've given each of these a Degree of Fluffiness rating on a scale of Tribble (very fluffy, obviously) to Nagini (not fluffy at all).
1. 'Revelation' [H/D; fluffiness rating: definitely a Tribble]
The first time Potter kissed him, something in Draco froze. He knew, now, why the Order was sheltering him. He was to be the Chosen One's chosen fucktoy.
It didn't happen. Potter just kept kissing him. Soft kisses in the kitchen, hard ones on the stairs. Good-morning kisses in front of everyone. Good-night kisses that left them both breathless and wanting. Tender kisses when Draco woke screaming in the dark, and Potter staggered into his room to chase the nightmare away.
The first time Draco murmured more against Potter's lips, and Harry whispered okay, something in Draco melted, at last.
------------------------
2. 'Enigma' [H/D; fluffiness rating: definitely Nagini]
Draco never lied: he was too smart. Lies make trouble. Everyone waltzes to the same music in the dance of life; everyone finds new partners sooner or later. Everyone hisses your secrets into someone else's ears.
No. A lie is easily exposed, and this exposes you. It reveals that you've something to hide.
Best, then, to say nothing.
Draco never lied to Potter. Never said a word. When they touched, Potter's need blazed naked and desperate in his face. But Draco twisted cold sheets in colder fingers, and curled, tight-lipped, in a silence safer than lies, and still as death.
-----------------------------------
3. 'Recognition' [H/D; fluffiness rating: also Nagini]
There the Muggle woman stood, immobilized by Draco's magic but livid with rage. He paused, too curious to kill her just yet.
Muggles weren't supposed to glare at wandpoint. Particularly not this random, defenseless woman, whose death Voldemort demanded as proof of Draco's fealty.
Avada, Draco began, but the curse died in his throat.
He knew that angry set of her jaw, that reckless, hate-filled courage. He felt what ran through her veins. Blood filthy as mud, wild as earth, heady and dizzying as light.
Potter's blood.
Sectumsempra, he whispered, but couldn't mean it. And Petunia Dursley laughed at him.
------------------------
*Blows dust off journal* Yikes, it's been a long time since I've posted here, hasn't it? I suppose it's only fitting that the first thing I have to say here in four months is about . . . well, brevity. I've been trying to gear up for fanfic again by drabbling lately, and drabbling always makes me wonder about narrative economy and whether it's really so much of a virtue as people say. When it comes to story-telling, is less really more?
A standard piece of writing advice is to CUT DOWN ON THOSE EXTRA WORDS! For me this is advice that I need desperately, since I've never met an adverb I didn't like, and really can't be happy or content unless every noun has been adorned with at least one adjective if not five three two. Okay, so, yes, I personally need to CUT DOWN ON THOSE EXTRA WORDS. But does there come a point when a narrative short form becomes so short that it doesn't give readers enough time to relax, sit down with a fizzy beverage, and enjoy themselves -- to let the story to lull them into its fictive world?
It would be immensely comforting if the answer to this question was just plain "no," but I suspect the answer is really "yes, but only if the writer knows exactly what she is doing." Which is depressing, because this answer doesn't let us hapless drabble-writers off the hook. We have to TRY to tell a complete story, or at least evoke a complete story by depicting one of its scenes so vividly that the drabble somehow gestures toward the shadowy outlines of a much larger sequence of events.
And yikes, that task is so difficult that I for one think I've managed it, erm, once, in another fandom. But I keep drabbling anyway, because
a) attempting the almost-impossible is good for the soul even if you fail;
b) drabbling is a good writerly exercise that lets you see how much you can strip away;
c) most importantly, drabbling lets you experiment with characters you love, lets you come at them from different angles.
This kind of experimentation seems particularly useful for characters like Harry and Draco, who are so . . . hmmm, volatile. They're such a potentially explosive combination that their story could turn out a thousand different ways depending on the phase of the moon, or the wrong word at the wrong time, or the right word at the right time, or, well, anything. The possibilities are endless, and drabbles let you entertain a lot of them in a short time, so you can see which one of them wants to germinate into a full-blown fic.
That's the theory, anyway. The practice is beneath the cut, for anyone who'd like to give some mini-H/Ds a spin. All three of these 100-word drabbles were originally posted on on hd100, and since my take on the pairing can vary dramatically, I've given each of these a Degree of Fluffiness rating on a scale of Tribble (very fluffy, obviously) to Nagini (not fluffy at all).
1. 'Revelation' [H/D; fluffiness rating: definitely a Tribble]
The first time Potter kissed him, something in Draco froze. He knew, now, why the Order was sheltering him. He was to be the Chosen One's chosen fucktoy.
It didn't happen. Potter just kept kissing him. Soft kisses in the kitchen, hard ones on the stairs. Good-morning kisses in front of everyone. Good-night kisses that left them both breathless and wanting. Tender kisses when Draco woke screaming in the dark, and Potter staggered into his room to chase the nightmare away.
The first time Draco murmured more against Potter's lips, and Harry whispered okay, something in Draco melted, at last.
------------------------
2. 'Enigma' [H/D; fluffiness rating: definitely Nagini]
Draco never lied: he was too smart. Lies make trouble. Everyone waltzes to the same music in the dance of life; everyone finds new partners sooner or later. Everyone hisses your secrets into someone else's ears.
No. A lie is easily exposed, and this exposes you. It reveals that you've something to hide.
Best, then, to say nothing.
Draco never lied to Potter. Never said a word. When they touched, Potter's need blazed naked and desperate in his face. But Draco twisted cold sheets in colder fingers, and curled, tight-lipped, in a silence safer than lies, and still as death.
-----------------------------------
3. 'Recognition' [H/D; fluffiness rating: also Nagini]
There the Muggle woman stood, immobilized by Draco's magic but livid with rage. He paused, too curious to kill her just yet.
Muggles weren't supposed to glare at wandpoint. Particularly not this random, defenseless woman, whose death Voldemort demanded as proof of Draco's fealty.
Avada, Draco began, but the curse died in his throat.
He knew that angry set of her jaw, that reckless, hate-filled courage. He felt what ran through her veins. Blood filthy as mud, wild as earth, heady and dizzying as light.
Potter's blood.
Sectumsempra, he whispered, but couldn't mean it. And Petunia Dursley laughed at him.
------------------------