Writing and F3, 1 Year On

It’s been just over a year since the meme finally filtered down to my neck of the tubes with Patterns in Traffic, my first piece of flash fiction. Donning my hypothetical writerly hat in recognition of this milestone, I’ve been trying to root the memetic microfiction in something of a broader context, both in terms of my personal writing experiences and the insights I’ve taken from participating in Friday Flash Fiction.

I can’t really remember my motivation, but I gave NaNoWriMo a shot back in November 2004, producing something I can now recognise as an overwritten dérive of a pseudo-fantastical Venice. The Doge’s Gate – endearingly awkward, with infodumping a’plenty, terrible dialogue, a foul-mouthed Italian waitress, and an ill-judged authorial cameo (37k).

The following spring (April 2005) – despite not studying English or, indeed, anything remotely Englishesque – I managed to blag a place on an undersubscribed 6th form writing course, run by the Arvon Foundation at Totleigh Barton, in the depths of Devon. Viewed through the rose-tinted goggles of nostalgia, this was one of the best weeks of my life. With spring sunshine, good food, and a surfeit of cows, I managed to produce a couple of pretty good poems, a staggeringly vast quantity of really bad poetry, and the first part of a nifty short story in which the MC escaped an abusive mother-daughter relationship … in favour of adventure-with-a-capital-A.

Moving the clock forward to the start of my second year of university (November 2006), I tentatively dipped my toe back into the literary lake of NaNoWriMo. With the additional support of a diverse, vigorous, and broadly likeable bunch of Brightonians (including Kay, Shebit, Alabaster, and Shaun), I made it to the 50k milestone with Illyria - the fantastical offspring of Shakespeare and a thinly-veiled critique of American imperialism. This tale covered theatrical insurrectionism, messenger pigeons, cultural relativism, covertly trebuchet assembly, sheep, swamps, and yet more awkward dialogue.

Then, via Shaun, I stumbled into F3. 16 short stories, an anthology in time for Eastercon, and a London-based GLP book launch later… And here I sit. Listening to funk music on BBC 6 Music, snowblinded, transfixed by the flashing cursor. Black. White. Black, White. BlackWhite. blackwhite. blackwhiteblackwhi-

*cough*

Anyway, the whole F3 thing has definitely been a learning process. Here are five things I’ve taken from the experience:

1. A distinct authorial voice / style

Global cyberpunk, as experienced by a highly strung synesthete. Cities; dreams; sufficiently advanced technology; the porous boundaries of reality and illusion. Memorably parodied by Shaun in Binary Visions.

2. Self-knowledge

I like writing. I have serious self-discipline issues. To get myself into the right mood to write, I need to surprise my brain at strange hours with caffine and post-rock. At the moment, I can only write dialogue for people who are in some way like me, and I have a peculiar preoccupation with colour, texture, taste, and detail.

3. Self-belief

I can write. I’m not brilliant, but I’ve improved a lot over the last year, and if I continue to write, I’ll continue to improve.

4. An appreciation of the weird power of digital media

We published an anthology before we met each other. Thanks to Twitter, these guys are in my head, and I’m in theirs – in a peculiarly intimate way – all hours of the day. In a way, they were “at” my graduation. A meme spawned a community which created a book. Awesome.

5. Mates

As a result of the above, and despite the fact that I’ve only met Paul, Neil, and Gareth the twice, I know that these are people who are going to remain part of my life. An ambient and occasional part, admittedly, but nonetheless … it’s a good thing to have.

So, what’s next?

F3 might be on the backburner for a while. The next couple of weeks see me brainstorming for Superstruct. Cross-platform storytelling in the name of a crowdsourced future. Kicking off in late September/October, Superstruct will probably leave me with an excess of creative energy which I’m planning on channeling into Stockholm Syndrome; my Eurocyberpunk offering for NaNoWriMo 2008, the fragmented prologue of which has been invading my psyche through the past month’s offering of flash.

Further out, I’ll be craving collaboration. Writing is lonely, and I really fancy trying my hand at writing and designing for games. Some kind of anthology of atmospheric, mini point-n-click games might be in the works. Or some kind of graphic novel. So, if this sounds like something that might be of interest to you, let me know.