  Short Stories
This week: Mindbooking: Memories Past and Current Edited by: THANKFUL SONALI Library Class!  
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Sigh.
Well, I'll admit it. This newsletter is born out of my second addiction -- Facebook. (What's the first? WDC. Did you need to ask?  ) Facebook has this habit of showing you your 'memories' from that date, a year ago, two years ago ... seven years ago ... when you first signed up.
Looking at one of those memories, I found myself thinking ... 'but this isn't a memory, it's now.'
Thus was born this newsletter. |
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Dear Reader,
So, yeah, Facebook. 
What happens on Facebook is that you put up posts and you put up pictures. And people 'like' them and 'comment' and what not.
And you do that through the year, till -- bing -- 365 days go by and the date rolls round again.
And Facebook throws up your picture as a 'memory'.
I was looking at one of these 'memories' from two years ago, and it triggered a line of thought. The memory was of a monthly poetry event I attend at my favourite bookshop-cafe. The venue still exists, the event still exists, the attendees are more-or-less the same. They even look like they did two years ago, except maybe a different hairstyle or the addition/subtraction of a beard or some weight or something.
So I thought -- 'this isn't a memory, this is now.'
But it's a memory, too. (Are you telling me Facebook is wrong, or lying?  )
Therefore, now is a memory. As soon as now happens, it's over. It's history. Unless it was recorded by some means, it exists only in the memory.
Conversely, there are some Facebook memories which are actually 'memories'. Take the instance of the same bookshop-cafe. They started out in April 2012, and shifted location in Dec. 2013. (Something about a commercial activity not being allowed in a residential area.) The first location was specially designed and built to be a bookstore-cafe, and was (to use a slightly cliched word) -- quaint. It was also a one-minute walk from my house. I loved the place, and visited often. It was a haven when I was recovering from surgery and needed somewhere I could go to without straining myself getting there. That location is actually a memory. I can't go there any more the way I used to. I miss it. So -- then is a memory.
What does this mean, for us, as people? Probably that we need to make every 'now' as meaningful as possible, to enrich our memories? Maybe.
What does it mean for us as writers?
That we can have two (or more) different characters remember NOW in two different ways, as soon as NOW has finished happening. We can have multiple interpretations of tone, gesture, meaning ... whatever ... and then build on each different interpretation step by step, so that moment-by-moment, our characters are interpreting NOW differently, till the entire anecdote has been finished with and exists in two or more different ways - as a Mindbook photo, to coin a very corny term.
And the other way around, too. A pair of siblings, say, now grown and living in different countries. Their childhood Mindbook contains the same images. Those images are of the long-ago now, that became a memory, its colours perhaps a bit tinged with time.My cousins and I, the nine grandkids on my Mom's side of the family, have fond Mindbooks of our joint trips to a holiday home we visited year after year. Details are blurred, but the overall image is of togetherness, laugher, adventure (horseback riding, boating) and food (strawberries and cream, and the Indian version of pizza at a tiny outdoor restaurant). Now and then, someone's Mindbook throws up a memory in clear focus, and then we ask each other -- do you remember when ..? and each long-ago now is relived.
Try it. Give your characters a Mindbook for now and a Mindbook for then. Try putting the same images in it, for two characters. Try putting in different images for the same incident. Play around with your characters' Mindbooks.
See what happens!
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Thank you for the responses to: "Storyfying an Incident"
Elfin Dragon-finally published  Sonali, I love reading your stories.  And your "Storyfying". I'm taking "Reeling in Your Readers" with Katz right now and I'm glad you wrote this particular newsletter. It certainly helps me think of ways I can "storyfy" some of my everyday life for the class. Thanks.
GeminiGem🐾  I loved your story about the art festival and the golf cart! Good job showing how that works. That sort of thing is right up my alley. I love to toss in something ridiculous to shake things up a bit.
Lilli 🧿 ☕  LOL...listening...with pink pizza sauce!
Osirantinous  I listened, Sonali, and it was a very good story. Like you say, you could have taken it anywhere but even so short we got a lot of info to 'see' it in our heads. On a side note, I buy prints of paintings too! I went to the Queens Pictures when it came to New Zealand back in the mid 90s, paintings I would NEVER get to see again so I got some postcards of my favourites. One of the was of the Santa Maria della Salute church on the Grand Canal in Venice (by Canaletto). It was stunning, and that painting was the entire reason why I even visited Venice when I did my OE back in 1997 - just to see the church for real.
LMs❤️BrewinMagic  Loved the newsletter...love the story telling
Hmmm just trying to imagine pink pizza sauce!
writers_cramp May I point out that active writing is better than passive writing? Like, early in your story you wrote, "I had gone. . ." Passive.
To make it active, write, "I went. . ."
Well, I had to comment about SOMETHING. lol Good article, btw.
Jacqueline Listening, I find flash fiction hard to write. but loved your story and yes I read it to the end.
River Listening. I did read to the end and thought your storyfying abilities were cool. I will use this technique in the next story for my Writer's Group.
sdv413 Listening. Your story kept me interested - start to finish.
John Yossarian Ha! Great story, and 'listening'.
dragonwoman I hear what you're saying about reprints vs actual works of art, but as a pensioner, I have little money to spend on original art, so reprints mean I can have art in my home. As for storyfying the incident, its a great idea.
gingerlyme Listening! I always enjoy your newsletters, I just do it very quietly sometimes. Great little example on Storyfying, too. Keep it up! - GM
Lucinda Lynx You can tell a story. :)
Patrece ~ I love the way you so deceptively taught us a lesson on how to present flash fiction in such an attention grabbing way, without us realizing it until after you had done so! That is a wonderful way to grab attention and make a valid point by using the example as the foundation of the lesson! Thank you!
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Nancy Snell Thanks for the story! Now I know there is always something to write about!
Received by email from Alexandra
Yes, I read to the end with interest. Small incidents but they introduced a new picture in my mind. I've never met a politician in a golf cart here. Was he disabled or just lazy? On a much deeper level was the difference between you and your friend on the for and against art reprints. There is scope there for serious discussion on this subject as well as the opportunity to agree or disagree with goodwill.
Thanks Mummsy  for this bit of storyfying!
I love storyfying incidents. The one I've been sharing for the past several months is ... I puked in the Louvre.
My hubby and I had planned a trip to France because his childhood best friend owns and runs an art school in Paris. He and his wife teach in the museum, and he gives tours as well. After meeting him for breakfast, he took us on the Metro from Montmartre to the Louvre, where we had some time to wander before his wife and small daughter were due to meet us. Within 20 minutes of arriving, I had a hot flash. Fantastic timing, right? I sat for a minute and was okay to move on. We moved into Napoleon III's apartments and suddenly ohhhh I was not feeling well! It was mostly another hot flash at this point, but the kind that makes you feel like you're going to be ill. So he zoomed us back the way we came, since it was much quicker to get out of the apartments that way. As soon as we reached the hallways, he grabbed a chair for me. I sat down, leaned over, and puked all over the tile! My husband told me that my skin was gray. The Louvre EMTs arrived to check me out, but they weren't happy with how quickly I was recovering so they sent for Parisian EMTs.
Ohhhh let me tell you ... Parisian EMTS are HUNKS! Every single one of them. It's a thing, apparently. They do calendars and everything, like we do for firefighters here in the US. And here's me, looking gray and smelling like vomit. After one more puke, they decided they needed to take me to the emergency room, so they loaded me into a wheelchair. One of the EMTs made the bold (and terrifying) decision to take me down the escalator, backwards, in the wheelchair. He's lucky I didn't puke over the side! I got to ride in an ambulance through Paris (bee-doo bee-doo bee-doo) with a hunky EMT hanging onto the grab bars above me to watch over me. My first view of Notre Dame was from horizontal, as we drove by. Once everything was out of my system, I was feeling much better, so it was determined that I had food poisoning. We missed the Vermeer exhibit, but we managed to get back to the museum on our final day in France, but my husband's friend refused to take me out to eat beforehand. I joked about the experience later.
Me (with bad French accent): Here's what I think of your museum! *BLEAAAH*
Thanks Quick-Quill  for this anecdote:
A preacher woke up to a beautiful Sunday morning and decided to play hooky and go golfing. He called the Assistant Pastor and begged off for the day. At the first tee he hit straight down the middle and was on the green in 3. Peter looked at God and said, "Why'd you let this happen? He's skipping church." God didn't answer and let the pastor hit holes in one, and by the end of the 18th he was well under par. Peter grubbed and harumpf "I don't get it, that was his best game ever." "Yes."Said God, "Who can he tell?" HA HA HA! I love this story. |
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Short Stories: April 11, 2018 Issue [#8829]
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