Yesterday I posted a flash fiction, The Elephant in the Room. It was a first draft, not seen by my editor or, for that matter, by my husband. I liked it. But I can almost always count on me to like something I consider finished. The thing is, I know what I meant to say. The question is, will a reader know what I meant to say?
I think the most important skill for a writer (You know, over and above good grammar and the ability to use spell check.) is the ability to rewrite. It's not my editor's responsibility to tell me how to fix a problem area. It's their responsibility to identify the problem area. Good Beta readers can also help in the same way. My husband is a good Beta reader. They can say what doesn't work for them. There again, it's my responsibility to fix it.
All this said, this is the fixed Elephant in the Room.
image from newh2o.com
Her daughter Carrie sat in her normal place at the table. So beautiful. So young.
The girl reached for the rolls and offered them to the young man seated next to her.
Two months married, the girl had completed her first year at State. It would be so easy to give up her future to follow a man.
She, herself had followed Carrie's father Paul. Not that she gave anything up. College wasn't that important to her. She could paint without college and where she lived didn't make any difference. But Carrie had a true gift for math. She should be in school.
Two months married, the girl had completed her first year at State. It would be so easy to give up her future to follow a man.
She, herself had followed Carrie's father Paul. Not that she gave anything up. College wasn't that important to her. She could paint without college and where she lived didn't make any difference. But Carrie had a true gift for math. She should be in school.
Loxodonta, the African Elephant, is one of two extant genera of the family, Elephantidae. Elephas, the Asian, is the other. At an overall length of 18–21 feet, even the smaller Asian elephant would not fit in this room. It's very size would suck the oxygen out of the room.
Her chest hurt. She wanted to ask her brilliant daughter if she was sure she wanted to follow this young man.
Her chest hurt. She wanted to ask her brilliant daughter if she was sure she wanted to follow this young man.
"What about school?" she asked pouring them each a glass of lemonade.
"Oh, Mom. They have colleges in Virginia."
The African bush elephant is even bigger, females stand an average of seven to nine feet tall. An ear six feet long by four feet wide would cast a shadow twice that large over her dining table.
She took her own seat next to Paul. Her family was already scattered across the country by the time she married him. She hadn't had the reassurance of family in emergencies. Or when Carrie was born.
She took her own seat next to Paul. Her family was already scattered across the country by the time she married him. She hadn't had the reassurance of family in emergencies. Or when Carrie was born.
She knew exactly how far it was from Fort Wayne to Norfolk, Virginia -- 728.8 miles. She could drive it if she had to, but it would take too long to get there in an emergency. And Paul couldn't take off work just any time. He would, though. If it were an emergency.
When a calf squeals in distress, its mother rushes to its protection immediately. It is common for the bond between mother and daughter to last more than 50 years.
"Yes, Carrie. I know there are colleges in Virginia." She looked at Paul. Paul raised his eyebrows.
When a calf squeals in distress, its mother rushes to its protection immediately. It is common for the bond between mother and daughter to last more than 50 years.
"Yes, Carrie. I know there are colleges in Virginia." She looked at Paul. Paul raised his eyebrows.
Michael reached for the meat loaf. "That'll give her something to do while I'm deployed. That and the baby."
"Yes, the baby ..." she murmured.
She wanted to say how hard it is to sit in a hospital waiting room or, worse yet, to wait 728.8 miles away.
She left the table to get something. Paul followed her. What was it she was in the kitchen to get? Napkins? No. A serving spoon.
She wanted to say how hard it is to sit in a hospital waiting room or, worse yet, to wait 728.8 miles away.
She left the table to get something. Paul followed her. What was it she was in the kitchen to get? Napkins? No. A serving spoon.
The African elephant's trunk ends in two opposing lips, whereas the Asian elephant trunk ends in a single lip. The trunk is an important method of touch. Elephants use touch in much the same way humans do. In greeting. To reassure and soothe. She wanted to weep.
Paul touched her cheek, then took the spoon from her.
"It'll be all right," he said. "She'll be fine." He kissed her on the forehead. "You'll be fine."
Elephants exhibit grief behaviors, including a period of despondency, dragging behind the herd for days. Elephants have been reported to surround a grieving family member.
"It'll be all right," he said. "She'll be fine." He kissed her on the forehead. "You'll be fine."
Elephants exhibit grief behaviors, including a period of despondency, dragging behind the herd for days. Elephants have been reported to surround a grieving family member.
The End
When my husband read it yesterday, he asked "What's the point?"
And my editor felt that the elephant facts seemed too random, not relevant to the story.
Hopefully, the point is now more obvious and the elephant facts more relevant.
If you missed yesterday's post, click here.
Good story -I think i prefer this version too. I could see what you were getting at with the first draft but it was a little too minimalist maybe.
ReplyDeleteThe Glasgow Gallivanter
Thank you for the input.
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