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The Splonk 5 – Robert Barrett

Robert Barrett

Can you tell us a bit about your relationship with flash? Why it appeals and what frustrates you?

I have always had a grá* for flash, even years ago, when I didn’t even know it was called flash or that there were other people who felt the same about it. I am simply delighted by its brevity and power. Flash fiction is mined from the same pit as poetry, and even media, like cartoons and jokes. All these forms rely on what’s left out to tell the real story. These forms all share the same fundamental character as flash, the real magic happens in the reader’s mind. It’s the old Chekov one-two.

When writing flash, I’m most often frustrated by when to stop cutting and I’m always wondering if I’ve cut away the best bits and left the worst behind, instead of doing the exact opposite.

When I’m reading flash, the thing that frustrates me most is where the story is so abstract that I can’t connect with it, or where there’s no real change or movement in the story and I’m left with an empty feeling, as if I’ve been the victim of a con.

In terms of construction/technique, how is flash fiction different, in your view, from other genres – in particular poetry (including prose poems) and the short story?

When I’m writing a short story or even a play, I usually start with a small incident or even just a piece of dialogue that gives me an in, and I set off from there, see where it leads me. I usually don’t have any great idea where it’s going, or the shape of it, just that something happens and then something else happens and I’m hoping to find a voice that’ll lead the way. With flash, I usually start with the shape worked out and I’m trying to find the words to fit the shape, the way you might resolve a puzzle. I think flash is closer to the emotional hit of a poem than a short story. But, of course, all these genres can have fluid borders too and clever practitioners will bring their work into these borderlands for good effect. When exactly does a very short story become a flash, or a long flash become a short story? Who knows?

Fundamentally, for you what makes a flash piece successful?

The first thing I’m hoping for in a flash is to be surprised and delighted; to be shook out of the humdrum, whether that’s through language, or style, or just an incredible story I don’t mind at all. As a reader, I have my bags packed and I’m ready to go. I think the best flashes do this, and they have an afterlife, they follow you home, or they stick to your hull like a limpet mine and then when you least expect it, boom! the thing goes off. Great flash leaves a scar on the reader, in the best sense of the word, of course.

What flashers do you admire and why? Are there any specific pieces that you found compelling?

This is an easy question for me because I admire lots of flash writers and I get a great thrill out of discovering new ones. Here are two of my favourite writers and flashes, differing styles, but both masters of the craft.

First up, Liquid History by Lis Ingram Wallace. I could have picked any of her flashes. Lis is a unique talent, undoubtedly some sort of language savant, and an absolute original. This flash is incredible, the language is so incredibly rich and sumptious, interweaved with mystery and fantasy and peril: Ingram Wallace at Smokelong.

Another Flash writer I love is Tim Craig. I am very much looking forward to his new collection from Ad Hoc, and the story I’m picking is Now You See Him which is a really clever, funny, and ultimately heart-breaking portrayal of a type of old-fashioned dad figure we can all identify with. I love the last few lines of this flash and could probably remember them by heart: Craig at Bath.

What flash piece of your own are you most proud of?  Where can we read it (if it’s available)?

OK, this is a bit of a ‘choosing your favourite child’ situation so, as I don’t have a favourite child, I’ll just pick this one, which was published in Flashback fiction in November 2021. It’s an historical flash called ‘Footprints in Water,’ about a teenage girl who survives a plane crash fifty years ago. People seemed to like it and the Flashback folks were kind enough to nominate it for Best Small Fictions and the Pushcart Prize. You can read it here.

*grá = love