'Come Play My Game'
Another second place for my latest flash of inspiration.
Earlier this month I wrote a prompted piece of flash fiction for my local writing society’s latest competition. The prompt was:
“Write a 300 word piece about a moment of inspiration: this can be either a real figure/event, something from your own life, or something entirely fictional.”
I took a risk with a broad biological interpretation (how else to justify those years in medical school), so ‘in for a penny, in for a pound’. This time it paid off, catching the eye of judge Tom Bromley, who has a GSOH, as well as being a (ghost)writer, editor and Head of Learning for Reedsy. He had this to say about my entry:
“An intriguing interpretation of the theme and a great piece of action writing regarding the competition in the school pool. I thought this well was well described and with a nice ripple of tension as to what was going to happen, which gives the piece a satisfying edge.”
This is the second time I’ve been pipped to pole position in an HWS competition (here’s my story the previous time), but I promise to keep trying for that elusive first place!
If you’re wondering about the title of the piece, then you’ll need to read as far as the footnote1. Yes, I’ll test ya. Don’t forget to ‘exhale, exhale…’
Tom also gave a talk at the meeting where I received my certificate. This was far more important, because he spoke about ‘imagination’ - including its origins, theoretical types and the raw materials which power it. Key to the latter is keen observation – of nature, in particular.
New narratives are based on new ideas. Connecting observations and combining previous ideas is how you generate the latter, often subconsciously. If you’re like me, lots of ideas appear in your head when exercising, showering, sleeping. In other words, not when you’re sat at a desk under pressure to think of one.
Practice ➡️ Observe ➡️ Connect ➡️ Think ➡️ Experiment
From a writing perspective, serendipity, or something done by mistake, or re-use of a character are also valid sources of ideas. You won’t remember everything so write or dictate notes into a notebook or phone.
Finding a balance between excessive planning and the deliberate chaos of ‘winging it’ often inspires imagination and creates space for creativity. Also look for inspiration in what is already available within other genres, music, art and other creative forms.
Most of all: dare to be different.
Until next time…
Come Play My Game
Holding your breath is hard and today’s competition is intense. The nominated judges peer into the school pool, looking for bubbles. The first sign of weakness, they signal an ascent into jeering defeat. Only a complete lack of inspiration will baptise you as this week’s winner. Achieve the longest pause between breaths and be a hero for at least today.
Earlier, your chest heaved with ill-advised hyperventilation. Now the drive to respire fills your head like an expanding bladder in the post-lunch lesson. It mustn’t overwhelm your conscious control, even as your hindbrain begs for release from forbidden tomfoolery. You gulp Gollum-like on the exhausted air trapped inside your desperate lungs. The primitive reflex barely dampens the urge to release your pressure-cooker of carbon dioxide. You aren’t a whale. Your inspirations are meagre, your expirations only visible on fog-chilled days. But your hopes are high. Premature inhalation is for wimps lacking lung capacity and willpower.
Through the liquid layer dividing success from failure, an unexpected dash of motivation…
You somersault from glisten-backed mushroom to upturned turtle, pinching your nose as wayward bubbles tickle your nostrils. Through the liquid layer dividing success from failure, there’s an unexpected dash of motivation: a refracted splash of polka-dot blue. The girl in year five you watch from afar. Your starved brain decides she’s waiting with bated breath for her breathless champion. A wavering halo forms around her head, a tunnel of bliss connecting your...
Its edges darken and she’s gone in a flash of startled quicksilver – along with the judges. A hairy hand intrudes into your watery womb and a vice encloses your arm. You breach the surface like a sub-sea missile into the poolside clamour. A puce face expels their own lungful of air in a flood of detention-laden expletives. But you can breathe again, and your surging, death-defying gasps are all the inspiration you need.
Who could forget these prodigies entreating you to exhale? R.I.P. Keith.
Congratulation for the second place and for the risk taken!!! Next year I want to see a first place
Congratulations👏