Tag: Kurt Vonnegut

Writing About Touchy Subjects

Touchy subjects are interesting by nature. That’s why they’re fun to write about.

Take pineapple on pizza. People have exactly two opinions about pineapple on pizza:

  1. Pizzas should be topped with nothing else
  2. It makes a mockery of a perfectly good pie

I’ve somehow ended up in the middle on that one, which sort of undermines my point. Hmm…

For a better example, take religion. I’m writing about that for my current project, a novel entitled Eggs for the Ageless. It’s a story about a girl who accidentally creates a religion. The existing Gods and Goddesses of her world (the titular Ageless), are not happy.

My book’s religions are fictional, but they’re inspired by real ones, most notably Ancient Greek myths. Therefore, I’ve got a Goddess of Love and a God of War. But I tried adding a little humor, too, with a Goddess of Coffee and a God of Waste Management. Ya know, the essentials.

Controversy is interesting, but it’s also, well, controversial. That’s why I’ve given myself three rules when writing about religion, and touchy subjects in general. They are…

Rule #1: Play Both Sides

I once heard some excellent advice on writing controversial topics: You must argue both (or all) sides. Otherwise you lose conflict and fall into didacticism.

In other words, if all the bad guys in my book were religious and all the good guys non-religious (or vice versa), it would feel too preachy. I’m taking extra care to explore the merits of both sides. And honestly, if there really is a religion with a God of Coffee, I’ll convert today.

Furthermore, subjects often become touchy because there’s no objectively correct answer. Take politics, for example. Humankind has devised countless ways to organize society, and though some prefer certain structures over others, there’s no perfect way to run things. So, if you write about that touchy subject, play every side that makes sense.

Don’t just argue the benefits of, say, monarchies, in the style of Hamilton’s King George. Touch on all the touchy sides. (Although, I have to admit, King George kinda pulls it off.)

Rule #2: Provide a Range of Intensity

Every touchy subject has its fanatics and its casuals. In religious terms, consider the self-flagellating albino dude from The Da Vinci Code versus people who believe in God but don’t really pray or attend church. Though they’re technically on the same side, their belief carries a different intensity. So examine them both.

If you don’t, you’ll fall into the same trap of Rule #1. Imagine, for example, if every religious character in Eggs for the Ageless murdered people in the name of the Coffee Goddess. Not only would that be unfair to coffee drinkers—it would also be unfair to peaceful religious folks, of which the world has many.

I’ve got some fanatics in my book, sure. There’s Sarene, our main character’s mom, who’s so devoted that she tattoos her bare scalp with images of the Ageless (you don’t see that every day). But I’ve also added some laid-back religious types, such as the multi-talented Trast, who’s an early reader favorite so far.

People have strong opinions on touchy subjects, yes. But some are stronger than others. So it is in life, so it should be in writing.

Rule #3: Find the Humor

People have a tendency to dismiss funny stories as less meaningful than serious ones. I disagree. Humor is funny precisely because it gets to the heart of its target. Take this Oscar Wilde quote as an example:

“I think God, in creating man, somewhat overestimated his ability.”

For the religiously inclined, that’s a statement about how humans don’t always live up to God’s expectations. For the non-religious, it’s highlighting the comedic irony of a supposedly omnipotent God. Either way, it’s pretty funny—and certainly meaningful.

There’s humor hidden within most touchy subjects. We’ve covered religion, politics, and pizza—but hey, people can make jokes out of just about anything. Kurt Vonnegut, for example, could find humor in seemingly unfunny subjects. Like this…

“I have this disease late at night sometimes, involving alcohol and the telephone.”

Or this…

“Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion. I myself prefer to laugh, since there is less cleaning do to do afterward.”

Or this…

“Dear future generations: Please accept our apologies. We were rolling drunk on petroleum.”

If Vonnegut can find humor in greenhouse gas emissions, there’s humor to be found in pretty much any controversy. Especially pineapple on pizza.

Looking forward to writing more about touchy subjects in Eggs for the Ageless. More details to come.


Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife, their cats, and their dog. He has written two books and numerous short stories, both published and yet-to-be published. He enjoys unusual narrative structures, multiple POVs, and stories that make readers laugh.

Unusual Narrative Styles in Fiction

Writer

Mark Twain once said, “I like a good story well told.”

We’re with you there, Mark. Whether that story comes in the form of a book, a news article, or over a drink with a friend after work, stories are pretty much universal. It’s the “well told” part of this statement that interests me most, though. What exactly does that mean? Regarding fiction, is there an optimal way to tell a story well? I think not.

Linear, cause-and-effect narratives are fine. Third-person omniscient narration is cool. And the Hero’s Journey works. But when you find a story told in a weird, out-there sort of way, it can really make things feel fresh.

What am I talking about here? I’m talking about present tense. I’m talking about all-dialogue. I’m talking about non-linear narratives. Let me give you a few examples.

The Shining Girls

I just got finished reading The Shining Girls by Lauren Beukes. It’s about a woman who survives a brutal attack by a time-traveling serial killer, and then devotes the rest of her life to stopping him. Not one for the kiddies.

It’s not the typical cut and dry, one-scene-into-the-next thriller. First thing: it’s written in the present tense, which is atypical for genre fiction. Present tense works perfectly with this story, though, because it gives everything a sense of immediacy. It’s as if the events of the novel are unfolding before us in real time, sort of like a news story (Beukes was a freelance reporter for a while, by the way).

Furthermore, present tense works best with quick sentences and short chapters, which we see much of in The Shining Girls. Beukes writes her chapters in quick hits, like jabs to the mouth. We zoom in on one character, end on a resounding note, then move on to the next. An economical yet powerful approach.

Could Beukes achieve the same effect using traditional narrative styles? Maybe, but I don’t think it would’ve been quite as effective. There’s no distance to the events with present tense—it’s happening instead of having already happened.

Your Fathers, Where Are They? And the Prophets, Do They Live Forever?

Another weird narrative comes in David Eggers’s Your Fathers, Where Are They? And the Prophets, Do They Live Forever? The plot: an unremarkable man kidnaps an astronaut in order to ask said astronaut many existential questions.

…That probably already sounds weird. It gets weirder.

Eggers’s book is written entirely as dialogue. It’s sort of like a stage play in that sense, only without even so much as stage direction. Like in The Shining Girls, this makes things move quickly. Though it’s a roughly 200-page book (which isn’t super long to begin with), it reads as though it’s half that length.

The best part about this all-dialogue style is the way it puts the characters’ voices right in your ear. After a while, you can imagine distinct accents and inflections for each of them. Furthermore, the dialogue takes on a special weight, because without a description to back it up, every line must do more to advance the story. In addition, the dialogue must also perform such mundane actions as orienting the reader in the space, a function usually performed by description.

Slaughterhouse-Five

The last weird narrative style I’d like to discuss is that of Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse-FivePerhaps the weirdest of the three, Slaughterhouse centers on the life of Billy Pilgrim, a WWII veteran who’s trying to adjust to postwar life. Which is tough when you’ve become “unstuck in time” and subsequently cycle through different moments of your life.

Billy jumps from moment to moment, from the war to troubled times at home to an alien planet, all of them years apart. The narrative cuts between all these times and settings in an unpredictable pattern—definitely not the style of most books.

But the genius here is that we become disoriented, just like Billy. If the story was told in a normal, linear manner, we’d know exactly when we are in time, i.e. the events on page 100 are happening after those on page 50. As written, though, we’re just as unstuck in time as Billy. It’s an effect that couldn’t be achieved otherwise.

So What’s the Best?

So what makes a good story well told? Like any good question, there’s no single answer. It might be a classic structure, or it might be something unusual. Whatever the structure, it’s not just what happens that makes a story great—it’s the way in which it happens.


Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats. He has written two books and numerous short stories, both published and yet-to-be published. He enjoys unusual narrative structures, multiple POVs, and stories about cats.

Why You Should Be Reading Flash Fiction

Ernest Hemingway

Just like the name implies, flash fiction is short enough to read in an instant. But if you’re not reading it, here’s why you should be.

Opinions vary on what length qualifies as flash fiction. Some markets say 300 words max, some say 500, others say 1,000. Whatever the case may be, flash fiction has to be really short—which is not to say incomplete. Rather, many flash pieces still have the elements of traditional literature (character, plot, conflict, setting), only they’re condensed. Think of them like shorter short stories.

The form has existed for quite a while, though it wasn’t known as “flash fiction” until 1992, when James Thomas, Denise Thomas, and Tom Hazuka published their anthology Flash Fiction: 72 Very Short StoriesDespite the its relative mainstream obscurity, many high-profile authors have written flash fiction, including Kurt Vonnegut, Ray Bradbury, Joyce Carol Oats, Ernest Hemingway, and H.P. Lovecraft.

In many ways, flash fiction bears a strong resemblance to poetry. Some of my favorite flash pieces create a mood or feeling instead of focusing on narrative, just as some poems do. Others feature complete stories with beginnings, middles, and ends. It’s a flexible form, and one I enjoy very much. In fact, I included three flash pieces in my short fiction collection, Monsters at Dusk.

Thanks to the internet, flash fiction’s popularity has only grown. There are numerous online magazines devoted solely to flash fiction, and quite a few popular markets that publish flash from time to time. Just to name a few: Apex MagazineBeneath Ceaseless Skies, Fantasy & Science Fiction, Flash Fiction Onlineand NANO Fiction.

If you’d like to challenge yourself as a writer, flash is a great way to do it. It might sound easy to write 500 words, but when you sit down and think about all the components of a good story, it can be difficult to cram everything in.

Furthermore, with such limited space to work with, your language must be razor sharp. In general, readers are far more forgiving of bland language in long-form narratives. It’s easy to skip a poorly-written section of a novel. But when a piece only lasts about a page or two, that poor writing sticks out like a fly in your drink.

Flash fiction is a unique form which will, in my opinion, only grow in popularity in the future. Word counts are shrinking, attention spans are decreasing, and concision is becoming more and more essential. Try some flash fiction and see if you agree!


Kyle A. Massa is the author of the short fiction collection Monsters at Dusk and the novel Gerald Barkley Rocks. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction. He lives somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats.

My Favorite Books of 2017

With 2017 in the rear-view and 2018 on the horizon, I figure now’s as good a time as any to share with you my favorite books I read this past year. Hope you enjoy them as much as I did!

Consider the Lobster by David Foster Wallace

From Amazon

David Foster Wallace was an excellent writer and a really brilliant guy. Though his life was cut tragically short, we’re fortunate enough to still have his writing. If you’d like to get acquainted with that writing, consider Consider the Lobster. This collection includes essays and articles on a variety of subjects, including the Maine Lobster Festival, crappy sports biographies, pornography, and why John Updike was a bonafide narcissist. Plus, Wallace writes about 40 pages on English language style guides, which is itself an impressive feat.

The Sirens of Titan by Kurt Vonnegut

From Amazon

This book is almost sixty years old, so I’m not exactly telling anyone anything new by saying that it’s good. But The Sirens of Titan represents Vonnegut at the top of his game, as far as I’m concerned. He blends social commentary, religion, war, and politics all into one, with his trademark humor and wit to match. My favorite line from this book: “Theology: Someone created the universe for some reason.”

The Drawing of the Three by Stephen King

From Amazon

I don’t read a lot of series these days, but I’ll make an exception for The Dark Tower. As the second entry in the series, this is a really beautiful continuation of an outstanding start. The originality and sheer weirdness of the book are excellent, as are the plot and characters. Though it’s a somewhat lengthy book at 400 pages, it goes fast.

Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood

From Amazon

Prior to this novel, the only other Margaret Atwood I’d read was Negotiating with the Dead. I didn’t particularly care for that one, so I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from Oryx and Crake. I loved it. This is a book about a guy named Snowman, who lives in a withered version of the world without many humans or resources. The narrative shifts back and forth between Snowman’s present and past, showing how he and the world became what they are now. A word of warning: once you read this book and find out what “ChickieNobs” are, you’re unlikely to ever eat at KFC again.

Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel

From Amazon

Another book about a post-civilization future, though it’s more likely you’ve heard of this one before. Station Eleven has gotten a lot of national attention, and for good reason. After disease tears through the human population, an acting troupe travels the world performing Shakespeare’s plays. That’s just the main plot, though. In a wider sense, this book is about legacy, religion, art, and survival. The author, Emily St. John Mandel, does some fancy footwork with the narrative by flipping back and forth in time. While it takes a while to get used to, I loved this style because one sees how the characters connect, how certain artifacts got into the hands of others, and more. Very neat story. If you’re looking for books to read in the new year, I recommend these. Have a wonderful 2018!
Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction. His debut novel, Gerald Barkley Rocksis available now on Amazon Kindle.

Vonnegut, King, Rushdie, and the Art of the Opening Line

Writer

Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse Five, widely considered a literary classic, starts with a simple sentence:

“All this happened, more or less.”

Isn’t that an amazing first line?

Now we’re not all Kurt Vonnegut (okay, none of us are), but we can still learn from the guy.

Why is this line so good? It sets the tone: satirical, somewhat detached, and spare. Thousand-page tomes are all well and good, but concise and precise literature is oftentimes even better.

Of course, there are many ways to start a story. Stephen King’s opening lines, for instance, often display a distinct style. Here’s the first sentence of King’s short story “The Monkey”:

“When Hal Shelburn saw it, when his son Dennis pulled it out of a mouldering Ralston-Purina carton that had been pushed far back under one attic eave, such a feeling of horror and dismay rose in him that for one moment he thought he would scream.”

King takes a slightly different approach than Vonnegut, though I think it’s no less effective. The first sentence of Slaughterhouse Five serves to set the tone for the rest of the novel. King, on the other hand, often starts with a character, sometimes several, and a situation. In our example, we’ve got Hal Shelburn, a father, and his son, Dennis. Dennis just pulled something awfully creepy out of a corner of the attic. What is this thing? Why is it so scary? The only way to find out is to read on. And that’s what makes it so effective.

For a third example, let’s turn to the great Salman Rushdie. His controversial 1988 novel The Satanic Verses begins thusly:

“‘To be born again,’ sang Gibreel Farishta tumbling from the heavens, ‘first you have to die.'”

This sentence is sick.

There’s a lot going on here. We have an element of fantasy introduced: the process of resurrection. We have a main character who is perhaps offering wisdom to another character. We also have the exciting image of a man “tumbling from the heavens.” How did he get there? Who is he singing to? Why the heck would a guy who’s falling from the sky be singing? There’s only one way to find out…

The best first sentences grab our interest, make us wonder, and invite us into the story. They might address tone or character or action or any number of other story elements, but, it seems to me, they all do one thing: demand us to read the rest.

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