I’ve been taking an online class in Flash Fiction
and really enjoying it. It’s good to think about writing differently and to try
some new approaches to story.
One of the first things we did was write a series of
haikus—still observations, descriptions with a sense of presence. In each
haiku, we were asked to depict a moment in time when we were suddenly aware of
reality though something simple and ordinary but striking.
Recording the art of flaneur.
Here are a few from my daily wanderings~
A man in the park
Sits on a stool and plays the saxophone
Cars honk and dogs bark
Sits on a stool and plays the saxophone
Cars honk and dogs bark
Six tai chi dancers
Slowly swing their swords in circles
Overhead a hawk
Slowly swing their swords in circles
Overhead a hawk
Dog chases a pigeon
Wet grass shimmers in the sun
My socks are cold and wet
Boots pound down the hill
Hot sun on the back of my neck
No fog on the bay
Hot sun on the back of my neck
No fog on the bay
A flock of green and red
Squealing like bicycle breaks
Backpack baby cries
Hydrangea stars burst
Wood steps lined in green and white
Bridge lights sweep in waves
Bridge lights sweep in waves
After writing the haikus, we used them to build a story—or rather tried to incorporate them into a very short story—a piece of flash fiction. This turned out to be a brilliant tool for bringing specific details, sensual details, into a scene. I’ve started using it in my longer fiction—mentally “walking” through a scene with an eye, an ear, a sniff here and there, and then jotting down a series of quick haiku-like poems that can be folded back into the scene.
It’s also a fun way to make journal entries, to
find the extraordinary in the ordinary details of your day.
I encourage you to try a little haiku in your
life—you just might really like it!
Take good care,
Sharry
