1) I can write really small when I need to.
2) A picture really is worth 1,000 words. Most of my mini-stories are meaningless without the postcard image that inspired them. This is fun, leaning on those images and letting them fill in the gaps between the lines.
3) Sometimes fewer words are better. At first I tried to cram a whole story into these little spaces (hence the tiny writing), but as I go on I see that sometimes the suggestion of a story is far more interesting. One of my favorites is only 43 words. Again, I’m not sure this works without the images to do the heavy lifting. Maybe in some cases?
4) I’m not really sure at what point something becomes a story. Am I deluding myself that these qualify? Probably.
Anyway, more to come. I am home now and recovering from a month of travel. Next on the priority list is revising the novel. But I promise to keep postcarding, too. This silly idea, born of the Clarion West Write-a-thon and sleep deprivation, has the feel of a lasting obsession.
Because most of the postcards at the Munch Museum were prohibitively expensive:
And, in case you ever wondered what happened after The Magic Fish ended:
Here’s the low-down: 1) Clarion West is an amazing thing, a six-week education for SF writers. I went there. It changed me . . . y’know, in good ways. 2) Clarion West is having a Write-a-thon to raise money for itself, so it can keep being an amazing thing, and changing people . . . for the better. 3) If you give them money through my Write-a-thon page
a) they get money and b) you get a postcard. An AWESOME postcard. It might not be one of these. It might be better!
What could be better? And yet, after two weeks I have few sponsors. I feel lonely. I am writing postcards to the void.
Maybe it’s the economy. $20 is a lot, right? I know. (Boy, do I know. You think things are expensive in the States? Try Norway!) So, okay. Forget $20. I have a lot of these postcard things, and they just keep coming. I’ll send them to sponsors until I run out. And then I’ll feel guilty and write more of them, and send those out.
Got it? Sponsor me; get postcard. Any amount will do (but maybe more than the cost of a postcard stamp, yeah? Just for karma?).
If you don’t sponsor me, I might throw a tantrum. And then I might turn into a statue. And then how will you feel?
I am having a jolly time writing postcards to and from all manner of things.
This last might be my favorite. And it has no real life recipient yet! Would you like it? Sponsor me
in the Clarion West Write-a-thon. (And I promise I’ll stop asking soon)
I haven’t always loved postcards. In fact I’ve downright hated them, for reasons that I now see are unfair. So, I’ve written a conciliatory postcard . . . to Postcards.
And now I’ve got the Beatles’ song, “Dear Prudence,” in my head. And the Internet here is so slow that I fear uploading any more photos will take approximately the time it took some glacier to form this fjord we’re in. So look for more postcards soon!
And remember, if you want to look for them in the meatspace mail, sponsor me in the Clarion West Write-a-thon.