Fiction vs Sudden Fiction

If I was to consider what style of writing I use I’d have to say Sudden Fiction. Now those not familiar with this style may wonder what the difference is between Fiction and Sudden Fiction, and I would say the answer is in the details. Okay, that’s a pun, but it’s true. Sudden Fiction lacks detail, lets the mind of the reader create the scene, and fills in the details as the scene plays out. By doing this the action begins almost immediately while allowing the experiences and imagination of the reader build the rest. For example, here is an illustration of the difference.

“A chill gust of wind picked up a week-old section of the want ads blowing it past the peeling poster of Marilyn Monroe and a dozen other has-been movie stars.  It was only one of a hundred pieces of trash strewn throughout the front of the rundown movie theater, but it was easy to see why. Each wintery blasts of air across the semi-circled receiving area creating a whirlwind sucking in every piece of free floating debris while only letting a few from its icy grasp stacking garage in every nook and cranny available. It was disgusting, but then so was Justin.

His tall lanky form, unwashed hair, layered clothing, ripped jeans, and worn untied Converse high-tops exactly mimicked the grunge look created by Kurt Cobain, though his look was a deep contrast to who he was. Beyond the shaggy exterior, the billionaire web-designer had a mind like a steel trap and an investment strategy which took millions from Wall Street before his secret identity got traced back to him. Even then there were those with doubts he was the mastermind behind it all, but that was years ago. Still, as if he’d never left his teenage years, his boyish looks belied the calculating man inside. Because of that, Christina was stunned he’d called her after all this time, let alone want to meet her here.

Unlike Justin, Christina’s attire spoke money, though it was money she didn’t necessarily have anymore. Whereas Justin’s wealth had increased, her law firm had run onto hard times, though it didn’t stop her from looking the part of a high-priced lawyer. In fact her tailored navy-blue pin-stripe suite skirt with frilled white blouse, red leather pumps with matching Coach purse, and three carat diamond engagement ring probably cost more than any of the local tenants yearly wages. Had it not been for her mannequin-stiff body, taunt jaw-line, and dead cold stare, she would’ve been a prime target for a mugging in this neighborhood.

As Justin drifted out of the shadows closer to her, she could see the sagging dark circles around his eyes in the meager light of the single shorting-out bulb randomly strobing the theater entrance.

“What the hell happened to you,” she questioned, instantly losing her air of importance as concern filled her being. This was not the man whose financials indicated he should not have a care in the world. And she’d checked those financials moments after she’d hung up from his call last night.”

Now the Sudden Fiction version of the same meeting.

“Torn movie posters, cracked sidewalks, and scattered, wind-blown trash were his only company until he saw her approach. It was easy to tell she was in the wrong part of town, though he called this area home despite his wealth. Then, as she neared, her body stiff with irritation probably due to the location, he stepped out of the darkened movie theater entrance allowing someone he was not completely familiar with into his presence. And obviously his appearance was not what she anticipated.

“What the hell happened to you,” she questioned, her body loosening with each syllable.”

This is the same scene portraying nearly the same feeling, but with only a quarter of the words used. On top of that the reader is thrown into the action, the desperation, and the concern almost instantly. Where the story goes doesn’t matter, only that the scene is set within the readers mind, pictured perfectly because the reader’s interpretation is rarely wrong, and even then only after the movie has come out.

Now to end this introspective view into my writing, I defend my literary style by saying this. I have an overactive imagination. I see what I write in every detail, imagining everything down to the texture and grain of the wood. What I can’t adequately detail is whether the reader knows the difference between oak or pine, rough or course, and dark tan or light brown. Therefore, I leave those details up to the reader’s imagination by simply saying an ‘aged wooden pole’. Besides, in my opinion, the story should stand without those details.