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Flash Memoir: Using Markers of Time and Place to Ground Readers
PWN Instructor Sue Repko provides three techniques for anchoring readers in your short-form life stories
I am a huge fan of what I call “grounding the reader,” especially in very short works. When your targeted word count is low, quickly grounding readers in the time, place, and mood of your remembered experience is crucial. You want to draw readers in with lines that firmly orient them. You do not want them to have to re-read your first sentences to decode what is happening. For your poetic and economical language, sure! But not because they are confused. Once you have pulled them into your world, they will readily follow you through the rest of your narrative. A perusal of the literary journal Beautiful Things provides excellent examples of this sort of grounding in micro-nonfiction under 250 words. See some suggestions below on how to ground your reader.
1. Consider including a time or place detail in your title.
The title of a creative work is the first thing a reader will encounter. “Bubby and Zaidy 1983” by Laura Bernstein-Machlay jumped out at me. Before getting to the body of the piece, many readers will recognize the Yiddish words for “Grandma and Grandpa,” and they will expect that they are about to time-travel back to 1983. Readers of a certain age may immediately feel a wave of 1980s nostalgia suddenly rolling over them and, then, in the first sentence, learn that it’s spring in Detroit. Time and place are established.
Readers then get evocative sensory details such as “traffic song and bird chatter.” There are more sensory details about the world outside the house of these grandparents before we move inside to Bubby’s ironing and Zaidy’s playing of his cello: ”the air twitching in time like a breezy choirmaster. Outside, the lilacs pant in good measure, their sugar scent somersaulting toward heaven.” By the time I finish the second sentence, I am immersed in springtime in Detroit, in the sounds, in the breeze, and in the distinctive heavenly scent of lilacs. A mood has been established: Not only am I being welcomed into this home, I am being welcomed into this memory.
2. Judiciously dole out more information in the first paragraph.
In “November Geese” by Kit Carlson, we are again grounded in time by the title, although now it is a month, rather than a year. Once again, sensory details in the first couple sentences set a vivid scene, this time in winter and a bit more ominous: “You could hear them calling, cries reverberating between black November treetops and low-hanging pewter clouds. Reedy honks, voices from the far north, warning of winter.” By the middle of the first paragraph, we realize this is not a recent November. The narrator pins the time period down further with, “This was long ago…” And by the end of that paragraph, we understand clearly where the narrator and her sister were raised and the era during which they interacted with the geese: “In the mid-1960s, geese were still rare in mid-Michigan, appearing overhead in late fall like a sacred visitation.” For the rest of the piece, we understand that decades have passed since the narrator had these experiences. Most importantly, I don’t ever feel unmoored from the scene; the narrator makes sure I am grounded throughout.
3. Use time tags to gently and repeatedly re-anchor the reader to the unfolding chronology.
In a final example, “Ashtray” by Deb Werrlein, we learn in the very first sentence: “Dad bought a Miami of Ohio ashtray in 1957—a tin dish with a bean bag for a base, a red M on its side.” The writer then takes us on a whirlwind journey of her memories of her father, his smoking, and this ashtray. She keeps us grounded throughout the piece with the following time tags, in this order, which are all the first word(s) of a sentence:
- Later
- As I grew
- Then
- Eventually
- By the time
- Now
What’s remarkable to me about all of these examples is that I don’t feel like I’m being hit over the head with details of time and place. They are intrinsic to the stories, essential to the world-building that the writers have done, and the events that unfold in these worlds.
Ready to explore the art of flash memoir with award-winning writer Sue Repko? Join us for Flash Memoir, a six-week class starting January 27, where you’ll learn to craft powerful micro-narratives from your life experiences while receiving supportive feedback in an engaging virtual classroom environment.
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