Fragmentation in structure, in narrative, and in character-building

MONTHLY BLOGPOST

I really wish someone took over the admin part of my writing life, including the correspondences, Submittable, submission records, and edit follow-ups! Why am I saying this? Well, last year, I found out that some of my published work from 2019 & 2020 had gone missing from the internet, either because the publications had closed down, or because the litmags had simply removed earlier pieces to make way for newer ones on their website. None of them had bothered to intimate me. It was then that I realized the need to keep a tab on all my published pieces (as you should too!). Late last year I began to create a table, the mammoth task finally culminating in a Publication List this month. It was then that I finally had a count! It’ll soon be (hopefully!) 300 pieces published in total, ranging from drabbles to CNF to short-stories, and I’m eager to do a giveaway for the community when that happens!

This month’s craft #blogpost: Fragmentation in structure, in narrative, and in character-building can be divided into three parts: 1) Fragmentation in structure: Meaning a narrative text is subtly nudging you to pay attention through the way it is told. We’re not taking of hybrids, experimental or hermit-crab forms here, but traditional forms, and yet, by moving around the pieces, a story can become more interesting simply by the manner it is told (2) Fragmentation in narrative flow: Now we are all used to a story where the events are projected in a natural flow, every small event is accounted for, and told reasonably, guiding us through assumptions and logic to its final conclusion. What if that is disrupted? (3) Fragmentation in character: That is, characters may have loops, breaking-points and unreasonable behavior which lends a particu;ar taste to an otherwise linear storyline. We’ll look at how each of these may be achieved with relevant examples.

Regarding (1) above: I’ll start with a movie example you may have watched. Taking place in Morocco, Japan, Mexico, and the United States, with characters scattered across the globe, the 2006 psychological drama ‘Babel’ portrays this best. Watch it if you haven’t. In this movie, a small change affects several unrelated protagonists, and the opening of the film is, in fact, where it culminates. I’m reminded of chaos theory, and the butterfly effect (where sensitive dependence on initial conditions of a deterministic nonlinear system can result in large differences in a later state). This is the “fragmentation” in structure, that, as a reader, thrills me. Let me point you to this story as a good example of fragmentation. Fragmentation in structure can also be brought about by ending a story with a question. I used this structure in my PsychoPomp short-story “Whether an Apocryphal Story?”. The advantage of choosing this structure is to force the reader into a second read, and perhaps more, because they’re intrigued and must ponder over the narrative’s arcs and bends again. Another form of fractured story-telling structure is using multiple POVs. Though it is, admittedly, difficult to achieve in the limited scope of flash fiction, it is being increasingly practised by contemporary writers. I am particularly fond of abrupt endings done expertly too, though I understand they don’t have many votaries. When a story ends like it is hanging by a thread but not finished yet, or is really only a clue to what might have precipitated if the story was allowed to carry on further — that is fascinating to me — like the allure of something just beyond reach. This story achieves such an unfinished feel in some measure.

How do you attempt it? Take a draft you might be working on; move around the scenes; rearranging the chronological order; take some details and let some unrelated charcters talk about those motif; take order and discipline out, and in its place let chaos rule — such that what-event-precipitates-what is left to the reader, just like it did for the movie Babel.

Regarding (2) Imagine a situation where certain parts of a jigsaw puzzle are deliberately withdrawn from you. Would you still be able to solve it? Nine Fictions is a good example, with its (seemingly) unconnected sections, and thus is a case of “fractured narrative”. As also, Five Stories by Lydia Davis.

If you’re inspired, and say you’re working on a story, you know what all happens in it, and who are the characters. Now, experiment with: A) leaving out a crucial scene and its direct narration, using instead only references, as in spoken about/remembered by characters such that the fractions keep adding up, finally showing up as whole in the reader’s mind; B) doing away with an important character such that the personality of this missing person, actually enhances that person’s signifcance in the plotline. Let the contours of that character build-up only in the background through images, dialogues, and subtext/dreams etc.

Regarding Point (3) When a character behaves in a chronological/expected manner, we’re all rooting for them. When that person is vulnerable, erratic and moody, we root for them even more. That’s human psychology. Allow for our secret weaknesses to come out into the open through characters looking unhinged, behaving illogically, and thereby give your narrative that fragmented unfinished look that imitates real life, much like kintsugi. You may read flash fictions like The Bad Baby and Mosquito for an idea about how to write characters behaving erratically on unexpected lines.