On Wednesday evening I will be standing up in front of thirty clever people who love social media and gather once a month to talk about it in the centre of Bristol. The monthly event is called Brrism and it is great fun.
I am, quite frankly, terrified. At times like this I wonder why I do these crazy things, but then I realised it’s because this event has given me a wonderful opportunity that I couldn’t refuse: to be part of a unique fusion of short story writing and social media think-tanking. To quote part of the blurb:
In a unique blend of social media future gazing and fiction writing, Brrism is collaborating with local author Emma Newman to generate themes relating to the future of social media, leading to the creation of an original short story written by Emma after the meeting for the Brrism community.
How cool is that? You can see the full blurb about my talk and those by the other speakers on the Brrism blog.
This is a natural side-shoot of the short story club, in that I’ll be encouraging the attendees to brainstorm lots of short story prompts with me, all focused on ‘what ifs’ about social media. I’m really excited about that part – once the talk that’s being broadcast live on Ustream is over (I think I’ll be speaking at about 7pm GMT).
I’m resisting the urge to spill my anxiety about people seeing me in real life onto this page, because I want to share something else with you, and it’s something that attendees on Wednesday might like to read if they’re curious about what this “writing the social media future” exercise is all about.
After last month’s Brrism event, I spent a happy half hour at the pub talking about this upcoming presentation with the organiser, the lovely Michael. In the course of that conversation he inspired a flash fiction piece which you’ll find below. Thanks Michael, it was a great conversation!
This flash is designed to explore one tiny human experience in a possible future society – and that is what really excites me about speculative fiction. I love the way it enables us to explore what happens when future technology intersects with the same old human stories that play out every day. I dabbled with this in an earlier piece of flash fiction called “The Perfect Escape” and I’m hoping that the Brrism event will inspire another story or two.
Short stories cannot explore whole worlds, that’s why I like to focus in on one or two people and how that future world impacts upon them. I’m hoping that the short story that comes out of the Brrism event will stimulate discussion after the event – and that’s what I intended with this piece – I want it to create many questions in the mind of the reader about what life might be like in this future…
Anyway, I’ll let you read it first, I can wait…
One message received
“There has to be something you can do!”
Tanya lurked in the hallway outside her mother’s room, staying still and silent to prolong the successful eavesdropping. Her mother had been shouting down the microphone for five minutes, demanding to speak to the next person up after each one had failed to tell her something she wanted to hear.
Her pocket buzzed but she’d check the message later. She wanted to find out what had wound her mother up so much.
“But there must be some kind of record, people don’t just disappear like that,” her mother’s voice was cracking. This was bad. “So what happens now?” she asked a moment later, quieter, weaker.
She pulled the tablet out of her pocket and brought up the message. “Miz_Katix39: Flying with Dad, new avatar rocks, lolz.” Tanya rolled her eyes. Katie was always showing off on Fridays, the day she spent with her Dad in Second Life. Tanya knew he only spent it with her because of the court order. Katie didn’t broadcast that, did she?
An electronic beep signalled the end of her mother’s call and Tanya heard the headset landing on the other side of the room. Then the crying really started.
It was definitely Dad.
She took a deep breath and dropped the tablet back in her pocket. She stepped into the doorway. “Are you ok Mum?”
“No, I’m not ‘okay’ for God’s sake!” her mother snapped and Tanya bit her lip, trying to shrug it off. “Sorry. It’s your bloody father.”
Tanya tried to stay nonchalant. “What about him?”
“That was the Ministry for Identity and Safety on the line,” her mother replied, sniffing and wiping her eyes. “They’ve closed the file. It’s over.”
“They can’t find him? How’s that even possible?”
“He’s gone off-net,” her mother dropped her head into her hands and sobbed. Tanya just stood there, not knowing what to do or say.
“They sure?” She only got a nod in response.
She plucked her tablet out again, searched on “define: off-net” but an MIS logo loaded with a polite notice. If she wanted to know more about “off-net”, she’d have to request the information via her mother’s access, a buzz from her mother’s tablet on the desk confirmed that she’d been notified. She rolled her eyes and closed the browser.
“Does off-net mean he isn’t online at all?” At her mother’s nod, she asked “But how does that work? Isn’t that illegal?”
“Don’t ask, Tanya,” her mother pushed past her and went into the bathroom. “Nothing good will come of it. We won’t get any money now, even if they do ever find him. Now I’m late for my co-working day. God I hate having to go into the office.”
Tanya left her mother to wash and went to her room, calling up her broadcast app, but no words came to mind. She could see that 147 of her friends were currently chatting, but what was she going to say? “Hi guys, Dad’s gone off-net and my Mum is freaking out, my dad’s a crim!” just didn’t seem appealing somehow. The Ministry would probably block it anyway judging by the earlier search intervention.
She browsed her friend’s activities whilst her mother ran from one room to another trying to make herself presentable. She hadn’t left the house in a fortnight and she always got into a state before she had to go outside.
Tanya was drawn to Katie’s status, looked at the picture of her father’s expensive new avatar. She sighed. She’d rather have a Dad that only took her out virtually once a week because he was forced to by law, rather than a criminal. She couldn’t even look up her father’s status, photos, nothing. A void. This sucked.
The door slammed and the house was silent. She watched a few movies posted by her friends, but nothing took away the dull ache in her stomach. She wondered what he was doing; it infuriated her that she couldn’t just look it up. Without a Ministry registered sign-in, there was no net: no food, no bill paying, no wages, nothing. What would he do?
A noise downstairs startled her. She froze the live feed and listened, straining her ears. “Mum?” she called, but a quick glance at the corner of her tablet confirmed she was half way to the station.
Tanya crept to the top of the stairs and looked down into the hallway below. Something was lying on the doormat. She raced down and picked it up, seeing that the rusting letter box was still partially open. She’d read old stories in which letters were pushed through the front door, but those times were long gone. She looked at the paper envelope in her hand, looking just like a quaint old fashioned message icon.
She waited for a buzz on the tablet, or a beep of some kind from the envelope itself. Nothing. She resolved to open it manually.
Carefully she peeled it open at the back, spreading out the four pointed sides of paper to reveal a smaller one in the middle. The paper was bitty and rough, nothing like the conventional paper that the expensive paper books were printed on for rich eccentrics.
Something was written on the smaller piece, but the letters were so irregular. She sat on the bottom stair and deciphered the message.
In a bit of trouble, don’t worry, but had to go off-net. When I’m sorted, I’ll help, just had to tell you I love you and that I’m sorry. Stay strong, will come when it’s safe. Dad xxxx
She squealed, racing up the stairs, holding it on her outspread hands carefully for fear of creasing it. She didn’t care how it had got there nor what he had done to pay someone to get this to her. She lay it on her pillow and snatched up her tablet, tapping the broadcast icon.
“@Miz_Katix39: your Dad’s trying too hard.” She grinned. That’ll wind her up.
—-
I’d be interested to hear your thoughts about that flash before I say much more about what themes I wanted to explore by writing it. And I’d also like to put a call out for prompts for this month’s short story club please, if you could be a darling and pop one in the comments below that would be marvellous. Remember, you don’t have to be a member to suggest a prompt, but only members receive the story. Heavens to Betsy, it’s a creative month!
P.S. If you enjoyed this, you can subscribe by email if you like.
What a dark but delicious picture of the future – but probably not far off. Well, we will see I guess. Looking forward to more on Wednesday. X Heike
How cool is that?
More-or-less infinitely cool.
I’d be interested to hear your thoughts about that flash before I say much more about what themes I wanted to explore by writing it.
To me it has a feel of anti-tech backlash advocacy about it. A sort of “Hey, what about all this cool stuff we’re leaving behind?” message. Retropunk of the future, if that makes sense.
As for short story club, you can have a title this time instead of an opening line: “Fish Marmalade”.
What do you mean when you say short fictions cannot explore whole worlds? What is a whole world? If it can explore a person, then can’t it explore that person’s entire world? I think short fiction does a great job of exploring worlds, and that it does so so succinctly is what makes them so enjoyable.
Those Bristol folk are a lucky lot, getting you in person. With your combination of insight and talent, you have a great deal to share.
Quite a turn of events. Seems very 1984ish in the sense that one must always be on-line and is always monitored. From a privacy perspective, this is probably not beyond the realm of possibility (but still scary), although I hope that we always have the option to “opt out” of the networked world. What is just as scary to me is that people in the future (at lest in this story) can’t deal with anything that doesn’t stream into them in real-time over the net. I already find that I can fall into information overload with all the real-time, pay attention to me now streams we have today.
Interesting story. Imagine…people having to “write” “letters”.
Prompts (btw thanks for using one of mine if I didn’t mention that already)
The rain gathered in thought
They weren’t skating for gold…they were skating for their lives (can you tell that I’m watching the Olympics)
A dog’s head is usually followed by its body
Tentacles crept out of every opening.
Thanks guys, keep those prompts rolling in
@Jared – You are absolutely right you know, now I reflect upon it. When I wrote that, I was thinking about the depth and complexity painted by Asimov in “Prelude to Foundation” for example, and I wanted to point out that I didn’t expect to outline all the nuances and technology of the future in my short story. But good short stories are like good sketches; with a few well-placed strokes so much can be expressed with so little. Thanks for the prod!
I’ll wait a little while before saying more about the flash, but I love your comments so far, thank you xx
You are working here with two themes that shouldn’t go together but do go together very well. What a rich (barely) futuristic world you create in such a short time, yet the daughter/mother/father interaction is timeless.
What I enjoy about your writing is the quick, seemingly effortless description and dialogue. A joy to read! What I enjoy most is your spot-on description of Tanya’s emotions and the delight with which you celebrate them. This girl is a delicious character.
Em, how exciting for you. You will be fabulous.
I love your short. It’s a wonderful blend. As you said, a very common theme, but doesn’t feel common at all.
What if, because of future technology not fast enough or not working properly, she wasn’t able to manually open that letter?
Warm wishes, my friend!
With this story, you have once again demonstrated masterful writing skills and a delightfully abundant imagination. I’m curious to see where you take this subject, or perhaps, where it takes you. The impact of technological change on society in the future is a theme I tackled in my first novel, and I found it invigorating.
I hope you wowed ‘em during your presentation on social media yesterday evening. You said you were nervous before you spoke, but I watched some of the video posted on the Brrism blog, and you seemed to be quite comfortable and relaxed as you talked with the members.
And finally, here’s my prompt contribution for this month:
He stirred, slowly drifted up from the depths of
unconsciousness, and began to awaken.
Best regards.
Short Story prompt:
He was close to tears as for the second time today the power was cut and left his screen dark and lifeless.
or:
Trembling with fear she approached the Holy Mast, listening in awe to the low hum…
X
Thank you for the kind comments about my #storystarters on Twitter. Here are a few for your Short Story Club prompts.
Living on the bend of the river, many things wash up onto my back yard. The nearly dead girl had to be the strangest.
“Don’t mourn for the dead.” I turned from the grave to find a man I’d never seen before talking to me. “Fear them.”
Darkness gave us the luxury of not seeing what we were up against. With the light came the realization they weren’t human.
Prompts, you say?
She sensed him, before she heard him approach. A soft pressure, like even the air around him tried to get out of his way. He terrified her… but he was her only hope for getting out of this alive.
The lift doors were about to open. She held it out in front of her, shaking just a little, but would she be able to use it?
There’s a celebrity. Every time somebody edits his/her Wikipedia page, whatever is written becomes true. Including dying (then coming back to life when the edit is undone). And convictions for goat buggery.
Locked inside a cage twice her height and width, her blood curdling scream drew out the group of doctors.
Again a story that makes you want to know more about this world and the characters. It is more like the first chapter just whetting your appetite.
Short Story Prompt
He had not meant to fall asleep he had tried desperately not to. Now fully awake he looked around and it had happened again another person had disappeared!!
OK Emma, following your encouragement:
Tech geek gets so fed up with junk mail, writes the ultimate computer worm designed to replicate itself, search for databases visible from infected machines and remove himself from them.
Unfortunately it goes completely wrong and removes him from *every* database so he in effect ceases to exist, of course allowing all sorts of interesting possibilities.
@John Lister, my almost-namesake: I like that idea! Does Emma have a Wikipedia page yet?
A prompt, eh?
“You’re going to carry me down there, in that?” he asked incredulous, his stomach knotting in terror at the very thought of it.
Short story prompts:
“It used to be that a fella could make a pack of smokes last all day.”
“Wooden handle, plastic handle… what’s the difference?”
“Just relax, sir, this will only take a moment.” “That’s what you said the last time. And the time before that.”
“Hey, when is this due back at the library?” “Yesterday.”
“How much are the cucumbers?” “It’s on the sign.”
Short story prompts:
“It landed on the pavement in front of her with a loud ‘schlock’…”
“But the maggots weren’t the worst of it”
“The potion swirled in the beaker”
“By invitation only – that’s what the card had said”