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Scraps:
Scraps is the second anthology from National Flash-Fiction Day. It features more than seventy huge tales told in only a few words.
All of the stories in this collection have been inspired by other works of art: paintings, sculptures, TV programmes, films, music and more. As a result they are imbued with something of the original, but then take off into new and often surprising directions.
Scraps features stories from Jenn Ashworth, Tania Hershman, Vanessa Gebbie, Jonathan Pinnock, Kevlin Henney, Nuala Ní Chonchúir, Sarah Hilary and many more.
Funny, sad, exciting, intriguing, experimental and traditional, Scraps is a snapshot of the best in contemporary flash fiction.
All of the stories in this collection have been inspired by other works of art: paintings, sculptures, TV programmes, films, music and more. As a result they are imbued with something of the original, but then take off into new and often surprising directions.
Scraps features stories from Jenn Ashworth, Tania Hershman, Vanessa Gebbie, Jonathan Pinnock, Kevlin Henney, Nuala Ní Chonchúir, Sarah Hilary and many more.
Funny, sad, exciting, intriguing, experimental and traditional, Scraps is a snapshot of the best in contemporary flash fiction.
- GenresShort Stories
120 pages, Kindle Edition
First published June 13, 2013
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10 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews
June 27, 2013
got to be good - I'm in it!
was good, a massive collection of flash fiction from the UK (mainly) to celebrate the UK National Flash Fiction Day (NFFD). They are, as you would expect, a mixed bunch, I liked some more than others, but the collection has a high hit rate.
I entered the NFFD's competition and got an 'honorary mention' so that's why I'm in it. Some of the other stories were written in response to other creative work, music, TV, film, art etc. And although the source of inspiration are not included sometimes I wished they were. For example 'The Veronicas', about a set of paintings. However mostly it didn't really matter. For example this fine piece about Katy Perry. I know who she is:
# Stephen McGeagh
I am Katy Perry’s biggest fan and I hope that one day she will tweet me back because she is always on twitter and so am I. I spend a long time waiting for new tweets to pop up on my feed. I think that I should follow more people than 219 people because then I will get more new tweets more often. I don’t follow any more than 219 people though, because 219 is too many really. Some of them don’t say anything. They are silent. They are real people and they are boring in real life. They don’t understand twitter so they don’t tweet. If they do tweet it comes out wrong. Like a status update. That is not the point.
News moves fast on twitter. People are exposed and they send pictures of their breasts to their 10m followers by mistake, when they are releasing new albums. People are heroic charity Jesus shining bastards and then public masturbaters in the same week. People lose their minds and tweet-feud. Footballers quote Morissey and give out horse-racing tips. Katy Perry is lovely to everyone. She re-tweets her fans. She makes everyone feel like they are her BFF. I am too scared to tweet Katy Perry because I am afraid that she won’t tweet me back or re-tweet my tweet and then I will either kill myself or I won’t go on twitter for a while.
I join pinterest and I stay on facebook and I try to blog and I use google images to find tattoo designs and I read wikipedia pages, on my smartphone, about the Armenian genocide while I’m in the pub, drinking alone. I plug in my headphones and I start up a youtube play list of late 90s nu-metal and this helps me to do all the things that I am trying to achieve that day.
I would like to stand in a field. The air would be cold and the sun would be going down behind a big tree at one end of the field. The grass would be long and I would be wearing denim shorts and the grass would tickle my knees. I would have a vest on and my arms would be like the arms of a guy who cuts down trees for a living. I would be stood behind Katy Perry and she would be watching the sunset. She would be thinking this sunset is incredible, I will remember it for the rest of my life. She would feel like crying with happiness because she had been given a few seconds of her own to watch a sunset over a cold, long-grass field. I would reach out to touch her on the shoulder and then stop myself. Then she would walk off slowly and go back to her stressful job and her stressful life and I would stay in the cold dark field for rest of my life because I would never be that close to Katy Perry again.
End
I liked many other stories, and although it's maybe invidious to pick out favourites, I'm going to do so anyway: The Art of the TV Chefs by Becky Tipper with its unexpected reaction to death and a great description of a jelly in a fridge; Bright New Morning by Joanna Campbell maybe for this line:she was crumbling, her bones like table-legs chewed by a puppy ; Clare Kirwan's 'Finding Trainspotting' - frustration and a lifetime exposed by a simple act (a library assistant showing a reader how to find Irvine Wesh's fucking books; Jenn Ashworth's Shoes with its devastating last line; Calum Kerr's sad How; Tim Stevenson's sadder A handful... oh loads of good stuff here..
was good, a massive collection of flash fiction from the UK (mainly) to celebrate the UK National Flash Fiction Day (NFFD). They are, as you would expect, a mixed bunch, I liked some more than others, but the collection has a high hit rate.
I entered the NFFD's competition and got an 'honorary mention' so that's why I'm in it. Some of the other stories were written in response to other creative work, music, TV, film, art etc. And although the source of inspiration are not included sometimes I wished they were. For example 'The Veronicas', about a set of paintings. However mostly it didn't really matter. For example this fine piece about Katy Perry. I know who she is:
# Stephen McGeagh
I am Katy Perry’s biggest fan and I hope that one day she will tweet me back because she is always on twitter and so am I. I spend a long time waiting for new tweets to pop up on my feed. I think that I should follow more people than 219 people because then I will get more new tweets more often. I don’t follow any more than 219 people though, because 219 is too many really. Some of them don’t say anything. They are silent. They are real people and they are boring in real life. They don’t understand twitter so they don’t tweet. If they do tweet it comes out wrong. Like a status update. That is not the point.
News moves fast on twitter. People are exposed and they send pictures of their breasts to their 10m followers by mistake, when they are releasing new albums. People are heroic charity Jesus shining bastards and then public masturbaters in the same week. People lose their minds and tweet-feud. Footballers quote Morissey and give out horse-racing tips. Katy Perry is lovely to everyone. She re-tweets her fans. She makes everyone feel like they are her BFF. I am too scared to tweet Katy Perry because I am afraid that she won’t tweet me back or re-tweet my tweet and then I will either kill myself or I won’t go on twitter for a while.
I join pinterest and I stay on facebook and I try to blog and I use google images to find tattoo designs and I read wikipedia pages, on my smartphone, about the Armenian genocide while I’m in the pub, drinking alone. I plug in my headphones and I start up a youtube play list of late 90s nu-metal and this helps me to do all the things that I am trying to achieve that day.
I would like to stand in a field. The air would be cold and the sun would be going down behind a big tree at one end of the field. The grass would be long and I would be wearing denim shorts and the grass would tickle my knees. I would have a vest on and my arms would be like the arms of a guy who cuts down trees for a living. I would be stood behind Katy Perry and she would be watching the sunset. She would be thinking this sunset is incredible, I will remember it for the rest of my life. She would feel like crying with happiness because she had been given a few seconds of her own to watch a sunset over a cold, long-grass field. I would reach out to touch her on the shoulder and then stop myself. Then she would walk off slowly and go back to her stressful job and her stressful life and I would stay in the cold dark field for rest of my life because I would never be that close to Katy Perry again.
End
I liked many other stories, and although it's maybe invidious to pick out favourites, I'm going to do so anyway: The Art of the TV Chefs by Becky Tipper with its unexpected reaction to death and a great description of a jelly in a fridge; Bright New Morning by Joanna Campbell maybe for this line:she was crumbling, her bones like table-legs chewed by a puppy ; Clare Kirwan's 'Finding Trainspotting' - frustration and a lifetime exposed by a simple act (a library assistant showing a reader how to find Irvine Wesh's fucking books; Jenn Ashworth's Shoes with its devastating last line; Calum Kerr's sad How; Tim Stevenson's sadder A handful... oh loads of good stuff here..
July 20, 2016
I'm loathe to review this as I have a story in it, but there are some stories that I think are wonderful and should be read. My favourites without a doubt are: 'The Paper Oak', 'Broom', 'Dot-to-Dot Man' and 'Quench'. I can hear people scream 'But what about ...?' and that's why this book is so good - there really is something for everyone. It’s a cliché, but it’s true
September 1, 2013
I was surprised by the high quality of these 70+ stories in miniature written to the challenge of National Flash-Fiction Day. It takes a special skill to write something that resonates with readers in less than one page.
Each story is worthy of mention so it seems hardly fair to pick out only a few. I found memorable the over-greased sunbather, the murder in the desert, the tree women, Helen’s heart-rending Art, Margaret’s apple pie, less than a handful of grey grit like tobacco, the death of Mary’s Mum, the ‘faces’ of a relationship, Jeremy’s slurp out of an antique bowl and the thoughts of the tree, bridge and boat.
You will have to read the book to discover which stories I refer to. This is my way of being fair.
Each story is worthy of mention so it seems hardly fair to pick out only a few. I found memorable the over-greased sunbather, the murder in the desert, the tree women, Helen’s heart-rending Art, Margaret’s apple pie, less than a handful of grey grit like tobacco, the death of Mary’s Mum, the ‘faces’ of a relationship, Jeremy’s slurp out of an antique bowl and the thoughts of the tree, bridge and boat.
You will have to read the book to discover which stories I refer to. This is my way of being fair.
July 4, 2013
Love a bit of flash fiction. When it's executed well it astounds me what can be achieved in so few words. It's a real art. This is the second NFFD collection and there is some gems to be found. The best one of the collection for me is the winner of the micro fiction comp (so even more brief than flash). Its fucking stunning for something that's barely a hundred words or so.
June 29, 2013
This is an excellent guide to flash fiction authors if you are new to the genre. Anyone established or emerging is in here. This is a bible of flash.
November 21, 2013
Good to read a collection of British flash fiction, not enough of it about. Quick read, some stories better than other.
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews