I was recently invited to participate in the “Significant Objects” art project, joining the likes of Christopher Sorrentino, Ed Park, Maud Newton, Colson Whitehead and Nicholson Baker. Short version is they send a bunch of writers a random photo (I got the yo-yo pictured above) and we write a very short fiction concerning said object. Object and its “story” are put on Ebay, and the entire project is documented for posterity. The curators are interested in how narrative assigns value to seemingly meaningless objects.
Anyway, my piece has gone up today and I’m matching whatever it finally sells for and donating the proceeds to the Literacy Network of Los Angeles (or blowing it on booze, not sure yet). Either way, I’m pleased with the way it turned out – I’ve never done a short fiction to order like this before. So check out the site and the listing, and if you dig what I wrote at all, perhaps you’ll bid a buck or two for a yo-yo. Here's how the story begins:
When I was seventeen, I was expelled from high school. My father, reasonably enough, gave me a choice: Get a job or get out. The only job for a 30-mile radius was the night shift behind the counter at an Amoco station on a deserted back road off the interstate. Scott, the owner, told me I probably wouldn’t see a customer most nights. He was chubby, hairy and, at 26, overly proud of himself for owning a gas station.
Back then, gas stations had no mini marts, no hot dogs, not even Gatorade. It was mostly candy bars and smokes, if you weren’t picky about your brand. Gas fumes mingled with the scent of cleaning fluid used to wipe down tools. I had an AM radio with lousy reception and, on his way out the door, Scott tossed me an Amoco yo-yo for entertainment. Ahead of his time, he was branching out into branded swag.
Four nights into the job, Scott’s prediction had held up. I was fiddling with the yo-yo, which had become an obsession. There was something soothing about the bouncing repetition, and it helped pass the time. I was watching it travel up and down the string when I heard a girl’s voice.
Not sure whether to comment here or over there...
Anyway, really like the piece. A lot of meaning packed into 480 words.
Was there a brief about length? Did it have to come in at less than 500 words?
Interesting project, and well done...
Posted by: Shane | November 05, 2009 at 02:35 AM
It was a little long for me to read personally, so I had my assistant provide coverage for me. So here are some notes:
Yo Yo: Backstory, yo? What inner conflicts is the Yo Yo working out here? What is ITS hero journey?
Beats, I need beats!
Can the young guy at the gas station be a super hot chick? You know, Megan Fox meets some smokin' Siberian model?
Can we move the gas station to Beverly Hills? Glitz it up a bit?
"Walking the dog" - I'm not feeling it. Can't the Yo Yo fly or shoot lasers or something instead? Better yet: Can the Yo Yo talk? In a cute Mexican accent or something?
I like the memoir angle, though. Very James Frey.
Hope these notes help.
Posted by: Niall | November 05, 2009 at 08:40 AM
Hi there,
Just wanted to say that I thought that was a great opening. As a short story writer myself, I spend a lot of time carving that opening par or two. It makes me want to read on, which is the trick...
Posted by: Chris W | November 19, 2009 at 04:20 PM