On the Finer Points of Experimental Fiction
in case you missed it
While I work on gathering new and interesting thoughts, I figured I’d share a craft essay on experimental writing that was originally published in Lit Hub—On the Finer Points of Experimental Fiction. The tips can be applied to any genre, though, because, well, great experimental work often resists genre.
I love love love experimental work, reading and writing it. Encountering incredibly thoughtful, nuanced experimental writing is one of the great joys of my life. When it’s done well, it’s unparalleled and deeply affecting. And when given the chance, I will ramble about it to anyone who will listen.
Here’s a brief peek at the essay if you’re interested.
Using inventive forms and styles to tell stories isn’t about doing what’s never been done before—it’s about stretching the limits of storytelling. It’s about giving a big middle finger to the restrictions you put on yourself. But before you can do that, it’s wise to familiarize yourself with the experimental work that’s already out there, with the writers who innovate and inspire.
There are many “types” of experimental literature, a few of which I’ve outlined below:
Unconventional structure: Think maps, recipes, crossword puzzles, lists, etc. You notice that it’s going to be an unconventional piece before you even read the first word. (Vagabond Mannequin by K.B. Carle which K.B. uses a crossword puzzle)
Retellings: Think the retelling of a fairytale, the reimagining of a film, or alternate readings or viewings. (Alternate reading of Wuthering Heights by Tanis Franco, which was in Best American Experimental Writing 2018)
Pieces that revise a current text or medium: Think erasure poetry, transforming an original text into a word search, or creating a physical design, such as a window. (Hotel Almighty by Sarah J Sloat is a book of erasure poetry using Stephen King’s Misery as the source text)
Point of view: Think Freshwater by Akwaeke Emezi, much of which is written in first-person plural.
Using various types of technology: Think Jock Party by Jennifer Wortman, which is a collaboration with Predictive Text.
Mixed media: Think literature that uses visual art, photographs, artifacts, documents, and advertisements. Guestbook by Leanne Shapton is an eerie, uncanny short story collection that integrates photography and watercolors into the narrative.
Voice as experimentation: This one may be more subjective than the others but I personally think that voice can be experimental, that you know it when you read it because something is unique or interesting about it. Star Babies by Elizabeth Crane uses repetition to create and propel the story in a hypnotizing way.
Having a structure in mind before you get started experimenting can be very helpful for providing you with a template or framework in which to tell your story. A template can be very freeing and offer space for free-associating because you already have a basic outline for the piece, which means you can go wild within those constraints.
But once you set out to write your experimental piece, there are some things you may want to keep in mind. And while I know that I said there are no rules when it comes to experimental writing, I do have some general guidelines I follow:
Don’t forget to play and delight in your work.
Write the piece with confidence and authority—authority can go a long way in building reader trust and investment.
Lean into the experiment or metaphor—if you’re going to do it, then really do it.
Be willing to fail. Then fail again and again.
Edit, edit, edit. Even messy, out-of-this-world pieces need to be tight and controlled, within their mess, if that makes sense. A good editor will know the difference when they see it.
The structure needs to enhance the content. Or, in other words, the form must follow the function.
This last guideline more or less means that the form of your piece should relate to the intended purpose or function. Put another way: the experimental form should relate to and enhance the themes and narrative—not distract from it. For example, if you wanted to write a piece in the form of map directions, you may want to consider the ways in which the protagonist is lost or attempting to find their way (however literal or abstract this may be).
Likewise, if you were considering writing a piece in the form of a receipt, you might want to consider what the protagonist has bought, felt like they had to buy (can’t buy me love?), or inherited.