Increasingly employed in flash fiction, the mosaic or fragmented form makes effective use of white space. It asks the reader to collaborate in a sense, filling in the gaps or making connections. There are jumps in time, jumps in point of view. It’s a story told in pieces that somehow form a cohesive whole. It’s useful when attempting to tell a larger story, rather than a moment in time. I love this structure because it feels the closest to how my mind works. Memories in snapshots. My own brain’s attempt to make sense of only particles, spread out over time.
So imagine a series of fragments or pieces that are loosely connected (by theme, character, image, story, etc.). The notion of time is very fluid. I believe that the mosaic is an even looser form than segmentation as the individual pieces in a mosaic can be, well, anything. A letter or list or a poem. Think of mosaics in the visual arts, how they often use different materials and textures.
But does segmenting always work? What is lost and what is gained by employing this structure in flash fiction?
The structure suits flash fiction very well in that it eliminates the use of transitions, bridges from scene to scene, and therefore results in fewer words–a goal of flash fiction.
The absence of transitions creates a snapshot effect. The reader has to engage with the writer to create story within the white space. The writer is playing with the reader’s subconscious, which of course differs from reader to reader. This, to me, is what makes flash so exciting to read and to write. The individual snapshots carry more weight, or ought to carry more weight, if they’re to be effective.
Also, segmented structure allows a flash to cover a broader expanse of time. For example, see my segmented piece, “Five Micros” at Pidgeonholes.
But what is lost when we write in fragments? I would say a gentle flow or build. Flash fiction doesn’t always need to be “punchy” or “sharp” (many would disagree with me on this!). There are times when you want something smoother, slower even. Or you want to stay in one particular moment or scene. Segmenting in this case would diffuse the moment and nothing, nothing in flash fiction should ever be diffused.
Here is a quick way to create your own flash mosaic:
First, write down 3 of your most vivid dreams. If you aren’t a person who remembers your dreams, switch this out for 3 quick descriptions of photographs (real or made up).
Now, write 3 real or made up incidents from your life (or a character’s life), from 3 different decades of their life.
You now have 6 brief vignettes. Take these and weave them, alternating dreams (or photographs) and memories.
See what happens if you write them all in present tense, effectively suspending all sense of the passage of time.
See what happens if you don’t identify the dreams as dreams, but write them “straight.” This will give your mosaic a sense of surreality.
See what happens if you give each vignette its own subtitle.
As an example of what can be achieved with this exercise, here is a piece of my own, published in Threadcount:
The result may be flash memoir or you may completely fictionalize your piece. If this gets your pen flowing, keep going with it. See where it takes you!