Flash Frontier: Congratulations on your new book! You have written various forms in your long writing career: nonfiction, novels, flash fiction, micro. Now, you have a new novella. How do you know which forms fits a particular story, and how did you decide to write this story as a novella?
Sandra Arnold: The idea for the story decides which is the best way to tell it. Does it need a lot of background information or does it require readers to use their imagination to fill in the missing pieces? In flash fiction a story is complete in itself. Similarly, each story in a novella-in-flash is complete, but links to the other stories to give a more detailed picture about the characters and situation.
The Bones of the Story consists of nine linked stories about six childhood friends who witnessed the death of one of them, Ralph, when they were all playing a game of beat-the-train on a railway line. The first story opens twenty years later with Ralph’s mother, Ruth, answering the phone to one of these friends who asks if they can all meet on the anniversary of Ralph’s accident. The other stories are told from the perspective of each friend who witnessed what happened to Ralph, the aftermath of the tragedy, and how this changed them. It also includes Ralph’s own story. Ralph’s step-father, Kev, who disappeared on the same day that Ralph died adds a further mystery. The final story is told in Kev’s voice.
FF: Where did this begin — what was the impulse that led you to this set of characters, this story? And did you write it all in one go, or over time?
SA: It started when I had been thinking about the sense of adventure that many young children have that can lead them into dangerous situations. I remembered that when I was around eight years of age and lived near a railway line I used to climb over the fence and run across the line with my friends to reach the park on the other side. Sometimes we could hear the train in the distance and this added to the fun. Many years later I heard that children were still doing this, but one of them had been hit by the train. I didn’t know the person involved, but the gem of a story was there. Soon it became clear the stories of all the children who witnessed Ralph’s accident needed to be told.
FF: This is a story that holds a lot of suspense. How do you find writing suspense in this kind of form? What are the challenges and payoffs? What kind of editing work goes into finessing suspense?
SA: First I wrote a draft of each story and then spent a long time editing and polishing. I like to leave the work for a few days or weeks and come back to it with fresh eyes. That is the way to eliminate repetitions or too much information.
FF: The multiple viewpoints are central here. Can you talk a bit about handling the voices of a many-layered story, with varied characters?
SA: I wanted to give each character his/her own personality and way of handling what happened to Ralph. Also, each of their families dealt with this tragedy in their own way. The staff at the school the children attended believed that maintaining silence on the subject was the best way to help the children to ‘forget’.
FF: We notice the play on words with the title. Did the title come first, or during the writing? And, drawing on the title, do you think this story may serve as a kind of anatomy lesson for a novella of this kind?
SA: The title came soon after I started writing the story. It seemed right for a novella that gives only the barest information, leaving the reader to put flesh on the bones.
FF: And what of the cover? Where does the photograph come from, and what does it suggest, for you? And did you have a mood in mind when you chose the cover for this book?
SA: The photograph came from a stock photo and the publisher adapted it to fit the book. We chose it because it suggests a sense of adventure and also poses the question, ‘Why is that boy running on a railway line?’
FF: Finally, could you share an excerpt?
SA: This is an excerpt from the first story.
Ruth
Angela’s voice on the phone sent my heart into overdrive. I struggled to get my breathing under control as I listened to her explain how she’d tracked down Joyce, Deb, Martin and Bryan and they’d all agreed that this was the right time to return.
‘None of us has been back since our families moved away after the inquest,’ Angela said. ‘Our parents insisted on a clean break. Then came new schools, university, travel, jobs and, for some of us, partners and children.’ She hesitated. ‘But not one of us ever forgot Ralph.’ Another pause. ‘In one month it’ll be twenty years to the day and we want to acknowledge it together at the place where it happened.’ A longer pause. ‘And seeing you on that day is really important to us, Ruth. Please say yes.’
I put the phone down and collapsed into a chair.
Over the following weeks I replay Angela’s words in a continuous loop. University. Travel. Jobs. Partners. Children. The fact that some of these things are unfolding in Adrian’s life does not lessen my anguish. I’d been about to refuse to meet them until Angela mentioned Ralph’s name. Hardly anyone speaks Ralph’s name.
So now here I am arranging cups and plates and slices of cake on a tray ten minutes before they’re due to arrive. Adrian is busy arranging chairs in the garden. The pale sun doesn’t provide much warmth, but it shines on the red leaves of the pin oak I planted in Ralph’s vegetable plot. This is where I want them to gather. This is where I want to listen to their stories.
I know they aren’t to blame. I’ve told myself this repeatedly over the last two decades. They don’t need my blame on top of everything else they’ve had to deal with. That will be with them for the rest of their days, as it will be for mine. Nor had I needed the blame their parents had thrown at me before they moved away to their tidy new lives. I’d heaped more than enough blame on my own head for not leaving Kev, for not paying attention to Ralph’s bruises, for not keeping him on a tighter rein instead of letting him roam the streets with his ‘gang’.
After the inquest, when all five families had shifted away, I’d considered moving to a different town too, until the possible consequences of such a move became clear. I couldn’t take that risk. As an extra precaution I planted a pin oak over the trench Ralph had dug. His original plan had been to plant leeks in that trench. Over the years the leaves of the pin oak blazed red in Autumn. Its bare branches formed an intricate filigree against the pale sky in winter. Birds built their nests there in spring and filled the garden with their songs in summer. The irony of Kev giving life to this tree brought me a perverse satisfaction.
Sandra Arnold is an award-winning writer with seven published books: Where the Wind Blows (Truth Serum Press, Australia); The Bones of the Story (Impspired Books, UK); The Ash, the Well and the Bluebell (Mākaro Press, NZ and Aviana Burgas, Bulgaria); Soul Etchings (Retreat West Books, UK); Sing no Sad Songs (Canterbury University Press, NZ); Tomorrow’s Empire (Horizon Press, NZ); A Distraction of Opposites (Hazard Press, NZ). Her short fiction has been published and anthologised internationally and has received nominations for The Best Small Fictions, Best Microfiction and The Pushcart Prize. She has held writing residencies in The Robert Lord Cottage, Dunedin, and the Seresin/Landfall/ University of Otago Press, Waterfall Bay. She has a PhD in Creative Writing from Central Queensland University, Australia. www.sandraarnold.co.nz
