The Stories Behind “Thong-Sized Stories”

ThongSizedStoriesCoverIf you’re the type who wonders where authors’ ideas come from, or how those ideas develop, here’s some insight into Thong-Sized Stories.  Get your print or digital copy here.

Be warned: this section may contain spoilers.

 Lunch With Daddy – My writers’ group has a tradition of working with writing prompts every time we meet.  It’s a way for us to do some free-form, no-pressure writing.  I try to let my mind wander as I do it, like imaginative play; sometimes I wind up with a story like this.  I think the prompt was, “Write about the contents of a trash can.”

 The Turkey Incident – The creative person’s imagination never really stops.  I came up with this wacky story on the way to my day job on Black Friday 2012 as a means to keep my coworkers’ minds off their hangovers.  At some point during the commute, I realized voodoo reanimation and its effect on Turkey Day was a fun idea to play with, and so I did.  After half a dozen oral tellings, where I kept adding details and embellishments, the vast majority of the story was in my head.  All I had to do was set it down on paper.  I chose the first-person narrator for the immediacy of the voice, and because it allowed me to directly transpose my oral telling to the page.  It’s the longest thong-sized story, but hey, big people wear thongs, too.

 The Shaman’s Folly – This is another story from a writers’ group prompt.  I don’t remember the exact lead-in, but it had to do with hearing a heartbeat.  Giving myself permission to mentally wander got this one out right there, in one sitting.

 The Things We Do For Love – At some point or another, we’ve all known someone who makes us misbehave.  This story is an exaggeration of the concept, taken to an extreme somewhere in the neighborhood of Natural Born Killers.  It’s also the germ of a writing prompt, and the youngest story in the collection.

Three Drunken Frat Boys – I’d been studying “Three Billy Goats Gruff” for a while, because it factored into another story I was writing.  Then I found myself teaching the idea of structural parody to my writers’ group.  For those of you who don’t write, a structural parody is a tool for learning how to plot in which you create your own story while sticking to the point-by-point happenings of a well-known tale.  As part of my instruction, I created this story as an example of what we were trying to accomplish in our meeting.  I think it’s a fun take on a known commodity, even if it’s (naturally) predictable.

 Pilot Chatter – An experiment in sound and language which took years to develop.  I’m pretty sure it started off one night when I wasn’t sober, which is the one time I usually don’t write since my ideas in that state always sound better than they really are.  I was bullshitting the check-check dialogue, annoying my wife with it.  Usually that’s where those ideas end, but this one stuck with me, rising back to the top of the Imaginary Playground in my mind again and again.  Eventually I wrote a draft as a sort of purging action, decided it was too weird, and put it in a drawer for a few years.  Still it haunted me, right up until I realized it was the perfect size for this collection.  It was one of the last stories I completed for inclusion here, partly because I wasn’t a hundred percent sure I could make it work, and partly because I had to be sure it told enough of a story to be worthy of that name.  It’s an art piece – weird, weird art that makes me happy.

 Business News – I listen to news on the radio a lot in the car.  I’m also a strange guy.  One day, while listening to yet another story about a massive recall of cars, I started thinking about the male reproductive system as a business.  Specifically, I was thinking about STDs and what that would mean for a philandering man who spread his seed around, then had to tell everybody about contracting something nasty.  If the body was a business, it would issue a product recall.  The story itself is an exercise in walking the line between stylistic parody and vulgarity, which I’ve gotta say is pretty damn hard to do.

Telegram Sex – Old-fashioned telegrams didn’t use punctuation, but rather the word STOP.  “Stop,” is a word one hopes not to hear in intimate encounters.  When I combined that thought with a musing of what phone sex was like before phones, I wound up with this story of two long-distance lovers who can’t quite get it right.

 ‘kay – When I was seventeen, I knew a girl like the narrator of this story.  Her crushes were all-consuming and swung from the heights of elation to the dungeons of dejection, sometimes within the same day, or even moment, such as in this story.  It only sounds obsessive from the point-of-view of half a life later, but what I remember most about that girl was her optimism, even when she encountered setbacks.  As near as I can recall (and keep in mind the original draft was written before the turn of the millennium), I wrote about her situation in an exaggerated, semi-fictional way in an attempt to capture that sunny spirt of youth.  ‘kay has gone through several metamorphoses over the years, becoming longer and more involved before I realized that the story is about a place, a person, a feeling, and most importantly, a single moment in the go-go-go world of high school.

Observations at Twilight – Early in 2013, I travelled to Florida to say goodbye to a sick relative.  After a particularly hard week where I didn’t have much time for writing, I found myself on a plane back to Chicago, in a window seat for the first time in quite a while.  Night was falling, and my eastward view of the patchy cloud cover was lit from the opposite side of the plane in all the warm colors of sunset.  I watched the day dissolve into evening, then night, and spent the remainder of the flight writing on my iPad.  The final draft of this story is a focusing of the cathartic freewriting I did at 33,000 feet, which itself was a way of working through some of my blossoming grief by finding the ups in a downbeat situation.

Free Preview of “Secret”

“Secret”
by Nik V. Markevicius

She came in two hours late, and by the dim blue night light Eric watched her tiptoe around their small bedroom. Christine wore a scarlet miniskirt and an almost-sheer black crop top. The sleazy clothes showed off the creeper of vines tattooing her hips, and plenty of tanned flesh.

Her frilly pink waitress uniform drooped from a hanger she carried on the tips of her fingers. She folded it over the back of the chair by the bathroom, set her purse atop the seat, and fished out her phone. When the screen lit up, it revealed her nervous frown.

Eric held still in bed, on his stomach as usual. He kept one eye open just a crack as his heart thudded against the mattress. His right hand slid a little deeper under the pillow.

To read the whole story, head here

Notes on “Secret”

Spoiler alert!  If you haven’t read “Secret” already, pick up a copy before reading on.

Cover art for “Secret,” was created by Margie Markevicius

A long time ago, I knew a couple like Eric and Christine.  The real-life situation was more complicated, involving children, ex-spouses, and living with Eric’s family, but out of respect I won’t get more specific than that.

They were fun people to hang out with, but they led lives which kept different schedules from me.  Eventually, we fell out of touch.  For a long time after, I didn’t see them, but I did hear about their troubles through mutual friends.  Events similar to what occurs in this story – minus the hammer at the end – took place, with the woman struggling with moving on and the man trying to convince her (and himself) to work things out.  It didn’t work, and they ended up parting on some ugly (but not violent) terms.

Know how sometimes, you warn somebody (or get warned yourself perhaps?) that anything’s possible when you put people in stressful situations?  I kept thinking about that when in the context of my old friends.  Eric wasn’t a small guy and he worked a manual labor job.  He had a temper, even if he controlled it most times.  Christine was the kind of girl who liked to push people’s buttons, so they lived on a line of tension.

I imagined a couple at the end of their relationship.  A simple couple, without kids or nearby relatives, just the pair of them in a dark apartment.  Christine has already gone over the edge, and I hope my readers get a sense that this was a long time coming, but it’s happened and she’s not all that broken up about it.  Then there’s Eric, who knows deep down it’s over, but even deeper down, he knows he’s been wronged.  When Christine reveals her secret, Eric reveals his, thus trumping the girl who threw his love back in his face with her cheating.

In writing this, I’m realizing “Secret” is a story about choices.  I used to dislike this one, actually, because the original draft sounded a little preachy.  Y’know, a little, “Hey gals, don’t cheat on your guys!”  Maybe getting older gives me perspective; I can certainly understand how unhappy people might go to extremes to feel better, both the Eric way and the Christine way.  Back around 2005, when I wrote the first draft, I don’t think I had that perspective on life.  Thinking back, I believe I thought, What a bitch Christine is!  What if Eric was the kind who paid people back in kind?

Two wrongs don’t make a right, but they do make for a solid “twist” ending.  I also decided to steer clear of any deep backstories for the characters, mostly because the ideas of breakup and heartache are universal.  Just like with Mad Libs, you can fill in the blanks and wind up with a story that’s a little more personal, and memorable.