Flash Fiction: The Zen of Yuki ~ With Writing Tips for the Literati

        Yuki lets the day unfold slowly into each moment.  He inhales the seconds and exhales contentment born of knowing.  His knowingness has a calming effect on those around him, while I linger nearby wondering what it is he knows.  I know nothing of anything and most times seem to plod through life like a work horse needing to be told what to do next.  Otherwise, I just stand there waiting for instructions.

        Yuki is a Japanese Chin, a pretty boy dog, black and white with big dark eyes emphasized by the whites showing in both corners.  His eyes speak an ancient language of silence and illumination.  I have yet to figure out its meaning except when watching him subdue the animals around him.  Yuki also understands English and most times does as he is told if he considers it within reason.  I was never like Yuki.  I resisted being told what to do.  However, these days I seem to be consumed with satisfying my soul.  I can feel my soul sitting restless inside pressing to get past its surroundings to a higher realm where I will find the sunshine of happiness in my real Home.  Sometimes. I amaze myself when seeing these words come off my pen because I don’t know exactly what I’m talking about.  But Yuki does.

         Once in a while, it feels like Yuki and I have been together in another life.  When this happens we’re usually taking a walk somewhere and suddenly he stops to look up at me.  His eyes are deep and soulful causing me some concern I could get lost in them.  Often he sits down as though needing a moment to think over our situation.  I can feel the sadness coming from him and then I know he’s missing his real Home and probably, like me, wondering how he ever got here and why.  I always sit next to him and he lays his head against my chest and sighs, a mournful sigh of resignation.  I sigh, too, for both of us.           

Writing about something that happened in your own life must appear effortless, otherwise you’ll stumble over meanings and get lost in syntax. Again, the importance of detachment cannot be stressed too much.  The characters in your story will be those you hold dear or those you wish would drop off the page never to be seen again. However, the latter characters add tension to your writing and are necessary for understanding whatever messy contretemps you’ve managed to create for yourself on page.  Remember turning your story into prose is an entirely different process.

Bonnie Jae Dane
Author of 'The Book of Husbands - A True Story'