Court Harler, a runner up in the Q1 2026 Creative Nonfiction Essay Contest for The Forest, joins us today to share her love of flash writing.
Court Harler (she/her) is a queer writer, editor, and educator based in the American South. She holds an MA and an MFA. She's the owner of Harler Literary LLC, the founding editor of Flash the Court, and the former editor in chief of CRAFT. She'll be the writer-in-residence from February to April 2026 at The Kerouac House in Orlando, Florida. Her award-winning, multigenre work has been published around the world. Find her on Instagram @CourtneyHarler.
WOW: In “The Forest” you’ve written about a universal topic: home. What drew you to write about your many homes?
Court: Every time I move to a new location, or even travel to one temporarily, I think about the concept of “home.” Leaving home and returning home, or making a new home out of whatever you’ve chosen to bring with you, be it clothes, furniture, or family. Perhaps I am preconditioned to crave change due to life choices, or my upbringing, but I love the way a new setting fires my creative flow. If I can let go of the inherent anxiety associated with the change of location itself, I can savor new sensations, which can in turn help me access more resonant emotions. Pure longing helps too, but not necessarily by way of nostalgia.
Change can create distance, but it can also collapse distance. For instance, when I lived in Nevada, I wrote mostly about where I grew up in Kentucky. I loved hiking the mysterious desert, but it made me long for rolling green hills and old-growth trees. Writing about my many homes helped me not only gain perspective on my life’s trajectory, but also allowed me to express my appreciation for the places I’ve lived. Each is a site of exploration, of experience, that I can often understand more clearly from afar.
WOW: This is not your first time placing in a WOW contest. Is there a secret to packing so much meaning into a limited word count?
Court: For flash prose, I think one method is to pinpoint a specific focus for the piece, even if the scope of the idea expands to some extent during drafting. But if you can keep that singular focus, or what you might call the “heart” of the work, clear in your mind during revision, then every choice works toward that particular goal. Perhaps others would call this “cohesion,” but sometimes that term is too clinical or logical for me. A flash piece can quite often be a bit “messy,” a bit off-the-wall, but still focused, still successful.
In the case of “The Forest,” in order to maintain the focus, I had to rely on summary, not scene. I wanted to try to get to the “heart” of what “home” meant to me over the span of several decades. But even in an accelerated summary, in this sort of breakneck chronology, the chosen details need to be vivid, precise. Not amorphous, or generalized. That’s why I often use fragments and lists to keep the details sharp. And I know it sounds counterintuitive, but repetition can help maintain the focus of the piece, if you’re willing to sacrifice a few “new” words to allow your repetitions, or what you might call “echoes,” to fully reverberate.
WOW: Is it fair to say you are a fan of flash writing?
Court: As an artist, I feel most at home when writing flash prose. I’ve always loved brevity, especially when it bites. I am in awe of writers like Lydia Davis who can tell a whole story in one sentence. Someone once said to me, “But that’s not a story,” and with all due respect, I must still disagree. A sentence can encapsulate a mood, a world. Perhaps I am drawn to the challenge of the “limited word count” mentioned earlier, but I think it’s more that I enjoy marveling at just the right word chosen for just the right moment. My mind tends to build stories not idea by idea, but word by word, kind of like Lamott’s bird-by-bird advice taken to the extreme.
I’m reminded of something my ex used to say whenever I rambled: “…in a million words or less, please.” Yeah, it’s dismissive, but also funny, and illustrative. I might also argue that, in some forums, too many words are just…too many words?
WOW: Yes, finding incredible writing in just a few words is like discovering a treasure. Was it your connection with flash prose that led to the creation of your outlet for flash writing: Flash the Court?
Court: I’ve worked with a lot of great lit mags in the past but I’ve always had this dream of starting a flash lit mag that allowed for more expansion and innovation in the form. Flash, for me, is the original hybrid genre. It thrives between fiction and nonfiction, between poetry and prose. Some flash prose editors want to see full narrative and character arcs, and I do value and enjoy those types of flash stories and essays. However, I wanted to carve out more space in the lit mag scene for the highly lyrical, the obliquely metaphorical. Prose-based work that both was and wasn’t poetry, both was and wasn’t narrative. Flash the Court takes submissions of prose poetry, flash fiction, and flash nonfiction under five hundred words, but I don’t want writers to feel beholden to genre labels. I’ve always found so much creative freedom when writing flash prose, and I wanted to share that joy, that sense of enrichment, with other flash prose writers. I also wanted to provide a platform for the published work.
WOW: It's interesting that you mentioned writing that both was and wasn't poetry because I was struck by the lyrical tone of your feedback to Flash the Court contributors. Do you think offering feedback to others improves your own writing?
Court: Offering feedback to other writers is absolutely essential to my own writing process. In this case, I think you’re specifically referring to the brief introductions on the site, which are indeed a type of feedback and critical analysis. At first, I fall into a flash piece just like I fall into a dreamscape—pulled in, inexorably. I give myself time to enjoy the experience, whether it’s pure bliss or pure challenge.
Eventually, however, I’ll want to think about what’s working, how the piece strives and strives and strives and finally—how it succeeds. I’m always looking for models, but to truly appreciate the model and apply those lessons to my own work, I need to be able to articulate the elements of fine craft apparent in the piece. Let me just say, some flash pieces defy this mode of analysis, which is wonderful, because this type of work really stretches my thinking. I believe that’s when lyricism enters the arena. Sometimes my clearest response to the poetry in the piece requires more poetry. And I study each piece on its own merits—which promotes variety and singularity in my intros.
WOW: Thank you for sharing your thoughts on writing with us. Hopefully, Flash the Court will get an influx of submission from WOW readers.
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