One of my creative writing profs back in the day introduced me to this book called, The World’s Shortest Stories. Steve Moss, the compiler of these stories has (or had) a contest each year to see who could submit the best stories in 55 words or less. Here’s an excerpt from Moss’s introduction:
“How short can a story be and still be considered a story? Charles Shultz had an answer to that question several years ago in his ‘Peanuts’ comic strip. Crabby old Lucy was once asked by Linus to please, please, please tell him a story. Lucy grudgingly obliged. Said she: ‘A man was born. He lived and died. The end.’
That’s the shortest story I’ve ever read. But, like Linus, I was left somewhat dissatisfied.
So maybe the question should be asked differently: How short can a story be and still be considered a good story? What’s the briefest possible narrative that still allows for a satisfying read?”
Without a doubt, there is a difference between a story and a plot and most of the time we (or at least, I) expect both out of anything I am going to take the time to read for pleasure. E.M. Forster uses this example to define the difference between story and plot: “’The king died, and then the queen died,’ is a story. ‘The king died and then the queen died of grief,’ is a plot.” For him, the difference is causality. While both sentences have a time sequence, it is the plot that introduces an explanation. He writes, “Consider the death of the queen. If it is in a story we say, ‘and then?’ If it is in a plot we ask, ‘why?’”
I would like to add to Forster’s plot distinction. Being of the old-school lit critic class, I find theme drastically important not only to my life, but also to the literature that I enjoy. I think James Thomas would agree. Moss quotes Thomas in his intro: “Like all fiction that matters, their success depends not on their length, but on their depth, their clarity of vision, their human significance – the extent to which the reader can recognize in them the real stuff of life.” Needless to say, if writing a story in 55 words or less is doable, writing a story with a plot in 55 words or less is something more of a hassle.
You may be wondering at this point why I am writing what appears to be a rather shoddy sort of Literature 101 essay. In fact, you may have traversed so far into the realm of boredom that you have passed that wonderment entirely and are now simply wondering why you are still reading. I can only really answer the former of your wonderments. For one thing, I admit that I truly miss my days of writing shoddy lit essays. But the real reason is because of how the 55 word story relates to a quote by Josh Billings that I read a katrillion years ago. I was pretty young when I first started writing stories and I didn’t understand most things (some things never change) but even then this quote spoke to me because I had (and still have) an enormous problem with wordiness. Billings says, “The great art of writing is knowing when to stop.”
Writing short stories has become a way for me to practice "knowing when to stop." The 55 word short story takes this practice to a whole new level. Up until now, the shortest story I have succeeded in writing, and still loving, was 118 words over the limit. So after significantly more than 55 minutes of writing and many many more than 55 words erased, I have come up with two elementary attempts at the 55 word story, plots included (or at least attempted). They came out very differently from one another and with varying flaws. Here they are. I encourage you to try some yourself. They are surprisingly intriguing and surprisingly frustrating - part work of art and part logic problem.
First attempt (52 words)
Determined to Start Over
When Calvin turned ninety six, he decided his life had been miserably unsuccessful and determined to start over.
The doctors said they could do nothing.
Philosophers promised him it was impossible.
In desperation, Calvin prayed.
Came a voice: “You’ve started over thirty five thousand, sixteen times. How many more do you need?”
Second attempt (55 words):
Words Like Brushstrokes
Twenty years, words like lashes fell so forcefully upon her she supposed they were who she was.
Until she read somewhere, “All the world’s a stage,” – Words like brushstrokes on a painted scene – And she made her exit.
Looking back, she views the painting from afar, espying a raven perched above it. Quethes he, “nevermore.”
-R.E.A.
