Write Less, Mean More

Scrolling recently through my feeds, I discovered the six word story. There are several websites who post these tiny but mighty stories exclusively, and many bloggers with posts inviting readers to respond with their own versions, which I hope readers will do here.

One website takes “the best” of their daily submissions and displays them in bigger type on a separate page. That’s a problem for me. The “best” entries are judged by standards that do not apply to me.

Consider the best submission of yesterday:

“Pregnant thrice. Still a childless parents.” It’s not grammatically possible to be “a childless parents.” It’s only six words, how can “the best” not even be proofread?

Meanwhile, many fine submissions that incite my curiosity are rolling by untapped. Plus, I’m just not interested in anyone’s pregnancy attempts. So here I am writing a post.

Paring ideas down to their leanest form is a freeing exercise, and as a dictionary editor it appeals to my compulsion to strip away the bullshit and try to create one uncluttered incarnation of words of equal substance.

It’s an empowering workout. I have a lot to learn.  Here are a few I wrote over the weekend. Feel free to add your own—the only rule is they must be no more than six words.

Man provoked dog. Daisy put down.

Disconsolate surrogate defaults, hatches shifty changeling.

Blood sisters. No family of mine.

Focused on good fortune, but digressed.

Please don’t leave, I promise lies.

Masquerade party. I pose as pleasant.

Indiscretion’s booty: hours lost, money gone.

Dead driver claimed right of way.

But Mom, I pet Buddy yesterday.

Eat Pray Love. Bite me. Hate.

Hot bath unhelpful. Edited shampoo bottles.

Another shameful failure—enter into database.

Statute of limitations enacted. Shut up.

Others are worse off, no consolation.

Climax resonates, crescendo of sorrow deafening.

Wounds ache, passive aggressive arsenal blamed.

Price of knowledge claims another casualty.

Been twenty years. Didn’t miss you.

Personality vacuous. Breasts bogus. Success enormous.

I tried to reach you. Liar.

Plumber’s butt. Pretty girl. Got photo.

Gaze. Kiss. Lie. Dirty weekend. Divorce.

11 responses to “Write Less, Mean More

  1. Hearing aid across the street. Crash!
    (I was thinking of the lady from your post of Jan. 20)
    Gotta agree with your grammar bash above. Tsk, tsk.

  2. Loved “Been twenty years, didn’t miss you”. I laughed out loud.

  3. That’s my ode to Facebook!

  4. Nice. My favorite is definitely: Hot bath unhelpful. Edited shampoo bottles.

    I cringed at that pregnant entry, too. Whoever picks those should do light editing – cutting off the ‘s’ could just be considered fixing a typo. Although it would have been better as: “Pregnant three times and still childless.”

    • I imagine you’ve rewritten a few shampoo bottles yourself! Some of them are just horribly wrong. I also can’t see close up without my glasses, and I never know which bottle I’m grabbing, shampoo or conditioner—because those words, the most important on the bottle, are in tiny type, greyscale screened, unreadable. Annoying. Doesn’t anybody test this stuff?

      I thought your “Woke up dead. Hit snooze button.” was the best!

  5. ”Others are worse off, no consolation.” that is brilliant, I hate when people say that in an attempt to cheer you up.

  6. Yeah, like that’s supposed to make you feel better. Never works. If you have a heart, it just makes you sadder.

  7. “Masquerade party. I pose as pleasant.”……reminds me off past dinners at MIL’s.

    I gave it a quick try.
    1/ Six words. Oh crap. Click. Television.
    2/ Divine Tangerine Girl Puka shell tycoon.

  8. Liked the “I tried to reach you. Liar.”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s