Hemingway’s shortest story (For sale: baby shoes, never worn) is the best evidence of the power of concise fiction. Six words can break a heart in a way some novels can’t even touch.

Wired had a fantastic collection of similarly short strings of six that they posted here. None match the elegance of Hemingway’s, but if it weren’t for that elegance, we wouldn’t be concerend with brevity.

There was a time when the novel was seen as cheap, because the novelist was given so much room to craft a character. The art, it was said, was in telling a story in just the space that needed.

The writer wasn’t making a world, just an emotion. An impression.

Maybe that’s not a fair critique of novels or long-form fiction, but it is certainly an endearing challenge to fans of the short form to muscle in every word into a lattice work of emotion.

Maybe all short writers should aim for six –even if we miss be a few or three thousand.

Hemingway:

For sale. Baby shoes. Never worn.

Write what you love is universal advice to writers. It sings to anyone who loves to put pen to paper, or words to screen.

It also encourages writers to write about writing. We wouldn’t subject ourselves to the imposing blank page or the trials of editing if writing weren’t a burning passion.

So it’s good to write in a community about that art, and all the pains that come along with it. Take it as an invocation, or an ode, or just venting. To share that love with other writers and hear what brings us all to this same place, well that’s good enough reason to start a blog about the one thing that keeps us up and frustrated.

Sure it’s a passion.

And since writing, unlike my characters, is a constant companion, I have endless ammunition to make me want to grind out some more carelessly structured sentences.

Here’s to hoping some have worth.

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