And now for the real reason for this post:
55 Words
I recently read a book called "The World's Shortest Stories." They are a compilation of short stories that are only 55 words long. Can a story be told in that amount of time? Can there be setting, characters, plot, and resolution with such limited confines? Consider this: This paragraph is exactly fifty five words long.
I decided to try my hand at this fascinatingly entertaining writing exercise. Below are the five attempts that I've completed at "55 fiction." (Feel free to count, they are all 55 words long.)
A note about the rules: The title does not count in the 55 words but cannot be more than 7 words long. Hyphenated words that, when separated, are individual words are each counted as a word (older-than-dirt = 3 words). Hyphenated words that do not make two different words are one word (re-entry = 1 word). Contractions are one word (He will = 2 words, He'll = 1 word). Numbers when written numerically are one word (143 = 1 word). Numbers when spelled out are each counted as a word (One hundred forty three = 4 words). Initials are words (L.L Bean = 3 words) unless it is an acronym (NASA, AIDS, MGM = 1 word).
"Unrequited Love"
He glances in her direction and quickly looks away. Did she see him? He steals another peek. No, she'd never notice him. The bustle and noise of the street combined with her beauty make him invisible. Sighing, he rises. His coins clink softly on the table. Slowly he saunters past the Ferrari. "Someday," he thinks.
"Operator?"
Toby hated technology. He tolerated the telephone only because it was invented in the 1800s.
The traveling computer salesman whom Toby had rudely disposed of also knew of Toby's aversion.
Obtaining the eccentric millionaire's money was easy. The salesman contently glanced at the cut phone wire as Toby's bloody fingers futilely attempted to dial 911.
"Sacrifice"
The photo crumples as he crushes it to his chest. His breathing labors. He marvels that he failed to realize just how blue the sky was today. Lucy won't have to be faithful anymore. Crouching in the sand next to him, someone is trying to talk to him. On all sides the war rages on.
"Untitled"
Garish music hammered Marek's ears. This lump of metal around his neck weighed as heavy as the lump in his throat. Marek glanced at the smiling man to his left, coveting that stolen place of honor. As the banners raised, Marek marveled that one tenth of a point was the difference between gold and silver.
"The Statesman"
Jeremy bestowed his plan for world peace upon his audience. Hundreds had turned out to hear him. He simply had to convince them the he should be supreme dictator.
Unfortunately for Jeremy, nobody passing him in the park could quite decipher his mutterings and the pigeons to which he was orating weren't paying much attention.
I hope you liked them. Feel free to share your thoughts or your own 55 word stories. This post is also an invitation to join me!
Want to submit a story for consideration in their next publication? Send it to this address:
55 fiction
197 Santa Rosa St
San Louis Obispo CA 93449
(Each submission needs to be on it's own sheet of paper with your name, address, and phone number on every sheet.)
Happy writing!
15 comments:
This is so cool!!! I love it! Here's my first attempt. You might recognize the content as the 55-word abridged version of the book I'm working on in that elusive spare time of mine!
Here goes:
The Castle
She stood at the door of the plantation which bore her family’s crest. This inheritance had been her dream since she was eleven. Generations of ancestors whispered welcomes in her ear as she unlocked the door to her future. Someday, with a lot of hard work, it would become the living museum of her dreams.
Oh, come on --- isn't anyone else going to try this ??? Give yourself 10 minutes and you all should be able to come up with SOMETHING!
No kidding Lynn-nore, I thought this would be packed with creative and interesting stories. I guess people would rather read them than create them. (The QofH excluded, she's just trying to find a time to add hers...)
I was wondering about QE. However, her circumstances are a valid excuse. So, here's my contribution on her behalf:
Swollen beyond imagination, yet no one is conscerned. They all just smile. My shoes don’t fit. ‘Can’t see them anyway. Little feet are running in circles around me. Little feet are poking and prodding. Someone has to cook dinner. Someone has to chase little feet. Soon enough, this phase will pass. Then they’ll be two.
I guess that last 55-worder was really more of a poem, oh well. It still only took me a few minutes :-)
Thanks Lynn-nore - I appreciate the sympathy!
Here's my contribution:
She reached into her bag to find it, and realized with a sinking feeling it wasn't there. The mental note she'd made when the baby pulled everything out earlier was useless now. She turned back to the window. This would take some quick thinking. "You'll never believe it, Officer" she said with her biggest smile.
"Til Death"
Weeping by the lake, Stacey hadn’t anticipated this much pain. She expected the termination of her marriage to be difficult, but nothing like this. She’d been dreaming of this day since she’d learned of Erik’s infidelity. Even his family believed that they’d run off together. Solemnly, Stacey rose, it’s time to dispose of the bodies.
"Rat Race"
The maze walls climb before him like cliffs. Despite his best efforts, Darren cannot find a way out! Right? Left? Dead end! Uneasy… Twists. Turns. Double backs. Panic sets in. Has he been this way before? Frantic! Is there an exit? Despair! … Resignation. He returns to his cubicle and stares once again at his computer screen.
Untitled
A man sits with a dog enjoying the stillness of late summer.
Relaxing is therapeutic and somehow feels necessary.
Replaying the years gone by.
Smiles come easily and joys abound
Looking to years ahead with an anxious anticipation.
Speaking of anticipation, pass the relish. This dog's getting cold.
"Nostalgia"
"Took my first date there." Paul said nostalgically.
"A barbershop?" Answered his wife.
"It was a diner."
"Things change," she commented, pondering his hairline.
"Yup," he agreed, pondering his own hairline.
Paul remembered his date. Fifteen. Ponytail. Nervous.
As his fingers ran through his sparse hair, he hoped that she remembered him, too... at fifteen.
"Lifted"
As a pickpocket, crowded concerts were Ian’s paradise.
There's a mark. Young. Unassuming.
Maneuvers near. Strikes up a conversation. Jostled into her. Executes the lift.
"Sorry." Ian says.
"No Problem." She smiles. She's cute. Ian stays.
A few days later, Ian calls her.
"Hi!" she answers, "You'll never believe... wait... how'd you get my number?"
His brother's sudden death left him with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Eng knew time was of the essence. He called his family to his side to say good-bye. They could say nothing to make this any easier. A conjoined life was difficult, but a conjoined death was much worse.
Danny was sweating. Surely this pain could be described as unbearable. And it was so long! They promised him it was almost over, but how could he be sure? His wife seemed to be in an entirely different place. He couldn't quite reach her anymore. Maybe that was a blessing. Then finally, "it's a boy!"
"Meaning of Life"
Sue looks up from the paper. "Frank darling, Jim Thompson died Thursday."
"Really?" Frank puts down his coffee cup. "How did it happen?"
"Doesn't say. Just that he passed unexpectedly in his home last Thursday."
"Shame." Frank picks up his bagel and takes a bite.
Sue returns to the paper and peruses the classified section.
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