Here comes the rumor: Hemingway made a wager among his writer friends, claiming he could write a story in six words. They took him up on the bet, and on a napkin, Hemingway wrote the famous words:
For sale.
Baby's shoes.
Never worn.
His friends paid him $10, no questions asked.
...
It evokes a particularly tragic image, right?
Hemingway’s story starts with the phrase ‘for sale’ – an advert, immediately recognizable, and bringing with it plenty of associations.
Advertisements are public; they require effort. They can be very final once the transaction is complete. So there’s plenty of food for thought in just those two words.
In turn, using the symbol of ‘baby shoes’ is highly evocative. Tiny toes, tiny feet, all those steps ahead of them… Hemingway could have used many other phrases here (‘baby clothes’, for example), but how many would have been so clear, so easy to visualize, and so laden with meaning?
Using these symbols allowed Hemingway to say a huge amount in a very short space of time.
What symbols or sayings could you use for your own stories to convey big concepts in just one or two words? You should jot down ideas. Then, reduce your various storylines to just a handful of strong words and phrases.
Another ingredient: the punchline. The twist. The ‘big reveal’ at the end. Hemingway’s story does this beautifully with the line ‘never worn.’ As we realise the implications of these words, that’s when everything comes together.
Question: If you were to write your life story in six words, what would you say?
Narrative Magazine tells us that six-word stories should provide:
‘a movement of conflict, action, and resolution that gives the sense of a complete story transpiring in a moment’s reading.’
This makes sense. Just as with a longer story, there needs to be tension; there needs to be a beginning, middle, and end.
In the six-word story’s case, of course, they won’t all be made explicit.
(Learn more about story structure)
So to kick-start your own story, you may put the word count to one side temporarily and think about storylines that intrigued you. You needed to capture that sense of movement in your mind, from tension to resolution. For these early drafts, it didn’t matter how many words you used.
Hemingway's writing above is an extreme example of what we now call flash fiction (a term first coined in the early nineties), and many writers since have tried to capture an emotion in their own “six-word story.”
But how can you do so in so few words? Is there even a market for writing like this?
Charis Negley is here to tell you that you can, and there is:
Structure your story around conflict, emotion, and resolution.
Introduce some kind of conflict that invokes an emotion: sadness, anger, humor, nostalgia—anything you’d like! Your story must also feel like it resolves at the end. Don’t leave your reader hanging, wondering what they’re supposed to get out of your work.
Make sure your story follows a narrative.
‘Even in six words?’ you may ask. Yes! Especially in six words. ALL stories need a narrative arc. Masterclass offers a great article on writing a narrative arc.
Select your words carefully.
After all, you only have six! Don’t sell your reader short: they can fill in some of the blanks for themselves. No need to hand-feed them. Make sure each word of your story is necessary to the narrative. Use contractions to save space. Use nouns and verbs to drive the story further! And guess what? Use punctuation to your heart’s content, as long as it fits your story, because it won’t add to your word count.
Don’t be afraid to write from experience.
Does this have to be fiction? Not at all! You could write what is called a six-word memoir. Choose a striking moment from your life and condense it to evoke that core emotion mentioned in step one.
Here’s David G. Bowman's six-word story and his explanation:
Learning to walk took fifty-nine years
My mother said I never learned how to walk. I only learned how to run.
Running is the metaphor of my life.
I began feeling new aches and pains a few years ago after runs. Several doctor visits, physical therapy sessions, x-rays, and MRIs led one doctor to tell me rather frankly that my running days were over.
“No more marathons or half-marathons?” I asked for clarification.
“No more running.”
“No more 10Ks and 5Ks?” I asked for consideration.
“No more running.”
“No more recreational running for physical fitness?” I asked for consolation.
“No more running.”
Walking out of the doctor’s office that day I had one singular ambition. I wanted to get into the car before I cried.
I will soon celebrate my sixty-first birthday. I have arrived at the walk and not be faint stage of life.
Learning to walk took fifty-nine years.
There is my next chapter title: Walk and Not Faint.
Here are some of my six-word stories:
💌 One drink. She never drove again.
💌 Any last words? My “dearest” father.
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