For sale: Baby shoes. Never worn.
I don’t know if it’s true that Ernest Hemingway won a bet by writing, and consequently inventing, the six-word story. Reports vary. But since my fiction writing leans to the short side, six words comprising a complete story holds a charm I can’t deny. I’ve played with the genre and have written a few. When I finally collected them all and looked at them as a potential package deal, I realised that several of them, if put together, form a (slightly) longer narrative. Six-word vignettes, shall we say. And vignettes are a fitting nod to Hemingway.
Hyper-critical parents meant love sought elsewhere.
Cold beer. Back seat. Shotgun wedding.
Bee sting. Wedding reception becomes wake.
First birthday present was a headstone.
And now I think I have to write more about this emerging story. I feel for the girl who has inadvertently become my protagonist. Clearly, she’s had a rough beginning. I’d like to give her a happy(ish) ending. Although, knowing me and my penchant for dark humour, she may not get it — even if she does deserve it. But I won’t know until I start writing.
Of course, I’m in the midst of another story right now. I really should finish that one and find out if Jane escapes her serial killer husband.
I hope she does…