Member-only story
Stripping Your Stories Down To Their Essence
Less is more
I can tell when I begin writing a story with too much to say. It’s hard to compose anything coherent because it’s crowded. It feels like stepping over piles of papers, candy wrappers, and empty food containers littering your living room floor to get to the kitchen.
The papers are mostly junk mail, with a smattering of bill statements. You ate the food and the remnants mean nothing. So why keep them around? They’re an interruption. Throw them out with the leftover pad Thai you forgot about while watching Netflix last night.
You have a cherished bronze lamp from your late Grandma Marge. It still works but doesn’t match your decor so it’s gathering dust in your closet. The silver dolphin pendant your ex gave you for your birthday 16 years ago hangs on your bathroom hook. You never wear it anymore; its shine has tarnished over time. The necklace was once your favorite piece of jewelry, but it’s a part of your past. Move on.
I don’t leave my stuff lying around. I get anxious when there’s one dirty dish in the sink. But I get attached to my words. Then I insist on keeping a paragraph I should throw out. It's redundant when I return to the same idea with different phrasing.
I’m convinced I picked up the habit from junior high English class when we…
