He sat discussing his hobby with his imaginary visitor.
“How often,” he starts, “does it come about that a person finds themselves in a quiet moment, asking the question, ‘why do I do this?’ A writer can do this. This writer does.”
The imaginary visitor listens in silence.
“I guess it’s all about very short stories… It takes around two minutes to read 300 words. If those words contain an interesting statement or an idea or even just the hint of an idea, then the writing of them is made worthwhile. Not only that, you have engagement.”
The other nods their head.
“If in those words they give a view into the relationship between two or more people or the thoughts of somebody sitting alone or a challenging situation that requires some sort of resolution, they may leave the reader with something to think about…”
The other is listening.
“I guess, below the surface there may be other less acknowledged aspects, such as the fact that the supply of stories is everywhere and can’t be avoided. They shout at you!”
The writer pauses.
“I guess you’d have to say that my stories fall somewhere between a cursory glimpse into a brief incident and a broader delving into the mysteries of the human soul.”
The writer smiles.
“Then there is the more technical stuff, like having so few words to play with promotes the obvious preference to take a linear or straight line approach in a story’s structure. Keep it simple; start, middle and end. One is trying to create people and situations that the reader can briefly become involved with. Of course, there is always that enigmatic approach in the writing that entices the reader to look beneath, to see what is simple and mentally expand this to the complex.”
The writer glares at his visitor.
“For instance, is the imaginary visitor male or female? Did they come of their own volition or were they invited? Are they older or younger than the writer? Is describing their time together entirely reasonable?”
This, by default, is engagement…
