It hit me suddenly, as I was admiring some particularly brilliant tweets. What are so many of us doing, writing columns, stories, novels, and memoirs? When all a writer really needs to do is to come up with one good aphorism? Just think of the time saved. No word counts, not a whole lot of editing, that’s for certain. And talk about memorable. Who remembers the brilliant fourth paragraph on page 326 of “War and Peace?” But ask the average Joe on the street for that thing about sewing, and ten out of ten will quote “a stitch in time saves nine” verbatim.
So what are we writers tearing our hair about? Plot thickeners? Bosh. Sub plots? Ok, I admit that “Less is more” is a lot more complicated that it seems on the surface. So there might be a tiny sub plot in there. Ok, and “Gilding the lily” is very deep. But pithy, very pithy. Twitter is really onto something. As a matter of fact, some one has already got a book on the bestseller list, based on the 140 character gems he posted on Facebook.
I posit that the rest of us, toiling out here in the hinterland, hunched over our keyboards to come up with just the right plot twists in 100,000 words or so might be wasting our talents. Maybe those Haiku poets were really onto something. We need to think about conserving space and our energy. Instead, we should distill our messages down into one sentence gems that will remain forever etched in “everyman’s” sensibility.
I would like to start right now. But I am having trouble. So far, I have come up with:
Big people, when they fall down, do it hard. Nope, it’s been done.
More is less. Might be memorable, if it only said something. Moving on.
If you take frequent naps, you might miss out on something. Almost there, but it has a familiar ring to it.
Actually, a word to the wise isn’t necessarily sufficient. If it’s a word like “pizza” or something. I may be smarter than I thought previously.
Good people often live long lives. So what if some good people die at age 13, and some crummy ones live to age 100? It’s all in the averages.
I think I have one. As a matter of fact, it might just turn out to be my magnum opus. I may never have to use spell check again.
People with black cats should never wear white. It has many levels of meaning. It has a poetic sort of “yin yang” quality. It hints at sin, and skeletons in closets. Oh, my God. I may just be a genius. This one may just be my ticket to greatness.
Your mission, should you choose to accept it? Spread this one around. So I can stop proofreading.