How to Tell a Short Story: Making Every Word Count
Paul’s sister received a tea set as a gift when he was five years old. She had no interest in it, so he quickly claimed it. Noticing his excitement, his dad said, “Why don’t we have a tea party?” This was the first time his dad said something like this. Paul jumped up and said, “Give me three minutes!”
Paul ran upstairs, filled the teapot with water, and set out cups and saucers. His dad came in and sat down, his knees coming up to his ears as he perched on the tiny chair. Paul proudly poured his dad a cup. As he picked it up and blew on it as though it were hot, Paul thought, “I have the coolest dad in the world.”
His dad said, “This tea is unbelievable. YOU made this tea?! Can I have more?” He downed three cups, draining the pitcher. “Is there more tea? Because I HAVE to have more tea!”
Paul ran to fill up the pitcher and poured him another cup. He repeatedly refilled the teapot with water as his dad enthusiastically drained cup after cup. On the fourth trip, Paul came back and said, “Dad, there’s no more tea. We’re out.”
His father said, “What do you mean you’re out of tea?!”
Paul said, “The toilet’s empty.”
“How Do I Tell a Short, Succinct Story?”
Paul Reubens shared that story on the Conan O’Brien talk show. It’s a wonderful example of how to tell a great short story. But it’s not the length that makes it great, it’s the structure and components.
One of the questions I am frequently asked is: How do I tell a short story?” People are nervous to take precious minutes away from an agenda. The story is almost perceived as an add-on that doesn’t reinforce ideas. It’s almost like a fear of being perceived as going rogue by telling a story. To counter that, they look for the shortest one possible to share.
A story is great because of its structure, not length. Let’s break down Paul Reuben’s story as an example of how the components make the story engaging over the length.
You can identify with the characters: The father notices Paul’s excitement about the tea set and suggests a tea party, even though he’s never suggested something like this before. We fill in the gaps for his emotions toward his son and his desire to encourage his excitement. We form a mental picture of a five-year-old so excited and proud that he can’t sit still. He’s running in and out of the room, brimming with excitement.
It’s familiar to what we know: We’ve each been kids who played pretend games. My sister and I filled our family teapot with Kool-Aid and served it to our stuffed animals during our tea parties. You can almost feel your knees by your ears as you picture Paul’s dad sitting in the tiny chair. We know these characters and have held our own tea parties...or played some version of make-believe.
You visualize the actions: “He did the coolest thing; he blew on the tea as though it were hot.” There is so much goodness in this sentence. You immediately picture a father blowing on a cup of fake hot tea. But you also picture an excited, proud five-year-old sitting across from him watching it. You may have also pictured your tea parties as a child.
It feels good: This is an adorable story. You smile at the dad suggesting the tea party. It’s easy to glean how much Paul looked up to his father and felt special to have him playing along. You silently high-five his dad when he raves about the tea and asks for more. These are all feel-good moments that help you connect with the story and remember your similar experiences.
It’s unexpected. Did you groan when you read the magic recipe for the tea was toilet water? I did. You’re caught up in this lovely story and don’t expect to be hit with this reveal. Great stories build tension toward the conflict and release it when it’s over. The conflict in this story is subtle. Paul doesn’t frequently get to spend time playing make-believe with his dad. It’s something he treasures. As a new experience for both, you don’t know what will unfold. That tension is released when the toilet water is revealed. It gives you a little zing as the story ends. This increases the audience’s engagement with the story because their brains didn’t predict what would happen.
Don’t worry about telling a short story, focus on telling an engaging one. A short story without a solid structure or anything to draw you in falls flat. Structure a story well, and make it relatable, familiar, and unexpected. That will earn you permission to tell more stories.
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