A Practical Treatise on Literary Brevity, and Remedies for its Abuses

In this age of increased brevity, to the layman, there is a great temptation to dismiss the storytelling value of a novel, or a complex television drama, such as LOST. That narratively, its depths appear too deep; mythologically, its widths, too wide. While one may make the inference that the laity seems, increasingly, to prefer the likes of the nonliterary – and indeed, the ab-literary –, such superficial observation should by no means discourage those with sufficient ambition from practicing and promoting a common bond with all arts. The literary legacy of this generation must not be distilled to page-upon-page, ad infinitum, of laughs out loud. Yet such avoidance requires the encouragement of the artist.

Indulge, for a moment, the editor, as he adds a simple philosophy:

We live our lives as though a page of lined paper. We travel through life collecting thoughts – each recorded upon its own line, parallel to all others, upon which other things are recorded. Our lives stay within the lines with impeccable penmanship. These thoughts would remain upon their own line – indefinitely –, if it were not for certain events in life that shake the page: allowing those lines to come close enough to contact another line. In this way grand ideas are formed. These events may have nothing to do with the thoughts that briefly kiss as their lines continue on toward infinity. The event may be: a word, a book, or a punch to the face: but a sharp mental jarring is necessary to intertwine the lines of code.

The artist requires this sharp mental jarring. Then the great problem becomes the lack of literary punch, or perhaps the courage to throw such a figurative punch toward the artist in violation of the Marquess of Queensbury rules.

Perhaps it would be just as sensible to offer the following wisdom (as uttered by the great Werner Herzog):

Mut müss du haben, und nicht feige Sein.
You must have courage, and not be a coward.

This entreaty is paramount: Stand tall, gentle writer. Take courage, either to throw, or accept the full force of the blow. Continue to create at length; it is for you to return literature to the position of strength. By force! do not allow the electronic chirps of snipe and woodcock to overwhelm the song of the honey-tongued Muse.

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.
–The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám