What's a story's essence, its heart?

 To round out our Critical Pedagogy and Storytelling track at the Digital Pedagogy Lab, I wanted to try writing a few different lengths of microstory. I've played around with six-word stories a bit on Twitter and I ask my students to do six-word introductions, but I've never tried to distill a longer story into 6 words. 

The process of revision is messy and difficult. Although I thought that it might be fun and easy to pare a 100-word story down to different lengths. The challenge has been fun, but certainly not easy. Figuring out the essence of the story--especially when you only have 6 words in which to express it--is trying. But fun. 

(Thanks for the inspiration, Jennifer Jordán Shaller! I don't think my revision process is as methodical as yours, but I wanted to take on this challenge!)

I decided to try the first story I wrote this week, inspired by a @100word_stories photo prompt.

Pool on the Rooftop (100-word original)
“He’ll never do it,” I chuckled loudly to attract the attention of the other party-goers. Ben quickly turned away from the rail where he had been standing, gazing at the ground 30 stories below. Red-faced with chest heaving, he stared at the people splashing in the pool to avoid my eyes. 

As I reached out to him, he spun away. In his rush, he tripped on the chaise lounger, knocking it into the water. He shoved the chair in his path harder than necessary. Action in the pool froze as metal frame screeched against metal frame.

He didn't hit anyone. 

Pool on the Rooftop (6 words)
Chaos in Ben's wake. He's safe.

Pool on the Rooftop (25 words)
Ben whirled, furious at my attempt to call him out. He stomped away, knocking the chaise and a chair into the pool to avoid me. 

Pool on the Rooftop (50 words)
Leaning on the rail, Ben gazed at the ground 30 stories below when I jostled him out of his trance. Angered by my interruption, he stumbled over the chaise and chair, sending both into the pool. Partygoers spun around to find the source of the commotion. No one was hurt. 

As I pared down, and then added back, to create each of the versions above, I found myself emphasizing certain aspects of the story over others. I feel as though the essence of the story changed despite my efforts to maintain it. The six-word version, for example, emphasizes a third-person perspective and the outcome of Ben's safety. The twenty-five-word version focuses on a first-person reading of Ben's actions, thus changing the emphasis and feel of the story. And, the fifty-word version briefly interjects a first-person perspective, while mostly focusing on Ben in the third person. I still prefer the room for ambiguity in the 100-word story. I was happy to hear that readers in our track all had different interpretations of the tension in that story. In the shorter versions, I feel that the tension was eroded by my efforts to focus on certain actions or viewpoints at the expense of others. 

All in all, this was a positive struggle.