It took just six words (this is 59!)

Ernest Hemingway apparently was once challenged to write a story in only six words. He wrote: For sale. Baby shoes. Never worn.

I start my personal storytelling workshops with a similar exercise, a ‘six-word memoir’, something Larry Smith of Smith magazine came up with 20 years ago, inspired by Hemingway. The idea is to share some aspect of your life in six words. Just six.

Then I invite people to share the story behind their six words. This is what floors me every single time.

At a workshop in Portugal a few years ago, a gentleman who is typically guarded shared these six words: “So much I wanted to say.” Then broke down in tears. We all did, as he talked about his difficult relationship with his father and how he wished he’d had more time to say what he wanted to say before his father passed away.

At a session at a property management company, senior leaders, administrative staff, and building engineers gathered in a circle. At first, the sharing was light-hearted—“five words is definitely enough”, someone joked, and “I need a drink for this.”

Then a building engineer in a grey uniform perhaps in his late 20s shared these six words: “I found out I was adopted.” As I remember the story, his mother was driving him and a friend home from school and they were discussing a writing assignment about adoption; he turned to his mom and quipped, “Wouldn’t it be funny if I was adopted?” She turned pale, pulled over to the side of the road, and told him the truth. We sat in shocked silence.

I often wonder why he shared something so personal at that moment, likely for the first time in front of people he works with. The answer may be as simple as … someone asked. We all carry untold stories inside us, perhaps waiting for a sincere opportunity to unburden.

A couple of weeks ago, I had the privilege of doing a storytelling workshop at The Concordia Forum in Sicily, with a group of dynamic Muslim changemakers from around the world. I wasn’t sure how the six-word memoir would work in this setting; everyone was a recognized leader with public personas, likely not used to being so open (other parallel workshops were on more conventional topics like negotiating strategy and brand building). But the Forum is as much about building trust as it is about networking and high-level strategizing, so I started by telling my own story to help people feel at ease—how a shy, reserved young woman unexpectedly turned into someone comfortable sharing her own personal stories and helping others do the same. How becoming a storyteller changed my life by connecting me to people I wouldn’t otherwise have gotten to know in such meaningful ways, and how it’s helped me get through some of my most challenging moments.

One by one, people started revealing the stories behind their six seemingly simple words—about a difficult childhood, a fraught relationship, an absent father; about being bold, about belonging, about beginning again. As each person opened up, it gave permission to the next person to dig a little deeper. The air felt heavy with emotion, as each person breathed a little easier.

I shared these six words: “Will it come back. Not today.” It’s a constant refrain in my mind. I have to keep reminding myself that even if the cancer returns, there’s no evidence of disease today.

I had planned other storytelling prompts for our three hours together that afternoon, but it was clear that six words was all we needed. The next day, as I bumped into people from the workshop, they gave me bear hugs, no words needed.

This is the power of sharing our stories—a reminder that behind every face or façade, there is a complex, beautiful, struggling human being. Once we acknowledge this, really feel it, things start to shift.

I think this is how the world changes—through the accumulation of such authentic moments. When people have the courage to say “here are six words that have shaped me, and I now hand them to you.” And others have the courtesy to listen sincerely, bear witness, and cradle their words with care.

I’m reminded of another favorite quote by poet Muriel Rukeyser, something Suleika Jaouad shared recently: “what would happen if one woman told the truth about her life.”

“The world would split open.”

This Thanksgiving and holiday season, as we sit around the table with family and friends, elders and little ones, perhaps we can share our gratitude or new year’s resolution through a six-word story.

I think our world needs that kind of quake—a seismic shift towards real meaning and connection.

With all my love,

Salma

PS: As we celebrate giving thanks, I wanted to say how grateful I am to each of you for reading my missives and for sharing your own stories with me; it is truly the best gift. I’d be honored to hear your six words.

PSS: If you’d like to try a storytelling workshop at your next business retreat, team gathering, or special occasion, please let me know; it would be my privilege to help you tell the stories that only you can.