A Six-Word Memoir® is the story of your life—some part of it or all of it—told in exactly six words.

In classrooms and boardrooms, churches and synagogues, veteran's groups and across the dinner table, Six-Word Memoirs have become a powerful tool to catalyze conversation, spark imagination or simply break the ice.

Here on Six Words, we offer a simple platform to share the short, sharp story of your life, as well as provide daily prompts to share your six-word takes on the topics of our times.

More than half a million short stories have been shared here. Read more about six.

So give six a try—and make your words count.


Six Word Memoirs




Member since February 29, 2012


Right now, I'm reading:
Cutting For Stone by Abraham Verghese and Best American Short Stories, edited by Stephen King

My favorite story of all time is:
...the one I tell myself when I can't sleep.

In bed I like to read:
I never read in bed.....EVER.

Besides SMITH, I read stories at:
Wherever words flow, I follow. The trick is in reading between the lines.

If you were to throw up your hands in exasperation and yell "it's the story of my life," what would you be talking about?
The magic and the mystery of attraction....the ever-changing mood of the dance. It's not a tale for the faint of heart.

What six words would I tell my teen self if I could go back in time?
No prince, no horse, and buy your own damn shoes.

The song that encapsulates the soundtrack of my life is?
The tune is ever-changing.

If I could have one person read my writing on SMITH it would be?
There's a concept called "separate rooms" that someone introduced to me many years ago. The places in our hearts or minds where we keep thoughts and feelings that we cannot bare to the world as a whole, but where we are free to open up the boxes we keep them in and see what happens. Smith is that place...and in that vein, I clarify my original answer to the question: if a particular someone needed to know what I had to say, they had already been told.

accidentaltourist’s Latest Memoir of 2825

“Served cold, small-town justice tastes muddy.”

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