Whole lives summed up wittily and succinctly

Can good writers write short?

C'mon - can fish swim?

Example:

Not Quite What I Was Planning

.

It's a collection of six-word memoirs.

Subtitled,

By Writers Famous and Obscure

.

Newly revised and expanded.

Editors?

Rachel Fershleiser and Larry Smith.

Publisher? Harper, for only $16.95.

Previous place of publication?

Smith Magazine, celebrator of personal storytelling.

I find the picks smart, funny.

Some bristle with honesty:

"After Harvard, had baby with crackhead."

Some put their candor on wry:

"Seventy years, few tears, hairy ears."

Some sound bitter:

"Not pretty enough, so now unemployed."

And this lady:

"So devastated. No babies for me."

Some exult:

"Sweet wife, good sons - I'm rich."

Others preen:

"Became more like myself every year."

Then come the wise guys:

"Macular degeneration. Didn't see that coming."

And the mock snob:

"No words can describe my life."

Imagine how

he'd

impress this cynic:

"Batteries are cheap. Who needs men?"

Not Quite

includes famous folk too.

For instance, heavy thinker Steven Pinker:

"Struggled with how the mind works."

And po-mo Russian novelist Victor Pelevin:

"This Tolstoy gets no Oprah promotion."

Writers, of course, excel at this.

Listen to nonfiction whiz Sebastian Junger:

"I asked. They answered. I wrote."

And journalist Po Bronson:

"Stole wife. Lost friends. Now happy."

My winner?

Tres

clever Iris Page:

"Semicolons; I use them to excess."

Some contributors actually dispense wisdom.

For instance, Jennifer Shreve:

"Blogging is easy, writing is hard."

The self-knowledge comes in taut packages:

"I answer to the word Mom."

And: "Used to add. Now I subtract."

But the book's canniest insight?

Why, from Nora Ephron, of course:

"Secret of life: marry an Italian."

My conclusion?

Six words are worth 1,000 pictures.

All told, they made me twitter.