The Long and Short of It

So, another activity that my fiction writing class gave us was to write about an event. However, not just in any way, but in a way that mimicked Hemingway and a way that mimicked Faulkner.

These two authors are well known for their sentence structures and, of course, books.

Hemingway wrote:

"The Old Man and the Sea"
"For Whom the Bells Toll"

Faulkner wrote:

"The Sound and the Fury"
"A Rose for Emily"

Hemingway's style can be described as short and very to the point. His sentences are simple in structure, but he still managed to convey a lot with his common vernacular.

Faulkner's style is usually longer sentences that have fancy words in them. He has more complex structures and sentences that could go on for a paragraph.

So when you take these two styles, you have to write carefully and thoughtfully.
I am no Hemingway and I am certainly no Faulkner. Their styles are not mine, but it is fun to just try and see what is possible.

I wrote about a hug. Hemingway and Faulkner were walking along and then they saw two people hugging.

Here is how Hemingway might describe it (in my voice):

They were oblivious to the world. He was tall. She was short. Her head came to his shoulder. His hands wrapped around her back. She held him tightly. Her head leaned into his chest. His chin rested on her head. There was no space between them. They stood in the middle of the sidewalk. They stood there for an age. People passed by. They looked for a second. They moved on. The couple did not. They did not seem to move. The wind did not stir his hair. It did not stir hers.
They were an odd picture. They did not belong. Were they friends? Lovers? How long would they hold each other? He sighed deeply. She shifted in his arms. They broke apart. They became two people. Two people standing on a sidewalk. Two people drawn apart. He walked away. She stood there. No words were spoken. It was gone.

Here is how Faulkner might describe it (in my voice):

They stood in a world apart from others, apart from time, on that piece of sidewalk with the light shining down on their heads, so magical in their stillness, so silent, trapped in time, together, was there reason for their embrace or just a simple yearning need for this touch that made them seem like paramours locked tight before they parted with sweet sorrow, unless it was a reunion after many long years apart that their hearts burst and they could not contain nor keep away from each other because of the sheer longing to be in an untouchable, sacred moment, beyond the rest of the world, without a worry or fear that this was unusual or strange - different, not something that the passersby would witness on a commonplace sidewalk where anyone could walk by and see them, not that it seemed that they would care, it was not an icy indifference to being seen, but rather a blissful ignorance or innocence that made it seem not as a vulgar display of affection, but as a warm and meaningful way to never let a person go into the cold of the world alone, to never let them be without the heat of another, nor to let them drop into loneliness or despair, because true love or friendship as it seemed went beyond such things so that the whole person could be encompassed and cherished without any ridicule or scandalous looks from a crowd that could not help but gawk at such a display without knowing the true emotion and beauty of what they were seeing.