Writing a "Short Shrift"

Seeing Essence

“Shrift” is an archaic word, which refers to the confession of sins. According to Merriam-Webster online, its first use in the phrase “short shrift” was in Shakespeare’s play Richard III in which Lord Hastings is to be beheaded and was told to make a short shrift for the king “longs to see your head.”

Confession is one of those weighty matters in life. It requires digging deep and choosing content and tone wisely. How does one make a short shrift of something so heartfelt?

Saint Augustine, one of the most significant early Church Fathers, composed a lengthy autobiographical account of his sins and failings called Confessions, a thirteen-volume self-disclosure. In Confessions we find the kind of self-reflection and gravitas one would expect.

And yet Augustine must surely have had some first thoughts about this tome concerning so rich a concept, one with so much potential content and such possibility of depth. His original thoughts must have been like kernels containing a whole world of nuance, like a cluster of seeds within a seed.

What might Augustine’s confessions have consisted of if he had been instructed to make a short shrift of it? “Short shrift” is rather an oxymoron.

The term “short shrift” has since come to refer to inadequate amount of time given. So when I was preparing a book proposal for a manuscript and found that one of the required components was a short synopsis of each chapter, I felt a little like “Saint Augustine” trying to make a “short shift” of my own tome.

This was a first for me. It seemed extremely unwieldy and in fact it was. The structure of the book did not lend itself to a flowing narrative and the draft was at a much earlier stage of development than I had imagined it was. What should have been a straight-forward effort became an incoherent jumble. It was very frustrating and at the same time very revealing.

I found that I didn’t have the kind of intimate knowledge of the material that I believed I did. I didn’t know it like the back of my hand. I couldn’t make a short shrift of it because I didn’t know the essence of it. I didn’t know its soul.

My daughter asked me recently what one word I would use to describe her. I told her I thought that it was impossible to describe anyone in that way. We are too complex to be reduced to one word. But I told her that if I was forced into it, the word would be “noble” because noble suggests faithfulness, beautiful inward character and strength. My answer came rather quickly, in a matter of a few minutes, because I know her. I know her very well.

A good exercise for one revision phase of our writing might be to make a short shrift of our work. It would surely reveal the areas of our story that lack the integrity of coherence. We could then stretch the story outward revealing the thin places, adding as much content as we need, and then condense it back down to its essence again. Just working it like a taffy-pulling machine, lengthening it and folding back over on itself, where it condenses into a small dense ball of essence. I’m almost done with the latest revision of my book. I think I’ll be pulling some taffy.

Which of your writings would you like to be more intimate with?

Writing Prompt Word For the Week: Essence