riptions. It is a definite thing. It progresses
constantly. It arrives somewhere. It must enforce some idea (no matter
what). It must be such a reality that a man who read it would carry away
a definite impression."[3]

It is evident, then, that the term short story is properly used only
when it means a short prose narrative, which presents artistically a bit
of real life; the primary object of which is to amuse, though it may
also depict a character, plead a cause, or point a moral; this amusement
is neither of that aesthetic order which we derive from poetry, nor of
that cheap sort which we gain from a broad burlesque: it is the simple
yet intellectual pleasure derived from listening to a well told
narrative.

The first requisite of a short story is that the writer have a story to
tell--that is, a plot. He may present pretty scenes and word pictures if
he will, but he must vivify and humanize them by the introduction of
certain characters, patterned after the people of real life; and these
characters must move and act and live. The presentation of "still life"
pure and simple is not in the province of the short story.

The question of length is but relative; in general a short story should
not exceed 10,000 words, and it could hardly contain less than 1,000;
while from 3,000 to 5,000 is the most usual length. Yet Hawthorne's "The
Gentle Boy" contains 12,000 words; Poe's "The Gold Bug," 13,000; and
perhaps the majority of James' exceed the maximum, while "The Lesson of
the Master" requires 25,000, and "The Aspern Papers" 32,000. Indeed, the
length of any story is determined, not so much by some arbitrary word
limit, as by the theme with which it deals. Every plot requires a
certain number of words for its proper elaboration, and neither more nor
less will do. Just what the limit for any particular story may be, the
writer must decide for himself. "It seems to me that a short story
writer should act, metaphorically, like this--he should put his idea for
a story into one cup of a pair of balances, then into the other he
should deal out his words; five hundred; a thousand; two thousand; three
thousand; as the case may be--and when the number of words thus paid in
causes the beam to rise, on which his idea hangs, then is his story
finished. If he puts in a word more or less, he is doing false work."[4]

The short story does not need the love element that is generally
considered necessary to the novel, and many short sto