A World Filled With Micro-Stories

I’m currently reading Kikuko Tsumura’s There’s No Such Thing As An Easy Job. The novel is about a woman searching for mundane, stress-free work after burning out at her previous employment. Throughout the book, the unnamed protagonist does an array of provisional jobs like surveillance watching, and replacing street posters.

Along the way, she meets an ensemble of characters, each a little odd and peculiar in their own way. The story reminds me of Temporary by Hilary Leichter, a deliciously absurd novel, and one of my preferred reads this year.

So far, my favourite part in Tsumura’s book is when her lead character goes to work for a rice cracker manufacturer. There she’s assigned to write trivia knowledge for cracker packets. At first, she’s unsure if she’s up for the task. She wonders how she’ll be able to replace her predecessor, known for his quality and depth of trivia knowledge. To add further stress, her colleagues vote on the ideas she presents, deciding which subject matters will make the cut. The job seems to come with more expectations and pressure than the main protagonist is ready for.

But soon she enjoys her work when people express their pleasure in reading the trivia she produces. The sense of validation becomes hard to resist and her desire to do better work grows stronger.

When reading this, it occurred to me that writing short content for print in unexpected places could be quite fun. Think of all the potential delight you’d bring into people’s lives.

I have memories of reading the back of cereal boxes as a kid. Remember when you’d find games and jokes to entertain you while eating breakfast? Or the excitement in reading the mini-comic strip inside a Bazooka bubble gum wrapper?

Upon further reflection, I realize that entertaining micro-copy also exists for adults. The most obvious example is the fortune cookie; one of the rare cases where people are more interested in the copy than the product itself.

But if you pay attention, you’ll find intriguing writing hiding in the most unexpected places. And every time I come across some, it either makes my day brighter or has me thinking for a moment.

Just the other day, I found this sentence printed on my tea bag tag while sipping on a cup of tea:

Seek something higher.

I couldn’t help feel slightly offended. First, it sounded bossy. Second, what the hell was this tea bag trying to tell me? That I wasn’t ambitious enough, that I wasn’t aiming high enough?

Then I remembered the tea bag brand was called Yogi Tea, and the tag was probably referring to some spiritual aspect of the yogi tradition. I bought the tea because the blend sounded appealing (chamomile, lavender, and mint). Plus, it had drawings of smiling bees on the box; they looked cute and content. But maybe the name of the tea, Bee Happy, should have set off alarm bells.

My offended feelings suddenly morphed into raging curiosity. What other bossy advice did the tea bags have to offer? It took a lot of restraint not to rip all the sachets open.

See what that one unexpected sentence did?

Now imagine if instead of presumptuous life advice, we’d find flash fiction pop up in the most unexpected places: on clothing tags, coffee cups, popcorn bags, shopping receipts, etc. Think of the power and magic these stories could bring to us when we least expect them, how they would expand our minds and creativity. I’ve seen poetry printed on billboards and in metro stations, but why not do more?

Wouldn’t the world be more beautiful and inspiring? Maybe these stories would prompt people to take a break from their phones. We’ll need new (and healthier) forms of entertainment after Twitter’s downfall anyway.

Picture opening a brand-new pack of pencils to find this mini-saga inside:

Gnawed Bits

He started at two with Crayola marker tops: colourful and perfectly sized.

Next were those HB pencil erasers: saliva-absorbent with an unmatched taste.

But then he grew fond of the hard and sturdy; oh mighty BIC pen caps, how he loved thee.

Now Tom’s a 40-year-old who sleeps with a mouth guard.

Maybe you’d think twice about chewing the top of your pens after that. Or you’d think, who came up with this shit? I can do better.

So you’d have a go at it.

With your new pencils.

Happy writing, happy creating. May your day be filled with unexpected stories!

G.G. Law