I received a fascinating email today:

Sir / Madam

Its my humble pleasure to contact you personally irrespective of the
fact that you do not know me in person. However, I came to know of you in
my private search for a reliable and trustworthy foreign partner that
can handle a confidential transaction of this nature in respect to my
investment plans.

Firstly, I must introduce myself, am Mrs. Beatrice Ncube, the wife of
late Mr.Welshan Ncube from of Zimbabwe.
My late husband was formally the Secretary-General of his political
party,in my country Zimbabwe called Movement For Democratic Change (MDC).

As a political leader, he had a great ambition to contest for higher
political position and due to the political and economic malpractices of
the present government of (Robert Mugabe), My late husband and ten
other top members of their party protested against the ruling party and
opposed their governance.

My late husband and some other members of their group were murdered in
a cold blood by some militants loyal to president Robert Mugabe, in
order to stop their opposition movement.

But before the untimely death of my husband, he deposited a consignment
worth US$16 Million( Sixteen Million United States Dollars) with a
security and finance company in South Africa.

Part of this fund was meant for the contesting of his next political
position which just ended, as his wife I flee to South Africa where am
presently, Seeking for political asylum with my our only son (James Ncube),

because there
was a danger that we might be the next person to kill. I therefore
appeal to you to assist me and my family in securing and moving of this
fund to your private or companies bank account overseas for good
investment into a good business venture, because I have no knowledge of
investment before and I will not like to invest here in South Africa for
security reasons best known to me. Especially now that the just concluded
election result in Zimbabwe has not been released by Mogabeh, he is still
holding on the result despite pressures that are coming on him from all
over the world.

Upon your acceptance to assist me and my family , We will offer you an
agreed percentage of the total fund Please Contact my late husbands
personal assistant [PA] Mr. Chris Mutembi who is also in South Africa here
with us on his number +27-829708343 or you can email him at
chrismutembi@hotmail.com or myself to indicate your willingness, it is
100% risk free and also genuine.

Thanks and God be with you on your acceptance of assisting me and my
family in moving out this fund into your overseas bank account.

My Regards.

Yours Faithfully.
Mrs. Beatrice. Ncube

On it’s face, Mrs. Ncube’s story has everything: Loss, action, political intrigue, touches directly on current events (Zimbabwe), and, most importantly, the promise of a whole shitload of money. Any yet, we find ourselves at a loss for that compassion, that empathy which makes us human beings and, far more human, that need to do anything and everything for the legal tender. Why do we quickly discard it to our trash bins? Is it because the letter seems spelled and structured by an eight year old who’s eaten a toy ‘made in China’? Perhaps, but I think we can suspend disgust towards even poorest grammar when the story is compelling enough. The real problem here is too much information, not enough emotion. ‘Facts’ are for journalists (well, sometimes), but stories need to make us feel; we’ll fill in the facts on our own. The language of our heart, no matter the grammar, is a completely different dialect than the one we speak with our tongue and in our head. That she only had a few paragraphs to tell the story means nothing. Music & Art do it in far less time. How many times have you read a great poem which, though short, made you feel as if you’d learned a lifetime of information?

Take the line: “He walked into the room.” Our brain loves this line. We know what he did. But the next line has to be: “He closed the door” or “It was a large room and no one else was in it”. But this isn’t a story, it’s logistics–too often we forget the difference. Try this: “The room was lonely.” %99 of people now see the most depressing room they’ve ever been in and I didn’t have to describe any of it’s objects, sizings, or colors–they’ve alreay written paragraphs and I just had to write a sentence. Also, most have already put a character in the room who looks like them or someone they know, someone sad, someone lonely. You see, our brain says “Rooms can’t be lonely!”, but our heart says “Shut the fuck up!” and keeps building the picture.

Next Line: “Since he left”. On no! Now I can’t even stop you, you’ve built an entire relationship between two people: their fights, their joys, those wonderful moments that only two people can enjoy, all of it; you’ve just seen it somehow, though your brain asked “Who? Since who left….” but now it’s giving up, the heart has taken over.

Last line: “For the war.” Oh, don’t you feel passionate now. The Iraq war? A future war with Iran? World War II? The Civil War? Doesn’t matter, you’ll decide for me. Everything you think about war is now projected onto the room you’ve already built. Maybe you feel triumphant–A man’s man has gone off to fight for truth, freedom, and justice, leaving his ‘lady behind. Or perhaps you feel tragic–Another broken family thanks to a goverment that lies and the cynical elitists who conviecne ordinary people to fight for a cause that doesn’t benefit them. Either way, I’ve struck a nerve.

That’s it, Mrs. Ncube, that’s all you need to tell a story: three sentences. To wit:

The room was lonely. Since he left. For the war. (you could obviously play around with commas, semi-colons, and periods if you feel so inclined.)

But don’t worry Beatrice, we’re still going in for the kill:

Dear Sir/Madam

The room has been lonely since he left for the war. Please send me five dollars.

Yours Faithfully.
Mrs. Beatrice. Ncube