Critics have agreed that the short story must conform to certain
conditions. First of all, the writer must strive to make one and
only one impression. His time is too limited, his space is too
confined, his risk of dividing the attention of the reader is too
great, to admit of more than this one impression. He therefore
selects some moment of action or some phase of character or some
particular scene, and focuses attention upon that. Life not
infrequently gives such brief, clear-cut impressions. At the
railway station we see two young people hurry to a train as if
fearful of being detained, and we get the impression of romantic
adventure. We pass on the street corner two men talking, and from
a chance sentence or two we form a strong impression of the
character of one or both. Sometimes we travel through a scene so
desolate and depressing or so lovely and uplifting that the effect
is never forgotten. Such glimpses of life and scene are as vivid
as the vignettes revealed by the search-light, when its arm slowly
explores a mountain-side or the shore of a lake and brings objects
for a brief moment into high light. To secure this single strong
impression, the writer must decide which of the three essentials--
plot, character, or setting--is to have first place.

As action appeals strongly to most people, and very adequately
reveals character, the short-story writer may decide to make plot
pre-eminent. He accordingly chooses his incidents carefully. Any
that do not really aid in developing the story must be cast aside,
no matter how interesting or attractive they may be in themselves.
This does not mean that an incident which is detached from the
train of events may not be used. But such an incident must have