One of the perks of being the publisher at a press is getting to read the submissions that we get.
While entirely enjoyable, it also gives me a bit of a handle on what writers may be a bit confused on—and one thing that pops up fairly regularly with first-time writers is a bit of confusion as to what a short story actually is.
It is—as one might guess—short. A lot of publishers want 10,000 words or less; we tend to want 8,000 words or less. Although, we are—as everyone ought to know by now—willing to negotiate on story length if the story is entertaining.
Eight thousand words sounds like a lot, but it actually isn’t. That’s eight thousand words to tell a concise, cohesive story, and not a lot of words left over for backstory, or elaborate world-building, or wandering into the weeds of the milieu you’ve spent the last several years building in your head.
Not only is 8k words not a whole lot to work with, but when readers pick up a short story—or collection of short stories—they’re not looking for a richly-layered plot, elaborate character development, or themes with complex, intricate depths.
They want a short story. A quick, punchy read.
So when you’re writing a short story for us—or any other publisher—you’re limited by two things: short word count, and expectations of the reader. I don’t know about other publishers, but word count is far less important for us as a publishing house than the reader’s expectation of a satisfying little snack in literary form1.
And that’s what a short story is: a quick snack.
“But, Ian, five to eight thousand words isn’t enough for my story!”
Poppycock.
The fabled “Shortest Story Ever Written”—often erroneously attributed to Hemingway—is this:
“For sale. Baby shoes. Never worn.”
Six words. Not only is there not a rich plot, there’s no plot at all. But there is a story. Eight syllables with absolutely no world-building at all. But, man, there’s a story there. No character development, but a story that I have seen bring tears to eyes.
You’ve got 7,994 more words to use than that. Five to eight thousand more words to give a reader a delightful little snack—not a full meal, no, they’ll look to novels for that—but everyone likes a snack.
Single theme. Quick pace. Concise, simple, elegant storytelling—let’s get to the meat now, rather than fiddle around with the set-up.
The first 2,500 words are exposition? Rip it out. A thousand of your 8k words devoted to an infodump? Cut it out and save it for the novel. 1,500 words of world-building? Move it to your novel manuscript.
It’s a short story. If it looks like the first chapter of your novel, well, that’s what it is. Short stories aren’t chapters—first or otherwise—they’re complete stories.
Short stories don’t write like novels, they don’t read like novels, and the readers don’t consume them like novels. Don’t think of them, approach them, or write them like they’re novels.
They’re fun, done right. Fun to write, and really fun to read.
Cross-posted at The Bugscuffle Gazette.
Ian
*Egad, I’m running out of fox images.
HOWEVER — if you send a story less than 5k words to us, it had better be your best ‘A’ game and outstanding.
I took a class on writing comic books, and we had to write a complete story using only five comic book pages. Eight thousand words seem roomy compared to that.
Writing short stories is an art that will teach you a lot about writing better novels. Everyone should do it at least a few times.