Incredible manifesto on the state of the short story

[lostlore]

Just saw this go up at Literary Rejections on Display, and I can't help but agree:

http://literaryrejectionsondisplay.blogspot.com/2008/02/one-rejected-writers-manifesto-listen.html


Comparing the markets of 1920 to 2008, in terms of what they publish, what they pay, and who they reach -- well, it's amazing how different things are now. Wow. If you want to write great top-shelf fiction that's read by millions and paid accordingly, where can you go? If you want to read such top-shelf fiction, where can you go? Apparently nowhere.

[MTNester]

Quite interesting, thanks for sharing.

[Kate Thornton]

Well, times have changed.

One can't expect to be another F. Scott Fitzgerald publishing in the Saturday Evening Post or any of the hundreds of other short story venues which have dissappeared along with spats, boaters and flivvers.

Styles have changed, venues have changed, the methods by which we put words in front of readers have changed.

My suggestion to the writer wanting desperately to be Earnest Hemmingway publishing in Colliers is - hello - wake up to the 21st Century.

Search out the existing paying venues and give them what they want. You'll know what they want because they tell you - in their guidelines. They don't want misspellings no matter if you *are* F. Scott Fitzgerald. And they are just as likely to be online or at the supermarket checkout line as in the literary periodicals section of the public library. The readerships of these venues are larger than the magazine writers of the 1920s ever dreamed of.

And let's talk about "top shelf" fiction - are we talking interesting character-driven fiction which is appealing to a literate readership - you know, the New Yorker? Altantic Monthly? (yes, I know they discontinued a monthly short, but publish an annual fiction issue.)

Because although I write primarily genre fiction, I know literary fiction when I read it, which is frequently. And literary fiction at its most mediocre can be just as nauseatingly boring and cringe-making as the worst genre rubbish. My point here is that good fiction will - if the writer is diligent - find its proper home and rise like cream to the top with the attendant check in tow.

Are there the same conditions in the world now as in 1920? I don't think so. But quality fiction isn't dead, dying or even sick.

Even if everyone who gets a rejection for their deathless prose thinks so.

[Phaeal]

It strikes me that there are far more people writing for far fewer markets these days. But hey, as Gandalf says, you can't chose the time in which you live, only what you do with the time you're given.

The novel has been the dominant form for a long time and shows no sign of giving up its place to the short story or poetry. So if you want the big money and the spotlight, the novel's the way to go.

Which is not to say that writing short stories is a waste of time. Write them if you love them. Write them if the short mode is your forte. Write them with the hope of getting some publication credits.

Just don't write them because getting them published, especially published for a living wage, is easy in 2008. Because, nope, it's not, and no use whining about it. Although, of course, a well-written whine is sometimes a guilty pleasure, like the one linked to above.

[Brighid]

I write short stories because I enjoy writing them, but I don't take the publishing aspect of short story writing very seriously anymore. IMO, there are very few decent print magazine options, especially if you write quirky stories or you're writing certain genres. Ezines are all well and good - if they manage to stay open for more than six months and then your target audience is likely to be 99% other writers.

Phael - I enjoy a good glass of wine while I'm whining. ;)

[blacbird]

Search out the existing paying venues and give them what they want.

Yeah. Both of 'em, in fact.

caw

[bsolah]

Stephen King's essay in the New York Times is by far the best critique of the short story at the moment.

[heatheringemar]

Well, times have changed.
...
My suggestion to the writer wanting desperately to be Earnest Hemmingway publishing in Colliers is - hello - wake up to the 21st Century.
...

Are there the same conditions in the world now as in 1920? I don't think so. But quality fiction isn't dead, dying or even sick.

Even if everyone who gets a rejection for their deathless prose thinks so.



Bravo, bravo!! :Clap:

Before the written word, there was the oral tradition. Then Gutenberg came along and thought, "gee. We could make this better." And Lo. We had books.

Well, somewhere along the way we got a little thing called the Internet.

And you know what? People still read..........

And if people are still reading, shouldn't we be writing?? :D ;)

[Polenth]

Stephen King's essay in the New York Times is by far the best critique of the short story at the moment.

I'm guessing you mean this one?

Stephen King (http://www.nytimes.com/2007/09/30/books/review/King2-t.html)

[bsolah]

Yep, great essay

[blacbird]

But quality fiction isn't dead, dying or even sick.

Mine is.

caw

[dark_opus]

In regards to the original manifesto cited, perhaps chalk it up to the dreaded lament: "Progress."

Back in the day, that caliber of short story writing formed the basis of a true profession. No longer. Bet you could list a few other professions that, in their time, enabled the top pros to make a comfortable living or better, but not today.

Several of the posts so far are quick to mention the sustained merits of writing and submitting the shorter length tale. Worth keeping in mind even if it no longer means covering the bill at Ruth's Chris or even McD's.

[mikeland]

I think the original manifesto is a bit flawed in its logic. First of all, to say that F. Scott Fitzgerald wouldn't find a market today is a bit silly. In 1920 when the Saturday Evening Post published that story, he was a hot new literary light who was either about to or just had published a highly touted novel. Do we seriously believe that if Fitzgerald was on the scene today, The New Yorker would not be publishing him and paying him equivalent rates.

I also wonder about the premise that way back when there were hundreds of paying markets and you could make a living writing short stories. I suspect that that was only true for a tiny handful of top writers -- which is exactly what happens today. The Saturday Evening Post was the top of the crop, like the New Yorker is today. These days, there are a handful of short story writers -- Jhumpa Lahiri, George Saunders, Charles D'Ambrosio come to mind -- who are making a comfortable living writing. True, they get grants and teaching positions to make ends meet, but remember that Fitzgerald wrote novels and sold to Hollywood to sustain his lifestyle.

I'm always a little skeptical about the "good old days," whatever the context. I think that great writers have always managed to make a living at it. I am suspicious, however, of the utopian assumption of the manifesto that it was easier in the 1920s for the average writer to survive on short stories alone.

[lostlore]

Do we seriously believe that if Fitzgerald was on the scene today, The New Yorker would not be publishing him and paying him equivalent rates.

Just so you know, The New Yorker was a top market but they never published him -- not when he was a hot new light, not in the middle of his career nor in the end. Even The Post eventually rejected him, and in his last four years alive it was the genius and charity of one editor who sustained him by being one of the few buyers of what were some of his best stories.


I also wonder about the premise that way back when there were hundreds of paying markets and you could make a living writing short stories. I suspect that that was only true for a tiny handful of top writers -- which is exactly what happens today. There were so many people making a living at short stories alone because it was the golden age of magazine publishing -- the most profitable market for fiction. Novels were almost an afterthought: at the time, short stories paid more than novels. It held through the 20s and didn't taper off until after WWII. By 1930, some writers were paid thousands for a single short story -- and could only make a fraction of that on royalties from a novel.

These days, there are a handful of short story writers -- Jhumpa Lahiri, George Saunders, Charles D'Ambrosio come to mind -- who are making a comfortable living writing. True, they get grants and teaching positions to make ends meet, but remember that Fitzgerald wrote novels and sold to Hollywood to sustain his lifestyle. He got more from one year of selling short stories than from the combined lifetime royalties of all four of his novels and his one play combined. Hollywood only gave him one screen credit and those years are considered a mistake -- it only took time away from him that he should have been doing more profitable work. (But luckily Esquire bought seventeen stories and some essays from him during those years that enabled him to send his daughter to Vassar.)

Outside of approximately two markets, I don't even know where to go to approach a story market as cited in the original link. That's my complaint and where I enjoyed both this and the King essay someone linked to -- stories are so unprofitable now: they're for academics or hobbyists; so to make it your living, you either (1) get an MFA and teaching job like the writers you mention or (2) get a good-paying job unrelated to writing and spend your weekends writing and submitting to the tiny hobby markets. Either way you cut it, you won't get the work through commercial story markets. But, as I've probably gone on about before, novels are where the money is now -- much more profitable than they ever were in the 20th century.

I'm always a little skeptical about the "good old days," whatever the context. And also of complaints that one has got to "get with the times" and accept certain facts as progress instead of trying to fight or change them, or even just point out where certain things are not on the up-and-up or as good now as they once were.