Guest Post: Larry Dark on the Short Story Today

The following essay on the state of the short story in America today comes to us from Larry Dark, director of the Story Prize, and prior to that series editor of the O. Henry Prize from 1997 to 2002.

The concerns about the story that I most often hear are that:

1) Too few commercial magazines publish stories.
2) U.S. publishers don’t support short fiction.
3) Editors and agents pressure story writers into becoming novelists.
4) MFA programs turn out writers who produce cookie cutter stories.
5) Reviewers don’t pay enough attention to short story collections.
6) Books of short fiction and literary magazines that publish stories are
marginalized and relegated to the back of bookstores and the bottom
shelves of their periodical sections.

Here’s my take:

1) Literary magazines, not slicks, are the heart of the current literary scene. While it’s true that these days it pretty much comes down to The New Yorker and Harper’s in terms of commercial magazines that regularly publish short stories, there are more good literary magazines around now than when I started reading for the O. Henry Awards in 1995, they have more of an impact, and they do a significant job of sustaining short fiction. True, Story may have stopped publishing a while ago (I was never a big fan anyway), but over the same period, A Public Space, McSweeney’s, One-Story, Tin House, Zoetrope: All Story, and numerous other excellent publications have come into existence. These, in conjunction with established literary magazines such as Conjunctions, Epoch, The Paris Review, Ploughshares, and the revitalized Virginia Quarterly Review, among many others, offer strong support for the story and have helped nurture the careers of many emerging writers. These journals may not publish as frequently, circulate as widely, or pay as much as the big magazines do, but they’re part of a significant and vibrant literary scene, nonetheless. Some also publish books, including short story collections. Savvy agents in search of new talent look to literary magazines these days. And if you pick up a collection of short fiction and check the credits, you’ll see the range of publications that nurture writers. Web ’zines are another viable outlet for short fiction, one that will only continue to grow in importance. In fact, one of the stories in Jim Shepard’s Like You’d Understand, Anyway, a 2007 National Book Awards finalist, first appeared on failbetter.com. Of course, it would be better if the Atlantic Monthly still published stories in its regular issues, Esquire included fiction on a consistent basis, and women’s magazines continued to publish high quality literary fiction. But that ship has sailed, and literary magazines are doing better than just filling the void.

2) U.S. publishers do a surprisingly good job of supporting short fiction. Despite the limited commercial prospects, book publishers still produce about 75 to 100 short story collections a year. True, this estimate includes small presses—such as Tin House, Open City, Graywolf, Sarabande, McSweeney’s, and Small Beer Press—and university presses—among them Ohio State University’s Swallow Press, Carnegie Mellon, FC2, and LSU. Still, the big houses and their imprints continue to regularly publish collections by both lesser-known and established writers. For instance, leading writers such as Ann Beattie, T.C. Boyle, Mary Gordon, Edward Jones, Lorrie Moore, Joyce Carol Oates, George Saunders, David Foster Wallace, and John Edgar Wideman among many others, continue to work in the form. Publishers keep backing short fiction because they know that great writers often begin their careers with collections. But a lot of people in publishing simply support short fiction for its own sake. They want to publish good books, not just books that make money. The top sellers subsidize the titles with less of a chance of making money, and given the alternatives, it may not be such a bad system.

3). Some editors and agents do exert pressure on short story writers to switch to novels. There’s no denying that editors and agents try to convince authors to write novels, even those whose natural abilities, temperaments, and desires make them better suited to writing stories. I’m sure editors and agents believe they have their authors’ best interests in mind when they do this because they want the writers to gain more attention and earn more income for themselves—and that’s a legitimate concern—but stories and novels are different forms with different demands. Story collections, as a rule, don’t command big advances unless they’re part of a two-book deal that includes a novel. So emerging writers who are skilled at writing stories, often find themselves obliged by contract to work on a larger canvas before they’re ready. In any event, authors should pursue the ideas they find most inspiring and compelling. Sales figures shouldn’t determine an artist’s output, but they sometimes do, and this weighs against short fiction. Who knows how many good stories don’t get written because of the pressure to produce novels instead?

4) MFA programs allow writers to develop their skills. I don’t think I can stand to read one more review reflexively slamming a book of short stories because the author has an MFA. How about criticizing a collection on its own terms rather than falling back on this hackneyed truism? You don’t have to go to an MFA program to write derivative work, and just because you are the product of one doesn’t mean you do. The story is an art form that’s notoriously difficult to execute well, and there’s a steep learning curve. The view that MFA programs are story mills that produce cookie cutter short fiction of an inferior quality is just plain false. Some of our best writers and most distinctive voices have come through these programs. One reason the story continues to thrive is precisely because MFA programs give budding writers a chance to devote themselves to learning to write and receiving feedback on their work. Apprentice efforts are bound to sometimes be imitative and to follow fashion to a certain extent. And some stories I read do have the feeling of having been workshopped. But a lot of emerging writers will only find their own voice if given a chance. Still, some of the most interesting and innovative writing comes out of MFA programs because many of the talented writers they attract are incredibly bright, highly motivated, and original in their thinking—hardly the type to be molded into a homogenous and inferior style of writing.

5) Reviewers probably could review more story collections. As an advocate for the story, I’d love to see more reviews of short story collections, but I don’t feel knowledgeable enough to assert that they don’t get their fair share. The issue of whether or not short story collections attract enough review attention is probably a better topic for book critics to address. I do know that story collections are reputed to be harder for reviewers to sink their teeth into because, by their nature, such books are made up of several, seemingly disparate parts. A collection packaged as a novel-in-stories or connected stories suggests a cohesiveness that ordinary collections of stories don’t, and this may improve a book’s chances of getting reviewed. Yet I think insightful critics can find thematic connections among the stories in any collection and shouldn’t shy away from tackling straight up story collections every so often.

6) Popularity isn’t a good measure of importance. What really keeps the story going is that writers keep writing them despite the potential returns. Great new talents emerge every year because the form is such a compelling and challenging one. The best practitioners aren’t limited by the diffidence of the market. They don’t write for a particular audience or in pursuit of wide acclaim. They do so with a higher aim: the artistic challenges and rewards of the form. And they’ll no doubt continue to write short stories no matter how many copies their books sell or where their work appears on bookstore shelves. Not everyone can be, or even wants to be, on the best-seller list, the front table, or the top shelf.

Despite the surprising strength of the story, however, it’s a form that does rely on some degree of cultural support. Stories simply don’t attract audiences on the scale of other entertainments, and they probably never will. In our hyper-competitive, fast-changing culture, that can be a problem. And while the continued passion of writers for the story is a good sign, reaching a significant audience is part of what legitimizes any work. We created The Story Prize to bolster short fiction by drawing attention to outstanding story collections that might otherwise escape readers’ attention. And other prizes, fellowships, and grants help keep the story going, as well. The MacArthur Foundation, for instance, has included a significant number of short story writers among its literary fellows, and the Frank O’Connor International Short Story Award and Rea Award are other important pieces of the puzzle. I’m optimistic that shorter forms will play well in print’s digital future. Until then, and probably beyond, every little bit helps.

Larry Dark is the director of The Story Prize, an annual book award for short story collections. He served as series editor for the O. Henry Awards from 1997 to 2002, and before that compiled, edited, and introduced four literary anthologies.