In Short
How the short story lost the battle for our attention and how it may ultimately win the war...
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One could confidently claim that short stories are not just the bedrock of modern literature but the very roots from which human society bloomed. From campfire folktales all the way through to serialised novels, writing and culture, as we know them today, developed one short story at a time. What are The Canterbury Tales and the Epic of Gilgamesh, if not collections of interlinked short stories, attempting to unravel and encapsulate the fabric of entire societies? Moreover, when taken to the extreme, many religious scriptures and philosophical ideas dictate their moral terms through parables and hypotheticals that are ostensibly short stories. Not to mention that many of the iconic novels one brags about having read (without ever actually reading), like War and Peace and Great Expectations, were originally serialised in a way closely related to the form.
Nevertheless, short stories have steadily faded in and out of obscurity over the centuries. And though short stories remain a highly relevant form of artistic expression and an often poignant way to dismantle specific themes, the medium has fallen on hard commercial times. Gone are the days when budding young authors could carve out even a meagre existence off short story sales alone.
Yet, considering our society's issues with attention and pop culture's subsequent focus on scrollable media, one would assume that the short story may be thriving rather than clinging to relevance. Especially as many entertainment giants have recently backed themselves into tight financial corners with unprofitable streaming models, leaving them desperate to tap into YouTube and TikTok's hold over our dwindling attention. They do this by commissioning endless remakes, crowbarring in as many advertisements as possible and shaving down their feature-length films and programs into more digestible (to put it kindly) timeframes.
So, considering all these seemingly favourable conditions, why are short stories experiencing such a dramatic decline? Why, despite their prevalence and inherent worth to both genuine readers and cynical corporations, have short stories devolved into a once-successful species pushed to the brink by habitat reduction and climate change? What is the cause of this paradox?
Possibly, the abundance of online short stories and the overwhelming submissions received by the few surviving fiction publications detract from their stand-alone significance and financial viability. Moreover, many aspiring writers logically dip their toes into short stories before diving into a full-blown novel. Likewise, literary teachers from primary to higher education often have their students study short stories and test accordingly. Does this mean that short stories have attracted a faintly amateur air about them, thus reducing them to the novel's training wheels? I'd like to say no, but the answer seems like a firm maybe.
Even when household names compile short story collections between their highly anticipated novels, the fanfare surrounding said releases is comparatively tame. It's also the exception rather than the rule for short story collections to win literary prizes and score movie deals. Obviously, it's a shame to entangle commercial success with artistic fulfilment, but the sad reality these days is that exposure is everything. On the plus side, these heavyweight authors are evidently still drawn to exploring and expanding their ideas through short stories despite lacking a viable market or attracting much interest from the general public. Even people who haven't picked up a book in years likely have a favourite novel; comparatively, only a few veteran readers will actually have a favourite short story.
The reality is that without an audience, there can be no market, and with no market, there can be no sales. And despite how existentially valuable readers and writers find the perfect short story, if there are no sales, then there is no money, and if there is no money, then how are writers supposed to engage readers and make a living from what is ostensibly their day job?
Well, while it may be difficult, subtle swings in popular culture show that the possibility exists. Despite multiple setbacks and a few seemingly insurmountable hurdles, this may be the perfect time for short stories to shine. To understand this, we must glance back at the journey so far.
Whether in the form of spoken verse, cuneiform tablets or ancient papyrus, short stories were more or less humanity's sole source of storytelling up until the 17th and 18th centuries. Here, the medium suffered a brief decline due to a lack of innovation and the increasing popularity of an obscure and often specialised form we would recognise as the modern novel. But this was more of a shadow rather than a major eclipse. During the mid-19th century, authors debated whether short stories were merely inconsequential tales written for mass consumption or, in fact, were they substantial enough to explore and examine deeper themes with laser focus. The debate itself isn't entirely relevant to our purposes here. More so, it's the competitive attention from both sides that forced the short story to evolve alongside the moral and psychological tastes of its authors.
Subsequently, throughout the 20th century and our society's increasingly commercial and individualistic tastes, the short story was, quite naturally, able to satisfy everyone's appetites. Donald Barthleme dissected the entire literary medium and our relationship with reality through sheer experimentation, while Flannery O'Connor explored the encroach of secularism and humanity's base behaviours through gritty confrontation. On the other side of the artistic spectrum, pulp magazines ushered in a golden age of short detective, Western and romantic fiction that satisfied general readers while also giving the literary elite a new framework to build upon. (And, one suspects, a guilty pleasure to indulge).
Furthermore, while this is something of a cooked grenade as far as statements go, I'd argue that the sudden emergence of comic books likewise engaged an entire generation of young readers who may otherwise have been entirely lost to television. On that note, much of this was taking place at a time when anthologies like The Twilight Zone were setting television's tone. Later, shows with recurring characters, plots and themes framed scripts that were more or less short fiction in shows like Dr Who.
But while some of the biggest names in international literature were building their careers either around or directly atop short stories, the handheld technology of the 21st century soon spiralled the literary world (and print media generally) into a deep recession.
Magazines suffered budget cuts, closures, and worse... mergers with multinational media corporations. Meanwhile, emerging technologies and popular culture edged reading and writing into the peripheries and perpetuated the unkind image of bookworms as friendless nerds. Publishers became increasingly reliant on the star power of their established authors while said authors grew increasingly dependent on movie adaptations and merchandise. Independent booksellers buckled beneath the cold corporate spray of mega-bookstores more interested in brand-washing shelves with ghostwritten paperbacks rather than fostering artistic development within local communities. Making matters worse for the short story, the meticulously orchestrated marketing campaign behind Peter Benchley's Jaws saw both the novel and subsequent Spielberg movie set the industry's sights firmly on adapting novels (many of which were glorified pot-boilers). Decades later, at perhaps the worst time for the short story, the shock success of James Cameron's Titanic set off another gold rush wherein the movie industry scrambled to adapt monstrously long novels and biographies into marathon blockbusters.
All this at a time when commercial television was slowly turning to reality shows and bite-sized sitcoms with overarching plots that progressed incrementally so as not to overshadow their increasingly subliminal advertisements. (Here, a glimmer of hope, as these ads were arguably another short story form).
Furthermore, while the internet gave everyone and anyone the ability to write a story and potentially have it read by millions, this had the same effect on the industry as printing money does on the economy.
But people didn't stop writing and reading short stories, nor did the medium succumb to trivial commercial pressures. Rather, perhaps due to mainstream society's obsession with its new long-form toys and associated marketing, short stories became a bastion for those seeking to understand the breakneck world around them. Indeed, the real tragedy isn't that the short story stalled for mass expectations as it did in the 17th century, but that it continued to soar at a time when business elites focused on numbers rather than words were coming to oversee and overshadow the arts.
Where that leaves the short story is a matter of perspective. If you ask anyone from the literary community, they'll tell you that short stories have never been more alive. And, to some degree, I happen to agree. The same technology that sent shockwaves through the industry also enabled readers, writers and publishers to reach wider audiences in innovative ways. It also allowed anyone anywhere to enter numerous online short story competitions. But in true 21st-century fashion, this optimism comes at a price and typically exists within a bubble.
For example, George Saunders is rightly considered one of the most influential modern short story writers, yet he is routinely called 'a writer's writer'. This phrase, intended as a compliment, inadvertently implies that the short story's appeal is becoming increasingly niche despite authors hiking to new artistic peaks.
It's accurate to say that dedicated writers are more productive than ever before. But, sadly, the bar for notoriety (or merely acknowledgment) continues to rise. In contrast, the number of readers continues to drop, which edges writers away from actually writing and into content creation. One day, you're writing short stories, then the next, you're streaming Five Nights at Freddy's. These days especially, most people want to be seen doing the things they love, and while the pros and cons for this are a whole separate issue, for our purposes here, it's enough to acknowledge that it's simply the reality.
However, bleak as this may sound, there is no shortage of short stories or those willing to tinker with them. The issue is that supply currently outpaces demand by a reasonably wide margin and that those with dollar signs for eyes are currently looking elsewhere. But if there is anything to learn from such a tumultuous history, it's that short stories can hibernate quite soundly until a little light dilates their catatonic pupils. Unfortunately, it will take more than a really good short story to do so. Even if an innovative narrative structure or literary device happens to emerge from a short story and revolutionise the medium, it's unlikely to excite the broader community. So, while the short story is notorious for having its cake and eating it too, it's time to look beyond how it can entertain and intrigue and turn to how market forces could use these unique features for their own ends.
Indeed, with unlimited content continuously competing for our already divided attention and a general societal trend towards introversion, now is the time to reexamine the short story's worth to publishers, media outlets and opportunistic tech companies. Short stories effortlessly satiate society's craving for digestible yet fulfilling entertainment, and contrary to popular belief, books are still a profitable enterprise, aided by the movie industry's continued reliance on adaptations. So, how do we convince those with deep pockets to spare some change for short stories? More importantly, how do we convince them it will be worth their while? And, most importantly, how will they persuade people to care?