So, the short story has firmly landed on the Internet. It’s been there for a while. Long enough for things to shake out a bit. Is it a good thing for the readers, and is it a good thing for short story writers?
This week’s post concerns the reader. Next week and the following weeks we’ll talk about writers.
When I speak of readers, I’m not talking about writers who are readers, traveling from one web site to the next, reading to see if their style fits with that particular web site so they can submit to it. That’s a different animal. I’m talking about a real reader, you know, the kind of the person who goes into a bookstore and buys a book or an anthology and reads for pleasure. That mysterious thing we writers call Our Audience.
I’m talking Internet readers. And to be honest, I’m not convinced that there are a lot of them out there.
OK. Let’s say our imaginary reader wants to read a mystery short story. If I Google mystery short stories, I get 5,410,000 choices. That’s a lifetime of searching. Who’s going to do that?
Now, there are a few well-known web sites that provide free short stories. I really think these are equivalent to the small press days, labors of love, professional attempts, but the publishers aren’t making money and the writers aren’t being paid. Or if they are, not a lot. I’m not gigging anybody here. In my post last week I said I was paid $5.00 for a story in Hardboiled. I’m still glad to have that credit. But it means something to me—I’m not sure that it means anything to a reader. Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong.
Some times the story a reader reads on free web site is edited and formatted in a professional manner. There are passionate publishers out there, passionate editors, who want nothing more than to promote the genre of their choice, and help some authors gain name recognition. But in a lot cases, the stories are not edited, or they are self-published. These sites are pretty easy to spot, and mostly, readers shy away from them. Or, the readers don’t know about the really good sites. And that raises, a really, really important question:
How do readers find out about short story web sites?
I don’t know the answer to that. I just don’t think there are legions of Internet readers like we (writers) wish there were.
So for the Internet reader here are some of the pros and cons as I see them:
PROS:
* There are more choices now than ever before.
* Specific genres can be found and read almost immediately.
* Specific authors can be found and read almost immediately.
* Constant availability.
* Readers can comment on a story, and see that their comments arrived at the intended place. They can interact with dizzying speed and provide feedback.
* Readers can read for free.
CONS:
* There are more choices now than ever before.
* Inconsistent quality.
* Readers can read for free.
* Dedicated readers are not aware of the quality web sites.
The pros here outweigh the cons, and I’m sure I missed some of both. These were just off the top of my head but the conclusion I came to is that Internet is a good thing for the reader. Not a great thing. Yet. But a good thing.
A few of the pros and cons are the same, like there are more choices. If you have too many choices you decide not to decide, you’re overwhelmed. I think this is true here. And what about reading for free as a con? In most cases, I think you get what you pay for. Web sites that are free usually don’t have editors or writers that are paid, and it shows.
There are exceptions. Mysterical-E, Hardluck Stories, and MouthFullofBullets, come to mind as being the exception. I’m sure there are more free web sites that I don’t know about. On the above named web sites, the value the reader gets for their time is worth it. But a lot of free short story web sites are not.
OK. Agree. Disagree. Fine. This is how I see the Internet from a reader’s perspective.
Next week we’ll look at the Internet, and the value of it to a short story writer.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Saturday, July 14, 2007
The life of an author, any author by Margot Justes
Think about what it takes to succeed as a published author. Most of us have day jobs, you know, the ones that actually pay us to work and the check arrives at regular intervals.
Then comes the other life, the life of an author, the marketing job, the self promotion job, the in your face, please buy my book job. As an example, I was at Marshall Field’s today (also known as Macy’s) made a purchase and asked the sales woman if she liked to read, and I the shy one, gave her some business cards, and asked her to check out my web site. Since there were a couple of other women in line, guess what, they got the cards too. They were very gracious, and told me they would check it out. So the promotion continues full speed…
Wait, there is more, we promote, we sell whenever we can, we blog, we set up contests, something I personally haven’t done yet, but it is expected, and there is still more, we have to continue writing our next book.
Let’s not forget the organizations we belong too, and volunteer our time to, the conferences we have to attend, the panels we have to schedule, etc…any one tired yet?
The amazing thing about all of this is that not one of us would give it up…ever. It’s in our blood, in the very air we breathe, it’s in the continuous dream of plots and character development, and its 'Colonel Mustard did with a candlestick in the library' puzzle some of us have to solve.
I for one relish this excitement.
Till next Saturday,
Margot Justes
A Hotel in Paris
Echelon Press LLC, 2008
www.mjustes.com
Then comes the other life, the life of an author, the marketing job, the self promotion job, the in your face, please buy my book job. As an example, I was at Marshall Field’s today (also known as Macy’s) made a purchase and asked the sales woman if she liked to read, and I the shy one, gave her some business cards, and asked her to check out my web site. Since there were a couple of other women in line, guess what, they got the cards too. They were very gracious, and told me they would check it out. So the promotion continues full speed…
Wait, there is more, we promote, we sell whenever we can, we blog, we set up contests, something I personally haven’t done yet, but it is expected, and there is still more, we have to continue writing our next book.
Let’s not forget the organizations we belong too, and volunteer our time to, the conferences we have to attend, the panels we have to schedule, etc…any one tired yet?
The amazing thing about all of this is that not one of us would give it up…ever. It’s in our blood, in the very air we breathe, it’s in the continuous dream of plots and character development, and its 'Colonel Mustard did with a candlestick in the library' puzzle some of us have to solve.
I for one relish this excitement.
Till next Saturday,
Margot Justes
A Hotel in Paris
Echelon Press LLC, 2008
www.mjustes.com
Thursday, July 12, 2007
The Torrent of Words
First of all, I want to say "Congrats" to Norm for his sale!! It's exciting to hear such good news. I'm not at that point yet, but I did send off my third novel to my editor. I feel it's money well spent. I'd rather have my editor point out the blunders I didn't notice, or tell me I need an additional scene here and please pull that awful sentence there. It will take awhile, this editing, but while I wait, nearly finished with one project and eager to begin another, this in-between time exits.
Professionals in the farming community call this the neutral zone. I like having a neutral zone. Endless possibilities hang out here. Even though I know what my next project should be ~ I could change my mind and do something different. I did that once, I veered from my historical family saga and wrote a science fiction romance about a werewolf prince and his soldiers. The change did me good. And I enjoyed that genre so much, I'm working on my third book. Just thinking about Ralph and all his wolf people makes me want to delve into that story again and
find out what happens to his brother Renzo. Or I could pursue a publisher for my sci-fi romances.
But my characters Ruffie, Hattie and Jim from my family saga urge me to write about them. And the dilemma of what to do churns within me. The neutral zone is an exciting, but dangerous place to be. I feel pulled by so many interesting characters and if I doze off thinking about which direction to go ~ my dreams are riddled with the characters of one book invading the territory of anothers. The time for decision making has closed in. Which avenue of intrgue should I travel?
The first time this happened to me ~ this neutral zone ~ I panicked. I felt overwhelmed first by the sense of loss because my book was done. Then the rush of ideas assaulted me, and the poem below came from that confusion. My journal states I revised "The Torrent of Words" in June of 1997. I don't remember the exact date I wrote this poem, guess it doesn't really matter, but it was long before 1997. And please understand, I am not a poet, but I do put my thoughts on paper occasionally and I apologize in advance if my poetry doesn't abide all the rules. But as I re-read my poem about the neutral zone the other day, I felt the same sense of wonder and yes, a ring of alarm on how to proceed in my writing career.
So, to those of you out there in the neutral zone ~ you are not alone. The emptiness you feel is real and so is the avalanche of ideas that may come at you from every direction. It is merely another part of the writing process.
The Torrent of Words
They flow quick, like water rushing over a damn, pulling me deeper into their swirling current.
Bits of phrases shoot through me and I struggle to grasp their meaning.
Words rush forward, faster, stronger.
I fight to stay afloat, wondering how they fit together.
I must slow dowan - or I'll drown. Yet I swallow more, more.
Keeping pace, I grab thoughts and shove them together, hoping,
thinking to sort them out when - if - a calmness comes.
But the words keep surging, calling me. I can't stop them, they keep coming, one upon the other.
They mean no harm, not really.
They're like a child in want, crying, raging, waiting for me to help them.
I must stay afloat, but I feel weak, helpless. Their strength, the strongness of their thoughts overpower me.
They say too much too fast, and I can't remember what it is I should say.
I'm drowning in my futile attempts to understand.
My brain, saturated with too much, grows heavy, burdened with the overflow. I can't hold it.
I must let go or drown.
I let the words pour out, feeling faint, weak, but alive,
as the chance of understanding slips through me.
In my weary state, I'm too exhausted to care. I've lost the chance. The battle done.
The words splash past me in their victory,
but I'm too weak to care. Yet tomorrow - yes, the surge will rise again,
and I will stand ready
To understand why. Why the words keep pulling me. Filling me,
calling me to help.
What is it that I'm to understand?
Til next time !
DL Larson
Professionals in the farming community call this the neutral zone. I like having a neutral zone. Endless possibilities hang out here. Even though I know what my next project should be ~ I could change my mind and do something different. I did that once, I veered from my historical family saga and wrote a science fiction romance about a werewolf prince and his soldiers. The change did me good. And I enjoyed that genre so much, I'm working on my third book. Just thinking about Ralph and all his wolf people makes me want to delve into that story again and
find out what happens to his brother Renzo. Or I could pursue a publisher for my sci-fi romances.
But my characters Ruffie, Hattie and Jim from my family saga urge me to write about them. And the dilemma of what to do churns within me. The neutral zone is an exciting, but dangerous place to be. I feel pulled by so many interesting characters and if I doze off thinking about which direction to go ~ my dreams are riddled with the characters of one book invading the territory of anothers. The time for decision making has closed in. Which avenue of intrgue should I travel?
The first time this happened to me ~ this neutral zone ~ I panicked. I felt overwhelmed first by the sense of loss because my book was done. Then the rush of ideas assaulted me, and the poem below came from that confusion. My journal states I revised "The Torrent of Words" in June of 1997. I don't remember the exact date I wrote this poem, guess it doesn't really matter, but it was long before 1997. And please understand, I am not a poet, but I do put my thoughts on paper occasionally and I apologize in advance if my poetry doesn't abide all the rules. But as I re-read my poem about the neutral zone the other day, I felt the same sense of wonder and yes, a ring of alarm on how to proceed in my writing career.
So, to those of you out there in the neutral zone ~ you are not alone. The emptiness you feel is real and so is the avalanche of ideas that may come at you from every direction. It is merely another part of the writing process.
The Torrent of Words
They flow quick, like water rushing over a damn, pulling me deeper into their swirling current.
Bits of phrases shoot through me and I struggle to grasp their meaning.
Words rush forward, faster, stronger.
I fight to stay afloat, wondering how they fit together.
I must slow dowan - or I'll drown. Yet I swallow more, more.
Keeping pace, I grab thoughts and shove them together, hoping,
thinking to sort them out when - if - a calmness comes.
But the words keep surging, calling me. I can't stop them, they keep coming, one upon the other.
They mean no harm, not really.
They're like a child in want, crying, raging, waiting for me to help them.
I must stay afloat, but I feel weak, helpless. Their strength, the strongness of their thoughts overpower me.
They say too much too fast, and I can't remember what it is I should say.
I'm drowning in my futile attempts to understand.
My brain, saturated with too much, grows heavy, burdened with the overflow. I can't hold it.
I must let go or drown.
I let the words pour out, feeling faint, weak, but alive,
as the chance of understanding slips through me.
In my weary state, I'm too exhausted to care. I've lost the chance. The battle done.
The words splash past me in their victory,
but I'm too weak to care. Yet tomorrow - yes, the surge will rise again,
and I will stand ready
To understand why. Why the words keep pulling me. Filling me,
calling me to help.
What is it that I'm to understand?
Til next time !
DL Larson
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
JURY DUTY - FRIENDS & PROMO By Morgan Mandel
Summer's a busy time, with vacations and speaking engagements lined up, so when I got the jury summons I thought twice. Should I call and ask for the date to be rescheduled?
On the one hand, the site listed was only a few miles from my house. The next time I might be ordered to go somewhere maybe 50 miles away.
Cook County is on the one day, one trial system. If I were not called to serve the day of the summons, I'd be home free for a year. The catch was if I were called to actually serve on a trial, I'd need to stay with the trial until it ended. Could I take that chance?
I did. I appeared yesterday at the Rolling Meadows Courthouse already wishing I had my cell phone with me. That was a double no-no, being not only a cell phone but also a camera - two items forbidden. I took off my watch, put it in my purse as instructed and threw it all on the conveyor belt for the security check.
After an escalator ride upstairs, I found the jury room, but it was still locked. While waiting for it to open, I was joined by other jurors. I struck up a conversation with two of the other ladies. With nothing better to do, we spent the time leaning over the railing and watching the security check down below. Most people passed through without incident. There were exceptions. One man forgot to remove his belt. Another brought too many items which sent the alarm off and he had to leave and put them in his car. A woman came in with a baby carrier and the carrier was given a thorough search.
Finally the jury room door opened. I passed over my jury summons, then reached inside a jar for a panel number. With that done, I quickly glanced around the room, looking for a good spot. I'd had to appear for jury duty once before but not at the same location, so wasn't familiar with the layout.
Instead of choosing a chair like many of the others did, I headed for one of the small tables in the back, right next to an electrical outlet. I'd brought my computer with me and intended to spend some quality time editing my upcoming book, Girl of My Dreams, and didn't want the battery to run out - assuming I wouldn't be called to serve on a jury.
After half an hour we were herded over to the seating section facing the monitor and were treated to a basic instructional video about how the court system worked. It was the same video I'd seen the last time I'd served. I smiled as once again I recognized my friend, Ruth Kaufman, an actress, fellow Chicago-North RWA Chapter member and real life attorney posing as an attorney on the tape.
Afterwards we received general instructions on what to expect. In the meantime, we could watch television if we wished. I glanced at the news on the screen, noticed that 300 prosecutors had taken the day off to attend the county board meeting to protest the delay in overdue raises. This was a good sign. If most of them were over there, they wouldn't be at the Rolling Meadows Courthouse.
I could only hope that was the case. In the meantime, I went back to my little table and got to work on my manuscript. I noticed a few ladies nearby reading books. One of them was by Janet Evanovich. I couldn't pass up the opportunity. I just happened to have bookmarks with me describing my current mystery, Two Wrongs.
I dug into my purse and approached them. Speaking quietly I asked, "Would you like a bookmark?" Surprised, they accepted and even looked over my blurbs on the back.
After another hour, I took a break from my manuscript to join the two friends I'd made before the doors had opened. After I explained what I'd been doing at the back table, it was only natural to also hand them bookmarks.
We were allowed to leave the premises for lunch, so all three of us headed across the street to the Track Side Restaurant, where I enjoyed not only a great meal, but also a wonderful conversation with two people I'd not known the day before. I even put $2.00 down on the First Race at Fairmont. The odds were huge, so if I won, it would be about $500.00. I didn't, but it was fun anyway.
We headed back. We waited one more long hour. If we were not called by 2:30 we'd be free.
2:30 finally came. It was over!
My gamble had paid off. Not only would I not be called back for another year, but I'd also accomplished much on my jury duty day. I could have sat by myself, tried to read a book and been bored, but instead I made some wonderful friends, did some needed manuscripted editing and passed out promo. Another day in the life of a citizen and author.
Morgan Mandel
http://www.morganmandel.com/
http://bookplace.ning.com/
http://acmeauthorslink.blogspot.com/
http://www.myspace.com/morganmandel
On the one hand, the site listed was only a few miles from my house. The next time I might be ordered to go somewhere maybe 50 miles away.
Cook County is on the one day, one trial system. If I were not called to serve the day of the summons, I'd be home free for a year. The catch was if I were called to actually serve on a trial, I'd need to stay with the trial until it ended. Could I take that chance?
I did. I appeared yesterday at the Rolling Meadows Courthouse already wishing I had my cell phone with me. That was a double no-no, being not only a cell phone but also a camera - two items forbidden. I took off my watch, put it in my purse as instructed and threw it all on the conveyor belt for the security check.
After an escalator ride upstairs, I found the jury room, but it was still locked. While waiting for it to open, I was joined by other jurors. I struck up a conversation with two of the other ladies. With nothing better to do, we spent the time leaning over the railing and watching the security check down below. Most people passed through without incident. There were exceptions. One man forgot to remove his belt. Another brought too many items which sent the alarm off and he had to leave and put them in his car. A woman came in with a baby carrier and the carrier was given a thorough search.
Finally the jury room door opened. I passed over my jury summons, then reached inside a jar for a panel number. With that done, I quickly glanced around the room, looking for a good spot. I'd had to appear for jury duty once before but not at the same location, so wasn't familiar with the layout.
Instead of choosing a chair like many of the others did, I headed for one of the small tables in the back, right next to an electrical outlet. I'd brought my computer with me and intended to spend some quality time editing my upcoming book, Girl of My Dreams, and didn't want the battery to run out - assuming I wouldn't be called to serve on a jury.
After half an hour we were herded over to the seating section facing the monitor and were treated to a basic instructional video about how the court system worked. It was the same video I'd seen the last time I'd served. I smiled as once again I recognized my friend, Ruth Kaufman, an actress, fellow Chicago-North RWA Chapter member and real life attorney posing as an attorney on the tape.
Afterwards we received general instructions on what to expect. In the meantime, we could watch television if we wished. I glanced at the news on the screen, noticed that 300 prosecutors had taken the day off to attend the county board meeting to protest the delay in overdue raises. This was a good sign. If most of them were over there, they wouldn't be at the Rolling Meadows Courthouse.
I could only hope that was the case. In the meantime, I went back to my little table and got to work on my manuscript. I noticed a few ladies nearby reading books. One of them was by Janet Evanovich. I couldn't pass up the opportunity. I just happened to have bookmarks with me describing my current mystery, Two Wrongs.
I dug into my purse and approached them. Speaking quietly I asked, "Would you like a bookmark?" Surprised, they accepted and even looked over my blurbs on the back.
After another hour, I took a break from my manuscript to join the two friends I'd made before the doors had opened. After I explained what I'd been doing at the back table, it was only natural to also hand them bookmarks.
We were allowed to leave the premises for lunch, so all three of us headed across the street to the Track Side Restaurant, where I enjoyed not only a great meal, but also a wonderful conversation with two people I'd not known the day before. I even put $2.00 down on the First Race at Fairmont. The odds were huge, so if I won, it would be about $500.00. I didn't, but it was fun anyway.
We headed back. We waited one more long hour. If we were not called by 2:30 we'd be free.
2:30 finally came. It was over!
My gamble had paid off. Not only would I not be called back for another year, but I'd also accomplished much on my jury duty day. I could have sat by myself, tried to read a book and been bored, but instead I made some wonderful friends, did some needed manuscripted editing and passed out promo. Another day in the life of a citizen and author.
Morgan Mandel
http://www.morganmandel.com/
http://bookplace.ning.com/
http://acmeauthorslink.blogspot.com/
http://www.myspace.com/morganmandel
Monday, July 9, 2007
The Next Adventures of Guy ... more wackiness
(pop)
Howdy, I just popped in with some exciting news. I'm a published author now!
Woo-hoo!
Wait ...
...um...
I forgot. I was already a published author.
So now I'm a published ... er, ... another published, um ...
Okay, enough of that. There's an easier way to say it. My second book is out!!!
Woo-hoo!
Yippee!
My new book, The Next Adventures of Guy ... more wackiness, is the sequel to its awesomely-reviewed prequel, The Adventures of Guy ... written by a guy (probably).
Fun stuff! Comes with the Dr. Pepper Warning (as in don't drink a carbonated beverage when reading).
You can read excerpts of both books on my website www.normcowie.com.
I'm feeling good.
Gotta go!
(pop)
Norm
www.normcowie.com
The Adventures of Guy ... written by a guy (probably)
The Next Adventures of Guy ... more wackiness
Howdy, I just popped in with some exciting news. I'm a published author now!
Woo-hoo!
Wait ...
...um...
I forgot. I was already a published author.
So now I'm a published ... er, ... another published, um ...
Okay, enough of that. There's an easier way to say it. My second book is out!!!
Woo-hoo!
Yippee!
My new book, The Next Adventures of Guy ... more wackiness, is the sequel to its awesomely-reviewed prequel, The Adventures of Guy ... written by a guy (probably).
Fun stuff! Comes with the Dr. Pepper Warning (as in don't drink a carbonated beverage when reading).
You can read excerpts of both books on my website www.normcowie.com.
I'm feeling good.
Gotta go!
(pop)
Norm
www.normcowie.com
The Adventures of Guy ... written by a guy (probably)
The Next Adventures of Guy ... more wackiness
Sunday, July 8, 2007
A weekend in Lafayette, Indiana By Margot Justes
I spent the weekend in Lafayette, Indiana visiting my daughter who is currently doing a Post Doc in Chemistry at Purdue. She is one of these people to whom the universe makes sense, whereas her mother, that would be me, thinks it is all magic.
I have been told otherwise numerous times, and yet, I am convinced it is in fact magic. Really…I turn on a switch and I have light, I put water in my electric tea kettle and it boils, I can turn on a computer and again magic appears, I see a huge airplane take off the ground and fly, and how many of us really, truly understand gravity...
At any rate, I strayed off my point; I went to visit my daughter and while there to try and promte my book. I checked in at our hotel and of course while there, I tried to set up a book signing, since by story takes place in a hotel, I thought it was worth a try. I wasn’t turned away, I was asked to speak to the manager, who seemed surprised and elated at the request. I now have a name and a number to call to firm it up.
I also paid a visit to my favorite art shop. It is a co-op owned and operated by various artists who sell their wares. If you ever find yourself in Lafayette, stop in at Artists’ Own. I needed a gift and while there I said I have a book coming out and my heroine is an artist, would they be interested in hosting a book signing. I received the same response, it never had been done, but sounds delightful and it will be presented to the rest of the membership at month end.
Since I have a local connection, Barnes & Noble and Borders were both interested. My daughter now has one of my canvas bags with the cover on it, and hopefully she’ll use it frequently. All in all it was a delightful and productive weekend.
Till next Saturday or Sunday,
Margot Justes
A Hotel in Paris
Echelon Press, June 2008
www.mjustes.com
I have been told otherwise numerous times, and yet, I am convinced it is in fact magic. Really…I turn on a switch and I have light, I put water in my electric tea kettle and it boils, I can turn on a computer and again magic appears, I see a huge airplane take off the ground and fly, and how many of us really, truly understand gravity...
At any rate, I strayed off my point; I went to visit my daughter and while there to try and promte my book. I checked in at our hotel and of course while there, I tried to set up a book signing, since by story takes place in a hotel, I thought it was worth a try. I wasn’t turned away, I was asked to speak to the manager, who seemed surprised and elated at the request. I now have a name and a number to call to firm it up.
I also paid a visit to my favorite art shop. It is a co-op owned and operated by various artists who sell their wares. If you ever find yourself in Lafayette, stop in at Artists’ Own. I needed a gift and while there I said I have a book coming out and my heroine is an artist, would they be interested in hosting a book signing. I received the same response, it never had been done, but sounds delightful and it will be presented to the rest of the membership at month end.
Since I have a local connection, Barnes & Noble and Borders were both interested. My daughter now has one of my canvas bags with the cover on it, and hopefully she’ll use it frequently. All in all it was a delightful and productive weekend.
Till next Saturday or Sunday,
Margot Justes
A Hotel in Paris
Echelon Press, June 2008
www.mjustes.com
A New Age for Short Fiction? –Part 1 -- by Larry D. Sweazy
I am a short story writer. It is an addiction. A compulsion. A need. I love and respect the form more and more every day, especially when, as a reader, I encounter a short story that is well-written, where the author understands and respects the form. As a writer, no, strike that, as an artist, reading and writing short stories challenge me and make me a better writer, a better storyteller. I am also a novelist. And, yes, I have the same needs, the same compulsions when it comes to writing novels.
But…I don’t think one form, short stories or novels, is greater or less than the other. I think they are separate forms of writing that require different skills and talents.
The conclusion to that debate can last for days, and I’m certain it already has, and is archived somewhere in the blogosphere. Every writer has his or her opinion on short stories, and it’s not my goal with this post to change anyone’s mind. It is my goal, however, to explore what I consider the New Age of Short Fiction. Or better put, the Digital Age of Short Fiction.
The past life of the short story is well-documented. The creation, the rise and fall in the last (20th) century, and ultimately the death of it—or reports of the death of it in the 1990s. No history lesson required. Slick magazines stopped buying and publishing short fiction until there were, and are, a few print outlets left that pay a worthy fee to a scant few writers.
The Internet, of course, changed everything. But not as much as you think.
I started trying to publish my short fiction in the early 90’s. I have a great collection of rejection slips from magazines that once were, but are no more. In those days, the small press movement was in its infancy. Writers like me, who sent work to Ellery Queen or Hitchcock and failed, found markets for our work in small publications like Scavengers and Gila Queen’s Guide to Markets. These market publications were labors of love, and provided a great service to the writing community—much like the market lists that now pepper the Internet with news of paying and non-paying markets. And like the web sites that now publish but don’t pay, the markets found in these small market publications provided a great training ground for new writers. The credits also garnered little respect from the larger world of publishing. Not much has really changed with that, or has it? This is a discussion we’ll have later on.
I cut my teeth in magazines like Hardboiled (which still exists and paid $5.00 for my story, “Loretta’s Garden”), Terminal Fright (dead), Kracked Mirror Mysteries (dead), and Plot Magazine (dead), among others. My guess is you’ve never heard of most of these print magazines. They varied in quality, but most were professional attempts, and these magazines remain proudly stored away in my writing trunk.
I learned how to write cover letters, how format my stories, and most importantly, I learned how to survive rejection slips. A story comes in one day, it goes back out the next, until it finds a home. Period. That rule still applies.
I would like to think those of us who subscribed to Scav were on the cutting edge, early adapters of what was to come. What the Internet has done for short fiction is amazing—it put rocket boosters on Scav and Gila Queen. Beyond the forums, the market lists (I will provide a brief list next week—but you know, there is this thing called Google), and the web sites dedicated to short stories, there seems to be a growing appetite for quality short fiction.
And the growing appetite is what I want to explore here. In the coming weeks I am going to discuss my take on the New Age of Short Fiction. The free web sites. The paying web sites, like Amazon Shorts and others. How is the Internet is helping or hurting the short story writer and reader? Feel free to join in. It may be a long discussion, but we have time. I have a few things to say about this topic, and I hope you do, too.
So I will leave you with a simple question to get us started: Do you read short stories on the Internet?
But…I don’t think one form, short stories or novels, is greater or less than the other. I think they are separate forms of writing that require different skills and talents.
The conclusion to that debate can last for days, and I’m certain it already has, and is archived somewhere in the blogosphere. Every writer has his or her opinion on short stories, and it’s not my goal with this post to change anyone’s mind. It is my goal, however, to explore what I consider the New Age of Short Fiction. Or better put, the Digital Age of Short Fiction.
The past life of the short story is well-documented. The creation, the rise and fall in the last (20th) century, and ultimately the death of it—or reports of the death of it in the 1990s. No history lesson required. Slick magazines stopped buying and publishing short fiction until there were, and are, a few print outlets left that pay a worthy fee to a scant few writers.
The Internet, of course, changed everything. But not as much as you think.
I started trying to publish my short fiction in the early 90’s. I have a great collection of rejection slips from magazines that once were, but are no more. In those days, the small press movement was in its infancy. Writers like me, who sent work to Ellery Queen or Hitchcock and failed, found markets for our work in small publications like Scavengers and Gila Queen’s Guide to Markets. These market publications were labors of love, and provided a great service to the writing community—much like the market lists that now pepper the Internet with news of paying and non-paying markets. And like the web sites that now publish but don’t pay, the markets found in these small market publications provided a great training ground for new writers. The credits also garnered little respect from the larger world of publishing. Not much has really changed with that, or has it? This is a discussion we’ll have later on.
I cut my teeth in magazines like Hardboiled (which still exists and paid $5.00 for my story, “Loretta’s Garden”), Terminal Fright (dead), Kracked Mirror Mysteries (dead), and Plot Magazine (dead), among others. My guess is you’ve never heard of most of these print magazines. They varied in quality, but most were professional attempts, and these magazines remain proudly stored away in my writing trunk.
I learned how to write cover letters, how format my stories, and most importantly, I learned how to survive rejection slips. A story comes in one day, it goes back out the next, until it finds a home. Period. That rule still applies.
I would like to think those of us who subscribed to Scav were on the cutting edge, early adapters of what was to come. What the Internet has done for short fiction is amazing—it put rocket boosters on Scav and Gila Queen. Beyond the forums, the market lists (I will provide a brief list next week—but you know, there is this thing called Google), and the web sites dedicated to short stories, there seems to be a growing appetite for quality short fiction.
And the growing appetite is what I want to explore here. In the coming weeks I am going to discuss my take on the New Age of Short Fiction. The free web sites. The paying web sites, like Amazon Shorts and others. How is the Internet is helping or hurting the short story writer and reader? Feel free to join in. It may be a long discussion, but we have time. I have a few things to say about this topic, and I hope you do, too.
So I will leave you with a simple question to get us started: Do you read short stories on the Internet?
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