Launch of new short story collection

Sherryl and I have just been to the launch of Scribe's New Australian stories (ed. Aviva Tuffield), mainly because one of our past students, Demet Divaroven has a story in it. And isn't that a fantastic thing for a teacher: going to see your student successes!

Aviva spoke about the health of the short story, which is always a concern for short story writers. I have to admit that before I started writing seriously, I hardly ever read short stories. I've learnt, over time, to appreciate them -- and perhaps part of the problem for me, originally, was that most times when I'd encountered them it was in buying science fiction books that I thought were novels. I'd be all set, engrossed in a story, and then it would end. (Truth be told, many of these were probably novellas rather than short stories.) I'd always be so disappointed when they finished, and felt ripped off. I'd become emotionally engaged with these characters and was ready for the long haul, only there was none, and I do love the long haul! I thought I hated short stories. Really, I don't think I did -- what I hated was not having my expectations met. This is a concern for all writers, or should be. But that's for another post.

These days when I read short stories, my expectations are for a different type of experience. I love the short story form. Many believe they're easier to write than novels, but I don't think so. Shorter, yes. Don't take as long. But not easier. 

They're often talked about as the training ground for a novel, and they really can be this. This is not to say that all novelists write short stories. They don't. Nor do they need to. Nor is it any kind of slight against the short story or implying that the short story is, in any way, inferior. It's not. It's just that the short story form, because it is shorter, can teach you a lot about structuring fiction. In the time that you write one 80,000 word novel, you can write many short stories, learning how to get in and get out of the story, how to show rising tension, a whole host of factors. This gives you time to improve, experience. To get that same amount of experience in structure, you'd need to write several novels. Many novels. That's going to take longer. So the short story is like a short cut to gaining useful writing experience.

One thing Aviva spoke about, which I'd never really thought about, was how the publishing of short stories has changed. In the past, new writers often began with a short story collection and then graduated to novels, whereas these days most short story writers need a successful novel or, better, a few successful novels published before they can get a short story collection published. I knew both of these things, but somehow I'd never quite juxtaposed the ideas and thought about that change. (And of course there are exceptions to this, particularly with small press publishers, but there are also publishing houses that never seem to touch the short story.)

These days, we're more likely to read our short stories in literary (or genre) magazines. The mass market magazines do publish a few, but some will only take these through agents. But if we all do want to see more short stories published then we have to let the publishers know this in the one way they really care about: book sales.

Sweet vengeance

I've had a few visits from friends of late who are in various stages of the publication process. One is a friend and past student whose first book (a memoir) is due out in a few months. His has been a long road, which began in TAFE and continued through academia. We started off as students together, became friends, and then I became his editor and I suppose in a way one of his mentors.

His has been an interesting path and one that should inspire any writer who is struggling, because he has had a lot of knockers along the way -- a lot of people who have told him he's not good enough, he's never going to make it, he should discontinue his studies because he wasn't a good enough writer. Lots of things along these lines. Each year, he seemed to take on another, another who said: drop out now. Fortunately, there have also been a few who have believed. Fortunately, because no matter how strong your fortitude, no matter how determined you are, it can be hard to go on in the face of such relentless criticism.

He's not one to fall easily though. He has spirit and guts, and when he gets knocked down, he gets up with an I'll-show-them attitude. And he has shown them. As I've said, his first book's coming out soon -- much sooner than the would-be manuscripts of some of his knockers. Sometimes vengeance is sweet.

So, there's a lesson in this for all of us. Many writers struggle with that self-confidence demon. A hard crit session can see egos pinned to the board like dead butterflies. But writers who will make it unpin themselves and rise again. They keep writing. Their confidence may swoop and dive, but this doesn't stop them. Writer's block may cripple them from time to time, but they get over it. They get over it because they're driven to write. That's what makes them writers.

The fantasy writer's profile

One of the key differences between science fiction and fantasy writers (and readers, I might say) is the ideal length of the manuscript. Fantasy requires a big canvas, whereas science fiction seems to shine best in shorter lengths. Most SF novels are a good deal shorter than fantasy novels, and it is in the short story length that science fiction really seems to sparkle. Fantasy is not well suited to the short story form, and there are far fewer fantasy short stories published -- so few, in fact, that I consider them a rarity, even in the magazines that claim to publish science fiction and fantasy stories.

Science fiction readers and writers denigrate fantasy as being big fat doorstopper books as if this is anathema to all that is good in writing. What they fail to realise is fantasy readers see this as a plus. I know myself I'd much rather read a novel, a long novel, than a collection of short stories -- I want to go on the long journey with the same bunch of characters. Short stories are hard work that way. I just get to know the characters and, pfft, the story is over. I'm not saying one form is superior to the other -- just that they are different, and different readers like different things.

So, I always find it interesting when people talk about building a career, and suggesting that the most important thing to start with is a series of short story publication credits. If I want to be a novelist, I want to be spending time thinking about my novel, building in depth, exploring plot twists. I can't do this if I'm writing short stories. That's not to say I don't write the occasional short story -- I do, but it's just not the form I'm most at home in. I do, however, think that the short story is an excellent training ground for would-be novelists. In a short story every word has to count. But every word should count in a novel too. There should be no flab. Long novels are not long because they are padded out, but because they have BIG plots.

I keep returning to an idea that Sherryl brought back from the States from the mouth of an American writer whose name I forget. He said that science fiction is a fiction of the brain, and fantasy is a fiction of the heart. Maybe that explains the difference too. Fiction of the brain -- ideas -- short story writers need lots of them. I can't say how much I admire prolific short story writers. My brain's not like that. But a fantasy of the heart needs space to develop the depth needed to really satisfy a reader.

I know Ian Irvine said, at the recent con, he would be astounded to find out that fantasy novelists needed a string of successful short story publications to be picked up. Most fantasy writers don't write them. Full stop. And I think that it's all very nice to build your profile this way, but will it really equate to more sales? None of the fantasy readers I know read short story collections, probably for the reasons I've outlined above. Still, it is nice to publish the occasional story -- just reminds you you are on the right track.

Writer or not?

The last few days I've been doing some work at home (inbetween editing my novel), listening to some podcasts we're producing to get an online unit up and running. Yesterday, I was finishing off one I'd started earlier, which was a recording of an editor from an independent publishing house, talking about the publishing process. Among the many things she talked about was a decision she says that every writer must make: whether they want to be a writer and make that the focus of everything, or whether they want to do other things and write books around (or about) these.

It's an interesting topic when you consider the great divide between those who write full-time, and those who support their writing with working full- or part-time. This second group are often not people who want to do other things and write, but writers who want to write full-time but cannot support their basic existence by writing alone. There's a big YET that comes after that sentence. Maybe this is a situation peculiar to those of us living in countries with smaller populations, but I suspect not. After all, every country will have their emerging writers; it's just that here in Australia, most of our established writers cannot live by writing alone. That's the difference.

There are also those who write for the sheer joy of writing and have no intention of getting published. I consider them -- if they are still serious about honing their craft, and many of them are -- every bit as much real writers. (And I know the editor wasn't suggesting that one group was more or less important than the other, just that they have different focuses -- or foci, if you'd rather.) I had an argument with one of my Sydney friends last time I was up there about this. She suggested that every writer wants to be published. I don't support this view at all. And when I was at Buninyong the other day, I was interested to hear Peter Bishop talk about this: how some writers, well on the path to publication, suddenly decide, for whatever reason, that it's a path they don't want to continue on.

In opposition are those who write to be rich or famous. They're usually new to writing. Even as a beginner, I don't think my glasses were ever this rosy. I always wonder how long disillusionment will take to set in, and whether it will stop them from writing. If they're real writers, it won't. And as a counterpoint are those published writers who talk about never having had a rejection, but they are few and far between. Most of us suffer rejection at some time in our writing careers, especially at the beginning.

But the whole idea of a writer being someone whose full-time focus is on writing is disconcerting. I do want to be a writer; I do want to write full-time. But does this mean I have to give up teaching? My students often inspire me. I feel privileged to read their work and take part in their journey.

Teaching writing means my working week is still spent thinking about writing -- looking through writing books for new ways of approaching things, for different answers to the same or different problems, for new ways of inspiring students (and myself in the process). Teaching writing is a paradox -- on the one hand it informs my writing, but on the other it saps my creative strength, as I put a lot into my students. At Clarion, I asked every tutor who had taught writing how they wrote and taught, and they all said that you can't do both. But can't you? Other writing teachers do it. But do they do it as much as they should or could? One of our teachers has just resigned after ten years teaching so she can spend more time writing. It is a conundrum. If I had the kind of advance that meant I could consider leaving teaching, would I do it? Truth is I don't know. In the meantime, I'll just do what most writers do: work and squeeze every moment I can out of my day for my great passion: writing or, more specifically, my current novel.

Writing groups

On Friday evening, I went to a book launch. One of the members of my writing group, Western Women Writers, self-published her second book of poetry. Poetry publishing in Australia is a tough market to crack because it's so small. Margaret didn't seek commercial publication, I think, aware that her book would appeal to a niche market.

There's something inherently satisfying about seeing a project go from inception to published book, to hear the drafts, and to make suggestions, however small, along the way. It's a learning experience. Margaret credited Sherryl, in her talk, for causing a major change in direction in the manuscript along the way. That's one thing I love about writing groups -- hearing someone suggest something and seeing the possibilities.

I also love the support that we give each other. There's a lot to be said for a group where everyone works cooperatively rather in competition, which can happen too. Cooperation leads to everyone celebrating each other's success. In Western Women, the tradition is that when you have a story or poem or whatever accepted, you have to bring cake. Most bring it on acceptance. I tend to wait for publication -- so had to take one recently for a short story that was published in Fantastic Wonder Stories. I'm always circumspect about celebrating too early, because my first story accepted never saw the light of publication. The story, about 1500 words long, was accepted, and I was offered $450, much more than I've had for any similar-length short story I've sold since. Then, a month later, the magazine folded and that was that. I wasn't able to place it anywhere else. Sometimes, I think I should rework it and send it out again, but it's so old now that I look at it and cringe.

We also support each other through taking a plate to something like a launch, and it is lovely holding the finished product in your hand, and catching up with friends who I don't see nearly as much as I should -- some members of another writer's group I used to attend, and past students. The most rewarding part of all though is seeing the look of delight and pride on the writer's face. It's always worth going along just for that!

Food for the writer's soul

Last night I went out for dinner with a good friend of mine who's a fellow writer. There's nothing better than spending a long, leisurely dinner talking about our novels and how they're going and what our characters are doing and ... Oh, I was in heaven. Nobody understands the passion of writing like a fellow writer. A fellow fantasy writer at that. We talked about books and blogging and other writers and all sorts of things.

We ate in an Italian restaurant that had wide open windows almost to our waist level, so it was almost like eating outside. After a balmy autumn's day the night was cool, too cool to sit outside comfortably in short sleeves, but this was perfect. We talked about the souvenir I had bought in Swan Hill for one of my characters, and how my dog has just half destroyed that, but how that damage has now flowed into the book as well.

She talked about the excitement of nearing the end of her first draft. Like me, this has been a long labour of absolute love, and so we also talked about the published authors we've heard speak at writers' festivals or conventions who say things like, "I don't particularly love writing. If my book hadn't been published I would have moved on and tried something else." That's a devastating statement for a non-published (at a novel level) author to hear. We know how hard the game is. We know that you need talent and dedication and persistance and more than a modicum of luck (especially with the timing!). One publisher spoke to a group of us telling us that she only takes on one new author a year. Doesn't matter if she has three potential blockbuster newbies; she only takes on one. That's another devastating statement. Bad luck for you if you sub just after she's accepted her newbie.

My friend will celebrate the end of her first draft, and so will I, because it's no small achievement. Many people start novels; far fewer finish them.

We talked about a review of a fantasy novel that I'd recently read (the review, not the book) and how I was surprised to see that it said that the book had left out all the boring bits about fantasy, ie the journey. That was something to reflect on because I love the journey. Maybe it's a hankering for my past horse-riding days, but the journey is one of the major attractions for me about fantasy. My friend loves it too. It brings me back to the science fiction versus fantasy divide that is so apparent in Australian writers -- so many science fiction writers are scathing of fantasy.

I like the quote that Sherryl told me that a writer at a conference she'd gone to in the US said: that science fiction is a literature of the mind, and fantasy a literature of the heart. I can't agree more.