We tell ourselves stories to live.
From the time we’re babies, stories are what keep us leaning in, learning and growing, and connecting to our emotional centers. In stories, we witness first-hand the effect of people fumbling and striving; we experience their bravery and fear. Some stories end happily; others do not. When we read short stories and novels, we feel things that either inspire us to buy multiple copies to give to friends or make us throw the book across the room.
"The average adult is still thought to spend at least 6% of the waking day engrossed in fictional stories."
Stories fuel us because, like life, they travel forward but in a microcosmic form. In the linear momentum, there is movement, evolution, and change, things we want and seek out in our own lives. Characters begin a story in one emotional/psychological/relational state. Then, over the course of their physical/emotional/spiritual journey, they end up in another. We live vicariously through them, and because of all they undergo, we become more alive.
On the surface, short stories and novels look the same except for the obvious: their length.
However, it’s precisely because of the length that makes them unique art forms: it’s the amount of space that dictates how much room there is to effect change. Additionally, because of that length, each format will emphasize different narrative elements.
What can be accomplished inside of a short story and a novel is therefore specific to the form.
When you’re ready to get serious about writing the stories you know you want to, get to know what short stories and novels are made of, how they’re similar, and what makes them unique. Then you’re ready to begin.
A short story is a complete narrative built around one central change, usually a single problem, one turning point (or “hinge”), one emotional “click” (the moment everything changes), and one irreversible consequence.
The length can vary from 1,000 words to 8,000. (In some cases short stories can go as low as 500 words and as high as 10,000 or even 12,000 words). Anything shorter than 1,000 is typically classified as “flash fiction.” Anything longer tends to move into “novelette” territory.
The distinguishing feature of short stories is they usually are designed around, as coined by Edgar Allan Poe, a “single effect.”
Poe’s theory is that every element—plot, character, setting, word choice—must build toward one specific emotional impact or sensation in the reader, creating a concentrated, unified experience. He campaigned for short stories to be limited: in scope, in setting, and in number of characters, to focus the attention on the one important energetic effect of the story. While a modern writer may infuse their stories with a more fractured design, reflected of the times, given the length and purpose of a short story, the outcome should still invite a cohesive response in the reader.
A short story often answers an aspect of:
“What happens when this one thing happens to this person?”
A novel is a long-form narrative built around a sustained arc of change—a sequence of complications and turning points that reshape the character’s life (or at least their inner world) over time. The length can range from 40,000 to 120,000 words. Some genres call for certain lengths as “standard” such as business or self-development books, which verge toward the low end, while fantasy novels are typically on the higher end.
Novels commonly have one “A” plot with numerous “B” plots, but there is much wiggle room to play with plotlines, such as in a book with multiple protagonists, which would then have multiple “A” plots.
The primary difference between the short story and the novel is not length but the larger, more conceptual weight of meaning that the longer narrative must carry on its back from page to page, scene to scene. It’s not baggy wordage that causes the diffusiveness of the novel; it’s this long-distance haul of meaning.
Greg Hollingshead, “Short Story vs Novel,” University of Toronto Quarterly, 68 No. 4 (Fall 1999). Pp. 878-79.
A novel often answers:
“How does this person change as a result of their pursuit of something or their seeking to overcome a problem—and at what cost?”
⇒ Both short stories and novels have a protagonist or narrator who has a desire and for whom something is or comes to be at stake (external or internal).
⇒ While striving to find what they’re looking for, achieve, or overcome, they encounter causality–events don’t happen to the protagonist; they happen because of them, each one leading to the next.
⇒ Along the way the protagonist experiences change until there’s the epiphany or moment when things will never be the same. This can be a shift in knowledge, identity, relationship, and/or circumstance.
⇒ Whether happy or sad, the ending is earned.
In other words: in both forms, something must be at stake, the story must travel forward (even if it takes place in one physical space), and it must have a theme or come to mean something larger than the sum of its parts.
1) The “story question”
In a short story, there is one main question, answered once. In a novel, there is a larger question explored through many smaller questions (this is the reason most novelists rely on outlines and either physically pin index cards to the wall each with a scene or chapter or use a software to keep the many moving parts organized).
2) The amount of “turning”
A short story will typically only have one major turn (plus maybe a smaller one). A novel will have multiple turns that escalate and compound.
3) The relationship to time
Time is compressed in a short story; the reader often feels the pressure of the moment, which contributes to the narrative problem. In a novel, time can either contribute to a feeling of pressure (will he make it in time to diffuse the bomb? Will they fall in love before one weds another?), or time can stretch on as long as it needs and serve more like a setting. In this case, the pressure or urgency of the story comes more from the characters’ consequences.
4) The character change
In a short story, there’s often a sharp shift (that can be realization, decision, rupture, or acceptance) that happens with the protagonist. In a novel, the transformation may happen in layers, for example as their beliefs get repeatedly tested or their identity gets called into question and reshaped along the way.
5) The reader’s takeaway
After reading a short story, the reader will commonly feel walloped as if they’ve been hit by something. A novel is a longer slower burn, during which the reader falls into a kind of empathetic communion with the protagonist (even an unlikeable one). A kind of familiarization effect takes hold since you live with the world of the story for a far longer time, and the result is you feel attached. At a novel’s end, there may even been a hollow feeling for the reader because that world they’ve been inhabiting, and these characters they’ve developed a relationship with, have been taken away.
If you’ve dabbled enough to realize you’re ready to explore beyond the confines of your journal or the few scenes you’ve sketched out are bugging you to expand on, ask yourself the following to decide whether your ideas will best develop as a short story or a novel.
If you can describe your idea as:
It’s also common that a writer begin a short story, then as they’re working on it, see the scope creep outward: more characters enter the mix, the plot becomes more complex, or you determine your character should traverse more time and experience to undertake their journey. In such a case, you probably have a novel on your hands.
They’re both terrific for diving into writing!
Short stories, given their length and streamlined narratives, can be ideal for getting your writerly feet wet, are easier to publish, and give you the satisfaction of being able to complete a whole one (or several!) in a brief period. They’re also ideal if you’re in a class or workshop because you can share them with peer writers more easily for feedback.
But if you yearn to tell a more complex story with more characters and a lengthier timeframe, want greater opportunity to make a name and reputation for yourself with the public once you publish, are ready to open yourself to myriad career opportunities, and want to enjoy the cache of knowing you’ve joined an elite group, why not try your hand at a novel?
Any working or professional writer will tell you that the #1 way to manage the highs and lows, keep your skills sharp, and get much-needed accountability—especially useful when the going gets rough— is to get yourself some support.
Joining a writing group, partnering with peer writers, or working with a professional writing coach whose tough love, insights, and enthusiasm for keeping you afloat is vital for helping you stay strong and achieving your goals.
Whether you start short or go long, you can’t go wrong. It’s a beautiful challenge to create worlds, get your characters into hot water, and see how they change themselves and their own stories- one page at a time.
Check out our short story writing coaching for keeping you inspired, motivated, and (sooner than you think!) publishing in top-tier literary magazines.
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