I don’t typically write short stories. I’ve written a few for fun. I once found an online logline generator (now offline) that made up ridiculous premises and, for a purely creative exercise, I challenged myself to create 1000 word stories from some of the craziest of them. Maybe one day I’ll post some for a laugh.
But I think most editors at literary journals would agree that these are not the kinds of stories they’re looking for when they open submissions for their publications. I’m alright with that. I write for myself. Even my novels were primarily written for my entertainment, and to challenge myself in various ways. I don’t really give a shit what the publishing industry thinks of them (and they’ve made their contempt for the era and culture I’ve written about absolutely clear.) And these days, what literary magazines and journals are seeking is increasingly not even about the writing, but about demonstrating sympathy with a “social justice” ideology.
Nearly every agent’s submission guidelines, and every guide on how to land an agent, requires listing one’s publication credits—i.e. short stories in literary magazines—as an important part of your query. Why should any of this matter to the novelist?
The myth
The short answer is: it shouldn’t. The real answer is: because literary agents and editors will open the velvet ropes for authors whose stories have been granted publication at elite literary magazines under the pretense that the skills of short story writers come pre-vetted by industry professionals, so their novel-writing must be superior to that of writers without such references.
The myth implies that short fiction is an intensive course in novel writing. That it somehow condenses, refines, and showcases all the skills and abilities of the writer in a few short words. Nothing could be further from the truth. A walk in the park is not comparable to a hundred mile trek through the mountains. A sprint is not comparable to a marathon. And an 8,000 word piece is not remotely like a 300,000 word trilogy. Yet, within much of the writing community, the myth persists that the ability to execute the former predicts the success of the latter. How many published short story authors have successfully made the conversion to published novelist? Does anyone have the statistics? I don’t really care, but I’m willing to bet it’s not very many. In fact, beyond the obvious ability to assemble readable prose (which should be self-evident to any reader) I’m certain there is no correlation between the two skillsets at all.
Delegating responsibility
I’m not saying I don’t respect the skill it takes to create a short story, or that I don’t think these writers are talented. What I don’t respect is agents who can’t form their own judgements about the manuscript in front of them, but have to round up outside opinions on a particular author and create a consensus before drawing their conclusion: What does The Paris Review think of your writing? Ooooh, ok, I think whatever they think. Or: Whew, you passed the test! If you’re ok with The New Yorker, then you’re ok with me.
Does no one have a mind of their own in this industry? How about asking these professionals to form their own opinions and take full responsibility for their choices instead of delegating judgement to the editors of niche litmags, which no one reads and are ultimately irrelevant to the unique work sitting in front of them.
Divergent skillsets
But you want to be a writer, they say. Show us you can write the little stories to prove you can write the big ones. Let us try the appetizers before we take a chance on a whole meal.
I can almost see the logic, except that writing a short story and writing a novel require two wholly different skillsets. One is building a dollhouse and the other is building a house. Demonstrating skill at the one proves almost nothing about the ability to do the other. Tinkering with one when I could be framing out the other is counterproductive unless I’m getting some enjoyment from it.
Filters
If writers enjoy short stories—or any other forms—they should, of course, continue to write and publish them. But their irrelevance to the ultimate ability of a writer to succeed at long-form fiction should preclude these publication credits as criteria for agent consideration. Let’s drop the farce that litmags matter. I sincerely hope that people who enjoy litmags also enjoy my books. But let’s be honest: if I’m not enjoying their tedious stew of manufactured prose and snobbish posturing, there’s a fair chance they won’t enjoy my work either, and neither will their readers. So aren’t we wasting each other’s time here? What exactly, then, are these agents expecting when they make a request like this?
One of the quickest, most ruthlessly efficient routes to winnowing a pile of submissions is via criteria external to the actual manuscript. Some agents have gleefully said they will reject a query wholesale based on a single lapse like spelling, formatting, etc. Education credentials or publications credits can, however, catch an agent’s eye, including a prestigious litmag (which appropriately enough, my autocorrect keeps changing to “litmus.”) But, is this filter a useful way of screening for successful long-form fiction?
In addition to asking someone else to do their job for them, I suggest they’re using an elitism filter. Even though they may not even be seeking literary fiction specifically, they’re using the elitist filters of literary journals, MFA programs, prestigious degrees, etc. to weed out writers whose backgrounds, lives, experiences, voices, perspectives, premises, themes, etc. may not be acceptable to their sensibilities. Not only are they seeking out particular writing styles, but particular political and social prejudices, which come pre-vetted and with a seal of approval from these snob factories.
However, none of this is relevant to the sensibilities of the vast majority of readers, who don’t subscribe to or care about literary magazines or the kind of writing they promote. The real myth is that “people who read books” are a monolith who want to be sold this kind of fiction. We are not and we do not. So, why does the publishing industry keep treating readers as if this were true?
You're spot on with this one. I thought for a time that self-publishing was going to cast aside some of these gatekeepers, but between the flood of material published that way (making discovery by readers difficult) and the industry's ability to adapt, they seem to still be clutching the keys. Most agents offer little to writers beyond their access to publishers. I sidestepped submission myself and when one of my books hit the NYT list the agents came calling and I got to ask them for their credentials. And yes, short stories are an entirely different animal. You might as well search for novelists in poetry journals. Worse still is the current trend of agents seeking submissions from people with certain "identities," sometimes exclusively so. Outside of needing them to access publishers, most writers would be better served with a contract attorney than a literary agent.
Of course, much wisdom here. Since most literary mags are now online: that fact helps us writers as well. I would add to what you've so candidly argued that writing a good and publishable-in-a-literary-magazine short story, most of us have learned intuitively and through the editing of that short, the key craft aspects needed to write that novel. If I may with and due respect to your view: Suggest your readers go to my post on @ fictionistas -- a fab newsletter to which you subscribe as I do: https://fictionistas.substack.com/p/literary-magazines-why-bother and xo