short story vs novel idea
Wendy just asked me this:
I was wondering how you know when an idea would be better served by one form over the other. I have so little experience with both that I just have to kind of randomly pick…
Really, the difference between a short story and novel usually comes sorta automagically (just like I recognize poetry and stage plays early on). If I break down it intellectually, here are the questions I ask myself, sorted more on less by the weight of them.
1. Is the idea important enough for me to devote a year for developing it?
If it’s a random thing I found interesting or curious, it’s a short story. If it’s problem I need to solve to grow as a person, then it’s more likely a novel.
2. How many sides of the premise do I easily see?
If it’s two sides, it’s a short story. If there are multiple facets and variations, then it’s a novel. Of course, any idea can have a zillion facets. However, in the first few brainstorming sessions, I can see how many of these facets feel essential to me. For example, “revenge is best served cold… and it’s destructive for you anyway” is a short story. “Revenge is best served cold… It’s destructive for you… More than that, you can end up destroying people you love… Or you can find out that you weren’t right in the first place! And what if you are on the receiving end of a cold-served revenge? But on the other hand, can you truly heal if you don’t do actively fight the thing that hurt you?” is more likely a novel.
3. What will living with this idea do to me?
Every story changes me a bit. Sometimes, it’s for the best (even if it’s darned scary… in fact, for me, it has to be darned scary). How I envision this change and am I fine with it? I am OK with writing a short story that runs opposite to everything I believe (that’s a great lesson in empathy), but I won’t write a novel on a premise that I couldn’t live with even if it is true. For example, I could live with “every emotional attachment has a potentional to hurt you” premise in Vega, but I would find it impossible to live with “Embrace attachment, it’ll make you richer!” premise for more than a week.
4. Can I stand the protagonist?
For example, I can gladly write a short story about a marketing jerk because it’s fun and I don’t mind to see the ways I’m alike to the protagonist. But to live a year in the skin of somebody I couldn’t stand for two hours in real life? No thanks. (This works similarly for the protagonists I would love too much.) If I decide to write a novel anyway, I will most likely sweat on how to tweak the protagonist and make her more interesting for me.
5. How many characters face essential inner changes?
If it’s one character, it’s more likely to be a short story. If several characters transform significiantly over time, it’s more likely to be a novel.
6. How much development do I need for the idea to work?
If it’s “establish a problem and solve it”, it’s a short story. If there are several things that need changing/dealing with, then it’s a novel. For example, if I write about dealing with sexual identity of an otherwise “normal” character in contemporary setting, it’s a short story. If it’s dealing with sexual identity in a culture that has radically different views of sexuality, in a world with an unique magic system, then it’s more likely a novel.
7. How easily does the idea hatch?
If the whole thing comes to me at once, I’ll write a short story to keep it fresh. If all I have are bits and glimpses, and multiple versions on how I could explore it, then it’s more likely a novel. It’s very much like baking: either you don’t add yeast and have the whole thing ready in an hour, or you need to add yeast, labour for an hour over dough, put it in a warm place to rise and have something ready after four hours or so.
8. What other projects am I working on currently?
If I’ve just finished a novel, then I’m more likely to write next novel; if I am currently immersed in writing a novel and like that cool new idea very much, I’ll go extra lengths to skim it down to a short story level.
9. Can I handle it?
This is basically for ideas that I think could become a novel. Bitter experience has taught me that I can’t handle all the cool ideas I get. At least not at the moment. So if I know I would be able to develop the full scope of the idea in five years but not now, I will try to chop off a small segment of the whole thing and make a short story out of it. For example, The Keyboy originally was a sweeping idea about people with special skills and their struggle to employ these skills/deal with others, but I knew I couldn’t handle it. So I wrote a short story about a single gifted boy’s childhood.
10. Does the darn thing go away?
If I write the idea down and it flips out of my mind, then I might use it for a short story at some point. If I write the idea down, and then have an idea that is closely linked to this one, and a nightmare about the theme, then it’s more likely to be a novel material than a short story material. Simply because I’d rather write that crap down once and be done with it.
I hope this helps!
I know what you mean about the differentiation being intuitive, though admittedly I’ve started some short stories that forced me to realize they’d be better off as novels (or novellas). In those cases, I have to pare down what’s going on and turn the novel-sized idea into a snapshot piece of the characters, and promise myself that I’ll come back to their world and write a whole novel (or novella) later on.
But you’re right, it’s hard to handle ALL the ideas that come. At least short stories can provide a minimum of respite from too-many-ideas syndrome.
Ieva,
*this* is really great! I know there’s the intuitive aspect, the “well, if it feels longer, it’s a novel” obviousness, but the way you’ve thought it out here is really helpful in showing the many ways to consider an idea.
It also provides insight into you as a writer – my sense is that you’re very adaptive, which I find fascinating and worthy of some degree of emulation. I tend to be too hermetic. Way too self-reflexive, after years of indulging my tendency to not create a supportive environment and consequent turning inward and toward secretiveness – so I’ve written myself in circles and not taken enough opportunity to expand… and as is to be expected from a reflective introvert, my characters often sound like me (boring!) – so I was struck by #4 and the thought of writing a protagonist I wouldn’t really like in real life.
One person who responded to my HTTS post said that basically anything could be turned into a novel but she’d have a hard time turning Gone With the Wind into a short story. The thing I’m currently working on for HTTS was originally maybe a short story idea, but I’ve expanded and worked with it and it’s now at least a novella sized idea, which allows me to work within the parameters of class more easily.
I do wish I had the overabundance of ideas problem, but my idea-generator doesn’t trust me enough – maybe after I prove I take good care of the ones I’m given.
#7 reminds me of poetry – which for me is usually a flash, a sudden inhalation and accompanying sensation/revelation. Lately, though, I’m working to expand beyond that because if I rely on the caprices of revelation, I’ll not write much while swimming through daily life’s daily-ness.
I’m going to keep looking at this and mulling it over. I really appreciate that you took the time to think it out and share it.
Wendy
I forgot to thank you too for putting my blog with your Writing Buddies – that made my day!
And, would it be alright if I linked to this post in the Short Story vs. Novel Idea post on the HTTS forum? Others might like to read it as well.
Wendy, I’m glad this helped (or confused you even more, which also is a good thing
). You’re welcome to link to this or quote it anywhere, as long as you link back to the original.
I started wondering about #4 too when you mentioned it. I think writing something “other than yourself” is quite impossible, just like it’s impossible to dream something that isn’t created in your brain. My protagonists are different just because I’ve taken some aspect of myself and exaggerated ad absurdum, to see where it goes. E.g. if I can slip into marketing speech when necessary, the exaggeration is that marketing jerk that I don’t like and that doesn’t feel like me.
Faith–yea, I know what you mean. I have at least one short story that is actually a, well, long story (at least two characters facing major changes, two wildly different cultures introduced, at least two different POVs necessary etc.). For some reason I thought that I could squeeze it all into 3000 words.
When writing Vega I realized that a novel is a long long thing and, my schedule being tight and my life not endless, I had to sort the ideas out.