One of my friends is an established author. He has appeared on the New York Times bestseller list multiple times although he isn’t really a household name. He writes big books. Some topping a thousand pages. He won’t compromise.
On my nightstand at the moment is a first novel of some four hundred pages. Prior to it, several of my last bedtime projects involved first books of similar or greater size. Big books. Something into which you could sink your teeth. Pardon the cliche.
Recently some literate friends were saying how much they love descriptive writing. Thing is, description takes word counts. Like most writers struggling to find publishers, one of the first obstacles I face is reflected in the adage “write short to write long.”
Implied witticism aside, this can be a problem. I’m the first to admit that stories of my own that I’ve pruned down often appear better for the effort. To bring some more complex ideas down to size, however, ruins the story. In a day when the standard sources on Duotrope or Poet & Writer want submissions of 2,000 words or less, I bury my head in my hands and weep.
I’m not arguing for descriptions of Hawthornian proportions, or intricacies of Tolstoyan dimensions, but something to give the reader a few visual aids. This I struggle with in a world where nobody has time to read a 7,000 word story any more.
Quick, slick, and easily forgotten. The anti-gravity story with no weight. These are far easier to place than the substantial, and I dearly hope, thought-provoking stories of yesteryear. I grew up on Bradbury, but even today his writing goes a bit long here and there.
My friend? He married a career woman. They could probably live without her income now that he’s made it into publishing respectability. He never compromised, though, and eventually somebody had to listen.
If you’re reading this, don’t sell yourself short. Write long. And write hard. That’s old school.
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