The Short Story Substack: A Boon for Readers and Writers
A Substack that’s revivifying the short story and paying writers handsomely
Reports of the short story’s death have been greatly exaggerated. The medium is far from deceased, but rather alive and thriving. For evidence of that, visit the Short Story Substack. Every month, the Short Story Substack provides subscribers with a carefully curated piece of short fiction. The Substack caters to a variety of genres, and it consistently delivers for both readers and writers alike. The stated editorial goal is to preserve the short story, and after several years of quality fiction thus far, the Substack has attested to the viability and flexibility of the format.
Take for instance the most current story, “I Know” by Hannah Smart. This fiction centers upon an unstable therapist and his client, who are together working through something called “epistemic interpersonal paranoia.” We get snippets not only of their sessions, but also the therapist’s sessions with his own therapist. Therapy can be a tricky setting for a fiction author to navigate, but Smart does it deftly, keeping the subject matter and concepts epistemologically sophisticated, and then wrapping things up with a punchline that’s philosophically profound. All told, “I Know” attains to a strong David Foster Wallace vibe, and digestibly so.
The Short Story Substack also scratches the genre itch, as can be seen with the horror story “Worms” by Tyler Grant. This tale puts body dysmorphia in conversation with body horror, all against the backdrop of marital tension. There is something of the fairy tale in this piece, even though it’s convincingly grounded in modern-day reality. The story climaxes in relentlessly grotesque imagery that would satisfy even the most jaded gorehound, affirming that the Short Story Substack serves short fiction equitably across genres.
Meanwhile, fictions such as Melissa Ren’s “Seasons Change” confirm the Short Story Substack’s bona fide literary sensibilities. In this piece, Ren provides a well-paced, tactile, and existentially wrenching series of scenes from various phases in the life of a now-elderly man. Ren succeeds in telling a sad story in reverse chronological order, ending on a very hopeful note (which is itself crushing when you have knowledge of the sequential finish from the outset of the piece). Though the protagonist faces death, Ren’s innovative delivery demonstrates how the short fiction format still has vigor and life.
Ren was paid $537.50 for her story, while Grant got $437.50, and Smart made a cool $565. The Substack keeps the payments for its monthly winners transparent, effectively declaring that good writing is still worth livable compensation. Because it pays writers in the three figures for their work, the Short Story Substack guarantees competition for its singular monthly publication slot. This ensures a level of professionalism and quality that may not always be guaranteed from literary journals and genre anthologies that pay in the double digits (if they pay at all). The Substack’s generosity is a boon for the short story format.
Lately, some have tendered the idea that the novel has turned into the opera. That is to say that long-form fiction has become a rarefied taste that appeals only to a narrow group of enthusiasts. Given the dwindling of attention spans resultant from precariously minimalistic forms such as X, this shouldn’t come as a surprise. But in such a dispensation, the virtue of the short story is embedded in its name. For efficient, satisfying literary experiences, you can’t go wrong with short stories, and the Short Story Substack is a great place to find them. There’s something here for every reader. With the pay that’s being offered, quality is assured. And so the Substack is a boon for writers, too, as they are being taken as seriously as their output. Praise, then, is due to the editors of the Short Story Substack for their successful preservation and reinvigoration the short story format.
