short story

Micro-reading: Experiments with Wattpad and Scribd

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Today marks the one week anniversary of a little experiment of mine: posting my fantasy short story Sword of Kings for free with two different mobile reading services, Wattpad (http://www.wattpad.com/3237579-sword-of-kings-part-i) and Scribd (http://www.scribd.com/doc/79242254/Sword-of-Kings).

If you haven’t heard of either service, don’t feel bad. I’d vaguely heard of Scribd before but only came across the possible sales and promotional potential of both it and Wattpad after reading David Gaughran’s attempts with both his own short stories and serially posting his novel A Storm Hits Valparaiso.

In essence, both services offer a variation on the same theme: they facilitate the process of writers finding readers. Writers post their work (though Wattpad is almost exclusively fiction and poetry) without charge; readers can download those works for free. The reasons why writers might want to offer their work for free are many: to find beta readers, to “field test” an odd-ball idea, to stimulate interest in your writing so that it leads to sales of other works, to simply spread your ideas.

While Wattpad and Scribd may seem like just another internet fad, consider that Wattpad claims 1 million users, 3 million comments/votes per month, and the average user spends 30 minutes twice a day on the site. The top stories in each genre of the “What’s Hot” category routinely register over 1-2 million reads. That’s exposure.

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The Infinite Wordstream: Part II

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(This is part two of a two part series. Read The Infinite Wordstream: Part I here!)

The Infinite Wordstream

If reader satisfaction is to mean anything to the budding epublishing author, it’s going to require hitting the moving target of reader desire. To reverse myself for a moment, the old 3,000 word and 300 page limits were and still are awfully handy as guidelines because the teeming mass of our reading public has been indoctrinated to expect these formats and sizes. It’s comforting for both readers and writers to know exactly what the expectations are.

It’s as we move out of the realm of standards that things get hairy. Spend some time with writers who have published their short stories electronically and you will hear horror stories of 1 star ratings, angry comments, and negative reviews…not for the stories’ merit but because of their length.

“Charging money for this is insulting” is one comment leveled at fantasy author David Dalglish‘s short story release, Guardian of the Mountain (get it here) from an admitted fan of his other words. At the time of this article’s writing, the 13,000 word short story—the equivalent of 50 paperback pages—was selling for just $.99, yet this reader was offended at the length. Crime fiction writer Ed Lynskey released a novel length collection of 15 short stories, Out of Town a Few Days (find it here), and received a 2 star review. The comment? “Not a real fan of short stories.” Full stop. Nothing about the collection’s merit.

With that preface, things might seem gloomy for short story and novelette writers the world over. But indie writer Deborah Geary might disagree. She writes a popular urban fantasy series (the “Modern Witch” series) that has garnered great reader reviews, but also constant fan pressure to release more, sooner. To keep the hordes at bay, she published several “Novel Nibbles”: stand-alone, 20,000 word stories not meant to be part of her regular lineup. Rather than an angry response at the length of the nibbles (which are about ¼ the size of a novel), she’s received positive feedback and now new chants of “we want more” and “turn this into a novel, too”.

It’s speculation on my part, but I have a feeling that Deborah’s releases would have been considered “unpublishable” five years ago: too long for magazines, too short to be novels, too awkward to be collected in an anthology. Yet, even in today’s climate, they might’ve been 1-starred had they been half their length and released as “short stories” in the digital market. Through hard work and careful cultivation of her audience she’s found a non-traditional word count that works. She’s helping to break the old standards.

Tapping the Stream

The point for writers is that the face of not just publishing, but writing itself, is changing. Reader bias for standard lengths will continue as long as there are print books (which I hope is forever). But as the digital market evolves, so will reader tolerance for unusual formats and non-standard lengths until, at some magical moment, we’ll just be talking about “story”. And that’s good news for writers everywhere, because the craft of writing shouldn’t be pushed into a corner by the cost of paper, the weight of a book, or the width of your spine.

The Infinite Wordstream: Part 1

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Mention a number to writer who’s been at the craft for a while and you’ll probably get a Pavlovian response in word count.

700? Flash fiction.

3,000? Standard main-stream magazine short story length. 8,000? The “one-per-issue” exception if the fiction editor likes your work.

15,000? Novelette. 25,000? Novella. 50,000? Short novel, a slim volume you might be able to sell to an unsuspecting—or forgiving—public.

75,000? Industry accepted minimum length for a debut novel, about 300 paperback pages.

150,000? Unless you’re Stephen King or George R. R. Martin: an agent’s rejection slip followed by a suggestion to find a good editor.

Despite the immense spread, however, these numbers have two things in common: they are the industry-accepted perceptions of what the public desires for a “good read” at particular moments. And they are all restrictions imposed on story-telling by the physical limitations of the medium in which they are delivered.

The Finite Wordstream

Let’s put aside the first point for a moment. The second is an interesting thing to ponder for a second. Short stories are, well…short, because historically magazines were expensive to print. Putting out 35 glossy pages every month is costly and it took years of experimentation for publishers to triangulate the sweet spot of issue length, reader interest, and expense. The formula they arrived at allowed for three to five 3,000 word short stories with room left over for a novel excerpt, a couple of book reviews, and a letter from the editor.

At the other end of the scale is the novel. 75,000 words translates nicely into a 300 page paperback which, when placed on a bookstore shelf, has a one-to-two inch spine that is narrow enough to leave room for the latest 480 page New York Times best seller release and long enough to keep a customer from feeling cheated.

Anything in-between these lengths (the long short, the novelette, the novella) was eventually found to be either too long or too short—and here’s the point of this article—physically. It either didn’t meet the compressed economics of a magazine or it didn’t give value on the bookstore shelf by merit of its heft.

The Missing Link

The much more important half of the equation, reader satisfaction, has been the poor, unwashed cousin in this relationship. Our tastes in literature over the last century have been shaped as much by the 300 page standard as they have by story-telling, literary merit, or creative genius. Or, put another way, since those attributes can be shoe-horned into a predetermined, one-size-fits-most model driven by economics…they have.

What’s changed? Electronic publishing. Certainly, the old tropes of historic publishing remain—the feel and smell of a book, the pleasure of holding it, the sense of tradition you get sitting by a fire with a novel. This isn’t the place to argue those points (which I agree with, anyway). But if epublishing has done one thing—and it’s done more—in the field of literature, it’s that it has broken the chains of physical limitation on the creative process of writing.

In a digital medium, format as expressed by word count is not just irrelevant, it’s meaningless. It’s like asking someone how much air they breath. A lot? A little? The important thing is that you’re breathing. Old monikers like short story and novella begin to slip away. And with that side of the equation gone, what are we left with?

The only thing that should matter: reader satisfaction.

Read The Infinite Wordstream: Part II here!