7 crime writers talk about novels and short stories and what they love writing most

Arthur Conan Doyle and Stephen King wrote both novels and short stories, Zora Neale Hurston as well, as did John Steinbeck. Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood is a classic, but so is his short story A Christmas Memory.

Great writing has no minimum – or maximum – word count.

I asked seven talented crime writers, all of whom have written both novels and short stories, what format they love, what they eschew and what length of fiction they always hope to write. Their answers to my emailed questions are unedited here.

Do you write novels or short stories or both? If you write one or the other, why is that your focus? If you write both, is it possible to say how much of your writing time is spent on short stories vs novels?

 

Casey Stegman is a veteran writer of short stories, including Effie’s Oasis, which was selected for the Best Mystery Stories of the Year. He’s working on short stories and Kill Current, his novel published under the name Oliver Lowe, was acquired for a Keanu Reeves film project: Early on, I was writing mostly short stories while dabbling with a novel. In the last two years, after signing a two-book deal, that focus has flipped. I’d say I spend about 80% of my time plotting, writing, editing, and rewriting my novel projects and the rest tinkering with short stories. My yearly publication record has definitely seen a decline as a result. In 2024, I had something like 10 short stories published. This last year, I only had one (Home in Dread, Decay and Doom, which also happened to be the only short story I wrote that year.

 

Lawrence Allen is the author of the F@ck private eye series, led by Big Fat F@ck-Up. His short stories have appeared in anthologies and on genre sites. He’s also written for the screen and stage: I primarily write novels, for a whole host of reasons. When I moved from screenwriting to prose, my first book was based on a script that had done well for me and it made sense to turn it into a novel. And while I was adapting it, I had a sudden feeling of freedom. In screenwriting you work very limited by page counts. 120 pages is about it. But as I was writing my first book I realized how much I could open up the world or how much I could go deeper into something because in a novel, you have so much more space. The beauty and power of a short story is its efficiency, much like a script. Perhaps when I turned to prose I was in an expansive place, so short stories weren’t much in the picture. And, to be frank, short stories aren’t very much in the picture for the general public. Not like they once were. Two of my favorite writers and biggest influences, Kurt Vonnegut and Raymond Chandler, cut their teeth in short stories and were able to make a living, before turning to novels. That’s not just possible anymore. (But then, it’s also incredibly difficult to make a living writing novels, so…)

Carlotta Dale is the author of The Parrots Come Again, a tale mixing crime and the paranormal, and her short fiction has been widely published: I started writing novels–five of them. It’s a series, but with different protagonists. If we’re including novellas/novelettes under the “novel” umbrella, I have one of each: The Parrots Come Again was published about a year ago, and I’m hoping They Still Come Honest will find a home this year or next. I started writing short stories shortly after the Pandemic. I hadn’t written a short story since college. True story: when I sent it to the professor, he informed me I’d used the f-bomb incorrectly! In recent years, more time has been spent on short stories. By a lot. I’ve written twenty-four short stories, had twenty published, two forthcoming, one brand new, and one I call the Unplaceable. 

 

Emily Edwards is the author of three “Girl Friday” mystery novels, leading off with Viviana Valentine Gets Her Man. Her short stories have been published by prestigious sites like Stone’s Throw and she is a veteran podcast host and producer: I technically write both, though my focus is more on novels. I would say 90% novels, 10% shorts. I find the work of writing novels more fulfilling; the length of time I’m allowed to marinate in a setting or develop characters and their personalities is more in line with how my brain thinks of storytelling– I really am one of those people who can envision everything in their head, textures and smells and tastes and all of that, so I like to spend a lot of time in those places. That being said, I love short, impactful work. After time in both print and broadcast editorial, I value stories that hook you, get in, and get out as quickly as possible. 

 

Meghan Leigh Paulk’s It’s Half Your Fault is one of her stories published in the leading crime genre publication, Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. The story was also nominated for an Edgar Award/Robert L. Fish Memorial Award. Publication of her novel Hollywood Downlow is eagerly anticipated by those who’ve previewed it: I’ve completed one novel and now have a few that remain works in progress. I started writing short while waiting for edits to my novel. Writing short stories was a nice way to hone my craft without tackling another novel. I just didn’t feel ready to write another one at that point. Now short stories have taken over my writing life! But I plan to finish one of my WIPs this year. That’s my goal.

 

Claire Booth is called “a wonderful storyteller … at the top of her game” by Booklist. The latest in her Sheriff Hank Worth mystery series, Hidden Currents, was published Sept. 1: I am very much more of a novel writer than a short story writer. When I began writing fiction, I started with novels, not short stories. That has led to two things for me. First, I feel more comfortable with the longer format. And second, it’s dictated the trajectory of my career—I have contract deadlines for novels, so adding submission deadlines for short stories is not something I do very often. I know there are people who do both, and they amaze me with their multi-tasking ability!

 

Julia Dahl is a journalist, professor and novelist. Her highly praised crime novels include I Dreamed of Falling and The Missing Hours. Her first novel, Invisible City, won the Barry, Shamus and Macavity awards and was a finalist for the Edgar for Best First Novel: In 1997, I took a mental health leave from Yale after my sophomore year and came home to Fresno to get some treatment. While there, I enrolled in a creative writing class at Fresno State and my professor there changed my life: Steve Yarbrough. I wrote a short story in that class called Interstate – it was about a waitress in a diner in the California desert and the local man who wants to marry her. Steve sang its praises and told me I should “send it out.” I did. In manila envelopes to…(lol): The Paris Review, The New Yorker, Granta, etc. It goes without saying that none of these places wanted to publish it. But his encouragement made me think: maybe I can do this. Maybe I can be “a writer.” Back at Yale, I took a short story class and the story I write in that class won a prize and got published in the Yale Literary Magazine. More encouragement. I wrote one more short story after graduating, but switched my focus to my paying work (!), which was journalism. In 2002, I enrolled in an MFA program at the New School, and while home visiting my parents had coffee with Steve. He advised me to write a novel. He said, basically, the industry wants novels, and this is your chance to see if you can do it. I took his advice seriously, and over the next two years wrote a novel. Perhaps not surprisingly, it wasn’t terribly good. I couldn’t find an agent. I wrote half of another but put it aside when I went back to grad school for journalism – which was the writing career that actually paid!

What feels like more of an accomplishment, a finely honed short story or an ambitious novel? What do you think the public believes is more of an accomplishment?

 

Casey Stegman: Definitely a book. It feels so impossible at the start and then especially at the middle. There’s no greater feeling for me than getting through that first draft. I’ve only done it twice, but it’s unparalleled. Despite all the changes needed and the rewrites ahead—even the question of whether or not it’s good—it feels like completing a marathon and climbing a mountain combined.

 

Lawrence Allan: I think if a writer finishes anything and gets it published, that is a tremendous accomplishment. Most people don’t finish and even less do the work to get it in front of an audience. While I think the public believes a novel is more of an accomplishment — look at how many words you wrote! — I think they are looking at the forest and not the tree. The point of writing is to create something that touches another human being. A short story or a novel can do both. A short story can cut as deeply as a novel, just like a 3-minute rock song can move an audience as much as a Beethoven’s Ode to Joy. From my perspective, the writing of them is very different. One comes in a flash of inspiration and is written quickly while the other is an act of endurance — with, no doubt, flashes of inspiration along the way. Now, of course, I might be looking at writing short stories with rose tinted glasses and for some of the great short story writers’ stories aren’t written quickly and they are acts of endurance. But then I also think great short stories are magic — how can they be so impactful in such a short span of time?

 

Carlotta Dale: Oh my goodness, they’re such different experiences. Just as writing a flash piece is different from a 5,000-word short. I enjoy the expansiveness of writing novels, the depth of characterization you can achieve, the details of time, place, relationships. But I also enjoy the brevity of short stories, making every word count. The public, though… Unless you have a story published by The New Yorker, definitely novels.

 

Emily Edwards: If the public at large is even aware that short stories still get published outside of maybe The New Yorker, I’d be surprised. I don’t think this is the public’s fault; I put that on the shoulders of publications like Playboy, Redbook and Esquire for ignoring fiction. I have often wondered why, since print is all but dead, these historical publications no longer seem to put short fiction to pixel. Though I don’t think most laypeople think of writing a book as much of an accomplishment anymore, either, unless your book gets turned into a TV show or movie. When short fiction more readily becomes movies, maybe then people will care about short fiction more.

 

Meghan Leigh Paulk: I believe novels are more widely read by the general public, and the work involved in crafting a 300-page story impresses people, but short stories can pack a memorable punch. I still remember reading Ray Bradbury’s All Summer in a Day and The Veldt in fourth grade. A well-told short story lingers.

 

Claire Booth: I think an ambitious novel and a finely honed short story are equal accomplishments—they just sometimes showcase different skills. It’s not easy to write short (as a former journalist, I know this very well). Fiction writers who can do that while still telling a story, presenting fully rounded characters, and maybe even throwing in a twist—that is some serious skill. And so, of course, is producing eighty thousand words full of plot development, character arcs and proper pacing. There’s all sorts of overlap, of course, and I think that’s why people are able to do both. In the mystery community, I’d say people definitely respect and advocate for short stories, right alongside novels. And both writers and readers are better for it.

Why do you write short stories? Because they’re good quick hits that can be very satisfying, especially when you’re being disciplined enough to write to a length as in a call for submissions?

 

Casey Stegman: I’ve always loved short stories, especially ever since I read Stephen King’s Night Shift as a teenager. The form is so unique in terms of prose. You only have so much room, and so what you leave out becomes just as important as what you put in—sometimes more so. The quick writing (compared to novels) is secondary for me compared to the satisfaction of having rendered a complete tale with complex characters in as few words as possible.

 

Lawrence Allan: Because most of the time I’m thinking about a novel or writing a novel, I only end up writing a short story if I’m asked to contribute to an anthology. I feel like my brain is always working on solving a narrative problem for a book so my brain isn’t as open to a short story idea. And I do enjoy writing short stories. I especially love a themed anthology as it gives me a prompt to bounce off of. And I look at them as an opportunity to challenge myself. You gotta get the story going quickly and wrap it up efficiently and satisfactorily in a word count. It’s like going from writing books to writing a haiku. And I do want to write more short stories. Especially in the world of my Jimmy Cooper books. I love writing them and I think not every story involving Jimmy needs to be 70,000 words. And also, in a sort of business side of thing, I would love to have some cookies to offer subscribers to my newsletter. (And then when I had enough, I could have a short story collection of mystery stories, and that feels pretty cool.)

 

Carlotta Dale: Ha! I’m the one whose short story clocks in at 999 words if there’s a 1,000-word limit. The thing I enjoy most about online literary magazines is the feedback, either at the site itself or on social media. Getting published in an anthology is lovely, to see your name and story in an actual book, but feedback is going to be skimpy. And the feedback is invaluable.

 

Emily Edwards: I’m lucky to have been “trained” on shorter pieces; thanks to my time in radio I (hopefully) can create a hook and expand it to 1,000-10,000 words pretty easily. I think a proper whodunit with investigation is a very difficult thing to do in that limited of a word count, but certainly expanding my genre past mystery to the more encompassing umbrella of crime fiction expands that possibility quite a bit.

 

Meghan Leigh Paulk: I attended a Junior Great Books class at the local library when I was a kid. All we read were short stories by the greats like Ray Bradbury, Joseph Conrad, Carson McCullers, etc. So, initially I was much too intimidated to write a short story. Then I saw a panel of short story writers at Bouchercon in the early 2020s, and I got inspired. Now I love writing short stories, and drafting up a story in response to a flash fic prompt helps keep the creative juices flowing.

Why do you write novels? Because of the prestige associated with writing a novel? Because novel length allows you to fully explore ideas, characters and stories?

 

Casey Stegman: My first love as a young reader were books. I started reading novels at an early age and they’ve always been something I have aspired to write. While I enjoy the preciseness of short stories, I really love the depth that a novel provides. Especially when it comes to characters. That’s not to say there’s no preciseness in a novel. For thrillers and horror novels (which is what I write), each chapter has to be very focused and I start to get antsy when a chapter goes over 2000 words. 

 

Carlotta Dale: Novels are only prestigious if you can get them published, something I haven’t managed yet–at least not a full-length novel. And there’s a certain prejudice against self-publishing and some small, indie presses. Novels are only worth the time (oh my God, the time) if you like writing them. Which I do. You can really live those characters in a novel-length work.

 

Emily Edwards: I wanted to see if I could, first and foremost. It’s an interesting challenge after having gone through a collegiate writing program that put focus on short story writing, simply because the time constraints of the workshop mechanisms of most collegiate writing programs won’t work with 50k-plus word stories. Now that I have done it a few times, it’s a place where I’m more comfortable. And, let’s be honest, even though novel writing takes more time and more work, traditional novel publishing still pays well the hell better than short fiction does. 

 

Meghan Leigh Paulk: I always wanted to write a novel. Even as a kid, I filled blank books with mystery and adventure stories. I do like that novel-length writing allows more space for character development and various plot lines. I’m looking forward to getting back into my WIP this fall. I want to fulfill that childhood dream of seeing someone reading my published book someday!

Do you find that writing to one length limits the time you spend writing in the other form – in other words, if you’re a prodigious writer of shorts, does that limit your time writing at book length, and vice versa?

 

Casey Stegman: My productivity with short stories has definitely taken a nosedive since focusing more on longer works. I think a lot of this is due to how I approach novels. I want to be all-in on a single project at a time. I can’t easily switch from a novel to a short story when both are in progress. I will do this sometimes, but it’s not my preferred method. 

 

Carlotta Dale: No, not for me. I can generally turn out a short story pretty quickly. On the five novels I’ve written, I’m in editing mode, so it’s a good tradeoff between creative work and editing. (Not to say editing can’t be creative–it can–but in a different way.)

 

Meghan Leigh Paulk: II need to fit my writing around my day job, and that’s been easier when I focus on short stories. When I use my free hours to write short fiction, that does limit my time to tackle a novel. Wish I had more hours in the day!

Has the balance of your work shifted over the years from short stories to novels or vice versa? If so, why?

 

Casey Stegman: When I started out, I saw short fiction as a way not only to begin building a publication record, but also for honing my craft. I think Stephen King (or maybe it was Ray Bradbury) said that it’s much easier to experiment and learn your skills as a writer with a 2000-word story than it is with a whole novel. I always hoped that my focus would eventually shift to novels—without leaving short fiction totally behind. Thankfully that’s been the case. Still, I love writing short fiction and that is never going to wane. Even as my focus shifts. 

 

Carlotta Dale: From novels to short stories, definitely. I’m not sure why. It might be as simple as getting tired of rejections when submitting to prospective agents. But sometimes, I’ll get a short story idea or see a prompt–and the story just wants to bust on through. Those are good days.

 

Meghan Leigh Paulk: The balance of my work has definitely shifted to short stories during the past three years.

Do you hope to focus in the future on short stories or novels or both?

 

Casey Stegman: In an ideal world, I’d love to get to a place where I have a book a year and two short stories published in that same time. That may be a lofty goal, but it’s one I’m shooting for. 

 

Lawrence Allan: My biggest hope for myself as a writer is that I become more disciplined. I am as distractible as a puppy sometimes.

 

Carlotta Dale: Que sera, sera. I don’t mind which way the cat jumps, as long as I can go on writing.

 

Emily Edwards: I would like to achieve a certain number of goals in the short fiction space– similar to the way that I just wanted to see if I could write a book, I would like to set attainable goals for myself in the short fiction sphere. Certain outlets, etc., are goals of mine and with enough work at tone and structure, those feel very attainable. And more attainable than the lofty goal of “Write a NYT Best-Seller” or other goals that a lot of us hold but don’t talk about.

 

Meghan Leigh Paulk: My goal is to get back into finishing another novel this fall. I don’t think I’ll ever quit short story writing. I still have goals in that arena. But I’ll probably table my short story writing for a few months, at least.

 

Julia Dahl: I almost exclusively read novels, and I’ve been privileged enough to publish novels. So I’m sticking with that. For whatever reason, I think in novels. I suppose if I tried to think differently, I might be able to. But so far, I’ve stayed focused on novels.

 

Is the most important – or the most cherished – project you’re working on right at this moment a short story or a novel?

 

Casey Stegman: Definitely a novel, since it’s my debut. I’m currently in the final stages of editing it. That said, I am also finishing a short story that I’ve been wanting to write for several years. So I guess my answer is both. 

 

Lawrence Allan: Right now I’m working on a novel and that’s stretching me as a writer. But, this year I’ll have two short stories coming out in anthologies, one of which I edited, which was an honor to do.

 

Carlotta Dale: Technically, it’s a novella: They Still Come Honest, a 1950s private eye tale. With ghosts. I’m calling the genre Twilight Zone Noir. (Thank you to someone on Twitter.) 

 

Emily Edwards: I have one short story idea bopping around in my head, but several novel concepts. So, though I try not to be too precious about any of my ideas, novels are my focus still.

 

Meghan Leigh Paulk: Right now, I’m editing a short story that I love so that’s my focus. I want to hit it out of the park. After that’s done, I’m pulling up one of my favorite WIPs and finishing it.

 

A bonus question: Are there particular short story markets that you really like or would like to crack? Of course there are anthologies and there are magazines like Ellery Queen and there are lots of online sites. Do you have particular preferences or goals or favorite associations with any of those?

 

Casey Stegman: Maybe this is going to sound unoriginal or trite or whatever, but I want to have a story published in The New Yorker, especially as a genre writer. I remember reading an Elmore Leonard story in The New Yorker and being so happy and surprised. It’s been my goal ever since. Although, I have not submitted anything to them. Yet.

 

Carlotta Dale: No, not really. I’m always on the lookout for online sites that present stories aesthetically, and ones with strong reaches/readership. I don’t typically submit to print anthologies–I’m convinced hardly anyone reads them beyond the contributors, unless the line-up contains some Big Names. I’m particularly grateful to Punk Noir, who accepted the first story I ever had published. (It’s also the first chapter of my current WIP novella.) They’ve published another three since. I’m also very fond of Literary Garage, who’ve also run four of my stories, including two of my personal favorites. But I’ve been happy with all of ’em, although I dislike when they do story dumps–publish a bunch on the same day. But them’s the breaks, right?

 

Emily Edwards: Oh, the dream to be published in Ellery Queen! I think we all have classic outlets that are totemic to us, and that is high on my list. I hope that one day I’ll nail that sleuthy voice and get added to the pantheon of writers who have a byline with them.

 

Meghan Leigh Paulk: I’d love to get a story accepted by Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. I’ve gotten a few stories rejected there that I subsequently sold elsewhere. So, I’m still hoping it will happen for me!

 

Julia Dahl: In 2007, I started writing what became my first published novel: Invisible City. It was published in 2014. I’ve written and published four more since. In that time, I’ve written a single short story. Believe it or not, I was approached by a Company That Shall Not Be Named and asked to write something with a prompt – and they gave me a not very small sum of money! I liked the story, but the anthology they were producing never happened. I recently gave that story to a fellow author and I’m excited that it will come out in an anthology this fall. I’m toying with the idea of using it as the genesis of my next novel.