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Short forms

You know what I miss? Novellas. Or, what we now think of as novellas. I used to own stacks of books than ran 150-200 pages long. They were serials, like the Travis McGee novels I still have locked away in my storage unit, or classics like The Scarlet Pimpernel and it’s many sequels.

Recently, only a very few writers are permitted the novella form. I think the last one I saw as a standalone was Patricia McKillip’s “The Changeling Sea” back in the late 80’s.

They still exist, but usually in that odd flip-flop format, you know where they print one novella by a famous name author in the front half of the book, then you flip the book OVER and rotate it and voila! There is a completely different novella on the back.

But now, with the ebook coming to the fore, I’m wondering if page-count will be less important. I mean, open a half a dozen books in your average Barnes and Noble and you will find different typesetting, different formatting, a different number of words per page, just so that the book can hit a satisfying weight and feel in the hand. Sometimes you run across a book (looking at YOU, “Monuments Men” where the type is small and crowded, or you run into a book (A few recent Patterson novels have this) where the font is large and the kerning stretched as far as you can take it before the words start to fall apart.

But without the page count, without the need to make a reader feel like they are getting $8 work of paper and ink, what counts is a satisfying story. What counts is that, at the end of the work, the reader feels they paid just the right amount (or maybe even that they got a bargain).

A couple of publishers are starting to take advantage of this new opportunity. Tor, for example, publishes exclusive shorts from it’s bestselling authors. Some are short stories, some are novellas, all are works too short to fit into the trade paperback format, but all are works equally worthy of sale.

Shared Pain and Flappy Bird

You’ve all played Flappy Bird by now, right?

Even any number of the eighty bajzillion clones out there can give you a similarly frustrating experience, so grab one and give it a try.

I’m serious.

Why?  Here’s the thing,  The Flappy Bird phenomenon was never about  the game itself.  It was/is an unbelievably difficult game to master.  7/10 times you die.  In fact, the top scores for this game, where you try to fly a gravitationally-challenged bird through a series of obstacles are probably in the mid-50’s.

Flappy Bird’s popularity is about a point of commonality between two people.

Have you ever put a group of people together from wildly different professions?  It’s hard to get the conversations rolling, right?  You have to chat and question and eventually find something people have in common.  Getting your *ss kicked by Flappy Bird, that’s a point from which you can start a conversation with almost anybody.  Even if you haven’t played it, you’ve heard of it, and if you have it on your device of choice, you are usually willing to drag somebody new into the Flappy Bird fold.

It’s a silly little game, but you know, we *all* suck at Flappy Bird.  And that gives us something to talk about.