Ah, the art of the short story. Read in one sitting. A snippet of life, with minimal backstory. Like eavesdropping on a stranger’s conversation. Condensed, climatic and often unruly. Throw out the rules, spin us around, and send us on our way.
I love shorts. I always have.
This year, as I dig deeper into writing, my goal has been to perfect the telling of a short story.
Lofty and unattainable? Yes.
I fully understand there’s no perfecting anything—including the chocolate chip cookie, which I’ve recently begun to tackle as well.
Did you know the perfect chocolate chip cookie requires two kinds of flour, two kinds of chocolate (we’re going for depth of flavor, folks), and a very specific window of time to mix your butter and sugar? Also, apparently—if you’re not using a stand mixer, you’re not even in the game.
Marry me.
But back to the written word— in true spreadsheet-loving fashion, I’ve been keeping track of my short story finds, and figured I’d share a few today.
And for those who prefer to listen? I included whatever audible versions I could find.
Enjoy!
Let’s start off with a bang. Joyce Carol Oats, a force of nature.
Her work—especially her shorts—carry that something’s not quite right feeling that I love, but also can’t wait to escape. It’s like holding your breath through a haunted house—or crossing a frozen lake (which, to be clear, I’ve never done—but the visual landed). Nothing explodes, but everything unravels in a dark, quiet—often violent, always uneasy—way.
She really throws down.
So, if Oates opens the door to the unsettling, then Poe drags you down the staircase and locks it behind you.
We’re going full Gothic now—macabre, obsessive. We’re talking candlelights, sconces, cobwebs, madness, and murder.
I loved Poe in college. He lived on my moody bookshelf between Sylvia Plath, Ibsen, Anne Sexton and Horace Walpole. I was in it at 20. But! I hadn’t picked him up since.
What I forgot (and still enjoy) is how visual his work is—how he lays it out on the page like a fever dream.
Here, we have the confession of a narrator stalking, killing, and dismembering his victim beneath the floorboards.
Which is nice.
Okay! With some levity! Please.
You know that question—if you could meet anyone, dead or alive? No hesitation: David Sedaris.
I found him on my mom’s bookshelf as a teenager and have been hooked ever since. He’s a master of the personal essay, and I love the way he sees the world.
It’s impossible to pick a favorite, but here are a few accessible ones online:
The Man Who Mistook His Hat for a Meal
And snippet from Company Job below…
Woody Allen has a Substack?
Look, has the guy made questionable life decisions? It skews toward yes.
Is he a hell of a comedic writer? I mean… what are you gonna do? Humans are complicated.
Here’s what I will say—and this might be a hot take, but I’m going there:
I don’t like his movies. I don’t! Especially the old ones.
Neurotic, spiraling men are grating. Honestly, anyone stuck in a constant existential crisis is kind of intolerable.
So, I say: skip the movies, pick up the shorts.
Without Feathers and Side Effects are my favorites. His stories are sharp, absurd, and genuinely hilarious.
Here’s a pdf to Without Feathers. No audible on this one.
Molly McConnell - Fitting
And finally, someone new. I don’t know a thing about her—but I liked what I read. I found her story on a site - Rabid Oak, which now seems defunct, but still hosts a list of well-crafted short stories.
Whew! We did it.
Happy Sunday!
Excellent!! I’ll make a list of the reads I haven’t touched yet. (Most of them). I love you forever more!!! ❤️❤️❤️