Scratch Books Publishing Masterclasses
with Tom Conaghan
The Art of the Short Story
At Indie Novella, we are passionate about the vital role that independent and small press publishers play in shaping the literary landscape. These publishers are at the forefront of championing bold, diverse voices and innovative storytelling. That's why we are thrilled to feature Tom Conaghan, founder of Scratch Books, in this exciting conversation about the art of short stories and independent publishing.
For those unfamiliar with Tom, he is an influential figure in the world of short fiction, having founded Scratch Books, a publisher dedicated to elevating the short story form and providing a platform for emerging and established writers alike. Tom’s approach to publishing is hands-on, carefully curating and collaborating with authors to produce collections that stand out for their creativity and quality. His background as an editor, combined with his deep passion for discovering new voices, has made Scratch Books a key player in the UK’s independent publishing scene.
Tom’s editorial process is meticulous, ensuring that each short story is polished to perfection through thoughtful collaboration with his writers. His commitment to nurturing exceptional writing is mirrored in initiatives like the Scratch Short Story Competition, where writers come together to share their work in a vibrant, supportive community. As a publisher, Tom embodies the spirit of independent publishing—taking risks, valuing artistry, and making space for the most compelling stories to shine. We are excited to share his insights and passion for the short story form with you.
Scratch Books originally came from my work with The Word Factory back in 2012. During lockdown, The Word Factory—a fantastic volunteer organization and a superb cheerleader for the short story—became a space where I collaborated with Kathy Galvin, who runs it. We were exploring ideas for expanding its reach, and I had the thought of doing interviews with authors, specifically focusing on a single short story. As I began putting these interviews together, it was John McGregor who suggested that this was a great resource. That's when I realized I could create a book from them, and that’s how I ended up learning about the publishing process.
As for short stories, I am a huge fan of the form. I love the energy and immediacy in the way they're written, and how a truly good short story resonates deeply. While a lesser writer might pluck a note on a guitar, a skilled short story writer strums a chord, creating a greater sense of depth and richness.
In comparison to novels, short stories provide a sense of freedom. While the novel often has a more defined structure, the short story offers freshness and breadth. A short story writer not only has the opportunity to create their own form, but also the responsibility to let their content shape the form. This contrasts with many novels, where the structure is often pre-determined, requiring the content to both innovate and adhere to the established format.
I've been writing short stories for a long time. As a younger man, I experimented with different forms, even attempting a novel. I got about four-fifths of the way through it before hitting a common novelist's dilemma. As you approach the falling action—the moment of crisis for your character—you often face your own crisis as a writer. I didn't finish the novel, and after that, I woke up one morning with a really great idea for a short story set in Bristol. I loved the exhilaration and sense of discovery in writing it, and I think I’ve been hooked ever since.
There’s something endlessly intriguing about the best short stories, especially those by masters of the form published in places like The New Yorker or Granta. There's something difficult to define about them, and I’ve been in pursuit of that ever since. I don't consider myself an expert; I'm more of a perennial student of the short story, always learning from the craft.
For people new to the short story, defining it is tricky. What's exciting about the form is that you don’t have to. A writer creates the best story they can, whether it ends up being 250,000 words or 4,000. The length isn’t something for the writer to worry about—that's for the publishing industry to decide. Publishers like Faber have been imaginative, releasing very short novels or long short stories and marketing them accordingly. The writer's job is to make the best marriage of content and form, and it's up to others to categorize it afterward.
What makes a good short story is hard to pin down because each writer sets the agenda for their own story. It's not for the editor to dictate. Personally, I find two ideas useful: the language should be exhilarating, and there should be a sense that the writer isn't plodding through each sentence but is instead dancing, leaping, and skimming over the story’s content. Short story readers are emotionally intelligent and bring their own ideas to the story, so the writer doesn’t need to hit every beat overtly.
I recently told a writer to stop making the sad scenes too sad. Readers know that a funeral will be sad, and it's up to the writer to add complexity and richness. Alongside exhilarating language, there should be richness and resonance. Can you make a tragic scene also humorous? Can you create characters that speak to multiple layers of emotion and meaning? Every word and sentence should contribute to the story, not mechanically, but in a way that beats with the same heart and adds depth to the whole.
The current scene for short story writing is always exciting. It’s hard to identify specific peaks or trends because the form is meritocratic—brilliant writing will always rise to the top. My job is to be there to catch it, particularly when it's at its most intense, as Emily Dickinson described it: the "white heat of inspiration." There are writers like Wendy Erskine, crafting superbly plotted stories, and others like Vanessa Onwuemezi, who are incredibly innovative. There's also a new generation exploring a dreamy, surreal quality, reminiscent of Julio Cortázar's work. It's hard to say where things are going, but this seam of surrealism is one I’ve been mining lately.
Reverse Engineering, my book, came about from interviews I conducted with writers. It's a collection of seven short stories, followed by interviews where the authors discuss how they wrote them, their inspirations, and the work they put into shaping the stories. Because the short story form is so difficult to define, I asked each author why their story felt complete and how they navigated through the process. It's been fascinating to hear how they think about craft.
As for what I’ve learned from the authors—honestly, all of them have been revelatory in different ways. In interviews, I’m often trying to grasp their much greater creative talent. Some, like Chris Power and Jessie Greengrass, spoke about craft with great insight, while others, like Tessa Hadley, discussed pure instinct and inspiration. That connects with what I’ve been exploring about Carl Jung and the unconscious, which I now believe plays a much larger, more formative role in creativity than we often realize. The unconscious, more than the subconscious, is where the real power lies.
I've been very fortunate with the writers I've worked with. They've created some superb stories that I’ve been thrilled to acquire, and they've been wonderfully responsive to my ideas. It's a collaborative process where we work together to shape the best version of the story. After the initial stage of bringing something unique into the world, it’s essential to shift gears and focus on making the story even better. It requires a willingness to be open to suggestions and to refine the work with external influences.
As for short story influences, Dennis Johnson has been a significant one for many modern writers. Wendy Erskine, in particular, is a fantastic short story writer whose collection Dance Move is a must-read—every word is essential, unlike Hemingway's overly sparse style. Ben Pester’s dreamy collection Am I in the Right Place is delightful, and C.L. Carrell’s The Unreliable Nature Writer is comic, dark, and beautifully varied.
When it comes to voice, I think it’s less about finding something new and more about peeling back layers of who we think we should be to discover who we truly are. George Saunders once said his early stories failed because he was trying to emulate Hemingway, while his true voice was much more comic and wry. The search for voice is about finding the best way to tell each story, and that, in turn, reveals your voice. Every story has its own way of being told, and your voice will shape what is noticed in the world you create. It’s about telling the story the best way you can, then listening to the voice that emerges and leaning into it.
If you're a novelist looking to transition into short stories, I'd say the biggest advantage is the shorter time commitment. Writing a novel can take years, and if it doesn't work out, that's a lot of time invested. A short story, on the other hand, may only take a month, so even if it doesn’t succeed, it's a valuable learning experience. This allows you to experiment and refine your craft without the long-term pressure of a novel. While I don’t want to suggest short stories are just a stepping stone to novels, they offer an efficient way to hone your creative skills.
As for characters in short stories, I think it's crucial that every character serves a purpose. What doesn’t work are characters that are too affable or frictionless. Every character should add nuance to the story, either by affecting the protagonist or contributing to the overall plot. If a character could be removed without affecting the story, they either need to be cut or their role expanded. An assured writer makes sure that each character brings complexity to the narrative, even if they have a small role—perhaps adding an unexpected twist or challenge. Every element in a short story should contribute to its depth.
At Scratch Books, we haven't opened submissions yet because I’ve wanted to maintain tight control over the books we publish. However, as we grow and build more connections, we’re planning to open submissions in a few months. Right now, I’ve been developing concepts like Reverse Engineering and The Poet and the Echo, then commissioning authors I admire. Some of these are published writers I reach through their agents, while others are writers I follow online. I’ve got my eye on many authors whose work I love, even if they don’t know it yet! So, if you're a writer interested in working with Scratch Books, keep me on your radar.
When I commission an author, I typically reach out through their agent, though sometimes I contact them directly. I pitch the idea, discuss fees, deadlines, and try to convey my enthusiasm for the project. So far, I’ve been really fortunate that incredible writers have been excited to collaborate with us. I’m also quietly talking to authors about future projects, and it’s been thrilling to have so many say yes.
The UK often doesn't get the recognition it deserves for its literary talent, so one of my goals is to broaden the audience for short stories. But another responsibility I take seriously is ensuring that every book we release is something I'm absolutely thrilled with. The editorial process is thorough and collaborative, with writers and I going back and forth on drafts, sometimes reaching six or more versions of a story. We break collections down story by story, refining them as much as possible. There's no set limit on how much we’ll improve a story until everyone is satisfied.
As for knowing when a collection is finished, it's a tricky balance. The practical answer is usually when we’re close to the publication date and have to stop revising. I also find that authors can get "story-blind" after looking at the same piece repeatedly, where they lose a sense of the work’s strengths or weaknesses. There’s an elastic limit to how much back and forth can happen between a writer and editor before it’s time to let the story go.
Writers like George Saunders often write quickly but spend considerable time reshaping their work in the editorial stage, incrementally improving it. This process is draining and requires a special mindset. Ultimately, as Yan Lianke suggests, it’s less about every word being perfect and more about handing the story to the reader when it feels alive and has a palpable heartbeat.
It's an exciting time to be a short story writer because the typical gatekeeping found in other forms of publishing, like literary agents, isn't as prominent in this space. The ecosystem is very meritocratic, with magazines actively seeking out high-quality writing. There’s a wide range of short story magazines, from smaller blogs to prestigious publications like Granta, The Atlantic, The New Yorker, and n+1. While it’s tough for an unagented writer to break into the very top magazines, there’s plenty of room in the middle tier, including well-regarded platforms like The Stinging Fly in Ireland. Writers are judged on their work's merit, so if you write a great story, you could land a significant magazine credit.
For aspiring short story writers, it’s essential to immerse yourself in this ecosystem by reading these magazines and getting familiar with other talented writers. Learn about publications like Gutter and Extra Teeth in Scotland, Lunate and Bandit Fiction in the UK, and Gorse in Ireland. Understanding the quality and style of work being published will help you see where your own writing fits in. Short story writing is not for the faint-hearted—it’s a craft pursued by some truly brilliant writers.
Regarding the Scratch Short Story Competition, it’s more than just a contest; it's a community event held twice a year where writers share their work. The competition is judged by a prominent author and a rising literary agent, leading to a longlist and shortlist that are published online. But the highlight is the live event where shortlisted writers share their stories, offering a dynamic and inspiring evening.
For general advice on short story writing, it’s crucial to read widely within the form. I recommend the New Yorker podcast for great examples of how diverse and difficult-to-define short stories can be. George Saunders’s A Swim in a Pond in the Rain is another excellent resource, as it offers deep insights into what makes a story work. Lastly, I recommend the Reverse Engineering books, which delve into short story mechanics with concrete examples from talented writers. These resources are invaluable for honing your craft.