When it comes to genre fiction, novel length is not an artistic choice. Why is this the case? Who decides how short is too short for a novel?
If memory is unreliable, is there really any difference between a novel and a memoir? The answer is more complicated than you might think.
You will say that I am mad—for who but a madman could devise so remarkable a species of vengeance, marked by such intricate dissimulation, such exquisite cunning?
This is one of the easiest: “On Monday, I sold 3/7 of my pears; on Tuesday, I sold 16 more than 1/2 of the remainder, and had 20 pears left. How many had I at first?”
Could I market this book as the shortest novel ever written? Maybe. Here’s how.
Why I’ve never included a dedication in any of my books … and why I might start doing it from now on.
Two books claim to have the answer. But the answer each one presents is very different from the other.
P.T. Barnum: king of ballyhoo, prince of humbugs, sultan of spin … giver of financial advice? As Barnum himself said, there’s a sucker born every minute.