With submissions for our annual Fiction Edition closing in less than a week, we asked our esteemed judges Claire Cao, Ben Hickey and Danielle Binks for some words of wisdom. Find submission details here.
What do you think it is about short fiction that makes it so impactful?
Claire Cao: It’s difficult for me to describe but there’s something very exacting and magical about the alchemy of a short story: you can’t really live alongside the characters like in a novel, but it’s (generally) longer and more involved than a poem. In these limiting confines, the conceptual side can really shine – everyone is trying to pack a punch in a short space, which gives life to surprising stylistic experimentation. A good short story feels both complete and leaves you wanting more – which is a difficult balance to strike! To me the form is really about the search for perfection.
Ben Hickey: Short fiction is a concentrated dose of another imagination. If a novel is a journey to a different world, a great short story is a kind of teleporter. I think we’re all in a constant battle to fully remember that every other human is as real and whole as we are. Although we know that in theory, we habitually lose sight of it. Great writing can remind us of the miracle of other lives. And with studies showing that our attention spans are shrinking and that a lot of us are reading fewer novels, I think short fiction is becoming more vital and precious than ever.
Danielle Binks: It’s that economy of words, economy of story and language – you’ve got to make an impact, and quickly! It’s pulling out every trick that novelists have, but double-time for emotional impact. It almost feels like short-story writers are the literary equivalent of Ginger Rogers, doing everything backwards and in heels compared to the Fred Astaire novelists.
What helps a short story stand out? What might you be looking for when you’re reading submissions?
CC: No matter what the idea – I’m unsure whether any idea can be truly original – what makes me sit up is a very confident and well-realised voice. A narrative voice that doesn’t deal in cliches, that has powerful control over the structure and characters, where the story feels rich with layered ideas.
BH: The stories that stand out are the ones that surprise me: they shock, they delight, they cut, they heal, they linger. Each is a microcosm of a universe. I’m looking for original prose, realistic character voices, sound internal logic, action, movement and an infectious curiosity. I love stories that have currents and contradictions under the surface, where every word is deliberate. But the most important thing is proximity to truth. What do you want to say to people, actually? Sometimes it’s really simple.
DB: Voice, voice, voice. I think voice really helps carry a short-story more, when you don’t have the arc-structure of a novel to rely on we – the reader – have so much more intimacy with, and attention riding on the voice of a short-story narrator. So really think about how you can work double-time to reveal character background and theme, and do some short-cuts to ambience through voice alone. I think of Raymond Carver’s sparse, minimalist style that so suited the morally-bleak and questionable stories he was telling, or the way Shirley Jackson could whip the rug out from under you by keeping a scene saccharine and seemingly “normal” until the tempo and dialogue of a character changes (as in short-stories, ‘The Witch’, or ‘The Lottery’). Or how ‘Sticks’ by George Saunders is such a short shrift, to mirror the moral. Really think about playing with voice and how it can work double-time in the story itself.
Are there any common themes or threads amongst the submissions you’ve read so far? What are you hoping might come through?
CC: As is the case with every year, there are many stories about time travel, people returning to their former homes or writers struggling to write. Don’t be put off if you want to write this kind of story! Just make sure it’s being presented in a fresh way. In terms of larger themes, there’s a threat of climate anxiety and uncertainty about the modern world, which feels really relevant.
BH: I’m noticing interesting, diverse settings and a current of defiance against injustice and fear. But what really strikes me is the passion and thought that’s gone into all of the pieces I’ve read so far. It astonishes me that people are out there creating these bright little jewels – or dark stones, with immense and potent weight – and that I get to hold them for a moment. I feel very grateful and excited.
DB: They’re all quite different … I’m hoping to see a few more speculative/science-fiction submissions, which I love because I think Australians have a particularly unique perspective to offer that genre given our proximity to climate catastrophe, and our isolation in the world in so many other ways, that can feel a little Mars-like. Especially when you read a collection like ‘This All Come Back Now : An Anthology of First Nations Speculative Fiction‘ edited by Mikaela Saunders, you realise we should be stepping into this space more and more.
It can be a little daunting, putting yourself and your work out there. What advice do you have for writers thinking about submitting their work?
CC: I’d encourage them to push past the fear of rejection and go for it – keep submitting until the fear lessens. Every writer I know has a huge backlog of rejections, including me, they don’t scare me anymore! There are so many reasons why a piece gets rejected, and oftentimes there are rejected pieces that some judges absolutely love. Beyond that, I think the more important relationship is between a writer and their own work – I think they should keep reading widely, fine-tune their style, and invite people they trust to read their work. Having your work read regularly (either by external judges or people you know) will make the whole process less daunting each time.
BH: Just do it! Then do it again. I find it terrifying to put my work out there. A part of me imagines the people who’ll read my submissions as these faceless, pitiless gatekeepers, possibly with gavels and robes, permanently adjudicating on my future as a writer and the calibre of my soul. Being on the other side of the fence (or the bench) I can’t stress how much it’s not like that at all. I’ve encountered so many stories that I really like, or am even in love with, that are one draft away from perfection, or destined for a different home. And that’s the worse-case scenario. You’ve literally got nothing to lose. So put your work out, then put it out there again and please, please, please keep writing – we all need it, and you.
DB: The worst you’ll get is silence, right? That can be tough in itself, but it’s the place that all work starts – in the quiet parts of ourselves when we give our imagination room to breathe. So you put yourself out there and get nothing back, so what? As artists; we welcome the void and the peace to create. If you get nothing back, take that and make more again. And again, and again. Just beginning, and throwing yourself into the possibility of nothingness is incredibly brave and a pretty good sign that you’re made for this industry – the silence doesn’t scare you, it emboldens you and invites you back to begin again.
Find details on how to submit a story for the 2025 Fiction Edition here.
Meet the 2025 Fiction Edition judges:
Danielle Binks
Danielle Binks is a Melbourne-based author and literary agent with Jacinta di Mase Management. She also teaches creative writing at RMIT University.
Claire Cao
Claire Cao is a writer and editor based in Western Sydney. She is the currently film editor of The Big Issue and fiction editor of Meanjin.
Ben Hickey
Ben Hickey is a writer, editor and teacher whose short fiction has won multiple awards. Ben lives in Naarm/Melbourne and teaches at RMIT.