In this conversation with the Wall Street Journal (mostly about the upcoming movie based on his novel The Road*), Cormac McCarthy says, “I’m not interested in writing short stories. Anything that doesn’t take years of your life and drive you to suicide hardly seems worth doing.”
I don’t know about you, but I read that part and immediately thought about all of the short stories I’ve worked on over years of my life, and by which I have been driven to (if not suicide) maddened distraction. And then I thought, Yeesh. McCarthy, you don’t know nothing about short stories.
The Road is a fine, fine book, though. I’m not sure I want to see the movie because I fear that all of the greatness of the book might be invisible to film as a medium.
*But he also talks about being the 76-year-old-father of an 11-year-old son, which made me think that he should be reading Marilynne Robinson’s Gilead, if he hasn’t already.