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One of the good things that has come about from almost three years of increasingly severe insomnia:

I have fallen back in love with short fiction. My uncle gave me The Way of the Wizard for Christmas and I've probably devoured two thirds of it by now. And then my mom got me Small Jobs, the collection of Dresden Files shorts for my birthday (which I was not expecting, it's still only in hardcover). I hadn't read that many short stories outside of writing classes since high school. And having to go through 7 flash fiction rough drafts a week for a few semesters will definitely turn you off the form for a little while.

But right now, 30-60 pages is about right, and I'd forgotten how much you could say in that space. Besides, short story collections tend to introduce me to writers whose novels belong on my to-read list, especially urban fantasy, since I love the genre but I'm shy of trying new writers in it, because of the cross-over with horror, which doesn't interest me unless it's gothic, and the high instance of scantily clad women on the covers, which also don't interest me.

So yeah, short stories are win-win.