Sahar Mustafah (SM): I suppose it more truly reflects the human experience...our daily lives are made up of these episodes that don't necessarily contribute to a larger meaning of our existence, but on that day, in those hours, something truly profound has occurred because it has moved us somehow. I think we sometimes take those experiences for granted. A good short story invites us to experience it within this critically contained space and time.

And though it surely is not an easy form, it is most instantly gratifying to me as a writer. I can see through a beginning, middle, and end more easily.

SM: Absolutely. I've always loved memoirs—well-written ones!—that read like actual stories. I've never minded embellishments so long as the truth is preserved. Dorothy Allison speaks to that in "Two or Three Things I Know For Sure."

SM: I gleaned a lot about craft from Bonnie Jo Campbell, Richard Price, Eugene Cross, and Italo Calvino.

As for other authors, I have a boundless affinity and deep admiration for Jhumpa Lahiri's short fiction collections which, in my view, are unrivaled by her novels. Almost a decade ago, she was significant in revealing how underrepresented minority women writers are and that my voice as a Palestinian American writer is relevant. She also taught me that regardless of gender and race, I still need to be a good writer. I am also a huge fan of Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Junot Diaz, Ha Jin, Laila Lalami, and Hanan Al Shaykh.

SM: That would be an incredible collaboration! That's how my featured story "Torn" came to be. I was commissioned to write a piece based on a photography exhibit at the Museum of Contemporary Photography last summer. I deliberately worked without background information on the photographer or his subject matter. It was an invaluable experience in terms of the visual event becoming a story. It was solely my interpretation and speculation beyond the frames of the photographs; of course, some elements were obvious, yet I created a life around the individual in the photos. I suppose this is what happens more often than I realize: I glimpse objects, people, places etc. and am inspired to write.

To actual see one of my stories in film would be remarkable. It would be interesting to see what kinds of choices a director/screenwriter makes with my work. I tend to be less critical nowadays of books-turned-film because I've come to appreciate the medium of film on its own merits. It's like the reverse experience I described above—a director/screenwriter reads a story or novel then is inspired to produce a film; a writer sees/hears something then is inspired to compose a story or novel.

SM: I think the marketplace is very amenable to showcasing the short story and perpetuating its necessity. Certainly, digital media has its limitations. Physically sharing a story is a gesture of our humanity, as corny as that sounds. I still very much enjoy receiving print journals of short fiction and particularly One Story, which mails a single story every several weeks. It's the best gift; I pass my copies along to peers and friends when I'm finished reading them. However, as budgets are very tight or non-existent (as it is with Bird's Thumb) the short story can still find its way through digital media. I'm not sure why there is an argument for or against—it's ultimately a matter of resources.

SM: Literary magazines and online journals are proof of that culture. They are still thriving; more evidence is in the creation of Flyleaf and my online journal Bird's Thumb!

There will always be an audience of readers who appreciate the short story as much as there will always be an audience who appreciates longer works. I think publishers don't always have faith in short fiction collections, but, in my view, it's a complete disregard and oversight of what readers enjoy. Just look at one of the finalists for the 2013 National Book Award—George Saunders for his short story collection "Tenth of December."

I think there's a culture of sharing stories in general, particularly in an oral/audio setting. Story-collectives like This American Life, 2nd Story Chicago and the Moth Radio Hour have revealed the power of our personal narratives. These are mostly "real" stories, but they include literary elements of the short story to make them accessible and universal.

It would be wonderful for more venues to celebrate short fiction pieces beyond the typical author speaking engagements. In Chicago, programs like "Two-Cookie Minimum" and "Reading Under the Influence" are forging an oral culture of short stories.