In Author DeskLauren Groff is best known for her sweeping, ambitious novels. But with her newest short story collection, she returns to what she secretly calls her favorite form—and the result is intimate, urgent, and deeply human.
In this conversation, Groff opens up about writing longhand drafts, living with story ideas for years, worrying about her characters long after they’re finished, and running an independent bookstore in politically turbulent Florida.
Here’s a closer look at the mind behind the stories.
Returning to Short Stories Feels Like Coming Home
In her new collection, Brawler by Lauren Groff, readers meet a wide range of characters bound together by suffering and resilience. There’s a family escaping domestic violence before sunrise. A teenage diver trying to understand her mother’s pain. A renter scanning files about children in crisis while slowly getting to know his landlady.
Each character feels fully alive, with a rich inner world. And yet, together, they form a larger tapestry of shared human struggle.
Groff, who previously wrote the novels Arcadia by Lauren Groff, Fates and Furies by Lauren Groff, and Matrix by Lauren Groff, says short fiction is actually her first love.
She began as a poet. And in many ways, writing short stories still feels closer to poetry than prose.
Short stories, she explains, are a harder sell in the publishing world. But creatively, they offer something she deeply values: compression, intensity, and emotional precision.
Instead of feeling anxious about how the book will be received, she’s trying to savor this moment. After all, this is the genre she loves most.
How Writing a Short Story Is Completely Different From Writing a Novel
Novels Begin as Knots
For Groff, novels start as something tangled and persistent—a “gnarly, wriggling knot” that won’t let her go. When an idea for a novel takes hold, she knows she’ll be living with it for years. Sometimes five.
A novel demands long-term commitment. It requires patience, endurance, and a willingness to sit with confusion until clarity slowly emerges.
Short Stories Simmer for Years
Short stories, on the other hand, move differently.
Groff often carries story ideas in the back of her mind for a very long time. Sometimes she pulls them out, tries to write them, and fails. Then she puts them away again.
The opening story in Brawler, “The Wind,” didn’t work for years. She kept returning to it, only to set it aside again.
But when a story finally clicks, it becomes urgent. Something in the outside world collides with that long-held idea. Suddenly, she feels she must write it—and often drafts the entire first version in one intense sitting.
It’s not a steady, daily process. It’s more like pressure building quietly until it bursts.
The Writers Who Shaped This Collection
Groff sees literature as one long conversation across time. Every story she writes is, in some way, in dialogue with writers she admires.
For one story in the collection, she was deeply immersed in the work of Flannery O’Connor. Having recently written an introduction for O’Connor’s short fiction, Groff found herself steeped in that Southern Gothic world—sharp, unsettling, morally complex.
Another story reflects her reading of Mavis Gallant, whose subtle psychological insight and emotional restraint left a mark.
Her longtime influences also include Joy Williams, Lorrie Moore, and Toni Cade Bambara, whose contemporary short fiction she encountered early in her reading life.
But not every story is consciously inspired by someone else. “The Wind,” for example, felt more personal and almost like a thriller. That one emerged from her own internal conversations rather than direct literary homage.
For Groff, influence isn’t imitation. It’s participation in something bigger—a shared artistic tradition.
Do Her Characters Stay With Her?
You might expect that writing such emotionally intense stories would mean carrying those characters around long after finishing them.
Groff describes the process differently.
Writing a story feels like an exorcism. The characters come out of her and take shape on the page. Once the story is complete, they belong to themselves.
That said, one character still troubles her: Chip, from “What’s the Time, Mr. Wolf?” She worries about him. She isn’t sure where he ended up, and she fears the darkness he may have fallen into.
But overall, finishing a story brings a kind of liberation. The characters exist independently. She no longer needs to carry them in the same way.
Why She Writes Every First Draft by Hand
Groff’s writing process is shaped by something deeply personal: OCD.
When she works on a computer, she finds herself stuck. She can’t move beyond half a sentence without endlessly revising it. The screen invites perfectionism.
So she writes her early drafts longhand.
Many drafts.
Writing by hand allows her to move forward without obsessing over each line. It helps her discover the story instead of controlling it too tightly. She describes it as writing into the world of the story, letting it rise naturally rather than imposing a rigid structure.
Interestingly, she doesn’t reread those early drafts right away. Instead, she pays attention to what lingers in her memory during the gap between drafts. The parts she remembers—the lines or images that stay alive in her mind—are the ones that deserve to remain.
Anything forgotten likely wasn’t essential.
It’s a process that relies on instinct and trust.
Running an Independent Bookstore in Florida
Beyond writing, Groff has taken on another major role: bookstore owner.
She co-founded The Lynx in Gainesville, Florida. The Lynx – Gainesville is more than a retail space. It’s a community project with two arms: a for-profit bookstore and a nonprofit organization.
Groff laughs when she calls a for-profit bookstore almost an oxymoron. Independent bookstores are notoriously challenging businesses. But for her, profit was never the sole purpose.
The goal was community.
Books as Resistance
Florida’s political climate plays a major role in the bookstore’s mission. Under Governor Ron DeSantis, the state has seen a surge in book bans and educational restrictions.
Groff doesn’t shy away from describing the situation as authoritarian. In response, The Lynx works to ensure that essential ideas and marginalized voices are still heard.
The nonprofit arm partners with organizations across Florida to get banned books into the hands of readers who need them most.
It’s not just about selling books. It’s about access.
Balancing Writing and Business
Running a bookstore could easily consume every hour of her day. Groff admits she could work 18-hour days if she allowed herself to.
Instead, she hired three managers to handle daily operations. She spends about two hours a day on bills, planning, and strategy.
It’s a balancing act—writer, business owner, community organizer.
But for Groff, the work feels meaningful.
Why Brawler Matters Now
At its core, Brawler is about suffering—and the private strength people carry through it.
Each story explores interiority. Characters may appear ordinary from the outside, but inside they’re navigating fear, shame, grief, and longing.
Groff doesn’t offer easy resolutions. Instead, she offers attention. She looks closely at her characters and invites readers to do the same.
In a time when distraction is constant and outrage is loud, there’s something radical about that kind of careful witnessing.
Short stories demand focus. They ask readers to sit with complexity without the sprawl of a novel. And perhaps that’s why Groff loves them.
They’re small in size, but vast in emotional reach.
And if Brawler is any indication, readers may start hoping she returns to short fiction more often.
