20 Short Books That Took a Long Time to Write

Night by Elie Wiesel

It’s almost unimaginable that a book as slim as Elie Wiesel’s “Night” could take a full decade to shape, but that’s exactly what happened. Wiesel began with a much longer Yiddish manuscript, wrestling for years with how to capture the horror and humanity of his Holocaust experience in a way that readers could bear to read. The process wasn’t just about editing words—it was about healing, remembering, and finding the courage to bear witness. The result, just over 120 pages, is a searing account that has haunted generations. Wiesel’s struggle to condense his trauma into something so small is a testament to the emotional weight behind every word. The final book is both concise and devastating, proof that sometimes the shortest stories take the longest to tell.

The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka

Franz Kafka might have drafted “The Metamorphosis” quickly, but he never felt finished with it. This strange, surreal tale of Gregor Samsa’s transformation into a giant bug is only about 55 pages long, yet Kafka tinkered and revised for years. His relentless edits reveal a mind obsessed with perfection and plagued by self-doubt. Even today, scholars debate what a “finished” Kafka work would look like, since he famously left instructions for some of his writing to be destroyed after his death. The existential dread and alienation pulsing through the story didn’t appear overnight, and the novella’s uneasy, unfinished quality is part of its lingering power.

The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway

Ernest Hemingway’s “The Old Man and the Sea” clocks in at just 127 pages, but the story spent years gestating in Hemingway’s mind. Hemingway himself said the idea for the novel brewed for decades, shaped by his love of fishing and his struggles as a writer. When he finally sat down to write, he finished the draft in about eight weeks—yet those weeks were the end of a much longer journey. The novella, which won Hemingway the Pulitzer Prize, is deceptively simple. It distills years of personal frustration and creative ambition into a stripped-down, elemental struggle between man and nature. The road to those few pages was paved with countless rewrites and abandoned drafts.

Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys

Jean Rhys vanished from the literary world for nearly twenty years before returning with “Wide Sargasso Sea.” The book, about 190 pages, emerged from two decades of intermittent writing, self-doubt, and revision. Rhys struggled with poverty, depression, and obscurity, all while piecing together this prequel to “Jane Eyre.” The book’s slow creation allowed Rhys to explore the complexities of colonialism and womanhood in a way that feels lived-in and profound. Her patience paid off: “Wide Sargasso Sea” is now heralded as a classic, showing that sometimes the stories we need to tell most take the longest to find their voice.

The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath

Sylvia Plath’s “The Bell Jar,” at about 244 pages, was born from years of private journaling, drafts, and personal turmoil. Plath wove her own struggles with mental illness and societal expectations into the novel, creating a work that feels both raw and meticulously crafted. The long gestation period is evident in the book’s polished yet confessional tone. Plath’s process was one of transformation—turning pain into art, diary entries into literature. The result is a novel that reads with the intimacy of a secret and the sharpness of a confession, a testament to the power of slow, deliberate creation.

The Heart of a Dog by Mikhail Bulgakov

Mikhail Bulgakov wrote “The Heart of a Dog” in 1925, but it sat unpublished for decades due to Soviet censorship. The novella, about 123 pages, is a biting satire about a stray dog transformed into a man, poking fun at the absurdities of Soviet life. Bulgakov faced enormous personal risk in writing such a book, and the lengthy delay in publication shows how dangerous—and necessary—art can be under oppressive regimes. When the novella finally reached readers decades later, it was hailed as a masterpiece, proving that great works sometimes have to wait for their moment in history.

The Stranger by Albert Camus

Albert Camus’s “The Stranger,” roughly 123 pages, took years to write and revise. Camus was obsessed with existentialism, and his careful crafting of the story reflects his philosophical passion. The book’s famously detached protagonist, Meursault, didn’t spring fully formed onto the page—Camus spent years honing his style, stripping the narrative down to its stark essentials. The novella’s power lies in what Camus leaves unsaid, the product of endless drafts and revisions. The result is a story that feels both immediate and timeless, the work of a writer who refused to settle for anything less than the perfect expression of his ideas.

Seize the Day by Saul Bellow

Saul Bellow’s novella “Seize the Day,” at about 114 pages, is the product of years of painstaking labor. Bellow was known for his exacting standards, and he poured tremendous effort into every sentence. The novella’s exploration of failure and redemption is layered and nuanced, a reflection of the years Bellow spent wrestling with his own questions about meaning and purpose. The book’s brevity belies the depth of its emotional and philosophical insight. Bellow’s willingness to take his time paid off, resulting in a work that feels both tightly constructed and richly textured.

The Death of Ivan Ilyich by Leo Tolstoy

Leo Tolstoy wrote “The Death of Ivan Ilyich” late in life, after a period of intense spiritual crisis. The novella, at just 86 pages, is imbued with the wisdom and restlessness of a man grappling with mortality. Tolstoy’s years of reflection and self-doubt are evident in the book’s searching tone. The story’s power comes from its honesty—Tolstoy doesn’t shy away from the terror and confusion of facing death. The years he spent questioning the meaning of his own life are distilled into a story that continues to move and challenge readers.

Chronicle of a Death Foretold by Gabriel García Márquez

Gabriel García Márquez’s “Chronicle of a Death Foretold” is a masterclass in narrative complexity, packed into about 120 pages. Márquez drew from a real event he witnessed, but it took him decades to shape the story into its final form. The novella’s intricate structure—where everyone knows the murder will happen, yet no one stops it—reflects years of rumination on fate, honor, and complicity. Márquez’s long dedication to revising the narrative paid off, creating a book that is as haunting as it is tightly plotted.

The Third Policeman by Flann O’Brien

Flann O’Brien wrote “The Third Policeman” in 1939–40, but it wasn’t published until 1967. The book, about 200 pages, languished in a drawer after being rejected by publishers and dismissed by O’Brien himself. The years of neglect and self-doubt are almost palpable in the book’s bizarre, dreamlike logic. When it finally emerged, “The Third Policeman” stunned readers with its originality. O’Brien’s willingness to wait—whether by choice or necessity—allowed him to create something entirely unique, a reminder that great books aren’t always recognized right away.

Stoner by John Williams

John Williams’s “Stoner” is a quiet, understated novel of about 278 pages that took years to write. Williams was meticulous, crafting every detail of his unassuming protagonist’s life with care and restraint. The novel’s slow, deliberate pace mirrors the years Williams spent fine-tuning his story. Though largely overlooked at first, “Stoner” is now celebrated as a modern classic, proof that even the most unassuming books can have a big impact if given enough time and attention.

Pedro Páramo by Juan Rulfo

Juan Rulfo’s “Pedro Páramo,” just over 120 pages, was more than a decade in the making. Rulfo published little else, pouring all his creative energy into this one book. The result is a dense, haunting tale that has shaped the course of Latin American literature. Rulfo’s painstaking process is evident in the book’s layered narrative and poetic language. Every page feels the weight of years spent searching for the right way to tell the story, and the result is a novel that feels both mysterious and inevitable.

We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson

Shirley Jackson’s “We Have Always Lived in the Castle,” about 160 pages long, took more than a decade to develop. Jackson struggled with personal isolation and family responsibilities, all while slowly building the eerie, claustrophobic world of the Blackwood sisters. The years of development are apparent in the novel’s psychological complexity and its perfectly calibrated sense of dread. Jackson’s patience allowed her to create a story that feels both timeless and deeply personal, a testament to the rewards of slow, deliberate creation.

Gilead by Marilynne Robinson

Marilynne Robinson’s “Gilead” is a novel of about 247 pages that arrived 24 years after her debut. Robinson took her time, allowing her ideas to mature and deepen over decades. The result is a novel of quiet wisdom and profound empathy, exploring faith, forgiveness, and the meaning of life. Robinson’s willingness to wait—sometimes for decades—shows that some stories can’t be rushed. Her patience paid off with a Pulitzer Prize and a lasting legacy.

The Book of Disquiet by Fernando Pessoa

Fernando Pessoa’s “The Book of Disquiet” is a mosaic of fragments written over more than 20 years. With an ever-shifting page count (usually around 200–250 pages), the book is a diary, a confession, and a meditation all at once. Pessoa’s slow, piecemeal process is reflected in the book’s dreamlike, elusive structure. He never saw it published during his lifetime, but the decades of reflection and revision shine through in every enigmatic entry.

Zuleika Dobson by Max Beerbohm

Max Beerbohm’s only novel, “Zuleika Dobson,” required over a decade of intermittent work. At around 250 pages, the book’s witty, satirical take on Oxford life is the product of countless revisions. Beerbohm’s perfectionism meant he published little else in fiction, focusing all his creative energy on getting this one book just right. The result is a timeless, humorous classic that feels as fresh today as when it was finally finished.

So Long, See You Tomorrow by William Maxwell

William Maxwell’s “So Long, See You Tomorrow,” at about 135 pages, is a meditation on memory, loss, and regret. Maxwell drew on his own childhood memories, working through his grief for years before completing the novel. The book’s spare prose belies the depth of feeling beneath the surface—a depth that could only come from years of careful thought and emotional processing. Maxwell’s patience allowed him to create a story that is both intimate and universal.

In the Penal Colony by Franz Kafka

Kafka’s “In the Penal Colony” is a short story of about 50 pages, but like much of his work, it was subject to endless revision. Kafka was notorious for his obsessive editing, even for pieces as brief as this. The story’s nightmarish logic and unflinching portrayal of justice gone awry reflect years of existential anxiety and philosophical questioning. Kafka’s refusal to settle for anything less than his own impossible standards makes every word feel hard-won.

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams

Douglas Adams’s “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,” at about 224 pages, took several years to morph from its original radio script into the beloved novel. Adams was infamous for his missed deadlines and perfectionism, often joking about loving the “whooshing sound” deadlines made as they passed. The book’s surreal humor and inventive storytelling are the result of years spent refining jokes, characters, and plot twists. Adams’s slow, painstaking process paid off, producing a cult classic that remains endlessly quotable and beloved.