The Battle Begins: Long vs. Short

A Literary Boxing Match

Ding ding! The fighters enter the ring.

Round 1: The Opening Jab

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the fight of the century!"

In the red corner corner, we have Brevity: sharp, surgical, efficient. If writing were a weapon, Brevity would be a razor blade. Hemingway’s six-word story, viral tweets and text messages that say everything in a single sentence.

In the blue corner, we have Depth: expansive, immersive, unwilling to be rushed. If writing were a weapon, Depth would be a broad sword. George R.R. Martin’s 3kg novels, letters so long they need extra postage, stories that take their time winding towards a destination.

The crowd is split. The ones who live for the TL;DR are already impatient. The ones who love losing themselves in a story are settling in for a long night.

And somewhere in the rafters, Friedrich Nietzsche is smirking, sipping something strong, knowing full well he helped start this fight. And then in true WWE style his entrance music blares from the speakers “Seek and Destroy” by Metallica, and he is lowered by a rope into the ring.

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Round 2: Nietzsche Throws the First Punch

Moon Arica

posted this back in January and it triggered me a little bit. Perhaps because I don’t know how to be brief!

The Brevity crowd cheers. Yes! Exactly! Why use 100 words when you can use 10? Say what you mean, be clear, get to the point!

But I wasn’t convinced.

I replied:

Sometimes, maybe…

Let me try and deconstruct this idea in the most meandering and contradictory way possible because clarity, while admirable, especially for those who are in a rush, doesn’t have the monopoly on captivating writing.

Picture the scene: Nietzsche, sipping his tea (or probably something stronger, let’s be honest, he'd have needed it), combing his moustache and boasting about his ten-sentence ambition. "Ten sentences," he says, "to distil the essence of a book."

Admirable, maybe. But is it always preferable? Because there are things in life that are better when we take the long way round instead of the shortcut, when we take a curious detour instead of going straight to the destination.

Sometimes, the beauty of it is in wandering off the path, rambling, exploring, meandering, tripping over your own shoelaces while you try to explain that one overly specific analogy that nobody asked for, but you are compelled to give. For fucking up. For making mistakes and letting the reader see them.

Imagine Friedrich saying:

“Here’s the shortest possible explanation of love: 'it’s a chemical reaction.'”

Alright, mate, well done, you’ve just killed poetry, Shakespeare, and anyone who ever tried to write a heartfelt letter. But then, think of a love letter. The kind that starts with “I don’t know how to put this into words…” and ends five pages later with, “So yeah, I guess I love you. I’m in love with you!”

It’s the detours, the over-sharing, the unnecessary anecdotes that make it human.

The Depth crowd erupts with applause.

---

Round 3: The Heavy Hitters

Brevity doesn’t back down.

Hemingway vs. Tolstoy.

TikTok vs. Podcasts.

Tweets vs. Novels.

YouTube Shorts vs. a three-hour video deep dive into a niche topic.

Brevity strikes first: "Get to the point." It does, it points at George R.R. Martin, still busy describing a feast at Winterfell in excruciating detail.

Depth smirks. "People don’t read books for bullet points. They read for the experience." It throws a counterpunch in the form of Tolkien’s lore, entire appendices dedicated to the history of hobbit family trees.

Brevity rolls its eyes. "Nobody reads all that." Depth shrugs. "They do if it's good enough."

Meanwhile, my own ADHD-ridden brain sits in the crowd, torn. I want brevity. I need it. My attention span is that of a goldfish after an espresso.

But when something hooks me, when writing is deep, sprawling, layered, I don’t just read it. I drown in it.

---

Round 4: The Psychology of Attention

Brevity throws science at the argument. "People don’t have the patience for longform anymore!"

It points at TL;DR culture. At book summaries. At bullet-point lists that turn War & Peace into a 3-minute read.

Depth isn’t fazed. "If that’s true, why do people binge watch eight seasons of a show? Why do some of us get so lost in books that we forget to eat?"

People don’t dislike long writing. They dislike boring writing.

A well crafted, meandering story isn’t filler. It’s immersion.

I conducted a notes experiment last month. I wrote a long note and a short, more concise note, on the same topic. My aim to see which would perform better. Here they both are, long one first:

And the short one…

As you can see from the likes, the short one got three times as many as the long one, but that’s not the full story, that’s just the brief summary.

At the time of writing the short note got 30 likes from 410 impressions, the long one got 10 likes from 112 impressions. So the long note actually had slightly higher engagement rate than the short one. Pound for pound, more likes and comments per impression, but it wasn’t shown to nearly as many people, so does that tell us that the Substack algorithm is actively promoting shorter and more concise notes?

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Round 5: Poetry and Pyrotechnics

Now we enter the philosophical round with a short poem I wrote on brevity vs depth.

Brevity is a spark,

bright, fleeting,

and gone before the silence settles.

It dances on the surface,

leaving only the memory of heat.

💥💥💥

Depth is a roaring fire,

steady, consuming,

spreading light into the furthest corners.

It warms the soul,

and lingers on even after the flames subside.

🔥🔥🔥

A hush falls over the crowd, the pyrotechnics flare as the bell rings.

---

Round 6: Clarity vs. Clutter - The Case for Cutting the Fat

Brevity steps forward, rolling its shoulders, sensing an opening.

"Let’s talk about clarity," it says, jabbing swiftly. "The fewer words, the fewer distractions. The less there is to get lost in, the easier it is to focus on what actually matters."

Depth sidesteps, cautious of a counter blow. It’s heard this argument before.

"Complexity doesn’t always mean clutter," Depth counters. "Some ideas are too big, too nuanced to be cut down without losing something vital."

Brevity presses on, relentless. "But clarity isn’t just about length, it’s about precision. A sentence should be a sniper shot, not a shotgun blast. The more you strip away, the more the message stands out. Why bury the key idea under a mountain of unnecessary words?"

Depth takes the hit, wincing.

Because Brevity has a point. Studies in cognitive load theory show that the brain struggles with too much information at once. When writing is cluttered, the reader has to work harder to extract meaning.

Have you ever read a sentence so convoluted that by the time you reach the end, you’ve forgotten how it started? I know I’ve written a few like that.

Have you ever had to sit through a speech so bloated with filler words that the actual point drowned in the noise?

"Good writing isn’t just about saying a lot," Brevity says, throwing another punch. "It’s about saying exactly what needs to be said, and nothing more."

Depth grits its teeth, not ready to back down.

"But cut too much," it warns, "and you risk losing the heart of the message. Sometimes, depth is what makes meaning stick. A sterile summary might be clear, but does it have soul?"

Brevity hesitates, just for a second.

Because that’s the eternal dilemma, isn’t it? Where’s the line between clarity and coldness? Between conciseness and emptiness?

The bell rings.

There’s still no clear winner. The judges scorecards have them neck and neck.

Onward to Round 7.

---

Round 7: Evolution

The fighters are sweaty now. The crowd is restless.

Brevity wipes its brow and jabs: "Humans evolved to process information quickly. The brain is a filtering machine. You think cavemen had time to sit around for a 400-page novel? No! We had to make snap judgments: ‘Tiger? Run!’ 'Berry? Eat!' 'Stranger? Spear!’ Efficiency meant survival!"

Depth grins, unfazed. "And yet, what did we do around the fire at night, after the hunt? We told stories. We passed on knowledge, traditions, myths. Our history is not built on efficiency. It is built on narrative."

A hush falls over the arena.

Brevity lunges back. "Yes, but attention spans are shrinking! TikTok, tweets, soundbites, our brains are adapting to a world of fast moving information. Adapt or be left behind!"

Depth sidesteps. "Attention spans aren’t shrinking. That’s a myth. Studies show we still binge watch ten hour TV series. People read long fantasy books. It’s not that we can’t focus, it’s that we only focus deeply when something grabs us by the … shoulders and shakes us."

And science backs this up. Studies show that our brain has two distinct modes of attention:

1. Bottom-up attention - The automatic, reactive kind. Brevity thrives here. A sudden loud noise, a flashing light, a short, catchy sentence.

2. Top-down attention - The focused, sustained kind. Depth lives here. The ability to stay immersed in something for hours, ignoring distractions, getting lost in the flow.

So, what determines which one wins?

---

Round 8: The Dopamine Debate

Brevity throws a right hook: "Short form writing hits the brain’s dopamine circuits like a slot machine. Tweets, memes, headlines, each one gives us a tiny hit of pleasure. It’s fast, it’s rewarding, and it keeps us coming back for more. If writing doesn’t trigger that instant hit, people move on."

Depth absorbs the blow and counters: "What about deep immersion. Have you ever gotten so lost in a book you forget time exists? That’s not short attention, it’s deep focus. Research shows that narrative absorption triggers oxytocin, the same hormone that builds trust and emotional connection. The more time we spend with a story, the more it becomes part of us."

And science agrees.

• Short content triggers fast dopamine spikes, like fast food.

• Long-form content creates sustained engagement, like a home cooked meal.

Both feel good. Both are addictive. But one fades quickly leaving you still hungry while the other leaves you feeling full.

Brevity smirks: "People chase the next dopamine hit. That’s why short form dominates the internet. It’s a numbers game."

Depth nods. "But what do people remember? Do you recall a tweet from last year? Or do you remember the book that changed your life?"

The crowd murmurs.

---

Round 9: Short-Term and Long-Term Memory

Brevity sees an opening: "Short form writing is easier to remember! A sharp phrase, a catchy slogan, it sticks! Why do you think advertising works?"

Depth weaves away from the punch."Memorable? Maybe. Meaningful? Not always. What truly changes minds is deep, immersive learning. Quick facts fade, but long-term engagement builds understanding."

Neuroscientists have studied this:

• Short, punchy content gets stored in working memory, the brain’s scratch pad.

• Deep, immersive content gets transferred to long term memory, shaping our worldview.

Brevity wins the moment. Depth wins the heart. - Moon Arica

Which is better?

It really depends what you want: Impact now, or impact forever?

---

Round 10: The Long and Short of Genius

The fighters are exhausted now, but they aren’t done.

Brevity wipes the blood from its nose and throws out the heavyweights: "Mark Twain once wrote, 'I didn’t have time to write a short letter, so I wrote a long one instead.' That’s because brevity takes skill. Cutting the fluff. Getting to the point. Saying more with less. That’s true genius!"

Depth nods, amused. "And yet, who are the greatest writers in history? Shakespeare? Dickens? Tolkien? Dostoevsky? All of them wrote long, sprawling works that required patience, immersion, and depth. Great writing isn’t just what’s said, it’s what’s felt."

Hemingway vs. Tolstoy.

Poetry vs. Novels.

Short stories vs. Epic sagas.

"You can summarize ‘Moby-Dick’ in a paragraph," Depth says, "but the summary isn’t the experience."

Brevity scoffs. "Not everyone has time for a 500-page whale metaphor."

The crowd laughs.

---

Round 11: The Internet Age - Is Brevity Winning?

Brevity takes a deep breath and throws one last desperate punch: "Look at the world! Look at the internet! People don’t read anymore. They skim. They want bullet points, listicles, 30-second videos. Long-form is dying!"

Depth staggers… then grins.

"Dying? Long-form is thriving. Look at podcasts. Look at Substack. Look at The New Yorker, long YouTube documentaries, in-depth essays, and books that still sell millions. People don’t just want quick, they want quality."

And the statistics agree:

• Short content gets more clicks.

• Long content gets more engagement.

• Short content spreads faster.

• Long content builds deeper trust.

"People skim because most short writing isn’t good enough to hold them," Depth whispers. "But when they find something truly great, they don’t skim. They stay."

The bell rings.

The fight is almost over.

---

Round 12: The Final Blow

Brevity swings: "Attention spans are shrinking. If you can’t grab people in ten seconds, you’ve lost them."

Depth dodges. "Maybe they just haven’t been given something worth their time."

Brevity lunges. "If it’s not concise, it’s cluttered."

Depth counters. "If it’s too concise, it’s hollow."

Brevity staggers. The crowd gasps.

Depth presses forward. Because some things can’t be rushed. Some stories need space to breathe. Because brevity is a spark, but depth is a fire.

And fire burns long after the last page is turned.

---

So Who Wins?

Maybe you already know the winner, if you have completed your own score card, it will be plain to see. But I think it depends on the day, the topic, and what kind of mood you're in. For educational writing maybe brevity wins this fight, for entertainment perhaps long form takes the belt.

Two versions of this post. Two different experiences.

Pick your winner.

If you'd like to see what the short form version of this post looks like, you can check it out here.

If you have already read both of them, I would love to hear what you think in the comments.