Thank you, Meg Pokrass for this interview
Jackie Davis-Martin’s stories and essays have appeared in Trillium, Midway, Flashquake, Fastforward, JAAM, 34th Parallel, Sleet.com, Bluestem Magazine and Fractured West, Curly Red Shoe Stories
(featured writer). A novella, Extracurricular,
was a finalist in the Press 53 Awards.
Jackie teaches at City College of San Francisco. Surviving Susan is
her first memoir.
Jackie, can you give us a brief synopsis of "Surviving
Susan"?
Surviving Susan is explained by its rather long subtitle: A Mother Deals with the Death of Her
Daughter and Reflects on Their Relationship. I guess “deal” is the operative word; in the beginning of
the book I write about the suddenness of Susan’s death and my literal “dealing”
–our traveling to Wilmington, Delaware, from San Francisco, and all the
physical things that needed to be attended to there. Then of course the further definition of “deal” has to do
with coping with the loss. I tried
to intersperse my bouts of finding Things that Helped with scenes and vignettes
of our past. I wanted the readers
to know something of Susan, too.
Ultimately,
what I hope that the book does for readers is to provide comfort for those who
suffer, to tell them they are not alone, as well as offer insights into one
particular mother-daughter relationship which might resound in others. I’ve heard from both mothers and
daughters who say, Now I understand something I didn’t before. That’s a focus that I am pleased
with. The other outcome that has
pleased me is to have strangers say, “I feel I know your daughter.”
How long did it take you to write this
book?
I
did a great deal of writing for six months. Then I spent a year shaping that writing into particular
chapters and vignettes and another few months having parts reviewed, and
editing it. The book spans a year,
although it took closer to two to put it together.
If you can, please discuss the most
challenging aspects of writing something so intensely personal.
What
was challenging was doing something different with grief. What can be different? Particularly daunting is the fact that
famous writers have dealt with the subject. Joan Didion, Isabel Allende, Roger Rosenblatt all talked of
a daughter’s loss, but they are well known. Who was I, an ordinary person, to talk about Susan, another
ordinary person? I wanted to shape
the grief into a personal immediacy that others (also not famous) could
identify with.
Another
challenge was to decide what to include and what I had to let go. My own pain had to keep shifting a bit,
or reacting to new events, or to old events in new ways. Susan, too, I wanted to represent over
time, so it was a challenge to decide what to tell about her, or how to
re-create her. I wanted so much to
boast: do you know how many trips we took together? There’s much I left out, but the challenge was in the
choices.
This
is an interesting question.
Writing about Susan, about us, did help me get outside the
experience. And yet, bizarrely, it
brought home the realization: I don’t
have her anymore; now I have this [the book]. I have to fight against that “realization”
because of course it’s too real. However, mostly writing about my
personal experience, and the bad and good things about the way we got along,
did help. I felt I made concrete
what was surely slipping away entirely.
What is next for you? What are you
working on now?
I’m returning to
fiction. My fiction is usually
based on events in my own life, but there is much more leeway in fiction; one
can bend the event the way one likes it, or invent the truth of an experience
that had no truth. For a
while I was really interested in short shorts—they’re like writing poems—a
trick of observation or circumstance neatly turned. But I want to focus on longer fiction—stories beyond 3,000
words. I’m planning to review some
old stories and rewrite them, as well as linking and combining stories. I’m thinking of naming my main
character Olive Kitteridge. Just
kidding.
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