Lisa Unger Talks about where it all began

New York Times bestselling author Lisa Unger really needs no introduction. Is there anyone on the planet who doesn't know her? Her novels have sold over a million copies and have been translated into 26 languages. Her new novel, Darkness My Old Friend, about the secrets of the past and the future of a rebellious teen was chosen as a Washington Life Magazine Lit Pick.  I'm thrilled she's agreed to write a little something on my blog about her beginnings as a writer. Thank you, Lisa!

Preface

By

Lisa Unger

I was nineteen years old when I first met Lydia Strong.  I was living in the East Village, dating a New York City Police officer and attending Eugene Lang College, the under graduate division of the New School for Social Research.  I was sitting in a car, under the elevated section of the “1” line in the Bronx, waiting – for what I can’t remember.   But, in my mind that day, I kept seeing a woman running past a church.  She was in New Mexico.  And all I knew about her was that she was a damaged person, someone in great pain.  Running, for her, was salve, religion, and drug.  That was Lydia. 

I pulled a napkin and a pen from the glove compartment and started writing the book that would become ANGEL FIRE.   It took me ten years to write that novel, mostly because the years between age nineteen and twenty-nine were, for me, years of hard work and tumultuous change.  But also because during that time, I let my dreams of becoming a writer languish a bit. Lydia was faithful; she waited. 

In spite of a first rate education, a career in publishing, and a strong desire to write fiction, I didn’t know much of anything when I was writing my first novel. I don’t think you can really know anything about writing a novel until you’ve actually written one.  (And then you go to school again when you sit down to write your second, and your third, and so on.)  All I knew during that time was that I was truly fascinated by this woman occupying a place in my imagination, and I was deeply intrigued by her very dark appetites.  I was enthralled by her past, by the mysteries in her present, and why she wouldn’t let herself love the man who loved her.  There were lots of questions about Lydia Strong; and I was never happier over those ten years then when I was trying to answer them.

I was fortunate that the first novel I ever wrote was accepted by my (wonderful, brilliant) agent Elaine Markson, and that she fairly quickly brokered a deal for ANGEL FIRE and my second, then unwritten, novel THE DARKNESS GATHERS.  I spent the next few years with Lydia Strong and the very colorful cast of characters that populate her life.  And I enjoyed every dark, harrowing, and complicated moment with them as I went on to write TWICE, and then SMOKE.

I followed Lydia from New Mexico, to New York City, to Albania, to Miami and back.  We trekked through the abandoned subway tunnels under Manhattan, to a compound in the back woods of Florida, to a mysterious church in the Bronx, to a fictional town called Haunted.  It was a total thrill ride, and I wrote like my fingers were on fire. 

I am delighted that these early novels, which I wrote under my maiden name Lisa Miscione, have found a new life on the shelves and a new home with the stellar team at Broadway Books.  And, of course, I am thrilled that they’ve found their way into your hands.  I know a lot of authors wish their early books would just disappear, because they’ve come so far as writers since they first began their careers.  And I understand that, because we would all go back and rewrite everything if we could.   

But I have a special place in my heart for these flawed, sometimes funny, complicated characters and their wild, action-packed stories.  I still think about them, and feel tremendous tenderness for even the most twisted and deranged among them. The writing of each book was pure pleasure.  I hope that you enjoy your time with them as much as I have.  And, thanks, as always, for reading.

Caroline Preston talks about The Scrapbook of Frankie Pratt

           

I first met Caroline Preston at a literary party and was instantly charmed by both her--and her work. Preston is the author of  Jackie by Josie, a New York Times Notable Book of the Year, Lucy Crocker 2.0, and Gatsby’s Girl, which chronicles F. Scott Fitzgerald’s first girlfriend who was the model for Daisy Buchanan. In The Scrapbook of Frankie Pratt, she's delved into her own collection of vintage ephemera to create a novel in the unique form of a scrapbook, creating a book that is gorgeous, enchantingly original and so much fun to read. I'm so honored to have Caroline here!  Thank you, Caroline.


What gave you the idea of writing a novel in pictures?

I like to say the idea of making a scrapbook novel was 40 years in the making.  The house where I grew up (in Lake Forest, Illinois) had a great old attic jammed full of trunks and boxes of 1920’s stuff that had belonged to my grandmother.  Flapper dresses, coils of her long hair which she’d bobbed in 1924.  And of course big thick scrapbooks filled with dance cards, letters from old boyfriends, ocean liner tickets. I can’t tell you how many hours I spent up there rooting around and daydreaming.

My first three novels were what I guess you’d call “conventional” format—i.e. words-- but I always used photographs and visual material in my research.  My third novel Gatsby’s Girl was inspired by the meticulous scrapbook F. Scott Fitzgerald kept about his first love, Ginevra King—her first note to him, her handkerchief, and a newspaper clipping about her marriage to another man.  Later he would turn the story of his unrequited crush into The Great Gatsby.

When I was casting around for the idea for my fourth novel, I wanted to create something that was as visual and powerful as a scrapbook.  And then I had a crazy idea—why not make a novel that WAS a scrapbook. Not a digital scrapbook, but a real one made of real stuff that I cut up with scissors and pasted together with glue.

How did you go about writing it? Did the photos, images, etc. come first and fashion themselves into a story, or did you have the story in mind and search for the images to support it?

I started with my character, Frankie Pratt, and the outlines of her story, which was set in the 1920’s.  I imagined an 18-year-old girl who wanted to become a writer and her journey which would take her to Vassar, Greenwich Village, and Paris.

Then I hunted down and bought all the things that a girl like Frankie Pratt would glue in her scrapbook—postcards, movie tickets, Vassar report cards, menus, sheet music, fashion spreads,  popular magazines, a New York subway map, a Paris guidebook, and of course love letters.  In all, I collected over 600 pieces of vintage 1920’s ephemera.

I found that Frankie’s story changed and evolved as I found surprising things—for example an original book cover for The Sun Also Rises. The book caused a huge fuss in Paris when it came out in 1926 because everyone recognized the characters, and she would been right there to bear witness.

So much of the wonderful ephemera in the book tells the story, but I also deeply admired the text--Frankie's voice is so spot on, and her character, revealed through her scrapbook is so alive. How did you find her voice?

Frankie’s story is told through her typed scrapbook captions.  I was inspired by the style I found in so many of the 1920’s scrapbooks I looked at, including Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald’s—breezy, funny, self-ironic, but also serious.  Most vintage scrapbooks do feel very alive because people kept them to record the happiest and most exciting times of their lives—going to college, getting married, having a baby, going off to war.  And of course, what could be more alive than Greenwich Village and Paris in the 1920’s!

So much of the pleasure of the book is in the design, which looks and feels like a genuine scrapbook. Did you work with a designer or was this all your own considerable--and genius-- creativity?

I designed the entire book, with the exception of the cover.  Even I’m pretty surprised by that fact, because I have no training in graphic or book design.  I was liberated to try designing a book because it was in the format of a scrapbook, which is by definition laid out and constructed by amateurs.

          

On each page, I imagined what Frankie would have chosen to glue in and how she would have put it together.  Through the course of the book, 1920-1928, her design sense gets more sophisticated as she’s exposed to things like Art Deco and Cubism.

The fantastic book designer at Ecco, Mary Speaker, went over my final pages and made it into a finished book.  Ecco did a beautiful job with the book production—the paper quality, the cover, the photography, and the four-color printing are all amazing.

What's obsessing you now?

I have started in on my next scrapbook novel, this one kept by a bride during her first year of marriage 1959-1960.  I like to think of it as a prequel to Mad Men.  My favorite finds so far:  a 1959 Brides magazine, the Betty Crocker Bride’s Cookbook, a 1960 sex manual, View-Master slides, a set of bride and groom paper ...

Director Michael Medeiros talks about his upcoming film Tiger Lily Road

Anyone who knows me knows that I’m fascinated by craft, by how creative people manage to do what they do--and that I am not just a bookaholic, but a movieholic, as well. I first read about the film Tiger Lily Road, Michael Medeiros’, upcoming dark comedy about the lives and loves (or lack of) of two Connecticut women, on Google, and I was instantly fascinated. So I immediately tracked him down and badgered him for an interview. I’m honored to have him here. An actor, director, writer and songwriter, Michael’s acted in everything from Xmen First Class to Synecdoche, New York to The Good Wife and he's the director and writer of Underground. Thank you so much, Michael.
You’re also an acclaimed actor as well as a director and writer. Do you prefer being in front of the camera, behind it or at your desk, and why?

It feels great to switch from one creative activity to another. Sometimes I get to a point where I am thinking, “what the hell am I doing?” I tell myself I have to focus more, but then sometimes it helps to take a break and say, play my guitar, and then come back to film editing. I’ve been a songwriter since I was thirteen, and sometimes when I get editing fatigue I leave the desk and I play for half an hour and it refreshes me. And editing is, in itself, so much about the musicality.

What do I prefer doing? It depends on the day I’m asked. I just finished acting in a film that a friend of mine is doing, and I really had a good time. The material, the character – makes it a good time. And I got to learn a little big of magic for the role. But I do find that directing films uses all of my artistic resources quite thoroughly.

Tiger Lily Road is about the lives of women in a Connecticut Town—how they perceive themselves and the men in and out of their lives. Where did the idea come from?

Well, the easy answer is I’m not sure. The more complex answer is that it came from several places. After I wrote my film Underground, I wanted to make a feature and I wrote several that just wouldn’t have been practical for me to produce. They were too big, too expensive. I didn’t want to spend years chasing five million dollars. I wanted to spend months chasing a much smaller amount. So I was looking for that idea, and then I was up at this Connecticut cottage—my girlfriend’s family’s place—and one night at a party, I got to talking to these women. They were all in their mid to late 40s and none of them happened to be with a man, and I had this epiphany. I kept thinking, what great women they were, how funny and smart and talented. Why weren’t they in a relationship? And I thought, “There’s a story here.” And the story, as it evolved seemed to match up with the whole Connecticut location I loved. I've always found that "place" is one of the strong characters in any story. That probably comes from my acting training with Uta Hagen.

I started imagining –or something started to imagine for me--two women in this house and I started listening to them and following them, and what they were saying, why they didn’t have successful love lives. And then these two women began to split off in different directions, and these two best friends began to be complete characters. And as total opposites, I could use them to dramatize two sides of the same question.

On a deeper level I think the impulse to write it came from a need to express something about women - about how they empathize (or don't) with men and what that may cost them.

How do you write? Did you map this story out or did it organically evolve?

It was more organic. As in song writing, I go until the structure reveals itself. I don’t try to impose it too soon. I always allow that this may only ever be a fragment and then at some point, something clicks in and I know I'll finish it and have an understanding of how.

Did any of the women that sparked the idea read the script? What’d they think?

Well, the characters are not really them. I used the voice, the sensibility, but not the circumstances.

How long did it take to write Tiger Lily Road?
It was about a year and a half from first draft to shooting script. In that time, many people read it and gave notes—some of them quite scathing! I also did four different table readings with full casts of talented actors.

What’s fascinating to me is that you are making people out in the world part of the process by posting snippets from the film and asking for reactions. What’s the response been like?

It’s been fantastic. I have to be careful what I show online. I don’t want to give things away, but it does help to build a fan base.I'll be putting up a highlights reel in the next couple weeks. You'll be able to see it by going to: www.bennettparkfilms.com or by liking us on Facebook at tigerlilyroadmovie.

What’s obsessing you now?

Distribution. Finding the audience. Realistically, you have to seek the distributors. But now that there is this entire social media thing, it’s a little easier to create a presence before the film is ever released. But it's a lot of work. Eventually, the film will have its own website. But now, at this mid stage of post production, I make a lot of lists - of theaters, distributors, possible supporters.

Question you didn't ask: Who's in the movie?

An amazing cast, including: two time Emmy winner, Tom Pelphrey (a rising star if there ever was one), talented stage actresses, Ilvi Dulack and Karen Chamberlain. I wanted to use theatre trained actors for their ability to conceptualize complex characters. And New York theatre legend, Rita Gardner who starred in the original production of The Fantastiks with the late great, Jerry Orbach. Rita is in danger of stealing the entire movie.

Julie Klam talks about Love at First Bark

Ok, you might love Julie Klam because she's so hilarious and generous, but the icing on the cake is that Julie is the guardian angel of dogs everywhere, and she's made it her mission to show us all how fostering and loving dogs can really make us better people. Plus, she knows Timothy Hutton...need I say more? Anyway, I'm deliriously happy to have Julie back on my blog. Thank you, Julie!

I love the whole idea that dog rescue is a two-way street, in that it impacts both the dogs and the people doing the rescuing. How does that work? (And does it ever backfire?)

I think if you rescue animals, you're rewarded, you can't help it. Specifically in this book I was thinking about when times are hard and you feel you don't have control over things and you can do this one small gesture which actually isn't small at all, and make all the difference in the world. It's empowering and validating and it doesn't cost you anything.

I need to ask (because I am insanely jealous) about that hilarious book trailer you did with Timothy Hutton.

Okay, truthfully, Tim and I are secretly in love. In fact it's such a secret that he doesn't even know it. Honestly we had a mutual admiration society going, mutual in that I loved him and he was drunk when he said he'd be in my book trailer.

I always thought that people loved their dogs simply because they got unconditional love, but your book shows that it is really so much more than that. Dogs teach us to cherish each moment, to never give up, to be loyal, and more. Is there anything else I'm missing?

You forgot how to cook french food. Oh, no that was Julia Childs.

How can regular people get involved?

Regular people as opposed to insane losers like me? When you contact a rescue group, you can be as involved as much or as little as you want. You can do very small, simple things like making phone calls, doing home visits to prospective adoptive families, reference checks, fundraising. You don't have to foster dogs, though doing it is insanely wonderful.

How did all your rescue work change you personally?

I think like any volunteer work it makes you conscious of how much there is to do in the world and how few people there are to do it.

Can you talk about your NPR radio show Hash Hags?

Ann Leary used to do a show on NPR that was just her and one day she asked Laura and I if we would do it with her. It's ridiculously fun, we get great guests and having been on the other end of those author interviews where the person asks you the standard questions, we try and make it a little different. And once a week I get to talk to Ann and Laura, what could be better than that?

And the questions I always ask, What's obsessing you now?

I just got back from my book tour and I bought something before I left that has to be returned within 14 days and today is the 14th day so until it's out of my hands I'm going to be obsessed.

What question didn't I ask that I should have?

Everyone else has asked me if my husband is some kind of saint or something for allowing me to wreak the havoc in the house with all the dog rescue that I do. I'm glad you didn't ask me that

Ayelet Waldman and Robin Levi talk about women in and out of prison and their astonishing book Inside This Place, Not Of it: Narratives From Women's Prisons

Ayelet Waldman and Robin Levi have created a book that is nothing short of extraordinary: Inside This Place, Not Of It, is a collection of narratives from women who are inside prison, or who recently got out. It's powerful, important and it does what the best books do--it changed you. I'm so honored to have both Ayelet and Robin here to talk about this powerful book.

Where did the idea for this book come about? What made you decide to make this a narrative project (which, by the way, is a brilliant idea) and how did you get access to these women?

Ayelet: The oral history Voice of Witness series founded by Dave Eggers and Lola Vollen is remarkable. Each book illuminates a different human rights crises around the world. They've done books on exonerated death row prisoners, on undocumented workers, on Burma, on Sudan. I found the series so exciting, illuminating, tragic that I knew right away that I wanted to do a book on women in prison. Robin and I have known each other ever since she came as a guest lecturer to a class I taught at the law school at the University of California at Berkeley on the drug war to talk about the effect of the drug war on women, and I immediately knew that this book could not happen without her.

Robin: I was thrilled when Ayelet approached me about doing this book. Despite the fact that the population in women's prisons is skyrocketing, there is very little discussion of who is going there and why and even less about the abuses they face when in prison. For me and my organization, this seemed like a once in a lifetime opportunity to highlight the experiences of these women (and men) in their voices. And we were particularly pleased to do it through the oral narrative that allowed us to look at their whole lives, not just the abuse and to have it in their voices. So often, those of us in the social justice world only get to talk about the abuse, not all the abuses leading up to it or the strength that allows people to survive the abuse. If they do, as we well know, some don't survive.

How did the prison officials and the guards feel about this book?

Ayelet: Basically, we had to do our interviews under the radar for the most part. Robin? You tell Caroline how we snuck in places, how we got in in CA, etc.

Robin: While putting this book together, Ayelet and I learned in great detail the wide array of obstacles that the prison system puts in place to prevent the voices of people in prison from being heard. It is extremely difficult to get inside prisons, unless you are an attorney, and we were getting information on matters of a legal nature and even then it can be difficult. Once in the prisons there are many restrictions on recording equipment, some states on allow some antediluvian technologies, which involve surfing Ebay to procure, others allow nothing, meaning that the interviewer is trying to interview a person about the harrowing details of her life, while madly scribbling to take it all down verbatim. It is not surprising that the one state where we tried to do that, we were unable to use that narrative. And then in very few states you can actually use a digital recorder. And other methods of communication are even more difficult, even if doing this type interview via phone wasn't already ridiculous, the 10 -minute time restrictions on calls combined with the exorbitant rates made it impossible. Even writing was difficult. In Colorado we sent lined paper and a self-addressed stamped envelope  to one woman as a courtesy so she could write us back. The paper and envelope were confiscated and she was told that if we did that again, the letter would be thrown away. This is why Ayelet and I stepped back from our original choice to only interview people inside prison and decided to include recently released women.

How were the narratives recorded? Did you need to build trust or would women eager to tell their stories? It must have been incredible healing for these women to tell their stories, but more importantly to actually be heard. I'm reminded of one of the lines, "What saved me was that someone cared."

Ayelet: Again, Robin can talk so eloquently about this...but I"ll say one thing. We were blessed with the assistance of one of the narrators, who is also a member of the board of directors of Justice Now. Teresa helped us train our interviewers, and without her we never would have understood how much we were asking of these women, how traumatizing it can be to open your heart so completely, to revisit trauma, and then to return to the grim reality of prison. To say she made us sensitive to their pain is to belittle how much we learned from her. Teresa is such a brave woman, and such an inspiration.

Robin: Sadly, I will not be eloquent, but I will do my best. Well, as I said the narratives were recorded in the only way the prisons would allow us to. For the narratives that were done outside the prison, we used a digital device which obviously made things easier for both the interviewer and interviewee. But that said, building trust was vital and we had a lot of help to make that happen. First, my organization, Justice Now, has a long history working in the CA prison system so we had a lot of good will built up there. Second, our first narrator, Theresa Martinez, which is her real name, really stepped up to do an amazing job of letting us know what is was like and telling us ways that we could support the narrators both during and after the interviews. She then trained the crew of people interviewing folks and created an advice sheet to use for doing interviews particularly in prison, where there is no formal support system to go to after reliving all of this trauma. That sheet is now being used at the Yale Human Rights Clinic in their work unrelated to the book. When we were reaching out to other states, the good reputation of Justice Now helped us to access other narrators and in some cases other attorneys or advocates vouched for the fact that we would be respectful during the process and would use the information with respect. But the thing that was really amazing was that so many were willing to put themselves through this process, to relive these abuses, because they wanted to make a difference. They were so emotionally giving. So many more women wanted to participate that we couldn't access either because they were inaccessible or involved in litigation so their attorneys would not let them participate. And I do think, especially with Theresa's work that they found it healing. Several of our narrators are really looking forward to doing advocacy on this book. Olivia Hamilton is going to work on anti-shackling initiatives in Georgia, Sheri Dwight is working with anti-domestic violence organizations in LA. They gain strength from telling their story and having it heard. But that does not mean that it is now easy. After the book was released, Theresa spoke publicly for the first time as herself and she broke down in tears, which she almost never does when doing public speaking, but we talked later and we felt it was part of, "Okay this is really it. Its out there." Sheri said, "Did I really say all that? Well I did and it’s true, so print it." It’s healing and scary. They are my heroes.

It's fascinating to me that women who got out, wanted to help the ones who were still in.

Ayelet: That's the most amazing thing to me, too. We're so used to thinking of prison as this dangerous place full of dangerous people. But in women's prisons, at least, the danger doesn't come from the women. It comes from the guards, the wardens, the medical "professionals." The women by and large don't harm one another. They support one another. They lean on each other. Their sense of community is utterly inspiring.

Robin: That really struck me too. All the women who were out wanted to do something to help people still inside and or people who were recently released. In fact, many of the people who are still inside are working hard to support people inside the prison. This speaks to this enormous sense of community inside prison. It is amazing. It also speaks to the fact that these narrators are by and large the strong ones. They have survived and come out the other side. They are strong enough to share their experiences in the hopes of positive change. They are the leaders. Sadly, as I said before, not everyone survives.

One woman says that "I learned who I am because I was stripped of everything," which is very, very powerful. And what I got from these narratives is that hope does not die.

Ayelet: Isn't that amazing? In this country we have tried so hard to destroy the hope of people in prison -- we strip away their basic dignity, we treat them so cruelly -- and yet they manage despite our best efforts to maintain optimism. How is that even possible?

Robin: Hope doesn’t really die. They create this amazing supportive community, they make pecan pie and even thanksgiving feasts with these macgyver-like ovens. They help each other overcome these abuses and drug addictions. Humans, along with an amazing capacity for evil, also have an amazing capacity to for love and through that to survive. At least that's my opinion.

Writing a book always changes a writer--and I can't imagine that putting together this book did not change you in some significant ways, because I know that reading it certainly changed me. Can you discuss this?

Ayelet: It's sounds so lame to say that I try to appreciate my blessings .... but it's true. Whenever I think of Teresa, for example, I am reminded that here is a woman who despite everything is so generous, so sweet. How dare I ever complain?

Robin: It’s true, doing this work I always been aware of how lucky I am. But this book has re-emphasized it, in such a human way. As a person doing this work on a day to day basis, it has made me view the statistics I spout differently. I also said that more than 2/3 of people inside women's prisons had experienced sexual or domestic abuse, but now when I say it I can think of the different, awful ways that they were abused. In many it makes it harder to be that rational spouter of facts, but so much more important.

These narratives are harrowing, upsetting, unfathomable. What can average people do to help these women?

Ayelet: We have a section in the back of the book that tells you where to go, what to do. Mostly, it's a matter of letting those in power know that we as a society will not tolerate this any longer. We won't accept a prison industrial complex that harms so many people, and makes us less safe, rather than more.

Robin: I do think the first thing is to go to our what you can do section and see if there is a particular issue that you want to pursue, send a letter about, volunteer or support work on. We give resources and suggestions for challenging the high number of women in prison, shackling during labor, high cost of telephone costs, family separation, child sexual abuse, etc. But also, as Ayelet says, we really need to take these women to heart and through our everyday activities, our voting, our volunteer work make sure that decision makers know that we must change our criminal justice system. That we need to put money into communities and rather than prisons, because while working on this book it struck me that as a society we break these women and then as a response we throw them away into prison. We must make sure that our narrators great gift of telling their lives is not in vain.

 I'd like to ask Robin about Justice Now, which is trying to build a movement to challenge violence and imprisonment. Can you elaborate on this please? What kinds of things are being done and what is the most effective?

 Robin: Justice Now has been trying to build a movement to challenge violence and imprisonment for more than a decade. As you can imagine it has been slow going. We do this through partnering with people inside women's prisons on advocacy and through leadership development. We have three main divisions: direct service, human rights and campaign. Direct service works to help people in the here and now, especially those with child custody issues and serious medical issues. They also work to put together advocacy/information sheets for people inside. Through this program we have been able to help people who have less than 6 months to live or are permanently incapacitated get released from prison, under the California compassionate release law. The human rights program conducts research to inform decision-makers and the public what is really going on inside prison. The Human Rights Division produced "Inside this Place," and other reports/ law review articles on safe motherhood and destruction of reproductive justice inside prison. The campaign division works to support initiatives to reduce the number of people in prison and to oppose that increase funding for prisons. This division expanded the compassionate release to include permanently incapacitated people.

 All of our work is done in partnership with the people inside the prison and with our substantial intern contingent, and this is our leadership development because we train future leaders. In many ways, I feel that the leadership development aspect is our most successful part of our work. Many of our former interns have gone on to become activists and as for the people in prison, they also have become advocates and have gained strength from the experience. Theresa, Victoria Sanchez and Charlie Morningstar are active with our organization.

Are you in touch with any of these women now?

Robin: Absolutely. I think we are in touch with most of the narrators. A few have disappeared back into their demons, but most have not. Many email me and they are all very, very excited and pleased about the book and hoping to be part of advocacy. We are drafting op-eds with four of the narrators, one of whom will be working on anti-shackling legislation in Georgia and one of them will be joining in May at a conference at UC-Irvine. In a month or so, I will send them a letter updating them on what is happening with the book. I am hopeful that this will be the start of a long term relationship.

Director/writer Drake Doremus talks about love, life and LIke Crazy

Ah, love.  Rapturous. Tortured. Insane.  To die for.  Like Crazy hits all those beats and more and critics and audiences are falling head-over-heels hard for it (the film swept Sundance)--and with good reason. I'm thrilled beyond words to have this interview from Drake Doremus, the film's uber-talented director/writer (he co-wrote the film with Ben York Jones.) 

Drake, I can't thank you--and Paramount Pictures--enough. I'm wrapping up the planet Saturn for both of you, as my thanks.

The best films, to my way of thinking, are the most personal.  What drew you to the subject of long distant love and what were you expecting to discover as you made the film?

Just about every rave review I've read has mentioned the blazing honesty of the film, and how you depict young love in a way we've never seen before, which, of course, is what every artist wants to do--to create something. Since almost all of the novelists I know always think they are failing right up until they get on the bestseller list or win prizes, I wanted to put the same question to you. Do you have doubts as you are working? And if so, how do you handle them?

As far as trying to depict something never seen before, I certainly try as hard as I can every day to focus on being honest to myself first and foremost, whether it be on set or in the edit room. I'm always trying to make sure how I feel is being honestly portrayed. I hate the idea of trying too hard. Mots of the time when I do that, it comes across as false. I try to let the moments speak to me and I try to stay centered on what I want to say. 

Yes, I have doubts. I have them every day. I think it's important to continue to have them, otherwise I could get comfortable and complacent. I always want to ask myself, "What the hell am I doing?" At least  twice a day. Making movies is a roller coaster and the thing I learned most from going from one project to the next is that I know what to expect and just how hard each day is going to be. It's the ultimate grind. But it's worth it.  Beyond worth it. 

I read that most of the film was unscripted. What was that experience like? Did anything about that surprise you--or the talented cast of actors?

Yes, every day is a surprise. Most people think that because a film is improvised that anything can happen. That is very false. Ben and I spend so much time delicately designing every plot point, and emotional objective for the characters so that things are always on track. The improvisation just allows the performances to be fresh and requires the actors to listen to each other. The actors surprised me every day with how boundless they were. 

What's obsessing you now--and why? (And this doesn't have to be a "what film are you doing next" kind of question.)

Love. Always love. The idea of what real love is, what it means, having it, feeling it, losing it, maintaining it, growing it. These are constant themes in my head, so the movies really do reflect that. 

What question didn't I ask that I should have?

Ha ha--How about what do you think is most important to you about your work? The answer is that each film is a chapter in the book of growth.

Suzanne Morrison Talks About Yoga Bitch: One Woman's Quest to Conquer Skepticism, Cynicism, and Cigarettes on the Path to Enlightenment

Come on, how could you not love a book that's called Yoga Bitch? Suzanne Morrison's tale of enlightenment is a fresh, hilarious look at how we try to reshape our lives. I'm deliriously happy to have her on my blog (especially considering my own Yoga trauma.) Thank you, Suzanne!

Your book is so, so funny! I just loved it, especially after my own yoga trauma. (I got yelled at after refusing to do a freaking handstand in the very first day of beginner's class. "You look like you need challenge!" the teacher told me. )

First off, that is an example of the absolute worst kind of yoga teacher, the one who makes you try something you aren't ready for and then guilts you into it. That's not yoga, that's asshole acrobatics.

 (Asshole acrobatics: Oh, the images that come to mind!)

When I got to the part where all the yoga people, except for you, are drinking their pee, I was laughing so hard that I nearly peed. But I still wonder, why didn't you leave then? I know you said it was penance, but don't you think reward acts just as well?

Ha! Well, I considered leaving. But the thing is, I’m prone to inertia. Once I’m in a place, it’s very hard for me to pick up and leave. I’m not one to change horses in midstream. (Midstream! Insert pee joke here!) Also, I was fascinated. I mean, the world is full of so many different kinds of people. So many crazy motherfuckers. I’ve always been attracted to people who are completely different from me, and this was an opportunity to be embedded in this weird, foreign world. If we were talking about pissdrinking on day one, I couldn’t help but wonder what we’d discuss on day twenty, you know?

So, people always tell me that someone rushing around all the time and agitated (like me) would really benefit from slowing down with yoga. But it didn't work for me at all. You seem sort of similar to me--do you think that statement is Kool-ade or does it have some merit?

Well, I think it all depends on the kind of yoga you were to try. If a person told you Christianity would help, that could mean being a Catholic, a Baptist, a Calvinist, a Unitarian, one of those crazy Westboro Jerkfaces . . . same with yoga. There are a kajillion types of yoga out there, and I think if someone wants to do yoga, they’ll find their type. But, well, you have to want to try it. Seems like you might be drawn more to a yoga teacher who’s wicked and smart and funny, maybe one who comes from a more intellectual yoga tradition as opposed to one of the more airy-fairy types or the drill-sergeant Iyengar type.

Folks who are more agitated and rushing around all the time, like us, can go in a few directions: some of us prefer slower, more restorative yoga (where you basically lie around on the floor pretending to be dead for ninety minutes) because it chills us out (I’m in this camp, usually) or we need something to burn us out a little, like a flow class, where you sweat and move a ton, and by the end you’re exhausted. Some of us need to exhaust ourselves first before we can relax. If I’m mad at someone, that type of yoga is very good for me.

BUT! That said! There are countless yoga proselytizers out there, trying to convert the masses. They can’t help it—yoga has changed their lives and they want to share the wealth. It doesn’t mean they’re right about it working for you, too. 

For me, if I sense that a teacher is really happy with herself, really satisfied with her spirituality and her flexibility and her vegetarianism or whatever; if she really knows she has a lot to teach us, because she’s figured out so much? I run like hell from that teacher. I’m a lot more attracted to the Woody Allens of yoga, the neurotic, searching, questioning yogis who suspect it’s all a house of cards. Those are the teachers whose classes I return to again and again. Who knows, maybe you would too?

Then again, maybe you should just stay home and watch some TV. I love TV. Add some chocolate or bacon to the experience and you just might reach enlightenment.

 I know that yoga is about limitlessness, but your wise, funny and acerbic account makes it seem limiting and even cultish. (I know, I am showing my bias). why do you think it isn't as accepting of the unique? You, frankly, were the one person in the group, that I would have wanted to talk to!

Aw, thanks Caroline! You would have liked Baerbel, too—she was smart and funny and very grounded. Whenever I felt myself becoming too ethereal, I would run to her house for a good, sarcastic conversation.

As for accepting the unique, I think yoga studios attract certain types, for sure. One studio will be bursting at the seams with yoga bitches in overpriced workout clothes. Another will be full of smiley, happy people who’ve cooked their brains in overheated rooms and become very compassionate as a result. You’ve got your classes full of people who admit they have no idea what they’re doing in yoga, that they don’t know why they even came to class, that they know they’ll never touch their toes, but jeez, here they are, so they’re going to try, however sheepishly. (I love those people.) You have the smelly throwbacks to the sixties and you have the power yogis who look like bodybuilders.

But there’s that one type of yogi that seems so ubiquitous from the outside, the judgey, yogier-than-thou, perfect yogi, at once an acrobat and a self-appointed guru. This type has figured it out. She gets it. Anyone who thinks differently than she does simply does not get it. She is to be avoided at all cost. She strongly believes that your uniqueness would be vastly improved if it were remodeled in her image. Run.

Part of why you went on this retreat was because you were afraid of death. What about now? (and why or why not?) You were also trying God on for size. How is the fit? It it different now than it was when you were in Bali?

Oh, I’m still afraid of death. I don’t have any equanimity about death whatsoever. I’m completely against it. I don’t know how one “gets over” death, or why I ever imagined I could do that. I mean—it’s death. You’re over. Done. It’s appalling, a major design flaw. But what’s nice about yoga and meditation is that they both really do help me to be more in the moment, so I’m thinking less about all my various psychic cancers and the probability of my dying of lupus or some rare type of encephalitis.

Writing does that, too—anything that requires complete concentration is good for eradicating, or at any rate postponing, fear. (There’s a reason artistic types tend to have an affinity for yoga and meditation—we engage that kind of focus on a daily basis. Concentration isn’t a foreign concept when you write books or music. It’s a requirement.) So I find that in concentration there is some relief from the fear of death, from fear of anything, really—change, illness, aging, loss, financial devastation, nuclear war, boils, taxes, all the things I fear when my mind isn’t occupied. The goal is to be that focused all the time, when chopping carrots, writing, having a conversation, waxing your legs. That’s enlightenment, in a nutshell.

As for God, I’m still looking. I think I’ve come to a place where I can admit that I’m on the hunt, that I’m deeply interested in religion and spirituality, and that might be enough for me. To be sort of a hobbyist at religion. I try to pray, to meditate, and I fail all the time. I think I’m doing it almost as an experiment, like, what will happen if I pray to Mary every night? It’s a challenge, almost. But I don’t know if I can believe in God as defined by any of the world’s religions. That’s why yoga’s a good fit for me, I think. It’s a great way to engage in spiritual inquiry without feeling like I’m getting boxed into something that feels fictional.

Why do you think it took you eight years to see how you had changed? And can you talk about that a bit here?

Well, I can be slow. I think that’s part of it. But mostly it took falling in love, which felt like starting a whole new life, to be able to look backwards and see the path that had led me there. It wasn’t until I had that perspective that I knew what the story was.

That’s why I structured the book the way I did, as a sort of dialogue between perspective and lack thereof. I went on my yoga retreat in Bali thinking that wisdom and self-understanding was something you could schedule, or pick up at the store, like a loaf of bread. (I think the wellness industry encourages this notion, too, and I am very susceptible to it.)

But of course that’s not how it works. I picked up a lot of tools for developing self-understanding while on retreat, but I didn’t come home with everything figured out the way I had hoped I would. I came home more confused than when I’d left! Here I’d thought that I would return to the States as wise and grounded and certain about myself as the yoga teacher, Indra, I admired. I thought she had found everything—God, herself, the love of her life—through yoga. I thought that if I just followed in her footsteps, I would find all of those things, too. Instead I left Bali thinking Indra might be a huge fraud and that I wouldn’t ever be able to truly change my life.

If I hadn’t responded so powerfully to Indra I wouldn’t have felt the need to write this story. But for years, I couldn’t stop wondering why I had believed her to be so perfect and why my disillusionment was so disappointing when she turned out to be—well, a human being.

And so the story is partly about how those tools I picked up on retreat became useful to me as I learned how to use them over time. There was one moment, many years after the retreat, after I had finally ripped my life apart and sewn it back together, when I felt like I finally understood what had happened with Indra. When, for the briefest of moments, I had insight into my life and compassion for the woman I had idolized. That was when I knew I had a story, because I knew where it ended.

 Do you think any sort of journey, other than yoga, can take people to where they need to go, if they are willing to self-examine?

Absolutely. For one thing, anything you do can be considered yoga. So you might never chant Om or do a downward dog or read a sutra, but if you’re living an examined life as a garbage collector, you’re doing yoga. If you engage your life honestly, you’re doing yoga. The idea is that you’re trying to acknowledge what’s real. What’s real might be that you’re an asshole, and if you recognize it, and say, “I am an asshole,” then you are doing yoga. If you are an asshole, and you tell yourself “I am not that bad. I’m not a real asshole, compared to that guy. Compared to that guy, that Hitler guy, I’m a real peach,” then you are not doing yoga. You are warping reality instead of allowing it to be what it is. Embrace the asshole. It’s what’s real.

Self-inquiry is everything. Honestly looking at yourself will take you all kinds of fascinating, harrowing, hilarious places. You don’t need to do yoga to go on that journey. You just need to pay attention, and invite your whole self to the table, not just the nice parts.

What's obsessing you now?

My new memoir is about my first big relationship, and how it changed me. I’m very interested in the struggle in my late teens/early twenties between my desire for independence and my need for connection. I thought I had figured the whole world out before I fell in love for the first time. But suddenly I found myself in a whole new world, one I didn’t understand at all. And most of all, I didn’t understand myself in it. I didn’t know myself anymore, with a man. I’m fascinated by that sort of alienation we can experience from ourselves.

I’ve also been doing a lot of research in the past couple of years on serial killers—my new show has to do with Ted Bundy, who was a friend of my parents’.

What question didn't I ask that I should have?

Which foods would you trade enlightenment for?

Chocolate, crème brulee, salt & vinegar potato chips, bacon, a perfect cup of coffee, Fritos, Doritos, Tostitos, Taquitos, Burritos. Pretty much anything that ends in an –os. A hamburger crammed with dill pickles and ketchup. Any cheese or dairy product except for cottage cheese, which I’ll eat but am not truly passionate about. Skim milk is for people who hate life, so that’s out, too. Crispy buttery chicken skin, with or without the rest of the chicken. Chocolate with almonds, chocolate with hazelnuts, chocolate with caramel, chocolate with mint, chocolate with chocolate, double chocolate, triple chocolate supreme which is something I think I just invented. Hot chocolate—I love hot chocolate. Chocolate covered bacon is very good. I also like wine with a chocolatey bouquet. Also, sausage. 

Sonia Taitz talks about In the King's Arms, Love, Loss, and What She Wrote

I raved about Sonia Taitz's novel in my book column at Shoptopia.com, and I'm absolutely honored to have her here talking about the writing process.  I can't thank you enough, Sonia!

LOVE, LOSS -- AND WHAT I WROTE

People tell me I’m making up for lost time. My just-released novel, IN THE KING’S ARMS, was nearly published two decades years ago (the deal fell through). The last book I wrote, MOTHERING HEIGHTS, came out in the 90’s. Where have I been, and what have I done, and how can I catch up now?

The thing is, I’ve really been here all along. My body, mind and heart have all been avidly involved in the raising of three kids. When MOTHERING HEIGHTS came out, I was still able to juggle two children and my writing. But being on television in makeup and heels to promote my book never felt as right as wiping off the paint, kicking the high-heels back to the closet, and getting down on the floor to cuddle or play. By the time the paperback edition of MOTHERING HEIGHTS came out, I had three lively children – Emma, Gabriel, and Phoebe – all under the age of five. My housekeeper quit in dismay (to be fair, the place looked like the lovechild of Disneyland and Hoarders). Then my father fell ill with terminal cancer and a year later, my mother did, too. It felt like the easiest and most right thing in the world to put on my sweats and grab some facecloths and be useful in the most anonymous and thankless way. The thanks, actually, was there, but was unspoken; it was the love between all of us.  As I said in MOTHERING HEIGHTS, “what children take from us, they give…. We become people who feel more deeply, question more deeply, hurt more deeply, and love more deeply.” The same is true when we take care of our aging parents.

I popped my head out in the 00’s. Both my father and mother, by then, had passed away, and I had been there with them, invigilating even their deathbeds. I knew they were at peace. My children were growing up happy, good and strong.  Eventually, I started writing again, first a play, and then a draft of a new novel, and then – when my parents had been gone for many years -- a memoir about growing up as the daughter of Holocaust survivors. Perhaps taking care of the helpless or wounded had begun with this unique childhood. As an immigrant’s daughter, being there for my parents -- who had survived death camps and refugee camps, and who came to America without money or language – had always felt right to me. As I began writing again, I also dusted off my long-dormant law degree, working with foster children and with victims of rape and domestic violence. Gradually, slowly, I emerged back into the world of makeup and heels. Well, lip gloss and two-inch heels. But I emerged.

IN THE KING’S ARMS (the story of the daughter of survivors and her romance with the son of anti-Semites) is now published. Another novel is being buffed and polished, and my memoir will be out next year. I’m also planning to bring MOTHERING HEIGHTS out as an ebook. So I’m guess I’m back. But I never left. I just went somewhere beautiful, worthy and rich – and am a better writer for it.

Mike Levy talks about Kosher Chinese: Living, Teaching, and Eating With China's Other Billion

I first met Mike at the Brattleboro Book Festival, and sat enthralled through his reading (and also had a blast talking to him at the Authors' Reception.)  I quickly discovered that not only is he one of the funniest people on the planet, but his stories are so engaging, all you want to do is just sit and listen to him talk--or keep reading his phenomenal book! Of course, I badgered Mike into coming onto my blog and I'm thrilled to host him here.  Thanks, Mike!

How did writing the book come about and what was the whole process like? Did you start writing it after you were home or while you were in China?

I once read that Maya Angelou does all of her writing on legal pads with a felt tipped pen, and does it with military regimentation:  5-11am, every day, in the same room, with the same things sitting next to her (a thesaurus, a Bible, and a bottle of wine, or something like that).

My process was the opposite.  No regimentation, or even intention!  I was blogging while in China, and a friend sent the blog to his literary agent.  The agent—Will Lippincott, a real champion for young writers— liked what he was reading and contacted me on Skype.  It was all very 21st century.  We chatted on and off while I was in China, but I never really thought of trying to create the seamless narrative necessary for a memoir.  But when I got home and met with Will, he convinced me a memoir was not only possible, but the best way to tell my story.  And so we started the year long process of transforming hundreds of blogs into a book pitch.

What was it like to build a community in such a foreign environment--and what was it like when you came back home to culture shock?

I was surprised to find how easy it was to build community, even half a world away, among people with a wildly different background from my own—these were farmers earning a few dollars a day, and I grew up in a typical American suburb.

I learned that people everywhere respond to authenticity, and people everywhere like to be heard.  So I tried to be myself, and I tried to ask questions.  This led to a lot of mahjong, a lot of late nights drinking beer with new friends, and a lot of basketball.  Life in Guiyang was physically difficult, and at times I was spiritually isolated (I was the only Jew within a thousand miles, after all). . .  but it was emotionally rich.  I quickly found friends and community.

Coming home was easier than I thought it would be.  One thing I remember vividly was lying in the grass in Northampton, Massachusetts, and literally burying my face in the soil.  That sounds ridiculous. . .  but China’s environment is so wildly devastated, and the county is so overcrowded, that I had not seen an open, clean patch of grass in almost three years.

We are lucky to be post-industrial, and I will never again take clean air and water for granted.

You and I have had a conversation about why going to an extremely foreign environment is so much better an experience than going to, say, Paris or London, where it's much easier to fit in. The rewards are just greater. Do you feel that that way of thinking transcends travel and applies to everything else in life as well, like work and love and etc.?

What a fun question!  As you know, I’m a teacher, and the best part about the job is seeing things with fresh eyes—seeing a text from a teenager’s perspective, or looking at a problem again for the first time.  I feel like this is such a gift.  Traveling to a new place can result in the same feelings (newness, curiosity, rebirth, connection).  And when I’m not teaching and not able to travel, I use literature to create a sense of the foreign.  I spent last weekend in feudal Japan. . .  thanks to David Mitchell’s The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet.

 I was really interested in how your love for ritual comes across in the book. You keep kosher, go to temple (sometimes), yet you aren't religious.  Can you talk a bit about that?

The simplest way for me to describe my habits is that I do what works for me.  Yoga helps me relax, so I do it.  Traveling helps me stay curious, so I do it.  And Jewish ritual helps me feel healthy and happy, so I do it.  In other words:  my religious habits are done for the same reason as my exercise habits, or intellectual habits.  I wrap tfillin in the mornings because, for some reason, it connects me to myself.  I keep Kosher because it gives each meal meaning.  I don’t do these things because I think God wants me to.  I don’t even know what that statement could even mean.

All of this makes me a typical Jew, I think. . .  A person wrestling with tradition, text, and the divine.  It’s a life long journey.

What's obsessing you now?

Home brewing Chinese rice wine, reading Haruki Murakami, and trying to figure out how to teach 4th graders about Buddhism.  Yikes!

What question didn't I ask that I should have?

The question that comes up most frequently as I travel to talk about Kosher Chinese is this:  why are the stories in the memoir so different from the stories people see in the mainstream media.  The answer is that central China really is a world apart.  The billion people living there are rendered invisible by the New York Times and CNN. . .  I guess the story of the booming coast on the one side and the spiritual Tibetans on the other overwhelms the story of actual daily life for typical Chinese people.  And that’s a shame.

Pictures of You one of BookMarks Best Books of 2011!

Joy. Joy. Joy. Joy.

Beth Kephart talks about book trailers and You Are My Only

Nowadays, you sort of have to have a book trailer. It's interesting and fun to think about your novel as a preview at the local movie theater, with people watching while they chomp on popcorn. But it's also really difficult to get the visual right. I did a trailer for Pictures of You, but I hired someone I thought was brilliant to do it for me, and all I knew at the start is that I wanted fog.  I wanted it to be moody.  I wanted it to feel dark. I'm glad I have a trailer. I really like it, though I keep wanting to change it around, much the way I do with my novels after they are finished.  And I take full responsibility for the misspelling I didn't catch! 

I invited Beth Kephart here to talk about the process and to show off her trailer.  Thanks, thanks, thanks, as always Beth, for being here on my blog (and here in my life.)

I don’t know, truthfully, what a trailer for a book should be. Or if trailers, in general, make a difference. But I wanted to make something (my own hands, my own heart) that would hold the book in a small electronic space—engender a mood, suggest a sound, give voice.

You Are My Only touches on sensitive things—on the real-life heartbreak of kidnap. Cute wouldn’t do for this trailer. Big and noisy would be wrong. Slick, I thought, was a poor choice, too. I just frankly wanted quiet, wanted the book to speak for itself. I also wanted to thank some of the many exquisite people who have read this book ahead of its release and given me the hope I needed to carry it forward.

I take photographs when I’m not writing; I decided to use some of them. I know how to operate iMovie, so I made a “B” roll with that. My husband was in charge of filming me (tripoding the camera, testing the lights, then leaving the room when I spoke so that I could feel alone) and in charge of transitioning our various bits and pieces into Final Cut Express. I sat beside him for four hours on a rainy morning until we got it right.

Well. Right is an overstatement. I am aware of the trailer’s flaws. But the quiet is there. The mood of the day. Me in my office, reading. That’s all it is, but I am glad we made it. It

Pictures of You proud sponsor of brilliant Brad Listi's OTHER PEOPLE author podcast!

I'm thrilled to announce that PICTURES OF YOU is the sponsor of the latest episode of Brad Listi's new author interview podcast, OTHER PEOPLE, episode 11, Adam Levin. Brad's the brilliant founder and producer of The Nervous Breakdown, and all TNB book club titles are getting podcast sponsorships in the early going as a way to help the cause and the club.

And the show is available for subscription free of charge at iTunes.

How cool is this???

Former Algonquin Publicity Assistant/ Genius Sarah Rose Nordgren talks about her new writing fellowship, Paris, and the writing life

It's no secret how I worship all the gods and goddesses at my publisher, Algonquin. Sarah Rose Nordgren, as publicity assistant there,  booked my flights and my hotel, held my hand when I panicked, and made sure I never had to get up too early or leave too late from anywhere at any time. Sarah just won this amazing writing fellowship, and I wanted a chance to celebrate her so I asked her to come on my blog.  Thank you, Sarah, for being on my blog, for being on my side, for being my friend, for everything in the world I can think of.

You've won this extraordinary Fellowship in Provincetown. Tell us about it--and is it strange going from a fulltime job to being a writer full time? 

The winter fellowship at the Fine Arts Work Center is an artist’s dream. Each year ten visual artists and ten writers are awarded seven full months to devote exclusively to their art. The Center provides living and working space and a small stipend, and the only criteria is that the recipient spends the fellowship months here in Provincetown creating. The Fine Arts Work Center has been around since 1968, and has hosted a parade of amazing writers including Louise Glück, Michael Cunningham, Denis Johnson, Marie Howe, Ann Patchett, and Nick Flynn (the list goes on and on!). The community and support provided by the FAWC is invaluable, and Provincetown itself is a wonderful place to write. At the very tip of Cape Cod, the town is surrounded by ocean, and the fellowship year begins just as the last tourists are straggling out of town. The winters here are windy, dark, moody, and isolated, which makes it perfect for writing as long as you keep your head screwed on tight. As a Returning Fellow (I was also here in ‘08-09), I know what I’m getting into, and this time I brought my fiancé (poet Michael C. Peterson) and furry feline (Yuri) along with me to fend off insanity.

Three weeks into the fellowship, I’m still getting my sea legs, as it were. The transition from working fulltime (and I had an exceptionally busy summer) to being a fulltime writer again does feel very extreme! I’m trying to be patient with myself as I loosen my grip on the clock and relax into a more writerly schedule. It’s impossible for me to just jump in and start producing poems when my brain has been tuned into work and schedules and wedding planning and moving… I have to clear away the mental clutter gradually so my writer-brain can wake up and emerge from the waters. 

You were this remarkable publicist at Algonquin and I owed my life to you so many times--how did you manage to write while always been available to other writers?

I liked my job at Algonquin precisely because I had the opportunity to work with other writers. Even though we were usually communicating about practical things like schedules and press materials and tours, I enjoyed feeling like I could contribute to the success of a book, and help writers have a positive publishing experience. The world of publishing for poetry is usually quite different than for fiction because there aren’t big tours, and the books don’t sell in large numbers, but if and when I’m lucky enough to have my manuscript published, I’ll be thrilled if I have anywhere close to the support and care that Algonquin gives it’s authors.

While I do think it’s possible to write and work a day-job (many people are doing it as I write this!), I’m sorry to say that I’ve personally never figured out a satisfying way to balance work and writing. My brain goes into productive/schedules/to-do list mode, and it’s very difficult for me to slip into a more open and spacious mind-frame in the evening or on a Saturday. I wish I could give some advice about this issue. Perhaps someone can give me some good advice!

When --and why--did you first start writing? And why poetry? Do you also write fiction?

Like many writers, I fell in love with words early and hard. I was fortunate to attend an alternative school (Waldorf) from preschool on through middle school, and one of the pedagogical strategies there is to do a lot of memorization and recitation. We learned and recited poems by Blake and Emerson (my 8^th grade class learned the entirety of The Raven by Poe), read stories and poems aloud, studied fairy tales and Bible stories and Norse and Greek mythologies. It was the perfect education for an artist! In elementary school I began writing several novels which I never finished (the first clue that I’m not a fiction writer!). These novels usually revolved around some young girl who had a terminal illness or other major tragedy in her life, and her wild Arabian horse. Then in middle school and high school I started writing poems and never stopped.

Besides one foray into a fiction workshop as an undergraduate at Sarah Lawrence, I’ve known for awhile that my heart is written in verse. The “stories” I wrote in that one fiction class were more like extended prose poems under the influences of Lydia Davis and Hans Christian Andersen (I’m making them sound way better than they actually were). The big tip off was the conversations in workshop. Students wanted to discuss “what happened” in my stories, and politely requested more character development and dialogue. Plot? Character? I looked at my classmates like they were Philistines. “But what about the mood?” I asked. “And did you notice my syntax?”

Where do you want to be in five years? (Besides in Paris, writing in a cafe!)

Only there and nowhere else! (Add husband and lovely future children to the scene: Michael and I can alternate days so one can write while the other cavorts in the park with our dear son, Marcel, and daughter, Joyce. We can meet for lunch in the café, where Michael and I will drink café au lait and the children will have steamed milk and sandwiches.) 

What's obsessing you now?

I’m reading The Origin of Species by Charles Darwin and India by Patrick French, and thinking a lot about pre-history. Today I also started reading The Evolution of Bruno Littlemore by Benjamin Hale (a college friend whom I recently became reacquainted with), which seems like it could be a nice compliment to the other books. I don’t know where these lines of thinking will take me, but probably somewhere!

What question didn't I ask that I should have asked?

“Where can people read your poetry?” Well, online you can read it here and here. Also look out for my work in the Best New Poets 2011 anthology which pubs in November, and in upcoming issues of The Iowa Review and Pleiades.