Five Questions: Aimee Bender

Aimee Bender has been publishing fiction for over 10 years, but I hadn’t heard of her until last October when I read her story “The Fake Nazi.” It was published in the Fall 2010 issue of Ploughshares, and it was one of the best stories I read last year. It’s about a German man who turns himself in for the heinous crimes he committed during the holocaust. They thing is, he wasn’t a Nazi and didn’t commit any crimes. In fact, he’s a rather decent fellow. What struck me about the story was the interesting plot and the beautiful prose. I’ve since devoured Bender’s first short story collection, The Girl in the Flammable Skirt, her two novels: An Invisible Sign of My Own, and The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake, which was released this year. I loved them all!

Bender’s fiction is commonly called “magical realism.” For example, she writes about two girls, one with a hand of fire, the other a hand of ice; a man who comes back from the war missing his lips; and a hunchback that had his hunchback artificially implanted. In The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake, the main character, Rose Edelstein, can taste the cook’s emotions in the food she eats. For me, the magical qualities of her stories are ground and in real life emotions.

Q. Your stories and novels are wonderfully imaginative. Where do you get your inspiration?

A. Thank you!  I don’t really have a source I can point to, but I’ve been working on a strict schedule since 1995, writing every weekday morning for two hours.  I get so bored sitting at my desk that eventually I start making up stories.  And the boredom is a key factor in the idea-generating, too.  I think they are a pair: boredom and inspiration, and one begets the other, in an ebb and flow kind of way.

Q. I love the story “Call My Name” in The Girl in the Flammable Skirt. I’ve read you wrote it while getting your MFA at UC Irvine and a number of people who you asked to read it thought the story didn’t quite work. One person you respected suggested the lead character should be a transvestite. Do you have a good sense of when you should listen to feedback from others and when should you stick to your guns?

A. I forgot that line, about the transvestite! But yes. That did happen.  And another person said that I didn’t have any sympathy for that character, and I really do.  The whole process was interesting.  It was a story that several journals also said ‘didn’t add up’ and then when the book came out, it was one of the stories readers commented upon the most, and the response was largely positive.  That said, there were many people in workshop who were very supportive of the story, which did give me some hope. But I was learning at that time how to take in the comments – my first book actually sold based on a story I’d placed in a journal that got the most mixed response of all, and I just liked it, and I felt like it was ready to send around.  I think a writer’s own stubbornness about her own work can be really key in times when response is mixed.  Better to be a little stubborn in this way than too receptive.  Ultimately, I think feedback is useful when it resonates with something I also feel about the story but maybe won’t quite admit to myself.  But if I like the story and no one else does, my own liking of it still counts.   In order for a writer to grow, it’s important to try to hear who is really offering useful comments.  But in order for a writer to keep writing, the ownership of the story has to ALWAYS remain in his court.

Q. You’re also quoted as saying that UC Irvine was a great because the other students and faulty were very support of your off-center approach to fiction. Is it challenging for you to help your students improve their writing without stepping on their own unique styles?

A. That’s what makes it dynamic – if everyone wrote the same kind of stories, and all I had to say was “add conflict!” or “put in a little setting!” I would not like leading workshops.  But I think what’s interesting is trying to see where the author of a story has gotten in her own way, or where the story itself is wanting to go.  And we, the workshoppers, have to try to be careful not to impose our own aesthetics upon the story, which is hard to do (and which writers Judith Grossman and Geoffrey Wolff really emphasized at UCI, which was so helpful to me).  We all like a certain kind of story best, and this writer may not like that kind of story at all.  Nothing makes a writer less interested in workshop than comments that have nothing to do with what they did – (e.g. “Why don’t you add some dialogue! I like dialogue!” to a writer who is interested intensely in description and language and density.)

Q. I’ve read in another interview (I wish I hadn’t written down where) that you “…always tell students to skip over character and plot. The way I read and teach is to look at language.” How do you teach this and how do you apply this in your own writing?

A. So – I hope I didn’t say skip over character and plot.  They can’t really be skipped over.  They’re pretty central.  But – the deal is that plot and character are always evoked through the language used to describe them, so I do think that’s the key.   The writer can look to the language to learn about character and plot.  What I mean is – they write 4 pages, and the lines that sing, that feel interesting, that feel alive, will have details of character and plot in them, or details of something, and that is, in my mind, the writer’s way of knowing where to take the story.  It’s the way we can follow our own unconscious, by what shows up in a lively way on the page.  And although we may have great, glittering ideas in our minds about a story, if it’s dull on the page, then there’s no charge to the idea.  It’s just an idea.  It can be so surprising to discover this way what you really want to write about.

Q. What attracts you to dialogue without quotation marks?

A. I just like how it looks.  I like the flow.  I don’t mind quotes but they are visually distracting sometimes; it really depends on the story/page.

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Five Questions: Alix Ohlin

About a year ago I was in my local library leafing through the most recent issue of Ploughshares when I stumbled upon a story by Alix Ohlin. It was called “The Only Child,” and something about it really resonated with me. As a result of reading that story, I checked out of the library her collection of short stories called Babylon and Other Stories (I’ve read about half the stories) and bought her novel, The Missing Person. Both books are wonderful. I’ve become a big fan of her work, in part, because of her beautiful prose. It is literary, but readable, whimsical and precise. I just dig it.

I recently tracked her down and here are her responses to five questions.

Q. I really enjoy the stories you’ve written where the plot jumps forward in time. In some cases it is minor jump, but in “The Only Child” the jumps are frequent and sometimes abrupt. What attracts you to that type of story telling? Was Alice Munro an influence here? Does that throw some readers?

A. Jumps in time in fiction have fascinated me for a long while. I think it’s probably because a lot of short fiction tends to zoom in on particular moments, and then if you jump away from that, it gives the story a rush of adrenaline, a feeling of breaking free from a cage. Alice Munro is certainly an influence here, particularly “The Beggar Maid,” as is Katherine Anne Porter’s story “The Grave.” But “The Only Child” is particularly influenced by one of my favorite books, The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie by Muriel Spark, which is full of flash forwards—it has this really confident narration that doesn’t mind spiraling forward in time to inform you of the fates of each and every character. I wanted to experiment with something like that. One of the challenges of stories is showing how some particular moment fits into the overall course of a person’s life—and the jump in time gives you the latitude to come right out and say how it fits. I’m not sure how readers react to it, but I find it energizing.

Q. I read in another interview that you are working on a novel that includes jumps in time. Do you care to share more information on the book?

A. The novel I’ve been working on follows multiple characters—therapists, an aid worker, an actress—whose lives intersect at various moments in time over the course of ten years. So there are three different “time zones” in the book and it’s not told in chronological order. One of the themes of the book is helping, or rescuing—why some people are drawn to try to help others, what happens when they succeed or fail—and the multiple time zones allow me to show these characters at different places in their lives. Sometimes they’re the ones who are helping, and sometimes they themselves need help.

Q. I like to read short stories. But I’m also am trying to write them. I’m curious: the people you’ve run into who’ve read your short story collection, are they typically MFA students, or people trying to write themselves? Or do you see a non-writer audience for short stories?

A. It’s hard to say. Certainly many of the people who’ve contacted me after reading the collection are themselves writers. But sometimes I think that the “non-writer audience” for stories would be bigger if more people knew about the form, if story collections received more attention. I consider myself a reader first, and there are so many great story writers out there at the moment, from Munro and Lahiri to Yiyun Li and George Saunders…I could go on endlessly. I wish more people would read them.

Q. I’ve read that you’re a fan of crime fiction. Do you think it is possible for a writer today to succeed in two genres, or is there too much pressure by publishers and marketers to categorize a writer into a specific area?

A. I do like some crime fiction, going back to Raymond Chandler, and am currently into a lot of Scandinavian crime writers such as Henning Mankell and Hakan Nesser. I don’t really have any personal experience with the marketing side of the question. There are certainly writers like Joyce Carol Oates who have written genre books (in her case mysteries) under a pseudonym. And then there are writers like Elmore Leonard and Dennis Lehane whose work is enormously well-respected and admired even by people who don’t ordinarily read much in that genre. The books that I tend to admire most are literary novels that make interesting use of genre tropes—the way that Jonathan Lethem uses the detective novel in Motherless Brooklyn, or the way that Ishiguro uses science fiction in Never Let Me Go. Those conventions become a touchstone for the reader even as the novels take us into surprising, unfamiliar places. I love that.

Q. You teach as well as write. How has teaching helped you as a writer?

A. Enormously. It gives my life structure and community, both of which I would probably be lost without. I consider myself very lucky to spend most of my time talking about the subject I love with other people. And the thing about teaching writing is that no matter how many years you do it, each time is different—because the students are always new, always thinking and writing something that is fresh and surprising to me. It’s a great job.

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Five Questions: Al Riske

I’ve known Al Riske for a number of years. He’s a good friend, and one of the people who inspired me to start writing fiction (thank you, Al!). We share an interest in writing and literature, and also have similar tastes in music – we’re both huge fans of Van Morrison and Bruce Sprinsteen.

A few years ago, Al had his first short story published, “What She Said.” I think he wrote the first draft of that story over 30 years ago. Since then, he has had a slew of stories published, won an award, and his short story collection, Precarious, is making its way to bookstores now. So I thought I’d add Al to my Five Questions series.

Q. There are 15 stories included in Precarious. Some of them were written over 30 years ago, but your first published story didn’t appear until 2007. Why do you think it took so long to break through, and how did it feel when “What She Said” was accepted by Beloit?

A. It took a long time because I wasn’t ready. I thought I was ready, but I can see now, looking back on earlier drafts, that I wasn’t. I wasn’t, and the stories weren’t. If they had been published earlier (and I did come close with an editor from Penguin back in 2002), I wouldn’t have been nearly as proud of them as I am now. Now, I wouldn’t change a thing — though I reserve the right to change my mind on that.

Having that first story published was huge for me. It gave me some much needed validation. All the rejection notes say how subjective the process is, and you think, yeah, yeah, the editors are just trying to let me down easy. But it is subjective. Really subjective. One of my stories was rejected 27 times before it was finally published — and, from what I understand, that’s not unusual.

I didn’t know that, though, so I tended to give up after just a few tries. In the case of “What She Said,” I tried half a dozen places and they all said no, so I figured, what’s the use? Eight years later I decided I really liked the story and tried again. The very next place I sent it, the Beloit Fiction Journal, published it

Q.   Almost every story in Precarious deals with relationships, men and women trying to find love. More often than not, the characters get tantalizingly close to finding love, but in the end it eludes them. Am I reading that correctly, and if so, what attracts you to that theme?

A. If that’s true — and I think you may be on to something — it’s probably because I was often unlucky in love. So much can go wrong, you know? Most of the time we don’t even know what it is we really want. Or we know but we can’t say. We can’t say because saying it out loud would spoil it somehow. We want the other person to figure it out, to just know what we need from them, but too few of us know how to read minds.

Q.  Has your approach to writing changed since you wrote the first of these stories?

A. Yes and no. I didn’t know what I was doing 30-odd years ago when I wrote the earliest of these stories. I still don’t. Not really. As I write, I’m just trying to figure out how I feel about things — and a lot of what comes out surprises me. It’s like, Where did that come from?

From a more technical standpoint, I do seem to have fallen into a pattern where I tend to put down the dialogue first and then add layers of action and description. Which is weird because my very first stories had zero dialogue. Now it’s my favorite thing to do. I think I was so worried about not being able to do dialogue that I scared myself into getting pretty good at it.

Q. What are you working on now?

A. I’m working on a short novel with a long title — The Boy Who Broke Sabrina’s Window. It begins with a 17-year-old boy breaking the window of a woman nearly twice his age — an accident that marks the beginning of an instant, inexplicable bond between them. It’s set in one of my favorite places — Taos, New Mexico — and explores some of the same themes as my short stories. Joshua and Sabrina share confidences, intercede in each other’s love lives, go on a date that scandalizes the town, and confront questions of fidelity, desire, and the nature of love.

Q. What is the best advice on writing that you’ve ever gotten?

A. That’s an easy one: “Diversify your emotional investments.” Which comes from our mutual friend Greg Bardsley. It’s a very memorable way of saying, Don’t put all your hopes into any one project. Just keep writing and putting things out there. Thanks, Greg. I need that.

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Five Questions: Greg Bardsley

One of the best short story collections I’ve read in years is the recently released Uncage Me. It was edited by Jennifer Jordan. There are 22 stories written by 22 different authors. I suppose you’d classify the stories as noir, but they push that genre in twisted, sick, and spectacularly entertaining new ways. One of my favorite stories, Fire Girl, is about a sexy pyromaniac girl-for-hire who masturbates as she watches a house burn.

My good friend – the very talented writer Greg Bardsley – also has a story in the Uncage Me. It’s called Hotshot 52. It’s great! Greg has published close to a dozen short stories, which you can checkout on his blog.

Q. Uncage Me is such a strong collection of stories. And it includes a number of well-established authors. How does it feel to be part of this group?

When I saw the contributor list, I was shocked and honored to be one of the few no-names. When I received the hardcover edition, it was an even bigger rush. I have to admit I opened it and smelled the paper and ink, the binding glue. I’ve always done that with books I love. .. Um, was that too much information?

Since then, as I’ve read the pieces, it’s felt really good in a very incremental way. As in, “Damn, that was yet another really fine story. I mean, damn fine.” And then I’ll finger back to my story, look at it, and fan the pages to the Konrath story that follows it, and then to the Gischler story that precedes it, and think, again, “Damn, I’m in here, too. I mean, really?” It’s a high to have my piece sandwiched between those guys (that sounded disgusting, but you know what I mean).

Q. What compels you to write crime, noir fiction?

Some people in my regular life are asking that question these days. I think a few might be shocked and disturbed by my stories.

Why do I write this stuff? I’m not sure. I have admit to completely backing into noir on the dance floor of my life. I never really aimed for any kind of genre – literary, noir, pulp, crime, hardboiled, whatever – it just happened to me. A few years ago I sent a crazy piece called “Upper Deck” to novelist Anthony Neil Smith, who edits the legendary and influential ‘zine, Plots with Guns; little did I know it was just the kind of transgressive fiction he wanted. Blind luck on my part. My point is, folks like Neil are far smarter than me — they understand the fiction world in which they write and read, and they can put things in context. I’m kind of like this guy wearing earplugs and a blindfold, blowing a kazoo as I stumble down a crowded boulevard, slamming into poles and wobbling into intersections. Not proud of it, but that’s the reality.

What I do know is that crime fiction fascinates me, and it allows me to take truly interesting characters right over the edge. That, and I’ve always loved comic crime fiction. I mean, the possibilities …

Q. In addition to writing, you also have a full-time job, and a family. When do you find time to write?

Interesting you bring this up. This challenge has been front and center with me lately, as I have come to accept that I must be more disciplined. So now I‘m just telling myself that I must write every day – at least for an hour, if not 90 minutes or more. What does that look like? It’s stealing moments from my regular life – whether it’s during lunch at work or, more likely, after everyone’s asleep. I thank guys like Keith Rawson, Frank Bill and Kieran Shea for the inspirational example of their commitment and discipline – these guys are making real sacrifices to achieve serious word counts each and every day (or close to it), and it shows in the excellence of their work, and in the quantity of that work. I am sick and tired of taking years and years to complete a manuscript, so now I’m writing every day no matter how nasty real life is, and loving it – it’s like I’m putting the noise of life into this nasty Peruvian necktie, repeating, “You *will* cooperate. You *will* give me 90 minutes a day.”

Q. What are you working on now?

Two things.

One is my next novel, and I’m really excited about it. It’s a recent-era historical piece that touches on some themes and issues that are important to me, but it’s told using a variety of insane, kookie and entertaining characters and storylines that are so dear to me. So, I’m having a blast. I’m hoping I’ll be done with a first draft by spring.

The second project I can’t really discuss much, other than it’s been a ton of fun and I’ve been able to collaborate with some insanely gifted writers. It all started with a crazy idea I developed with two others, and we’ve been thrilled to see it take a life of its own. My agent is really enthused about this one, so hopefully someday we’ll be able to tell the world.

Q. What is the best advice on writing that you’ve ever gotten?

Wow, that is a tough one. … There are so many great slices of wisdom out there. .. For me, maybe it was, quite simply, “Keep writing.” As in, if you want to write seriously — for a living or otherwise — you just have to keep writing. The more you write with a mind for improving, the better you’ll get. I figured that I wrote at least 2,000 bylined news stories during my first five years after college – I left newspapers about 14 years ago, and I haven’t stopped writing. I guess you could say it’s a labor of love.

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Five Questions: Luminis Books

Earlier this year, Chris and Tracy Katsaropoulos launched Luminis Books, a new publishing company. It’s stated mission is to publish “thought-provoking literary fiction as well as young adult and middle grade fiction that explores the intricacies of human relationships.”

Over the next six months, Luminis is slated to release four books, including books written by both Chris and Tracy.

Q. Where did you get the idea for Luminis?

I’ve (Chris has) worked in the book publishing industry for more than 25 years, primarily in educational and trade publishing, and have always wanted to start my own fiction imprint. It’s something Tracy and I have been thinking seriously about for the past three or four years. The opportunities for new media marketing and distribution make doing this now more attractive than ever.

Q. How do you differ from bigger, more established, publishing companies?

Having worked at many large publishing houses, I’d say the main difference is that our publishing plan is not driven by having to meet a certain title count. We’re looking to publish only the books that we really believe in—books that speak to our own sense of what will bring entertainment and enlightenment to readers. With larger publishers, many books have to fit into prescribed formulas or market niches, so we want to provide an outlet for more subtle and unique titles. We also feel that with some large publishers scaling back on their acquisitions, there is a gap that smaller, independent publishers can fill in signing new authors.

Q. What can you say about the first books you’re publishing?

We think each of the four books in our first list have a certain amount of depth and subtlety to them that will make them stand out. All of our books are thought-provoking, and we feel readers of Luminis Books will come away from each title looking at their own lives in a different way.

Q. What are some of the stranger books you’ve been asked to read?

Well, it’s difficult to comment on books that we’re not publishing, as we hope they will find a home with another publisher at some point. It’s always interesting to look at a new submission, because even the ideas that don’t quite fit for us usually exhibit a good deal of thought and creativity. So, we always try to be encouraging when we have to turn down a manuscript.

Q. You’re publishers, but you both also write. What is the best advice on writing that you’ve ever gotten?

Write the book you’ve always wanted to write—don’t try to write for a market you think will be easier to sell. The labor of love will always be your greatest work and will ultimately have the most success.

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