12 or 20 (second series) questions with Dobby Gibson

Dobby Gibson [photo credit: Zoe Prinds-Flash] is the author of Polar; Skirmish; It Becomes You, a finalist for the Believer Poetry Award; and Little Glass Planet. His poetry has appeared in the American Poetry Review, The Paris Review, and Ploughshares. He lives in Saint Paul, Minnesota.

1 - How did your first book change your life? How does your most recent work compare to your previous? How does it feel different?

My first book didn’t change my life, much to my surprise at the time. I eventually realized the disenchantment was a kind of gift. As poets, it is our job to be forever in search of a transformation we never quite attain.

2 - How did you come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?

I did come to fiction first! I even have an MFA in fiction and an underwhelming graduate-thesis novel to prove it. I began writing poetry on the sly in my second year of the Indiana University fiction program. Poetry wasn’t what I was supposed to be doing, in the eyes of the institution. I’m happy to report that its lost none of its transgressive thrill.

3 - How long does it take to start any particular writing project? Does your writing initially come quickly, or is it a slow process? Do first drafts appear looking close to their final shape, or does your work come out of copious notes?

I’m writing all the time and tend not to think in projects. I wake up most days and write a poem, and then, over a few years, the poems point toward the book.

4 - Where does a poem usually begin for you? Are you an author of short pieces that end up combining into a larger project, or are you working on a "book" from the very beginning?

Every poem begins in an encounter with language.

5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?

I want my poems to connect with actual people—people who aren’t necessarily poets or academics. If I’m interested in a poem I’m working on, I’ll eventually read it out loud when no one else is home. I suppose I’m imagining an invisible audience being there with me, but this imaginary reading is just as mysterious to me as a real reading. Who is listening? As a poet, you can never be sure, unless you’re reading at a Monsters of Poetry event in Madison, Wisconsin, which is the greatest reading series in America. It’s not even close.

6 - Do you have any theoretical concerns behind your writing? What kinds of questions are you trying to answer with your work? What do you even think the current questions are?

I’m trying to capture the texture of lived experience. Its astonishments. Its befuddlements. Its outrages. All its bizarre simultaneities.

7 – What do you see the current role of the writer being in larger culture? Do they even have one? What do you think the role of the writer should be?

In “The Nobel Rider and the Sounds of Words,” Wallace Stevens says the role of the poet is “to help people to live their lives” through the power of the imagination. This may require working within the culture, or it may require working outside of the culture. In my experience, it often requires not thinking about the culture at all.

8 - Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?

Over the course of five books, I’ve worked with three different editors: April Ossmann, Jeff Shotts, and Carmen Giménez. Each of those relationships has been essential. If April, Jeff, or Carmen have something to say to me about my work, I’ll stop whatever I’m doing and listen. I may not act on what they say, but I will listen.

9 - What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?

Never wear light brown shoes with a dark suit.

10 - What kind of writing routine do you tend to keep, or do you even have one? How does a typical day (for you) begin?

On a good day, I have 30 minutes with my notebook in the morning before anyone else in the house is awake. But I’m un-fussy about routines and protocols. I voice-text poems and parts of poems to myself while driving my car all the time.

11 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?

Reading Tomaž Šalamun cures anything. It’s like splashing cold water on my face.

12 - What fragrance reminds you of home?

Kimchi. A red sauce after it’s been simmering on the stove for 30 minutes. The air just before it snows.

13 - David W. McFadden once said that books come from books, but are there any other forms that influence your work, whether nature, music, science or visual art?

Anything can spark a poem. In this most recent book, one was inspired by the sight of a tiny hotel soap.

14 - What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?

Aphorisms of all kinds. The comedian Steven Wright.

15 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?

Retire.

16 - If you could pick any other occupation to attempt, what would it be? Or, alternately, what do you think you would have ended up doing had you not been a writer?

An Olympic badminton player. But I would still write poems.

17 - What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?

I wish I could tell you. I have no memory of making the choice.

18 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?

Alexander Chee’s How to Write an Autobiographical Novel and Grosse Pointe Blank, which I just rewatched. It still holds up (pun intended)!

19 - What are you currently working on?

I’m surprised to find myself working in prose lately. And, as Dean Young’s literary executor, along with Matt Hart, I’m also focused on bringing Dean’s first posthumous collection of poems into print. It’s called Creature Feature.

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