12 or 20 (second series) questions with Hugo dos Santos

Hugo dos Santos is a Luso-American writer and translator. He is the author of Reduction in Force (Bauhan Publishing, forthcoming 2026), winner of the May Sarton New Hampshire Poetry Award, and Then, there (Spuyten Duyvil, 2019), a collection of Newark stories. He is the translator of Homecoming (Arquipélago Press, 2024) and A Child in Ruins (Writ Large Press, 2016), a staff pick by The Paris Review Daily.

Born in Lisboa, Portugal, and raised in Newark, New Jersey, Hugo writes toward questions of diaspora, belonging, and memory. His poetry and fiction illuminate the beauty, complexity, and struggles of the immigrant experience and urban life, while his translations bring contemporary Portuguese literature to English-speaking audiences.

Hugo received a 2026 Fellowship from the New Jersey State Council on the Arts. He has also been awarded fellowships from The Edward F. Albee Foundation, MacDowell, and the Disquiet International Literary Program. His work has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and appeared in Barrelhouse, Cultural Daily, Electric Literature, Hobart, The Common, The Fanzine, and elsewhere.

Hugo lives in New Jersey.

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 was a collection of short stories titled Then, there, about my hometown of Newark, NJ. I felt so much responsibility with that book, to capture the essence of that place. It took me about four years to write that book.

My new book, Reduction in Force, is a poetry collection that deals with very different subject matter. On the surface, it’s far from Then, there, but both books are really concerned with identity, belonging, and the systems that shape our lives.

I had an early idea for the structure of Reduction in Force, and the poems kept coming. I wrote them in almost the exact order in which they appear in the book, which is still hard to believe.

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

Poetry was my first literary language. Before I knew how to tell stories, I was trying to make meaning through images, rhythm, and compression.

In some ways, I think all my projects start out as poems. I think in verse and have some methods I have developed for capturing those early ideas when they emerge. As I keep working on them, sometimes they stay as poems. Other times, they evolve into something else.

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?

At first, I don’t really know that I’m working on something that will become a book. It’s just writing. When I find myself coming back to the same idea, I’ll make a note of that though I don’t rush in to define it right away. Longer projects kind of reveal themselves as they begin to take shape.

I am an avid note taker and those are very helpful. My first drafts tend to be explorations. They contain the DNA of the finished piece, but I revise heavily and repeatedly.

4 - Where does a poem or work of prose 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?

Early in a project, I am usually just writing without any kind of pretense about what it will turn into. Those first steps are an opportunity to play and investigate during which I try to find the voice and the story that is inspiring me to write. As I keep working, the play transforms into something more serious. That’s when I start to think about the shape of the project, its structure and form.

Very early on, I realized this new book wanted the architecture of a Greek tragedy. In some ways, that made the writing process easier because I knew what the book was building to. I had a clear vision for where it was going and how it would end. That allowed me to focus on the execution, which was a real treat.

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

I really enjoy readings and public events because they are an opportunity to build or be in community. I particularly enjoy a number of the local reading and open mic series. I like being able to share my work with a supportive audience, and I love to hear my friends’ work.

For Reduction in Force, I definitely used the open mic series in my town, at the Flemington DIY, to read the poems in a big space. I learned about the poems that way; both about what was and wasn’t working. That was invaluable and I am so indebted to all the good people who are part of that series. I named them in the Acknowledgments section of the book.  

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?

Each of my books has been an attempt to take on a big question or idea. In Reduction in Force, I ended up writing about the systems we create and the degree to which those systems fail to function in the interest of the individuals within them.

The book started because I wanted to investigate our relationship with work, specifically with corporate work. I was interested in the degree to which those kinds of jobs inform the identity of those individuals who make their living that way.

I have seen a number of those reductions, and I was struck by how they affect both those who are laid off as well as those who keep their jobs and continue in their roles after the fact. One of the ideas at the center of the book is the lie embedded in the phrase It’s just business. Work shapes identity, family life, self-worth, and community. When that relationship is severed, the consequences are deeply personal.

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?

The writer’s first responsibility is to the craft. Beyond that, literature helps us see one another more clearly. I don’t think art needs to be didactic, but I do think it can challenge the stories a culture tells about itself.

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

I absolutely love working with a good editor. My work is always better for it. Writing can be a solitary act, while publishing is collaborative. A good editor sees both the book you wrote and the book you’re trying to write, then helps close the gap between them.

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

To not take any advice. To keep going and find my own way of doing it.

10 - How easy has it been for you to move between genres (poetry to short stories to translation)? What do you see as the appeal?

I love the freedom to move between genres. It allows me to work in accordance with what the project needs. I also learn valuable lessons in one genre that I can apply in others.

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

My routine changes from project to project. When I’m deep in a manuscript, I become very goal-oriented and build systems around word counts, deadlines, and milestones. Outside of that, I am constantly taking notes, collecting ideas, and paying attention.

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

When I get stuck, I have sometimes taken a break and moved to a different project. Usually, though, and if at all possible, I will try to work on a different aspect of the same project. That allows me to subconsciously work on the problem. Later, when I return to what had me stuck, I am better able to find a solution.

13 - What fragrance reminds you of home?

A big pot on the stove. Garlic and onions sizzling in olive oil. Family gathered around a table.

There’s a line in my book that goes, “I still love meals that stop everything.” And it’s so true.

14 - 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?

Yes, in addition to books, I am inspired by film and music. In Reduction in Force, I have an epigraph from Frank Ocean: “If it brings me to my knees, it’s a bad religion.” That line was an anchor for me while I was writing the book.

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

There are so many: Fernando Pessoa is the writer I return to most often and his work has been a companion through different stages of my life; Katherine Vaz is a writer and person I greatly admire; I love the work of Percival Everett; I adore the poetry of Jane Hirshfield and Aracelis Girmay; poets like Marwa Helal, Vincent Toro, Grisel Y. Acosta, Chiwan Choi, and Peter Murphy; and I am endlessly inspired by the work of colleagues like Marina Carreira, Dimitri Reyes, PaulA Neves, Ysabel Y. Gonzalez, and Toma Zbrizher.

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

I would love to publish a novel.

17 - 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?

I have a career in educational publishing. I care deeply about literacy and helping young people become readers. Had writing not found me, I suspect I would have gravitated toward work involving books, language, and learning.

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

I never really had a choice. Writing is how I make sense of the world. I was writing long before I ever thought of publication. It helped me understand experiences, questions, and contradictions that wouldn’t leave me alone.

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

I just finished reading all of Claire Keegan’s books. She is an incredible writer. I was particularly moved by Small Things Like These and Foster, which is a gorgeous poem of a novel. 

I recently watched The Secret Agent and was blown away by its depth and subtlety.

20 - What are you currently working on?

I have a novel in progress that I’m very excited about. Hopefully you’ll read it one day.

12 or 20 (second series) questions;

12 or 20 (second series) questions with Wendy C. Ortiz

Wendy C. Ortiz is the author of Excavation: A Memoir (Future Tense Books, 2014); Hollywood Notebook (Writ Large Press, 2015); and the genre-breaking dreamoir Bruja (CCM, 2016). In 2016 Bustle named her one of “9 Women Writers Who Are Breaking New Nonfiction Territory.” Wendy’s work has been profiled or featured in the Los Angeles Times, Poets & Writers Magazine, Los Angeles Magazine, The Rumpus, Los Angeles Review of Books, and the National Book Critics Circle Small Press Spotlight blog. Individual pieces have appeared in The New York Times, Hazlitt, StoryQuarterly, Joyland, and many other journals. Wendy lives in Los Angeles, where she is a parent and a psychotherapist in private practice. 

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

My first book was supposed to be Hollywood Notebook; Writ Large Press acquired it in 2013 and we had hoped for a 2014 date, but it got pushed back to 2015. In the meantime, I had been talking with Kevin Sampsell of Future Tense in the summer of 2013, and in the fall of that year, he told me he wanted to publish the manuscript I'd given him in summer of 2014. This made Excavation: A Memoir my first book. 

The publishing of Excavation completely changed my life. I was fortunate to be noticed by the Los Angeles Times and the National Book Critics Circle in the first few months of the book's life. For a small press author, this is a good set of circumstances. The book continues to have a long tail--I tell people, and this is still true--I receive one email from a stranger who has read the book at least every two weeks since its publication date. In that sense, I still feel the life-changing effects of that book.

My most recent book, Bruja, feels pretty different. Excavation is in many ways a much more standard approach to memoir. Bruja is a dreamoir, a memoir of dreams. It feels like quite a radical departure on its own or in comparison to my first book, and my second book. 

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

I'm answering this in a project by project context: how do I come to poetry in a project before fiction or nonfiction. Many of my first drafts of what will become prose begin first as poetry. They're usually notes on my phone or words I wrote in a notebook and they are few but sometimes they're a key to a different place, which might end up being fiction or nonfiction prose.

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 typically take weeks, if not months, if not years (really) of just thinking about the project. Ideally it's just weeks. I may take some notes here and there, either handwritten in my notebook or my phone, or no notes at all. My process is often me, hiking, thinking through, forgetting, coming back, thinking through again. First drafts end up very very close to their final shape.  

4 - Where does a poem or work of prose 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?

It changes. I've worked on a book project knowing full well it would become a book. My last two books were derived from fragments and became book-length. I have ideas about next books, so I know they'll be of that length but I don't know yet whether they'll be poetry, short essays, or long chapters. 

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

As a former curator and organizer of readings (eleven years dedicated to my reading series, Rhapsodomancy), I feel like I enjoyed readings much more than reading myself. In recent years I've found some equilibrium when it comes to doing readings. I would not say it's part of my creative process, but it's not counter to it, either. What I've discovered most recently is that I would much prefer to do some sort of performance that involves not only my text or others' texts but also my body. I want to do less readings and more performance, I think. 

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 constantly trying to ask/respond to questions involving the body, human relationships, missing or omitted narratives, and rendering the experiences that are both mundane and profound into language that hopefully embodies all of it. I'm not sure I know what the current questions are! 

7 – What do you see the current role of the writer being in larger culture? Does s/he even have one? What do you think the role of the writer should be?

I don't know if there's "a" role or "the" role of "the writer." There are roles and there are writers. Even in my ideal world there would be writers and numerous roles rather than one overarching one. 

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

I may be extremely lucky in that I've always had editors with whom I had an easy relationship. I trust them, they trust me. In the end if I feel like I learned ten things from their editing process, which I usually do, I'm grateful to them forever.

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

Tend your own garden. 

10 - How easy has it been for you to move between genres (poetry to fiction to non-fiction)? What do you see as the appeal?

It's easy. It's ideal if I can imagine a form right away and try it out and it works, but if it doesn't, I'm equally excited to try a different genre with the same material.

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

I typically wake up before 7am, make coffee, and write two pages in my journal. If I have deadlines, I write in the afternoon, but my best times to write are the hours before 1 or 2pm. I usually don't write much of anything on weekends, when I like to play dead to the world if possible.  

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

Books I've loved, music, the ocean. I also challenge myself to see everything "new" on the hike I take three times a week. The exercise of forcing myself to find new things has not only un-stalled my writing, but also has worked to keep depression at bay.

13 - What fragrance reminds you of home?

Cigarette smoke. 

14 - 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?

"Nature" sounds so huge, and yes, it encompasses a lot, but I will say, for sure, NATURE influences my work—specifically the nature around me, the mountains, ocean, and desert. Music is an intoxicating influence and I feel almost too susceptible. 

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

Lidia Yuknavitch, Myriam Gurba, Maggie Nelson, Cynthia Cruz, David Wojnarowicz, Michael Ondaatje, so much contemporary poetry I find/am exposed to daily online...that's the answer today.

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

Make a movie. Do a triathlon. 

17 - 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?

I did attempt another occupation, and it was as a psychotherapist, and it's what I'm doing now. But had I never been a writer I imagine I would have wanted to direct. 

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

I have no idea. I've never had a something else or felt like I had much access to a something else. I can't draw. I don't play instruments. It's never occurred to me to not write. 

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

Fish In Exile by Vi Khi Nao. Moonlight.

20 - What are you currently working on?

I'm giving myself exercises to experiment with writing screenplays. Meanwhile my brain is working on ideas for two possible books that I don't picture starting to write for a long, long time.

12 or 20 (second series) questions;