Sunday, February 05, 2023

12 or 20 (second series) questions with Erica McKeen

Erica McKeen was born in London, Ontario. She studied at Western University, and her work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, longlisted for the Guernica Prize, and shortlisted for The Malahat Review Open Season Awards. Her stories have been published in PRISM international, filling Station, The Dalhousie Review, and elsewhere. She lives in Vancouver, British Columbia on the unceded and ancestral lands of the Musqueam, Squamish, and Tsleil-Waututh Peoples. Tear is her first novel.

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

At the time of writing this interview, there is still a week before my first book hits the shelves on September 6th, so I’m sure the response I give now will be vastly different than the one I would give in a couple of months. So far, the writing, editing, and promotion of my first book has been such a validating experience, and more than anything I have learned to trust my instincts while writing and to reach out to others for help. (Essentially, I’ve learned not to hide away in a psychological writer’s cave of self-doubt.) As a result, my more recent work feels broader, in a sense—more willing to engage with topics that I would have previously felt to be too big or out of my reach.

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

For a long time I wrote in all genres (fiction, poetry, and creative non-fiction), but I soon became uncomfortable with the closeness of poetry and non-fiction. I didn’t enjoy writing explicitly about myself, and the work I produced was often flat or overly dramatic. Fiction, in contrast, allows me to use the stylistic techniques of both poetry and non-fiction (the lyricism of poetry and the narrative considerations of non-fiction) while simultaneously being able to filter my experiences through the lenses of surrealism, horror, and the otherworldly. Fiction feels unending and expansive to me.

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?
Writing projects happen slowly for me. Ideas that could constitute something as large as a novel are shadowy at first and hang around ill-formed in notebooks until they’re combined with other ideas and become “thick” enough. I like to take my time with every sentence and often self-edit (despite the advice from every writer in history telling me not to do this). I like to pause and reread. Fortunately, because of this habit, my projects are cohesive and decently polished in their first-draft form.

4 - Where does a 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?
Despite recently completing a project that combined short stories into a larger narrative and manuscript, I usually know from the beginning that I’m working on a “book”—I like to have a central idea, concept, or question in mind while writing. A work of prose often begins for me with an image that is representative of this central question. Everything sprawls from there.

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

Public readings aid my creative process in the way that they connect me with other writers and thinkers in the community—they help me to understand that I’m a part of a larger network of creative work, and that I’m not entirely on my own (writing can be lonely work). I mostly enjoy doing readings in retrospect, after they’re finished. Although I’ve “performed” in various ways throughout my life, I always feel more than a little anxious about presenting myself to other people.

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?
Is it possible for human beings to know/understand one other? What about the natural world? Can they know/understand themselves?

Is this knowledge helpful, or does it overburden?

Is it possible to find peace amid traumatic memory? What does that feel like? Are human beings actually able to change?

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?
I can only speak for fiction writing, but for that I believe the role of the writer is to shape experience and make it more manageable. I see it as a healing craft. When I write, I want to soothe, and, when I read, I want to be soothed. This doesn’t mean that the writing must be relaxing, or quiet, or peaceful. It means that I want to witness something moulded satisfyingly into being. I don’t need answers, just texture and intention

8 - Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?
Working with an outside editor is essential. I need another brain (or many other brains) to poke and mash and stretch my writing. I find the process of working with an editor to be challenging but rewarding—always worthwhile. I should note, however, that I’ve had some amazing editors, which I’m sure makes the experience more enjoyable.

9 - What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?
“Trust someone as far as you can throw them.” (I’m waiting for it to be proven wrong.)

10 - How easy has it been for you to move between genres (short stories to the novel)? What do you see as the appeal?
I love the novel genre and have always wanted to focus my attention on longer pieces of writing, so transitioning from short stories to the novel was an exciting change for me. I enjoy digging deep into character backstory, which you can’t always do in a short story, and I feel driven by the challenge of sustaining a compelling narrative over so many pages. My brain appreciates the rhythm and consistency of returning to the same project day after day.

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?

A typical day begins early with green tea and a book, and then a walk with my dog. I don’t have a writing routine because my schedule changes so frequently depending on school or work. The last time I had a schedule that remained the same for more than a year was in high school. I have learned to be gentle with myself: I write when I can, and when I’m not too tired.

12 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?
I turn to really good books, and I turn to walking. The walking part is easy because you just have to go outside and do it, wander around with the Notes app on your phone until the words start to come. Finding a really good book can be more difficult and takes time, but there’s always one out there. Sometimes when I’m really stuck I combine the two and read while walking.

13 - What fragrance reminds you of home?
Hay and dust and sun-bleached grass. It reminds of me of my grandma’s run-down farm that my brothers and I used to play at as children.

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?

My work is primarily influenced by books, movies, and TV. Essentially, I draw a lot of inspiration from other stories, even those told in passing by friends and colleagues. I love anecdotes—the brief, punchy surprise of them—and often include similar “flash narratives” in my writing.

15 - What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?
Virginia Woolf—always Virginia Woolf! And, in no particular order, Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë, The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson, Everything Under by Daisy Johnson, The English Patient by Michael Ondaatje, All My Puny Sorrows by Miriam Toews, writings on hauntology by Mark Fisher, and “Story of Your Life” by Ted Chiang have had a huge impact on me.

16 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
Have a child. Live in nature. Travel the world more thoroughly.

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 must have another occupation while working as a writer (both for financial and psychological reasons). My job for a while now has been teaching, but presently I’m transitioning to librarian and archival work because that profession requires less unpaid overtime on a day-to-day basis. I suppose if I was more mathematically inclined, I would have liked to work as an architect.

18 - What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
It’s difficult for me to the answer this question because I’ve wanted to write since before I was able to read or put words on a page. The best answer I can provide is that, after beginning my university education in psychology (and then quickly switching out of it), I found that writing satisfied my compulsion to understand human beings intensively, thoroughly—while also not demanding any concrete or evidence-based conclusions. Writing allows me to exist in a space of uncertainty and complexity that other aspects of my life do not.

19 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?
The Road by Cormac McCarthy and a re-watch of Christopher Nolan’s Interstellar.

20 - What are you currently working on?
I’m working on a novel that is currently in its very small, fetal stages. Set in Vancouver, it will be about private schools, class differences, memory and inheritance, unusual forms of love, suicide, and octopuses.

12 or 20 (second series) questions;

No comments: