Moshe Zvi Marvit's work has appeared in The New York Times, The Washington Post, The Nation, The New Republic, Dissent Magazine, In These Times, The American Prospect, The Bellevue Literary Review, and elsewhere. He has been awarded the Sidney Hillman Prize, The Ken May Media Award, a Mesa Refuge Writing Residency, and was shortlisted for the Studs Terkel Prize. Nothing Vast is his 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?
It's too soon to tell how and if my first novel, Nothing Vast, might change my life, but it's a departure from my previous work. Most of my writing until now has been non-fiction or journalism and about labor and work, often with a policy or legal bent. I found writing fiction much more difficult.
2 - How did you come to non-fiction first, as opposed to, say, fiction or poetry?
I have always been interested in issues surrounding work, and when I started publishing around 2010, there was a real dearth of people writing about these issues. I started pitching pieces and was surprised to see a real interest in the subject. Pretty soon, I was offered a fellowship at a think tank, which provided real institutional support to write about labor and employment.
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 feel like I sit with the idea for a long time before ever writing. Once I start in earnest, it seems to proceed quickly at first, then long periods of not looking at the project, before plodding along to the end. I almost never have an outline or organized notes, because the thing that keeps me going is wanting to know what will happen. As I write, I feel like I get boxed in and there are fewer paths I can choose or decisions I have to make, until it comes to a close.
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?
I used to write (though rarely sought publication) of short stories, and could not have imagined trying to write a novel. It felt like everything that was necessary for the story always fit easily in a 5,000 word arc. Now, after spending a lot of time in book form, I have tried to return to short stories, and find it incredibly difficult to be limited to so few pages. I'd like to be able to do both, but for the foreseeable future, I assume that every project I begin will be conceived as a book. Whether the whole book gets written is another matter.
5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
I have largely avoided doing readings, because I assumed I would not enjoy them. Having said that, I have enjoyed the few I have done.
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?
The story in Nothing Vast is about families, and the stories they tell to form their identities. Beyond that, it's a story of migration and loss, and how people situate themselves in history. The form of the story tries to fit the substance in a manner that might prove difficult for some readers, but I hope will ultimately serve the purpose of making it more relatable.
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 think of the fiction writer as someone who can capture our attentions and change our perceptions, either through their internal logic or the stories they choose to tell. Our attention is so dispersed by disparate streams of information, which we typically funnel into our predetermined paradigms. But a good story has the potential to challenge one's narrative and sit with a reader indefinitely.
8 - Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?
Working with an outside editor is always difficult, always essential, and sometimes fantastic. I've been really lucky to have worked with fantastic editors at the nonfiction outlets I used to write for, and at Acre Books for Nothing Vast. I have also worked with some problematic editors, who view writing solely through the commercial lens, or try to temper the writing to reach a broader audience, or try to substitute their writing and vision for the writers. These experiences have made me thankful for the truly wonderful editors that I have worked with on so many occasions.
9 - What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?
At best, your first draft has the potential to be good.
10 - How easy has it been for you to move between genres (fiction to non-fiction)? What do you see as the appeal?
It has been extremely difficult to move between fiction and non-fiction and back to fiction. I know that some people do it easily, but for me, it feels next to impossible. Writing non-fiction for me is very routine based. I have to be steeped in the subject matter and have to constantly be working and putting things out. Once I slow down or stop, starting becomes a heavy lift. As opposed to that, writing fiction requires me to have space to take my time and not rush things. For that reason, fiction takes me much longer.
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 fiction writing routines center around travel. I write best on trains and planes and away from home.
12 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?
I wish I had an answer for this. I hate the advice I've heard on how best to get past a period where I don't or can't write, and it never works for me.
13 - What fragrance reminds you of home?
It's a unique blend of the Monongahela River meeting the nacho-cheese smell of rotting leaves meeting the faint exhaust of the Edgar Thomson Works.
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?
Cities really influence my work. There is a way in which every city has its own form of chaos and order that feels constant and unique to that city. For me, the really great books are the ones that capture a city in a way that gives you access to its character and energy.
15 - What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?
I have a small community of writers whose work and conversations are essential to my own work.
16 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
Learn Arabic.
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?
My day job is as a lawyer, but if writing fiction could be an occupation for me, I'd do that.
18 - What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
I took the path of many failed writers and became a lawyer.
19 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?
The last great book I read was An Island, by Karen Jennings. I found it on a used book rack, and had no idea what to expect when I picked it up, but it surprised me at every turn. I looked it up afterward and was surprised to find that it had originally come out on a tiny press on a run of 500 or so, until it was longlisted for the Booker Prize and people took notice of this amazing little book. I realized how rare it has become for me to accidentally chance upon a great book, without first reading a review or knowing that it had won an award, which has since encouraged me to pick up random books and give them a shot. It also reminded me how many great books come out on tiny presses that I've never heard of, and those are often the books that are trying something truly new and interesting.
20 - What are you currently working on?
I don't like to talk about projects until I'm done because the ideas seem so fragile at this stage and I fear them disappearing.
12 or 20 (second series) questions;
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