1 - How did your first book change your life?
My debut novel, The Immortal Woman, felt like a book I had to write, a book I could not not write. I had lots of questions growing up in China - about the history of my family, my community, my birth country, the many hushed murmurs. I needed to piece things together and find coherence in my life’s narratives – a compulsion unique to humans. Having written and published that book, I feel slightly lighter as if a big puzzle has been solved to a great extent, and I can now focus my creativity on matters less close to home.
2 - How did you come to fiction first, as opposed to, say, poetry or non-fiction?
I have always loved how fiction has the unique ability to open people’s hearts and minds and to spark conversations. I had my fair share of training in abstract thinking and macro/meta theories. Writing fiction feels like an act of rebellion against my rational self. I wanted to go “micro,” focusing on only a handful of individuals, even as I press them against the backdrop of massive historical movements. As a reader and history buff, I understand the special power fiction wields, through its specificity and details, to instruct, inform, and evoke. As a writer, weaving observations and research into the veil of fiction allows me to delve into my characters’ deepest psyches and, through that process, release my own emotional truth.
I did read a lot of Chinese poetry growing up and loved it. But for an immigrant writer, poetry as a genre is less forgiving than prose, and I haven’t yet had the audacity to try writing poems in English. Perhaps someday.
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?
So far, my first drafts have been fairly quick to write. I firmly abide by the “shitty first draft” rule and turn off my inner editor/critic at the initial stage of writing. But my editing process is lengthy, and later drafts and final products often look very different from the first drafts. There would be structural changes, as I found out what I was really trying to express with a piece during rounds of editing, and then I’d spend much time wrestling better sentences out of myself through writing/editing longhand.
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?
It depends on the project. For The Immortal Woman, I outlined the entire novel before sitting down to write. So I knew where the story was going from the beginning. That’s not to say I didn’t make significant changes – there were so many structural changes in fact. But I could “see” the entirety of the story in my head very early on, and I just needed to find the best structure to put it on paper. With my new project, the story came to me in fragments, and I had to find a compelling arc to connect them.
5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
I think I would have enjoyed doing public readings. But my book is construed as sensitive and political by external players, and I can’t endanger my family in China. As a result, I’m not doing many public readings.
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 grew up in a culture that emphasizes “saving face,” and it manifests in family dynamics, societal relations, even the desire to erase negative parts of our history (i.e., collective amnesia). Perhaps as a response to that, I’ve always been interested in understanding what lies behind a civil or neutral façade, the interiorities, the unspeakable, etc., etc. I’m obsessed with hidden desires, be it for love, acceptance, or freedom, and how someone living under oppression can express such desires. As a result, my characters are almost always underdogs who live in the margins (e.g., the rural poor, LGBTQ, new immigrants). Related to this is my interest in how political systems shape and alter private lives.
I’m also interested in the interplay between our rational and emotional selves. I’m drawn to science and logic, but also acutely aware of the limits of rational thinking, and the precipice we teeter upon when life calls for a leap of faith.
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?
More than ever, the larger culture pivots toward dizzying action and glittering melodrama. Culture exists within a greater economic system which, for us, is late-stage capitalism – overabundant in material goods and hollow in spirit. It’s unsurprising that artists feel immense pressure to hustle constantly, both to produce new work and to self-promote. In an ideal world, writers/literary artists should be slow and deep thinkers, immune to the shifting fads and willing to explore difficult and controversial themes. Our world is far from ideal, and most writers are not remunerated fairly and therefore cannot afford to think slowly and deeply. But we should continue to try. We are not, and should never be expected to become, influencers. Our niche is soul-searching for and on behalf of society, and giving voice to the voiceless.
8 - Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?
I find it essential. After laboring over many drafts of a single book, I’m blind to the project and desperately need a pair of fresh (and seasoned) eyes. More often than not, the editorial feedback doesn’t offer a solution, but an identification of a problem that needs the writer’s renewed attention. The writing process is also solitary, which makes me especially appreciate the collaborative nature of working with an editor.
9 - What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?
“Writing is rewriting.” It helps me overcome the fear of a blank page, knowing that the first draft is only a first step towards a much larger goal and there will be plenty of opportunities to improve on it.
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 wrote short fiction in Chinese when I was growing up. After I immigrated to North America, I switched cold turkey to writing in English. My first few pieces of writing were plays. I learned a lot through plays – how to avoid exposition and escalate drama and emotion through dialogue. I wrote a few short stories during that period too, but never showed them to anyone. The learning curve was steep when writing my first novel, and I had to learn “on the job,” but I loved it. The two key lessons are (1) to read widely and read with a writer’s eye, and (2) that the best way to learn to write is simply by doing it as frequently as possible.
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 don’t get to write every day. Besides writing, I have a day job, and I’m raising a young family. So my writing hours fluctuate depending on the week and month. I take a few weeks off in the winter and the summer to write full-time. During those writing spurts, I write 8 hours a day. Outside those blissful weeks, I write whenever I can fit it into my life as a working mother. If I can’t find the time to write, I make sure to keep reading, jot down notes, and sometimes outline a future writing project.
12 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?
I turn to reading, always. I usually have an inkling of why I’m stalling and what kind of books will help me get out of my rut. Sometimes I need to do more factual research, and other times I need to learn a particular literary form. In any case, reading good books by others almost always gets my creative juice flowing again.
13 - What fragrance reminds you of home?
There are two: (1) the sweet scent of white magnolia, (2) the delicious fragrance of chive dumplings.
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?
I rely on my silent nature walks to calm my nervous system and give my subconscious a chance to do its best work – many of the best ideas of my fiction came from those walks. I don’t listen to music when I’m writing, but sometimes, before I start writing, I listen to music so I can access a particular mood (examples: Astor Piazzolla, Rachmaninoff, Yellow River Cantata). I enjoy reading about science (usually through science journalism) and discussing science with my partner, so that my stories are not detached from the physical world. Live theatre always gets my blood pumping and inspires me to infuse my writing projects with passion. As a young immigrant, I used to spend a lot of time in art galleries, but I haven’t been able to do that in recent years. I can’t draw a direct line between a scene in my work and a painting I saw in a gallery, but I suspect all that browsing thickens the mysterious pot that is my subconscious.
15 - What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?
Growing up in China, I read and reread the Four Great Classical Novels (Journey to the West, Outlaws of the Marsh, Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Dream of the Red Chamber), as well as novels and stories by Lu Xun, Lin Yutang, Wang Anyi, and Shen Congwen (my personal favorite). I was and still am a fan of Russian literature (Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, Alexander Pushkin). As an adult immigrant in North America, many contemporary writers in the Asian diaspora have dazzled me with their unique voices and allowed me to imagine and nurture a little voice inside of me too: Madeleine Thien, Jan Wong, Jack Wang, Ayad Akhtar, Li Yiyun, Weike Wang, Ha Jin, David Henry Hwang, Gish Jen, Celeste Ng, Min Jin Lee, to name a few. I am also partial to short stories by female writers like Alice Munro, Lorrie Moore, Elizabeth Strout, Margaret Atwood, Mavis Gallant.
16 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
Read the Chinese classics again, now through a writer’s lens. Finish my next book.
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?
Like most writers today, writing is not my full-time job; I support myself and my family through other work. What other dream jobs aside from writing full-time (and not considering financial feasibility)? An investigative journalist, a filmmaker, a theatre maker.
18 - What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
It’s a mysterious inner force that compels me to write. I cannot not write, otherwise I go all wonky psychologically. Writing is my medicine. Also, my father had both the talent and motivation to be a writer, but censorship made it impossible. Am I fulfilling my father’s thwarted dream? I suppose the answer is “partially” – there must be a sense of responsibility lurking somewhere in my subconscious.
19 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?
I just finished reading Andre Alexis’ Other Worlds, and it’s such a wonderfully weird collection that left me feeling haunted, sad, exhilarated. The last great film I watched is Left-Handed Girl by Shih-Ching Tsou. I was in awe of the fresh story, the performance, the humor and poignancy, the incredible cross-cultural collaboration that made the film a reality.
20 - What are you currently working on?
A
novel-in-constellation about an accidental immigrant sleuth and her queer best
friend, with tales from the Japanese occupation, the snowy mountains of Tibet,
and a modern-day AI sweatshop.
12 or 20 (second series) questions;
No comments:
Post a Comment