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, How to Write Poetry (Barnes & Noble,
2005), got me to order my ideas about poetry carefully. Writing a book that
focused on teaching step by step was a lesson in how to break down a poem,
understand how to read a poem, and convey a very specific moment and
methodology to someone in a clear and accessible way. It reminded me to always
think about what came before me and why I was writing each line in its own
particular way.
2 - How did you
come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?
I started
shortly after coming to America, at seven, and for years didn’t know that my
scrappy thoughts would turn into poetry or even what to call them. By high
school, I had a sense of what I was doing and felt wildly passionate about it. And
then just never imagined I’d want to write anything 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?
It has changed
over the years. It used to be that it would take about 20 hours of work to get
a poem to start resembling a first draft, and I’d work pretty consistently.
Over time, I figured out how to work better and now some poems take a few weeks
total while others take months or even years. My debut collection, Forest with Castanets, kept changing
over time. I waited until I felt I had a book that works as a collection rather
than a group of poems in a list.
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?
Often with a
rhythm or a thought that keeps circling around in my head. Even more often, I
get so revved up by something I’m reading that I just switch immediately to
writing. Too often than I’d like, not much makes the cut. A book as a concept
is too big to work on. I prefer thinking about series or sequences, and then
later figuring out how to fit them in.
5 - Are public
readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of
writer who enjoys doing readings?
I love the
process of reading, and was trained in grad school to do it well and carefully.
There’s a lot of emotion in reading slowly, and I find that in public I can
enjoy the words rather than just read them. I tend to pause and inflect and
sometimes vary up how the phrases come out. And reading out loud is also how I
write, as it makes flaws or successes quickly transparent.
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?
Theory isn’t me
at all. I believe the rhythm should be asking the questions, and that it’s all
a nonstop series of questions that a poem partly answers, and often only for
myself.
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?
She or he
should take a position, understand what it means, and be courageous. I believe
writers should convey the difficulties of just plain living at the very least, and show the world
how to have more complicated and conflicted feelings.
8 - Do you find
the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?
I find it
incredibly useful if you have a like-minded editor, but that is very rare.
9 - What is the
best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?
Robert Pinsky
told me to wait. It’s tough to learn patience but it fixes all things and makes
you smarter. More to the point, time makes you smarter.
10 - How easy
has it been for you to move between genres (poetry to critical prose)? What do
you see as the appeal?
I love it and
as a working journalist, novelist, and essayist, it’s my intellectual bread and
butter. Prose helps modulate my poetry and vice versa. Everything is useful.
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 flex between
paid work and writing, but if a piece of work is flowing, it is always urgent
and I’m constantly putting down everything for it; I’ll start with it in the
morning, return to it regularly, and keep going on and off until I get to a
good spot.
12 - When your
writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better
word) inspiration?
13 - What
fragrance reminds you of home?
Diesel. I grew
up partly in Bombay. There was a lot of diesel and garbage.
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?
15 - What other
writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your life outside of
your work?
It’s too hard
to name a handful of people and I’d leave someone out. And since I write in
every genre, included reported articles and cultural criticism, everything is
inside my work. Again, everything is useful. What’s really important is just
looking at art, and returning to see a piece of art repeatedly—literally dozens
of times, like Hans Holbein’s Sir Thomas More at the
Frick.
16 - What would
you like to do that you haven't yet done?
Go to Leh in
Ladakh, for the monasteries.
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’d have liked
to be a volcanologist for sheer delight and the complexity of science. Public
health would be next, because then I’d have a chance to help underprivileged
populations around the world.
18 - What made
you write, as opposed to doing something else?
I never got
interested enough in anything else and always only felt passionate about
writing.
19 - What was
the last great book you read? What was the last great film?
20 - What are
you currently working on?
A sonnet series
about California and a poem about a homeless man on a train. I’m also working
on a collection of essays, so I have a few that are half-done, including one on
Lanz of Salzburg nightgowns.
