12 or 20 (second series) questions with Tucker Leighty-Phillips

Tucker Leighty-Phillips is the author of Maybe This Is What I Deserve (Split/Lip Press, 2023). He lives in Whitesburg, Kentucky. Learn more at TuckerLP.net.

1 - How did your first chapbook change your life? How does your most recent work compare to your previous? How does it feel different?
It’s difficult to answer this question in past-tense, because it continues to change my life. It has been a comfort to hold it and know that I created it. I used to work with a lot of musicians–I was a show promoter, a booking agent, a tour manager and merch guy. But I was never an artist myself, and I envied that a lot. I wanted something to call my own. I wanted it to be music, but I could never play. Releasing my first chapbook feels like releasing my first EP. It’s something I can point to and feel good about.

2 - How did you come to fiction first, as opposed to, say, poetry or non-fiction?
I think it’s just the form that interests me the most. When I was a kid, I read Louis Sachar’s Sideways Stories From Wayside School over and over. It contained everything I could ever want in a book–humor, invention, brilliant callbacks and lively storytelling. Something about the possibilities contained within that book made me want to contribute to the world in a similar way.

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?
Every draft is different, which is a boring answer, but it’s true. Some of my favorite stories are ones I’ve hammered out in one sitting, or thought about in my head for a long time before committing it to the page. I’m also not a very good editor, so if it doesn’t work early on in the process, I may lose interest. Pitiful, I know.

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’ve always wanted to be a “project” writer, because some of my favorite books are projects. I love the long-form exploration of an idea. I’m reading Joe Brainard’s I Remember right now, and his approach is so fascinating. It’s a true honeycomb of a novel. I’d like to commit to doing something similar at some point. I typically just write short stories and see what they do when placed in close proximity, rather than thinking about an umbrella theme from the jump.

5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
I think readings are fun, but I wish they were more fun. I want to be more deliberate about creating an atmosphere when I read, being a performer. There are some authors whose readings I’ve really loved, because they know how to perform. Danez Smith comes to mind. I’m also a longtime fan of Scott McClanahan’s boombox readings, where he would read a story with music playing on a boombox in the background, and in a climactic moment would destroy the boombox, hold a lull in the room, and then pull out another boombox playing the same song, picking up where the last boombox left off.

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 was doing a bunch of applications a year or two ago, and I always led with a mission statement: Tucker’s work celebrates the lives of the impoverished, but never romanticizes their poverty. I wanted to create work that felt true to a lived experience, without doing the hokey “everything’s okay and we don’t actually require material needs because we have each other.” We can still have each other, even if nothing is okay.

I think that continues to be a major theme in my work, but it’s also evolved. I’ve been writing a lot about nostalgia, a concept I’m skeptical of, but love to play with in my work. Nostalgia feels conservative in a lot of ways. It yearns for a previous time. It glorifies individual experience. But it can also be a tool of connection–to find our similarities, to understand the ways we think alike. I’m trying to use it as a critical tool in my work, to reexamine the past and imagine a collective, more communal future.

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?
Oh man, that’s a much bigger question than I can wrap my brain around. I think they should punch up, for sure, and be willing to call out those punching down. I think they should continue to find possibility and explore it, even in places where it seems there is none.

8 - Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?
I’ve never had a problem with them. Sometimes, a difficult editor is one who cares a lot, and wants to tighten your work. It has done me good to fight to defend my prose.

9 - What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?
Well, I don’t think it works anymore, but I once read that you should sign up for AAA Membership from your cell phone after you’ve broken down. But now I think they make you wait a week for your membership to kick in. I used it once and it saved me a ton of money.

10 - How easy has it been for you to move between genres (short stories to plays to essays/reviews)? What do you see as the appeal?
The ease fluctuates! There are months where I can’t envision anything beyond a single medium. And then there are days where I am working on three at the same time. I am also always interested in blurring the lines between genre distinctions and toying with what’s possible. I remember there being an old Reddit thread about what Major League Baseball would be like if games were only played once a week, and the post turned into this heartbreaking, harrowing account of love, artistic success, and loneliness. It was deleted a while back, but I think about it often, because it was one of the first times I was genuinely surprised by a piece of writing on the internet.

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 have absolutely zero routine. I am very flighty and cannot commit to any kind of schedule. When it hits, it hits. When it isn’t hitting, I don’t bother.

12 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?
I like attending readings. There aren’t a ton where I live, but I always come away with new ideas and enthusiasm. I think that’s important, trying to be in a shared space with people who are excited about art. We’re communal creatures.

13 - What fragrance reminds you of home?
Grippo’s potato chips and compost.

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?
Oh absolutely. I would say I’m arguably more inspired from non-books than I am books. Nickelodeon shows like Hey Arnold, The Adventures of Pete & Pete, and Rugrats play a huge role in my work. Old Looney Tunes cartoons; their internal logic and engines especially. The films of Abbas Kiarostami have been massively important to my progression as an artist. I’m also heavily influenced by gossip–I try to write stories that feel like anecdotes from within a community.

15 - What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?
There are a few writers or books who I’ve read and found something unlock within me–the most notable being Deb Olin Unferth, Scott McClanahan, Shivani Mehta, Renee Gladman, Michael Martone, and Lucy Corin. When I was a teenager, I read Vonnegut and Brautigan, and I think they helped attract me to the short-form.

16 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
I really want to get into mudlarking. I watch lots of videos of people in England doing it.

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?
Well, when I first went to school, I thought I wanted to go into PR. I don’t think I ever wanted to do it, but it felt like a good use of my skills. I really like cooking, and felt like working in kitchens gave me a lot of tangible skills. It’s important to know how to use a kitchen knife.

18 - What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
Honestly, I have no idea. I didn’t really write until my mid-twenties, and it felt like something clicked. Like I mentioned, I always wanted to be a musician, but could never get it right in lessons. I started writing, and felt like I was always steadily improving, which was motivating. It feels good to progress in something.

19 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?
The last book I loved was Lindy Biller’s Love at the End of the World, which is a chapbook story collection about climate change, motherhood, and the experience of trying to be a kind person even amidst an apocalypse. I haven’t watched a movie in a hot minute, because I’ve gotten really into Columbo, but I did recently rewatch Ozu’s Good Morning, which is one of my favorites.

20 - What are you currently working on?
I’m mostly sending emails to promote MTIWID, but I’m still kicking around a couple projects. I’m superstitious, but I’ll say one of them is a novel-length quasi-historical Appalachian fairy tale. Someone referred to it as “Evil E.T.”

12 or 20 (second series) questions;

12 or 20 (second series) questions with Athena Dixon

Born and raised in Northeast Ohio, Athena Dixon is a poet, essayist, and editor. She is the author of The Incredible Shrinking Woman (Split/Lip Press 2020) and No God In This Room (Argus House Press 2018). Learn more about the author at www.athenadixon.com.

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 kind of made me feel like a real writer. I suffer from sometimes crippling impostor syndrome. Despite my publication history, the workshops and conferences I’ve attended or presented at, or other accomplishments, I always felt as if I was getting lapped in some ways. It’s very much an internal thing, but I think it is important to acknowledge those feelings. When my manuscript was selected for publication, I was very excited, but also very overwhelmed and afraid. While I was happy to have my work out into the world, there was fear that now I was sharing parts of myself that really never had an audience. And of course, there was fear no one would read it at all.

However, the biggest change I saw to my life was learning just how supportive and wide-reaching my network could be. I was absolutely humbled by my friends and family who not only bought the book, but threw a book release party and shouted my name and promoted me. It was the first time I felt like I had a community of people who supported my writing loudly and proudly in both actions and words. The extension of that is learning how my voice matters and that through my writing I can move people. I can give them a voice as well. I always downplayed the importance, or necessity, of what I had to say and that first book let me know that there are people who care and need those words.

My forthcoming book, The Incredible Shrinking Woman, is a bit scarier because it’s an essay collection. It’s much more of me on the page and in much plainer language. Some of the essays cover topics I’ve never shared before. I’m writing about depression, sexual assault, infidelity, and suicide, but there’s also joy and triumph. The fear is changing the view of the people who know me because of these revelations. This second book, however, feels more comfortable in some ways. I’m not really hiding. There is a relief in not having to hold up the masks I used to write behind.

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

            I kind of came to poetry second. When I was a child, I wrote quite a bit of what I now know is fan fiction. I was very interested in building worlds and characters, but when I started the seventh or eighth grade, I made a switch to poetry. During one nine-week grading period, I had a student teacher who introduced our class to poetry. I started writing pieces and getting very encouraging feedback. It was the first time I felt like my words had power and people could engage with them. After that grading period, I kind of put my fiction to the side and started writing poetry exclusively. I wrote poetry between junior high and graduate school and eventually earned an MFA in Creative Writing.

            I came back to prose by necessity. I was going through a very bad breakup and divorce and poetry wasn’t giving me the space to say what I needed to get off my chest. I started writing personal essays as a coping mechanism and just like the student teacher someone took a chance on publishing a few of them. My creative focus then changed. I think writing prose has forced me to be more honest in my work. I’m not sure why, but at times I felt as if my poetry was a performance and I was writing what was expected of me. With prose, I feel as if I am engaging in a way that let’s me free myself, but also allows me to connect with readers with similar experiences.

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?

            My writing process can greatly vary. I’ve written and submitted an essay in one shot on a plane and it was published less than three months later. I’ve also spent over two years working on an essay that has yet to see the light of day. It really is dependent on how engaged I am with the subject. There are things I truly want to write and those tend to flow pretty well.  Then there are those subjects I feel I should be writing. Those tend to take the most time because I am not sure of my footing within them.

            As for drafts, I edit as I write, which can make my writing process a bit slow. I audio edit quite a bit, meaning I read aloud as I finish lines, paragraphs, scenes, and whole pieces. I do this to make sure the words I’m choosing flow in the manner I am trying to craft. It also helps me see if I have proper entry and exit in a piece as well as see my connecting threads. I rarely use notes to keep track of my writing. I may have words or phrases that serve as a core of the work, but I don’t necessarily keep notes or outlines.

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?

            I’m very much a writer who concentrates on the smaller pieces before any book concept. My first book was a combination of pieces from my graduate thesis and individual works I wrote over the following decade. The same can be said of my forthcoming book. The essays were individual pieces that fit together after they were done. I didn’t write anything specifically for the book. It just so happened that I was telling a story that fit together when the pieces were combined. My goal is always to have my work stand alone, but I’ve found I generally leave breadcrumbs in other pieces.

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

            My first real exposure to other writers in my adult life was through open mics. I performed at those events for a few years before I ever started seriously submitting work for publication. I’ve always found the energy of public readings to be a rush and I think they are very important in bringing your work to life for your readers. You can express how the words sound in your head and that can bring readers to you more closely not only by the actual text, but also with personal stories and engagement. I get very nervous for readings, but I do really enjoy them.

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 biggest concern in my writing is giving voice to people who may feel invisible or on the fringes. I don’t necessarily write towards any larger social, political, or religious topics, however. I think it is my goal as a writer to connect with others who are building themselves or learning to be open. I’ve likened myself to background music before, always around but not the focal point. I write to make sure experiences such as those are given their just due. However, I am moving towards writing that is about preserving family history, specifically rural, black, Midwestern life.

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 think writers have a responsibility to look outside of our creative circles and communities to engage with readers in ways that are more than surface level. I think that sometimes we get caught up in the idea of brand and audience and marketing so much so that we lose the humanness. I think we have a duty of being in conversation with more than just other artists. The role of a writer, for me at least, is to find a way to use your voice to connect. It’s also to preserve stories and cultures for yourself and those who may not have the voice or means to do so.

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

            I don’t find it necessarily difficult, but it is not something I do often. Most of my work has been individual pieces and I rarely pitch. Those times I’ve work with an editor have been pretty good. They’ve helped me see issues in the work that need improvement, but they’ve also bolstered my confidence as well. Dependent on the project, an editor is an essential tool. I wouldn’t hesitate to work with one again.

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

            The best piece of advice I’ve received in the last few years was to make sure I am inputting as well as outputting. I found myself being burned out and not having the inspiration or desire to write. A friend told me that as a creative you can’t create from nothing. There has to be something that replenishes you. Since I’ve taken that advice, I’ve seen a marked change. I understand that not writing doesn’t mean I’m not creating. It simply means that it’s changed form. Those things I’m inputting are stirring something within me and when I do return to the page, I have sustenance to put into the work.

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

            The transition from poetry to essays wasn’t that hard for me. I think that’s because I started writing them as a coping mechanism and wasn’t writing them for publication at all. I eventually started to submit them, but at the onset that was not on my radar. I think because I wasn’t writing for anyone else, I was able to experiment and get comfortable in ways that would not have been possible had I approached essays as I did my poetry. Poetry, in a lot of ways, was a different coping mechanism. A college friend of mine encouraged me to perform in open mics as a way to get over my fears. So, sharing my poetry became a performance versus something more internal like my essays.

However, I haven’t really written poetry in a few years and I feel like it will be difficult for me to transition back into that genre.

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 have a full-time day job so most mornings I am up by six and at my office by seven. Because of that, all of my writing happens after work or on the weekends. I try to write during the day by opening a Word document and e-mailing myself before I leave the office, but on most days that only yields at best a few paragraphs and on a good day a page or two.

My writing day really starts in the afternoon. After I come home, I eat and decompress for a bit. Then I hop on my laptop and write, edit, or answer e-mails until it is time for bed. I will be honest and say I do not write daily. Sometimes, I am exhausted from work or there’s nothing I want or need to write. Those are the days I input instead of output.

Weekends are the times I have my most rigid schedules. I have interviews set for the podcast, I work on a particular project, or I have an editorial client. I heavily rely on my project notebook to keep my various projects in order. Even if I am not actively writing, I make notes for things I need to write.

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

            I turn to music before all else. It’s place of centering and inspiration. When I feel stuck, it’s natural for me to slip into a playlist to regroup. Sometimes listing to a playlist I’ve curated or letting my Spotify app find new artists for me is the spark that can get me going once more.

13 - What fragrance reminds you of home?

            I’ve never thought about this, but I’d say it’s a mixture of a few things. Maxwell House Instant Coffee, Lipton tea, and skillet toast. Those were things that happened daily in my home. My father is a coffee drinker and that brand has never changed. The same is true for my mom. Those smells make me think of them coming home from their jobs and decompressing from working in a steel foundry and a factory. My mom usually had her tea with toast she’d make in a skillet instead of a toaster. I can smell the butter browning the bread while she made her tea.

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 biggest influence is music. I grew up the daughter of a steelworker who DJ’d as a side job and hobby. My entire childhood has a soundtrack and music very much informs how I write today. I curate playlists for individual projects, characters, moods, or worlds. I almost always listen to a song or two before I start to write and I use them to both disconnect from the world at large and tap into what I need to put onto the page. Music is also very much tied to my writing in that I write and edit aloud. I do this because I need to hear the way the words fit together. I think I write in a very musical manner. I search and revise and edit in a way that gives my lines a mouth feel that conveys the mood I want to set.

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

            There is a handful of current writers who I truly love. Their work inspires me and I use them as guides and studies. They are crafting prose in ways I strive for. Each of them is amazingly adept at their crafts. Cija Jefferson, Tyrese Coleman, Kiese Laymon, Hanif Abdurraqib, and Jesmyn Ward are a few of them. I also love Zora Neale Hurston. Their Eyes Were Watching God is my favorite book. I so admire how she was able to remain true to the dialect, customs, and landscape of her story just as much as she was able to create a character that was a flawed human navigating life.

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

            I really want to take extended time to travel and write. The accomplishments I’ve had in my career thus far have been generated in the hours between my day job and when I sleep. I worked full-time throughout my grad program as well as worked multiple jobs during my two undergrad degrees. I would love to have dedicated time to sit with my work and to experience uninterrupted time to hone my craft and to immerse into those stories I truly want to tell. There are so many people I’d love to document through my work, starting with my family. I want to honor them in ways I simply don’t have the time for as it stands.

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 would be a museum curator. I find museums and the stories they tell to be fascinating. The ability to move patrons without words is amazing. There have been many days I’ve gone to museums across the country to not only take in the art, but to also people watch. I would find great joy in curating exhibits that move people, but I would be equally interested in helping develop and maintain permanent histories of underserved, underrepresented, and misunderstood communities.

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

            Writing, in so many forms, has been a foundation for me. Even though I maintain a full-time day job, I identify first as a writer. I’ve tried my hand at other art forms such as painting, photography, and music, but I always come back to the page. There is a passion in me for how words fit together. I love to hear how they bounce against each other and how you can guide and excite readers. I can’t get enough of finding ways to pull my thoughts from my imagination into the world in new ways. I am genuinely a fan of writing in all its iterations. I think writing has given me a voice in ways that were absent in my daily life and when I began to share my work with the world, it became a source of confidence, community, and drive. It’s also a means to capture not only my life, but also to honor those to who I am personally connected and those who are seeking a kindred spirit.

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

            I’d have to say How to Sit by Tyrese Coleman. I devoured it in one sitting. I bought it at a conference, found a corner in the convention hall, and read it before I did anything else. It’s stuck with me over the last year. It was such a good balance of heart and technical skill. She has an amazing ability to set scene, but doesn’t allow readers to get lost. It’s like walking into a place you know, but still finding new corners and stories.

 I don’t watch many movies, so I tend to watch the same ones over and over again. I recently re-watched my favorite movie, Lost In Translation, and realized why I kinda fell in love with it. Just like with How to Sit, the scene setting is stunning. It becomes a character in itself and it’s beautiful to look at. I also love the ending because depending on my viewing mood, I can insert a completely different world of possibilities.

20 - What are you currently working on?

            I am currently working on my third book. I’ve spent the better part of the last two years using fan fiction as an escape and as a bolster to my “serious” writing. The project has its foundation in Black Panther (the movie) fan fiction set in an alternative universe. I enjoyed writing one of the characters so much that I decided to try my hand at a full-length work of fiction. The novel follows Julia and Eric, in 1969 Oakland, as they navigate through the ripple effects of gentrification, political corruption, and a little bit of romance.

12 or 20 (second series) questions;

12 or 20 (second series) questions with Jennifer Wortman

Jennifer Wortman is the author of the story collection This. This. This. Is. Love. Love. Love (Split Lip Press, 2019). Her fiction, essays, and poetry appear in Glimmer Train, Normal School, Electric Literature’s The Commuter, DIAGRAM, The Collagist, Brevity, North American Review, Confrontation, The Collapsar, and elsewhere. She lives with her family in Colorado, where she teaches at Lighthouse Writers Workshop and serves as associate fiction editor for Colorado Review. Find more at jenniferwortman.com.

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

The jury’s still out on this one: my first book’s just about to land. But big picture, so far, I’d say it hasn’t changed my life. I’ve been at this long enough to know that each literary milestone tends to level up the hopes and frustrations. Once the euphoria wears off, the same old habitual suffering kicks in. Small picture, though, I’m overjoyed about my book: It feels like an affirmation of my years of hard work, which boosts my confidence. Plus, I love having a means to connect with more readers and writers! The community that can build around a book, or any piece of writing, is a joy to behold.

Much of what I’ve written after the stories collected in my first book is maybe, on the whole, freer and more visceral and, at times, experimental. In my middle-age, I’ve grown into my vision and voice and have better skills to express them.

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

I actually wrote a fair amount of bad poetry in high school and college. I still write poetry from time to time, but I eventually realized I didn’t have the precise facility with language to make it my focus. And my reading always skewed toward fiction: there’s little I love more than escaping inside a good story. So my writing followed suit. I guess that escapism deterred me from writing non-fiction, too, but I sometimes write it now—I’m braver than I was.

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?

My writing process is eclectic and varies from project to project. I tend to mix slow, careful crafting with wild, speedy freewriting. My first drafts, especially of full-length short fiction, rarely look like the final product, but occasionally a flash piece comes 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?

For most of my life, I’ve focused on individual short pieces: my book is the result of stories created over the span of many years, compiled mostly after they were written and published. Now, though, I’m working on a project, which is either linked stories or a novel-in-stories or a novel—I can’t decide—that I view as book-length. I continue to write short, self-contained pieces on the side.

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

I don’t think about doing readings as I write, but I do see readings as one consummation of the writing process. Without an audience, all those carefully crafted words have nowhere to go! I love reading but, for various boring reasons, I don’t get to do it nearly as much as I’d like. However, I have some readings lined up for my book this summer, and I’m psyched!

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 don’t consciously enter my writing with theoretical concerns, but I guess I’m often trying to answer psychological questions like why love so often invites ugliness and why people sabotage themselves. I’m also intrigued by the wavering nature of reality: that’s come up in my work a lot lately. But I’m not trying to answer questions so much as explore them. A professor of mine, maybe quoting someone else, once said than an answer is the end of thought. That’s stuck with me.

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 think all writers hold a mirror to the larger culture, and the best writers offer a corrective to it—not through didacticism, but by casting light, through close, honest observation and reimagination, on the unacknowledged and unseen. But that’s a lot to ask. Most days I’m lucky if I manage to wash a few dishes and remember to take out the trash.

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

A good editor is a writer’s best friend: I love working with editors and am grateful for any attention they give me. I don’t know if editors are always essential, but smart, trusted readers are. It’s so hard to see your own work clearly.

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

Writing advice, from Steve Almond: “Slow down where it hurts.” Life advice: Nothing. I prefer to figure things out on my own. Though that rarely happens.

10 - 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 have a loose writing routine, which depends on my loose work routine. I work mostly from home and my workload fluctuates, so some days I have less time for writing than others. Ideally, I like to write in the morning, after the kids are off to school and I’ve squeezed in a run. I’ll sometimes do more left-brained stuff, like line editing, in the late afternoon. And, occasionally, I’ll stir up my subconscious for weirder pieces or passages where I’m stuck by writing for a few minutes before bed.

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

Dreams are a never-ending source of inspiration for me. Or sometimes I’ll just start writing about my day: there’s usually a story in there somewhere. And I have a ton of rough or unfinished stories in my computer: when all else fails, I turn there.

12 - What fragrance reminds you of home?

This scent of thick green grass in dewy air.

13 - 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?

Definitely music, on a couple counts. I used to write and perform songs, and the music of language has a big place in my work. I’m especially sensitive to rhythm. And my obsession with certain music and musicians have come up in my work a lot lately. One of my recently published stories revolves around AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long.” I also have a forthcoming story inspired by The Who, and another inspired by Jeff Buckley. I expect to draw more from that well.

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

So many! Walker Percy was a revelation to me, both personally and artistically, when I was younger, and he remains a force in my life and work. I’ve also been deeply affected and energized by the writing of Maggie Nelson and John Edgar Wideman, among many others.

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

Go to Alaska.

16 - 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?

The fantasy answer: rock star. The realistic answer: an insecurely employed and criminally underpaid English Lit adjunct, forever in search of a tenure-track position to justify my PhD.

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

When I don’t write, I get depressed. Or more depressed.

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

I’ve read so many great books recently! But Jesmyn Ward’s Men We Reaped wowed me; I also couldn’t put down Samanta Schweblin’s Fever Dream. I don’t watch a ton of films—I’m more of a TV person; the last film that really floored me was A Ghost Story.

19 - What are you currently working on?

A chapbook best described as a semi-evasive memoir in poetry and prose. A flash fiction collection. And the aforementioned linked stories/novel-in-stories/novel thing.

12 or 20 (second series) questions;