WRITERS ASK ISSUE 73 EXCERPTS
It is not too difficult to research such things as the price of milk in 1932, or how tobacco was harvested and processed, or what a young man might eat for breakfast. What was difficult was the myriad of interior thoughts, desires, and dreams of these characters. What do teenagers in 1932 think about as they sit on the edges of their beds at night, or as they pass through town?—Matt Bondurant, interviewed by Lori Ann Stephens
Before I began writing seriously, before I knew such a thing was possible, I used to feel sorry for people who felt compelled to climb Mt. Everest. I used to imagine their lives just before the moment they became obsessed with climbing that mountain and wondered if they had done something different in that moment, might they still have all their toes? Might they not have to spend their days feeding that obsessive focus? I believe now that the mountain was always in them just as writing was always in me, waiting for me to realize it, to move everything else aside and place it at the center of my life.—Barb Johnson
I do definitely devote some serious time and if it's not time in hours it's time as a compartment in my head.—Thomas Beller, interviewed by Robert Birnbaum
There are these living, deeply embedded constellations of types. I don't know if that's something to struggle against or just go for. But it is awkward. One story I wanted to set in the dust-bowl drought—but I looked at it and said, Wait a second, it's you people again.—Karen Russell
One of the great things about fiction—both writing and reading it—is that we are given more access to the inner lives of characters than we are allowed with people in our own lives, even those we love the most. This access to other lives is why fiction is such a great humanizing art.—K.L. Cook, interviewed by Lucrecia Guerrero