We love learning more about our contributors, and an interview seemed like a fun way to hear more about the writers and artists we publish, so we gave them a choice of questions to answer. We hope you also enjoy hearing more about the artists and their works. Check out Issue 30 to read "Unstageable" from Eric Hill.
What was the inspiration for the piece published in the issue?
I worked in the theater for many years, writing, acting, co-directing, sound and lighting design, so I love the process of theater. When I taught English at the University Honors College at Oregon State University, I took 40 university students down to see three plays ever spring for the Ashland Shakespeare Festival. For me, there are few things more magical than live theater. I’ve had several plays produced, but a few I submitted were met with confusion. “How the hell are we supposed to stage that?” This was during my experimental phase (part Brecht, part Ionesco, part Beckett, Stoppard, and just a hint of Butoh). It got me to thinking, “What if there were a playwright who deliberately set out to thwart the staging process?”
Who or what inspires your work generally?
Exploration. I try to push myself to write in as many genres as I can. I love the challenge of setting off on a new area of literature. Getting out of my comfort zone (which defaults to humor – I studied under the hilarious T.C. Boyle at U.S.C.) is always difficult but always rewarding because it is difficult.
Who are some of your favorite writers, and what do you like about them?
The first one who immediately comes to mind is Flannery O’Connor. I fell instantly in love with her sardonicism, her ability to tell a story about those who are despicable, yet to do so with empathy and grace. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie is my latest favorite. I play her TED Talk “The Danger of a Single Story” for my students. Her writing about writing and her commitment to exploring themes of challenging the myths of colonialism resonate with me. I also cherish Jorge Luis Borges and his Jewish doppelgänger Franz Kafka. There’s not enough space here to go into all of the writers I love or why, so I’ll leave it at that for now.
What is your #1 advice for other writers?
I don’t feel the least bit qualified to give writers advice, but I have taught English (writing, literature, theater, etc.) for many years, so I will merely describe the piece of advice I give to my students. It consists of two quotes, one is from a poem by Anne Bradstreet, the other is from Martha Graham, both have to do with the creative process. “Thou ill-form’d offspring of my feeble brain, Who after birth didst by my side remain, Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true, Who thee abroad, expos’d to publick view.” Bradstreet was horrified to see a collection of her poems had been published by friends back in England, poems that she had neither edited nor finished. We all look upon our first drafts as “ill-form’d offspring of [our] feeble brain.” Revise, edit, rework, rinse and repeat.
And, in this letter to Agnes De Mille, Martha Graham gives the best advice I can think of to anyone who creates (whether poetry, paining, fiction, dancing, etc.) “There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique. And If you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable it is nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep open and aware directly to the urges that motivate YOU. Keep the channel open… No artist is pleased… There is no satisfaction whatever at anytime There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes “us” MORE alive than the others.”
What is your creative process? Do you plan pieces out or let them happen as they come?
I’m tempted to answer, “Yes,” and move on. I do both. Some come to me pre-formed by the muse, some I have to agonize over, plan, restructure, etc. Some come out as novels, others as bumper stickers. Actually, my current novel was inspired by a bumper sticker! Seriously!
What turns you off when you see it in a work? What are your creative pet peeves?
Two things: 1. Dishonesty. I even catch myself asking the question (of myself), “Did you use that big word here because it really belongs and you can’t think of a better one?” Or, “Did you use it to reveal how pretentious your protagonist is?” Or, “Did you use that big word to show your readers how smart you are?” 2. Too much explanation. Vonnegut once said, “Pity the reader.” In other words, help them understand what you’re going for. However, I think too many writers do the opposite: overexplain, give away spoiler alerts, tell us what we should know through the writing, not because it reads like directions. Pity and trust the reader.
What do you do in the rest of your life and how does that connect and/or conflict with your creative life?
I teach. It has been my passion for so many years; I can’t imagine ever retiring. I love working with students (and colleagues). It enriches my own writing. It helps me to see how I am coming off to others. I learn from my students in ways that I can only describe as a reciprocal activity. They see things I have missed in texts that I have read many, many times. Example: One of my students wrote about a production I took them to see of Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew. She titled it, “Stockholm Syndrome: An Analysis of Taming of the Shrew.” Pure genius.
What are your 3-5 favorite and 3-5 least favorite words and why?
I love the following words: “Moist,” because it seems to hold more power than any curse word. I use it in as many contexts as I can (appropriate and not-so-appropriate) just to watch peoples’ faces transform into an expression as though they’re smelling flatulence. “Pharmakon,” because it so aptly describes so many things, ideas, people, experiences, etc. A knife in the hands of a surgeon can save a life, in the hands of a killer can take it. I have met people who came to me as poison and yet who cured me through challenge. “Doily,” because of what your mouth has to do in order to pronounce it. I feel the same way about the word “Yarn.” In fact, I think “yarn doily” is a wonderful phrase, or at least a great name for a band. “Kind,” because it describes a superpower all humans have access to. I also like it because it’s almost a contradictory word: As a noun, it means type, group, tribe, or family, a collection of like-minded individuals who tend to be suspicious (or even xenophobic) of outsiders. Yet as an adjective it describes someone who is open, generous, welcoming, compassionate, considerate, etc. “Whoever you are—I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.”
As for my least favorite words: “Crimson.” Ireminds me of a word that high school boys in heavy metal bands would use too often in their epic lyrics about dragons, knights, and demons. “Impactful.” It reeks of upper management and motivational-speak. “Neurodivergent.” I am neurodivergent (who isn’t?); I suffer from clinical depression, anxiety, and self-doubt. Am I to be classified in the same word with Ed Gein? “Monosyllabic.” It has five syllables.
What is your "white whale"?
Poetry. I have tried for many years to write poetry; I am in awe of those who can. I continue to try, even though I know for a fact that the results will come out like Hallmark’s new line of Kevorkian suicide notes, placed on the rack right between sympathy and congratulation cards. I still send my poems out, if only to collect the rejections I receive and show them to my wife as proof: “See? I suck!”
We think "after happy hour" as the time you can really let loose and be yourself. What is your after happy hour?
As corny as it sounds, being with my wife and dogs. They are home for me.
Why did you feel like After Happy Hour would be a good home for this piece?
After sampling some of the writing, I noticed how eclectic and unique it was. The funny thing is that I was sending this particular piece out “one more time” before I pulled it in favor of my more conventional work. After Happy Hour seemed a good choice to give poor Irene one more chance. And it worked!
What is your favorite vice? What are you drinking at happy hour, in a literal or a metaphorical sense?
I guess my favorite shortcoming or foible about myself is my indulgence in my neuroses. They are my personal pharmakons. They are the demons who keep me from being “normal,” yet they are also the angels who raise me up above “normal,” enabling me to “violent and original” in my work (Flaubert).
If you're part of a workshop group or other creative community, tell us about it! How did it form, what all do you do, and how does it help your creative process?
I miss being part of workshops and groups. Back when I was in school (undergraduate and graduate), I participated in many workshops. I complained about them at the time, but now that I no longer have access to one, I feel a bit adrift. The closest thing I have to it now are the individuals whom I trust to read my work. I think my favorite experience in grad school was when I workshopped my thesis in a fiction workshop and then a nonfiction (Advanced Expositional Writing) workshop. The thesis was about diary entries: one of them translated from 1883, and some of them from my own diaries. The fiction people objected that I had changed my own diary entries, which they claimed was dishonest. The nonfiction workshop were unanimous in their response: “Why wouldn’t you change them?”
Give us a recipe and tell us why you chose it--what's special about that dish?
This will sound rather simple, but I’m rather proud of my risotto. It’s the one recipe I can think of that should always list patience and attention as essential ingredients. Most people try to rush it. But those people are dead inside. If you try to rush risotto, you wind up with troppo al dente grains of arborio –– and ain’t nobody got time for that. Patiently turn the grains, add the stock, stir gently, turn, add the stock, etc. And pay attention as you repeat the process. Some people try to so something else while they are cooking risotto, resulting in overcooking it into an inedible mush. And here is where I’m tempted to find a metaphor about writing in cooking risotto, but I refuse to. I’ll let you do that.