Short story talk...

I've been asked to waffle on about short stories quite a lot recently, I thought I'd share it all with you - first, here are a blue-tinged me and Kirsty Logan at Fictions Of Every Kind in Leeds in November, talking about short stories and writing:



Next, I was honored to be interviewed over at The Short Story, here's a snippet:

How has the editing process informed your own work?
 
What an interesting question! First, I have to say that it’s far easier to spot things in someone else’s work than it is in your own. What I do when I offer suggestions on someone else’s story is to remember to come at it from within what the writer wants to do, not how I would write that story.

And this week the wonderful folk at the Bristol Short Story Prize, for whom I am a judge this year, asked me a few more questions:

What influence do you think doing a PhD has had on your writing?

As a short story writer – and now also a poet – while I loved what I was doing, no-one was really waiting for me to do anything, by which I mean, I imposed my own deadlines, motivated myself. I didn’t have an agent chivvying me, for example. So the main reason for me to undertake a PhD in Creative Writing was to have a framework, to get gently yet firmly chivvied!  

You may discover that I disagree with myself in these interviews - any thoughts on your own writing processes, what competitions mean to you? Please do share in the comments!

Writing Short Stories... A Xmas giveaway!

It's here!

I'm delighted to unveil Writing Short Stories: A Writers & Artists Companion, co-written and co-edited by Courttia Newland and me, and with 20 VERY FINE guest writers in the centre. It's all about writing and all about short stories, from so many angles and perspectives, and with no "shoulds" and no "rules", and perhaps a little ranting (by me) about the "shoulds" and the "rules" that tried to deny me permission in the past. Permission. Something to be given. Yup.

Anyway, to celebrate, I'm going to give away a copy and all you have to do is comment here (by Jan 1st) and tell us who or what gave YOU permission, in some way, in your life. Am happy to post anywhere in the world. Dang, I'm feeling generous!

The book is published by Bloomsbury, and on Feb 25th in London, I'll be interviewing three AMAZING Bloomsbury short story writers - Jon McGregor, Lucy Wood and Eliza Roberston - about that very subject, permission and risk, in their own writings, so do come along, share your stories with us. More information here.

I'm reading at Loose Muse on Wed Jan 14th, at the Poetry Cafe in London, would be lovely to see you there, too!

Don't forget to comment to be in with a chance of winning a book...

Bits of news, interview and poetry

Quick check-in, I haven't been much in a blogging mood recently, but do have something I want to discuss, when I have mulled it over. In the meantime, some tidbits: I'm interviewed over at the excellent UK Booktrust reading and writing charity today. Their tagline is "inspiring a love of books" and they do such great work, please take a wander around their site. I'm chatting about short stories, poetry, writing. Here's a snippet;

I read everything. EVERYTHING. As a kid I read the backs of cereal packs during breakfast, I couldn't stop reading. If it is well-written, I'll read it (okay, cereal boxes not so much): fiction, poetry, non-fiction, whatever. But for me only the short story is actually capable of perfection, and I know that because I have read many stories I consider perfect. They cause me physical pain when I read them, and that's what I want from great writing. To be shaken up, to be a different person, when I finish reading a story, even if that story is half a page long. And the best short stories do that, again and again and again. Who wouldn't be addicted to that kind of experience? I tell anyone who says that short stories leave them unsatisfied, wanting more, that they clearly have never read a really great story, because they wouldn't feel like that. No way. 

 On the subject of poetry, I have two poems in the British poetry journal Tears in the Fence, which is my first appearance in a print poetry journal, I feel like it's a really momentous event for me. The poems are a sort of sequence (can two be a sequence?) which is also a first, and they are imaginatively titled "1" and "2". Must get better at titles. So, the year of poetry is going very well.

I wanted to leave you with this, which is part of what I want to talk more about, but here, watch this video for a start, maybe this will kick of a discussion:

Sarah Salway on Writing & Place

I am delighted to be hosting Sarah Salway on the blog today - poet, short story writer, novelist, writing teacher, blogger extraordinaire and a provider of inspiration in so many ways! Not one to stand still, Sarah has just launched a new website, Stories from the Garden: "This is a website for garden visiting with a difference. Instead of collecting plants, my garden visits are all about collecting stories – those contained within the garden, those told about the garden and those written in the garden." And you can catch Sarah talking all about "A Garden Journey" at the Canterbury Festival next Wednesday, October 17th, at 8pm (see here for more info). 

It seemed appropriate then, given that her new venture is about stories in different places, to ask Sarah my writing & place questionnaire. Here are her answers!

Where are you?

I live in Tunbridge Wells in a very old house that was once Beau Nash’s illegal gaming rooms. The builders we had swore there are ghosts here, but if there are, they feel very happy to me. I like to think of them playing poker.

We moved as a family from Edinburgh when my husband got a job in London. We had no idea where to live and so I was travelling round Southern England looking for places we might call home – a surreal experience.

Tunbridge Wells wasn’t even on the map for us, but on one of my ‘tours’ of Kent, I met up for lunch with two writer friends there and fell in love with it. Out of interest, I called in at an estate agent that afternoon and found the house we moved into just three months later.

Interestingly, one of my lunch companions, Dan Rhodes, moved to Edinburgh about a year later so you could say, we swapped.

How long have you been there?

Ten years. Whether we’ll stay here for ever, I have no idea.

Now our children have left home and we’re not tied to schools etc, I fancy moving far out into the country and becoming a hermit with chickens and pigs.

However, I also fancy moving into the centre of a really busy city and going to the theatre every night. Not sure the two are compatible!

What do you write?

I write in several genres.

I trained as a journalist straight from school, and I still love doing features and interviews – that chance to dip in and out of a subject and ask all the questions you want without seeming too nosy!

Then I did a creative writing drop-in class at Edinburgh University and fell in love with fiction. I started with the short story (perhaps because it felt the same shape as a feature?) and I was lucky enough to be asked to expand one of my short stories into what turned out to be my first novel, Something Beginning With.

I’ve now written and published two collections of short stories (one with Lynne Rees) and three novels, and this year, I’ve published my first poetry collection, You Do Not Need Another Self-Help Book.

Sometimes I worry that I’m just distracted writing so many different things, but mostly I feel lucky to be able to follow what I feel passionate about.

At the moment, through my role as Canterbury Laureate, I am working on my first piece of public site-specific writing, doing what we’re calling ‘interventions’ in four of the public parks in Canterbury – changing the municipal signs, recording monologues of park users, turning one space into a meditative spot for letter writing. It’s been a totally amazing opportunity and I think it may have changed my writing practice for ever. I have been so used to thinking of writing as something that appears between the covers of a book that I only just got over asking if this is something I’m allowed to do!

However, for the first time in several years, I do have a novel in my head that is starting to shout that it needs to be written. I’m getting rather excited about disappearing into that fictional world.

How do you think where you are affects what you write about and how you write?

That’s a really interesting question. I am originally from the Fens and recently, I have discovered that several authors I really enjoy – Trollope and the much more contemporary, Sonia Overall and Katherine Pierpoint for example – are also ‘flatlanders’. However, this isn’t made obvious in their books themselves so I wonder if it’s something in the atmosphere, or language, that I’m picking up. It’s something I’d love to look into more.

I have done three writing fellowships in America now, one in Iowa and two in Virginia, and I can spot the American influence on the work that I’ve produced there, not in terms of content, but as one friend said, ‘they’re more spacious’ than my ‘normal work’. Again, it could be all the flat lands and the skies!

I think I’m more influenced by the landscape than the people, certainly. And by the everyday more than the spectacular. Although I’ve done some epic walks, including up Kilimanjaro, they don’t appeal to me as a topic to write about. The walks I go on around town during the day though, peering into people’s houses, overhearing conversations, or just being on my own in the streets, fill my notebook.

I do write in cafes, but I love writing in libraries more. I once had a week’s ‘holiday’ writing in a different London library every day – the one at the V&A, the Wellcome Institute, the Royal Institute of British Architects. Anyone can walk in and get a day ticket, and it was absolutely fantastic. I guess my favourite travel will always be on the page! 

Thank you, Sarah! Invite me round for tea, I need to see the illegal gaming rooms! Check out Sarah's new website, Stories from the Garden, and if you are near Canterbury (or willing to travel, which will be worth it!) go and hear Sarah talking all about "A Garden Journey" at the Canterbury Festival next Wednesday, October 17th, at 8pm (see here for more info).

On BBC Radio Bristol!

I was interviewed by the delightful Steve Yabsley - a fellow short story writer, it turns out! - on his show on BBC Radio Bristol yesterday. You can Listen Again to us chatting about short stories and me reading two from my collection on the show for another 6 days, til Friday 21st, here. I arrive 32 minutes in. Thanks to Steve for having me!

Quick, I have WiFi!

I've been working very very hard and enjoying myself immensely here at Internet-free Hawthornden Castle:

I won't jinx anything by talking about it too much yet, since I have another 10 days to go. I have escaped for the day into the Big City for a little Internet surfing (and, yes, an afternoon film, very decadent). Just wanted to plug a few lovely things I have been involved in over the last few weeks:

The wonderful Jen Campbell interviewed me about... short stories (there's a surprise) over at her blog. She asked some tough questions. A little snippet:

I get a kick from a great short story that is unlike any other reading experience, and I read everything, novels, poetry, non-fiction. But the short story discombobulates me, shakes me, moves me, in only a few pages or less, and it is these short stories I find I carry around with me, like whispering voices, for months, even years. I don't forget a short story I have loved. 

And a few weeks ago I was interviewed over at the excellent Shortfire press about, umm, yes, short stories:

I prefer a 'messy' story that may not be perfect but takes risks to a carefully written and 'safe' story that never strays into dangerous territory – and 'danger' can mean something incredibly small, but something risky nonetheless. I'd rather be slightly confused for lack of information than given far too much information and know exactly what's going on, what's happened and what's going to happen.

I was so honoured to be included in this amazing project, Photo Stories "an experiment in writing, photography, and design" - all the writers involved picked a photo, wrote a 500-word story inspired by that photo, and then a designer combined the photo and the story into a third, brand-new entity, a "typographic print" - and all the typographic prints are being exhibited at the Saatchi gallery in London RIGHT NOW (and no, I haven't seen it, sadly I missed the launch). If you are in London, head down there. But even if you can't, the typographs are for sale, check out the website. You can see the typograph of my story here.

Another few bits of story news - I have several flash stories in a new ebook anthology coming very soon, Peculiar Love Stories, being published by Rosa Mira Books in New Zealand. I have to say, I realised I tend to write a lot of very peculiar love stories! Check out the publisher's blog here.

And the antipodean theme continues - a brand new and very very odd flash story, Disease relics, has just been published in volume 1 of Australian online mag Inky Squib, (scroll to page 4).

OK, time to head back to the castle. I will write more about the experience when I get home at the end of the month. I will leave you with this thought: porridge and creativity, is there a link?

Revising short stories discussion Part II

(This blog post is very long, so I thought I'd turn it into a PDF too. See it here - please come back and comment afterwards! PDF with Parts 1 &2 here)

This began here...and it's become such an interesting discussion, focussing mainly on revising short stories, that I have been mulling it over and reading more about how different writers "do it", a kind of informal survey. I've asked members of my writing group, and there are brilliant comments on the first blog post, and I've been reading Paris Review interviews. I think what results is that there is no one way to do this. Revising/ reworking/re-dreaming your story is as much art as science.

Here's a selection of views on the subject - it's a long blog post but incredibly useful, for me at least. I am going to try a selection because I haven't found the way for me yet. I'd love to hear more from any of you - what works, what doesn't, any other ideas!

Here's what various writer friends said, on this blog and elsewhere:

I think too much and usually want to incorporate everybody's comments and suggestions, and the process becomes too analytical instead of heartfelt. I actually end up becoming sick of the whole thing and losing whatever emotion or soul I initially had, going into it ... I myself find that my best work are always written in white heat and rarely need to be tinkered with after the first draft. White heat...writing in the zone...lucid dreaming...starting with a fresh page...seems all very "right brain" to me. Left brain = editor head, while right brain = creator head? (Michelle Tandoc-Pichereau)

There is a state that I have on occasion got into (not very often, I wish I could) in which the words just flow: I come up with a sentence and it just leads to another and another and I look at the words on the page and think, where did that come from? Like I said, writing doesn’t often work like that for me. But when it does, I find it really hard to revise what I’ve written. It is what it is: either it comes out perfectly formed (I wish!) or I find myself completely at a loss as to how to fix it. The thing I can’t get back is the voice, the fluency. I also have a different way of writing, much more usual for me, which I don’t especially recommend, which is tortuous and painstaking and slow. But when I write like that rewriting is not a problem: getting the first draft out is the hard bit, and after that I feel like I know what I’m doing. (Emma Martin)

Robert Olen Butler does suggest that before revising anything substantially one should go into 'lucid dreaming' mode. I do do this before I put even one word on a first draft following an impulse of a story, and also before revision. Especially if something struck me as very off during a read through. I don't know if my experience revising a novel is of any value...perhaps it will open up the discussion, but since I am revising in chunks, perhaps talking about process might demystify it a bit.

E.g. I just went through one of the chapters in my novel yesterday. It's about 11,000 words. It's a very long chapter. There are some huge problems with it. The altercation between father and son sounds 'off', stilted, a little unreal. Also, I wanted to work in a couple of other threads that had been swimming and surfacing in various other sections and which I wanted woven more tightly in here. The chapter hadn't remotely done that.

In the past, a read-through with these many flaws engendered an overwhelming disgust, which I was then unable to swim past. It usually ended up with me partially chucking the story. For me, I'm not sure there's much of a difference between revising for a short story versus novel, except that in a novel, you can't afford to chuck it away. That would mean chucking away almost two years of consistent work!

The difference now is perhaps that I do make immediate mental notes as to the concrete things I think are not working. Then I go away. Let those feelings of disgust fade away. Usually takes about a week or so, during which I do other things. Read, chase my kids around, that sort of thing.

When I go back to read through again, if those same mental notes I made still ring through, I trust them. I revise based on that map. I almost without fail never think about craft elements. I don't do the checklist of plot/voice/structure etc. that there's some inordinate slippage into when I read someone else's story. So I think this is one fundamental difference between being a reader of my own work versus others. Having said that, I don't think craft elements don't work its way into revision. I think they become an organic part of a flaw. They are manifestations of a disease, not the underlying cause. Fix the underlying cause, the manifestation through 'voice' or weak plot etc. also goes away.  (Elaine Chiew)

Early on in a serious writer's life, the taking apart of a piece and reassembling it, following advice from peers is absolutely crucial. It's key to developing an instinctive grasp of craft, and allows us to be analytical in our stride rather than stop-starty, editor head v creator head. We need to learn to prevent those two modes of approaching work from being at odds with each other.

After a while I've found they work alongside each other invisibly, and when they do, that pulling apart and adding here and there will make a story less fluent, because when it was first written, the two were engaged, and if we revise with one head on, the story gets lopsided. ...So there comes a time when this is no longer the best mode for reworking pieces. It may work for some stories, but others need to be written again from scratch, to achieve that fluidity and unity.

There's one story in my collection that I rewrote, from scratch each time, about twenty times - different settings, different story telling modes. The version I ended up with was the only one that didn't feel clunky though it didn't get half way towards what I wanted it to say. But fiddling around with early versions led nowhere. It just had to come from a new sheet of paper.  (Susannah Rickards)

Oh goodness, I absolutely know what it is to write a story - a decent but still a little saggy story - and post for critique, come away with lots of useful, thoughtful suggestions and then use said thoughts and suggestions to KILL my story forever....Revision takes away the heart beat, the life of the story, and replaces it with coldness. But it shouldn’t have to meant that. It's to do with lightness of touch maybe. So as not to disturb the magic that's there whilst cleaning/shining lightly? (Sara Crowley)

I am really into walking ... as were the Surrealists, because it concentrates your thoughts, focuses them, and frees them up at the same time, your head has space and there's a rhythm.I find myself dipping in and out of ideas while I'm walking, I get so tuned in that ...I am practically a danger to myself and I don't notice anybody! It's all very routine, I choose virtually the same route every day, and I feel like it's just me and my creative process. I am not great when it comes to revision, I can get it all down on the page to begin, and then I go through and edit all the basics and then I get stuck. Very stuck.

And I'm so glad this has all been brought up here because I thought I was on my own with this. The more I dilute a piece with unsparing editing (which I something I am not averse to with my poems) the more I can't be bothered with it anymore. I have so many stories that I've done nothing with and probably never will, or maybe even can't do anything with, it's a shame. And ... I've had work taken apart by peers and haven't been able to mould it back together... it is weird, with the poetry I absolutely brutalise it sometimes. And that feels ok, maybe I have better instincts with poems because I'm more confident with them? I think a writer's main strength is instinct, trusting instincts and intuition, editing as you go along, getting caught in the heat of the moment. After that, there's a sober period where you look back on what you've done and doubts creep in... I think that by avoiding that hangover period after a first draft maybe that's key to seeing again with fresh eyes.(Melissa Lee-Houghton)

I find it hard to explain because it's more about (warmly) feeling something is right on the page rather than (coolly) cerebrally ascertaining something is right. It's a difficult question to answer because our feelings are ultimately produced in the brain and so, even though I say I'm revising by using my feelings, it is actually the brain that is doing it. When I write or revise it definitely feels more like an intuitive act rather than something that is consciously being controlled or directed. I also tend to revise as I write (as well as after I've 'finished' something) so the writing mode/editing mode are not too different for me. I hope this makes sense! (A J Ashworth)

I sort of think that if there are going to be changes then the whole thing has to start again - else, it's all a bit like trying to untie veins and plonk them somewhere else - the circulation gets messed up, and worse! (Rachel Fenton)

For me, some stories begin with an idea or mood. Words develop around that, but the original seed has to stay. Other pieces begin as bits but gradually acquire a heart. Others begin with a character in search of a plot. I don't think it's always right to re-trace one's steps when re-writing (a story can start on one track and end up on a completely different one) but it's worth remembering what made you want to write the piece in the first place. And not just remembering - keeping those early sketches and drafts. (litrefs)

Because of my sporadic writing schedule I tend to write in short bursts and can sometimes rewrite a paragraph twenty times from scratch. It always boils down to whatever works for you though I guess. One time I wrote a novella and after an edit I got a 3000 word story out of it (that one still stings a little) but as long as you get something you're happy with at the end I don't think it matters how you get there. I don't mind working for months to get perfection. (Alex)

I'm rubbish at working on/revising short stories. There's something in me that insists on the flow of the piece in its entirety, so every time I edit a part of the story I go back to the beginning and read it through again until I hit another part that 'doesn't work' according to the vision I have for the piece. Edit, and repeat. It takes far too long I'm sure, there must be a better way. (Clare King)

I am very jealous of anyone like [David] Vann who can write a first draft as a final draft. My process tends to involve writing in excess of what the story requires and then a trimming back to a shape that best fits the story revealed in the first draft. This can mean cutting out a third to a half of what I've written, shaping the rest as I polish.

This not to say that extra writing is wasted. The extra work gives me a deeper understanding of the characters, while the trimmed sections go into files for use later. I trawl through them from time to time for character stuff and description that will serve the story I am drafting or as a spring board for a new piece.

A little time consuming but the whole process is kind of like writing a block of text then scuplting it into shape, knocking chunks of it off as I go.

An interesting method of editing is Andrew Cowan's, I have heard him in interview explaining that he writes his first sentence, then redrafts that until perfect then writes his next and redrafts that until perfect and he continues this process for whole novels. Now that's what I call time consuming. (Dan Powell)

My method of revising/editing is as chaotic as my creative process. I was taught that you write (the first draft) for yourself, and revise with the reader in mind. But (for me) it's not that simple and there may be many drafts because it's in the process of writing, that I find a sense of my story and the revision process is about making sense of that story. Even if it's a short story, this often turns out to be a long process, especially when my thoughts on what I've written shift, which is inevitable over time. On my blog, I've been likening the process of revising/rewriting/editing to knitting; being prepared to unravel, pick up dropped stitches, rework the pattern, but really I think it's more instinctive than that, more like the creative process involved in painting. I know it's right when it feels, looks and sounds right. (Diane Becker)

What works for me is leaving it for a long time and then entering the text in a new creative headspace, almost rewriting it even if I might just change one paragraph to get it right. Dreamy creative is better than analytical in my world ... You have to leave your FEELINGS in even if you're clutching the red editing pen at the same time  (Louise Halvardsson)

Appreciating the strength of analysing the craft and applying that analysis to the editing process is fine. However - I do think we need to be flexible - and not slaves to any method at all. I think we need to embrace as many ways of doing this thing as we can, and understand that what will work one day, on one piece of work, may not be right for another, on another day.

I guess that when we get a way down the track, our understanding of our own drafting process can encompass some of the 'revision' process, as we go. So what comes out, has already been subconsciously smoothed.

I also think that might work for short fiction, flashes, shorter short stories - but the more complex a piece of becomes, the less likely it is to work well. So consideration of structure, how far it is working to deliver the end product you want, arches over the craft elements within. Thats how I approached revising my longer work recently. I think...(Vanessa Gebbie)

The received view seems to be that you are in a creative/right brain state for stage one (writing) and in an analytical/left brain state for stage two (revising) – there should be an unconscious creative burst followed by an analytical going over. But I think in reality it's more complex than that, as this discussion shows. To be honest, I don't feel such a big difference between the two stages. Maybe I'm just doing it 'wrong' - but when I write and also when I evaluate what I've written, I try to think it and feel it at the same time. (Emma)

I used to be all about the emetic first draft – I just got it all out on the page, beginning to end, before I edited a single word. Then I'd look at the thing as a whole and make big changes. Then the next rewrite would be smaller changes, and smaller and smaller until I'm just fiddling with individual word choices.

I've slowed down a bit over the past few months, both in terms of my overall output and how quickly I write each sentence. Now I find that my first drafts are slower, but with each draft I change fewer things. Maybe one day I'll get to the point where I perfect each sentence before moving on, but I doubt it. I prefer to find my way through the story as I go, rather than plan it all out beforehand.

That said, I love editing and rewriting. The blank page still scares me a little, and there's comfort in knowing that I have the framework of a story already there. (Kirsty Logan)

And here are quotes from other writers and an editor, most from Paris Review interviews, about what they do - and don't do:

Marilynne Robinson:

If I write something and don't like it, I basically toss it. And I try to write it again or I write something else that has the same movement. But as far as going back and working over something that I've already written -- I really don't do that. I know there's a sentence that I need, and I just run it through my mind until it sounds right. Most of my revision occurs before I put words down on a paper.

Truman Capote:

I am a completely horizontal author. I can't think unless I am lying down.... I don't use a typewriter. Not in the beginning. I write my first version in longhand (pencil). Then I do a complete revision, also i longhand. Then I type a third draft on yellow paper, a very special kind of yellow paper. No, I don't get out of bed to do this. I balance the machine on my knees.... When the yellow draft is finished, I put the manuscript away for a while, a week, a month, maybe longer. When I take it out again, I read it as coldly as possible, then read it aloud to a friend or two, and decide what changes I want to make and whether or not I want to publish it. I've thrown away rather a few short stories, an entire novel and half of another. But if all goes well, I type the final version on white paper and that's that.

Hemingway:

I always rewrite each day up to the point where I stopped.... I rewrote the ending to Farewell to Arms, the last page of it, 39 times before I was satisfied. 

 Jorge Luis Borges:

Interviewer: When you wrote your stories did you revise a great deal?

JLB: At first I did. Then I found out that when a man reaches a certain age, he has found his real tone. Nowadays I try to go over what I've written after a fortnight or so, and of course there are many slips and repetitions to be avoided, certain favourite tricks that should not be overworked. But I think that what I write nowadays is always on a certain level and that I can't better if very much, nor can I spoil it very much, either. Consequently I let it go, forget all about it, and think about what I am doing at the time. 

 William Faulkner:

Let the writer take up surgery or bricklaying if he is interested in technique. There is no mechanical way to get writing done, no shortcut. The young writer would be a fool to follow a theory. Teach yourself by your own mistakes; people learn only by error. ...

Sometimes technique charges in and takes command of the dream before the writer himself can get his hands on it. That is tour de force and the finished work is simply a matter of fitting bricks neatly together, since the writer knows probably every single word right to the end before he puts the first one down. ... The quality an artist must have is objectivity in judging his work, plus the honesty and courage not to kid himself about it. Since none of my work has met my own standards I must judge it on the basis of that one which caused me the most grief and anguish, as the mother loves the child who became the thief or murderer more than the one who became the priest.

Georges Simenon:

Adjectives, adverbs, and every word which is there just to make an effect. Every sentence which is there just for the sentence. You know, you have a beautiful sentence - cut it. Every time I find such a thing in one of my novels it is to be cut. 

Interviewer: is that the nature of most of your revision?

GS: Almost all of it.

Interviewer: It is not revising the plot pattern?

GS: Oh, I never touch anything of that kind. 

 

Gary Fisketjon, editor-at-large at Knopf. He has edited the works of Raymond Carver, Bret Easton Ellis, Patricia Highsmith, Cormac McCarthy, Jay McInerney, Tobias Wolff, and Haruki Murakami.:

[I]t all starts with the editing, which is when I see most clearly what distinguishes this particular book. […] In my comments, what I hope to do is akin to giving the author a fresh look at something that has been labored on so long that certain things have become invisible. Countless thousands of decisions factor into the writing of any book, and it defies mathematical odds that each and every one was the best decision; but after someone has rewritten sentences and chapters or whatever God knows how many times freshness is hard to come by[… That] can occur when the book is finally set in type, as opposed to whatever computer typeface was used on earlier drafts: suddenly a writer will say, Well, that looks funny, or doesn’t read right, or whatever. This is another means—though merely visually—of getting a fresh or different look at something one has looked at so many times before.

Dorothy Parker:

It takes me six months to do a story. I think it out and then write it sentence by sentence - no first draft. I can't write five words but that I change seven. 

Eudora Welty:

Often I shift things from the very beginning to the very end. Small things - one fact, one word - but things important to me. It's possible I have a reverse mind and do things backwards, being a broken lefthander. Just so I've caught on to my weakness.... I do [rewrite considerably.] Some things I let alone from the first to the last - the kernel of the story. You know enough not to touch something if it's right. The hardest thing for me is getting people in and out of rooms - the mechanics of a story. ...I find that very challenging, especially to describe an action that I don't do very well myself, like sewing.

Alice Munro:

I don't grasp it very readily at all, the "it" being whatever I'm trying to do. I often get on the wrong track and have to haul myself back... I could be writing away one day and think I've done very well; I've done more pages than I usually do. Then I get up the next morning and realize I don't want to work on it anymore. When I have a terrible reluctance to go near it, when I would have to push myself to continue, I generally know something is badly wrong. Often, in about three quarters of what I do, I reach a point somewhere, fairly early on, when I think I'm going to abandon this story. I get myself through a day or two of bad depression, grouching around. And I think of something else I can write. It's sort of like a love affair: you're getting out of disappointment and misery by going out with some man you really don't like at all, but you haven't noticed that yet. Then, I will suddenly come up with something about the story that I abandoned; I will see how to do it. But that only seems to happen after I've said, No, this isn't going to work, forget it.

 ...The whole process might take up to a week, the time of trying to think it through, trying to retrieve it, then giving it up and thinking about something else, and then getting it back, usually quite unexpectedly, when I am in the grocery store or out for a drive. I'll think, Oh well, I have to do it from the point of view of so-and-so and I have to cut this character out, and of course these people are not married, or whatever. The big change, which is usually the radical change...

I don't know if it makes the story better. What it does is make it possible for me to continue to write. That's what I mean by saying I don't think I have this overwhelming thing that comes in and dictates to me. I only seem to get a grasp on what I want to write about with the greatest difficulty. And barely. ... I can see the ways a story could go wrong. I see the negative things more easily than the positive things. Some stories don't work as well as others, and some stories are lighter in conception than others. They feel lighter to me. 

Just in compiling all this I feel better, better about not knowing what I am doing, how I do what I do when it works, how to fix something when I feel it just isn't working. I especially feel heartened by that last quote from Alice Munro. I think perhaps it in some way this and other people's comments validate my feeling that I need to not focus too hard at the thing I am working on - although I "look away" by playing online scrabble rather than going for a walk or to the grocery store! Well, I am still working this out. Anything that you do that no-one's mentioned? Let's keep this discussion going.


Addendum:
I was pointed towards Wells Tower's revision process, here's a quote from an interview in the Iowa Review:

Sarah Fay: You revised these stories for eight years. Is that right?

Wells Tower: Something like that. I did such violent revision to the stories that my editor started to worry about me. To some extent the revisions were informed by trying to make the story better, but it did get to a point where I would just keep revising and revising and revising not out of any real editorial intelligence but just because I wanted to be a better writer than I am. My feeling about revision is that we don’t really know what our stories are about even after the fifth or sixth draft. It’s not until I’ve got some distance from a story that I can look at it and see that there is actually a real emotional problem that the story is hinting at. Then the process of revision is about choosing characters, and scenes, and moments, and style that will get at that emotion in the most effective way.

SF: You’ve said you revised the story “Retreat” kamikaze-style.

WT: It was originally published in McSweeney’s from the point of view of the younger brother. The younger brother is this smartass who is pretty sympathetic, and his older brother is this terrible blowhard. The older brother behaves badly and continues to behave badly and is ultimately punished for his bad behavior by ingesting a possibly lethal bit of rotten moose meat. To me, that seemed like a flat line on the moral complexity curve. When I revised it, I thought it would be such a better story—a more interesting assignment—to try to tell it from the standpoint of the unsympathetic character. So that’s what I did.
SF: Do you treat all of your revisions as “assignments”?

WT: I did similar things with a lot of the stories. Often I didn’t look at the first draft when I went back to revise. “Revision” was writing a new story, trying to germinate a new story from the initial bit of inspirational DNA.

Interview & great short story blog post

I am very honoured to have been interviewed by Andrew Philip, author of the excellent The Ambulance Box poetry collection, over on his blog today. He asked some great questions, even about my poetry - which is woeful and frankly almost non-existent! but I did use the word "sestina". Thanks for having me, Andy!

And also on the blogs, I really enjoyed Alison Wells' recent post, Growing Up To Be A Short Story Writer where she charts what she sees are the stages in the career of a short story writer:

Baby stage: Before I really began writing short stories I didn’t really know what they were. In fact I had a vague idea of what it was to be a writer at  all.  I probably hadn’t read very many. On the other hand I would have had the archetypal Problem-Conflict-Resolution structure imprinted on me from a household full of books and my love of reading. But I didn’t know if I really wanted to write short stories at all.

I really enjoyed this post, very thought-provoking in terms of our evolution as writers. Do we get stuck in one stage or are we moving smoothly through them all? I am still pondering that one. Read the full post here.

Lots of lovely short story related stuff

First, for all of those who are concerned about submitting to Southword because I know you - this is new for me too. I've never been in this position. I only have one issue to fill - the 2nd issue of the year publishes the winner and finalists of the Sean O'Faolain competition  - so I won't be able to choose every story that I love. I will have to reject quite a lot of fantastic writing, I imagine, because it's not about the "best" it will most probably be about the ones that fit "best" together in some way. Please don't let it put you off - no, it's not anonymous, and I would love to read your work. If you want, you can always submit under a pseudonym. Really.

Email me if you have any more concerns. Let's venture into the unknown together!

Next: my article on the joys of short stories, Stopping to Smell the Miniature Roses, is in the latest issue of Bellatrista. I was delighted, as always, to be asked to tell the world why everyone should read what we all know to be wondrous creatures. If this gets just one person into short stories, it'll be worth it all!

Finally - the new issue of The Short Review Jan 2010, with an interview with the fabulous A L Kennedy, THREE books to give away, and we are the latest stop on the Short Circuit virtual book tour. Here's the blurb.

2010 sees the launch of The Short Review 2.0. What does this mean? It means we want to hear from you. Let's talk: about reviews, interviews, short stories, writing... come and join in the conversation on our new discussion forum.

This Month: From flames to madmen, ruins, relics, Indians and happy shades - reviews of debut collections by Alice Zorn, Daniel A Hoyt, Midge Raymond, Andrew McNabb and Hassan Blasim (translated into English for the first time) alongside Alice Munro's first collection from 1968, and Sherman Alexie's third collection and A L Kennedy's fifth, Tales of the DeCongested's second anthology and the Atlantis Collective's first.

And interviews with A L Kennedy, Alice Zorn, Dan Hoyt, Midge Raymond, Andrew McNabb, Hassan Blasim...

AND

Competitions: 3 very different books to give away this month: The Madman of Freedom Square by Hassan Blasim, The Body of This by Andrew McNabb, and Short Circuit: A Gudie to the Art of the Short Story, edited by Vanessa Gebbie (see below). Find out how to win>>

And On the Blog: The Short Review is delighted to be a stop on the Virtual Book Tour for Short Circuit: A Guide to the Art of the Short Story. Says Short Circuit ed Vanessa Gebbie: "On one level, a reader looks for entertainment – to be taken out of themselves for a while, by following a complicated plot. The reader who actively seeks that experience, sustained for the length of time it takes to read a novel, who then switches to read a good short story, expecting it to deliver something similar, will be disappointed. " Read the rest of the blog post here >>

The Short Review Sept 2009

Well, couple of rejections this week (Tin House, who held on to my story for 6 months while others were being rejected, so that was some consolation, despite the form rejection!), but cheered, as always, by this month's Short Review. What's in it, you ask??

In this month's issue, we bring you false relations, damaged goods, repetition patterns, quick repair, stories like donut holes, stories named for rivers, things that are cold to the touch, people who always want something, the collected stories of the Armitage family, and our first review of an ebook which leaves the reader, Radiohead-style, to decide what they'd like to pay. And, as ever, author interviews with almost everyone we review.

Controversially, perhaps, we've added the Literary Fiction category to the Find Something to Read By Category page. Difficult one, this. Might cause trouble. Who is to say what is Lit Fic and what isn't? Hmm. What do you think??

Also: Surprise yourself! Check out our non-complete list of short story collections published in 2008 and so far this year (almost). More than you thought, eh?

Pop in and have a read. Also: 4 more days to shout "pick me!" for your chance to win a signed copy of the White Road and Other Stories. Read about it here.

Elizabeth Baines: The "Dribble" Interview

I am delighted to be hosting the final leg of Elizabeth Baines' "Around the Edges of the World" Virtual Book Tour for her wonderful short story collection, Balancing on the Edge of the World (Salt Publishing, 2007) which is one of those books I had to force myself to put down just so the experience of reading it wouldn't end. I am sad that it did, but looking forward to reading Elizabeth's next book, her novel, Too Many Magpies, forthcoming from Salt later this year.


Much has been said already in praise of Elizabeth's writing, and I urge you to visit the other tour stops where Elizabeth illuminates the writing life and what that means for her, how she writes, what she writes, why she writes what she writes, which is not just short stories, but novels, radio and stage plays and more. She is also the author of two blogs, a personal blog, Elizabeth.Baines.blogspot.com and Fiction Bitch, which contains Elizabeth sharp and insightful take on the oft-perplexing and frustrating world of books and literature. Of course, I highly recommend buying Balancing on the Edge of the World.

So, a dribble interview, what does that mean? In the world of flash fiction, a "dribble" is a very short story of only 50 words (half a drabble!). Since I know how exhausting Virtual Book Tours can be, requiring an immense amount of thought on the part of the author on many questions, often deeply personal, I decided to give Elizabeth a break and require of her that her answers not exceed 50 words. She was, I believe, relieved!

So, welcome Elizabeth! Let's start the dribbles....

Tania: You have talked a great deal and very candidly and thoughtfully about your writing. Let's talk about reading. What is the experience of reading a short story for you?

Elizabeth: A good short story provides an intense experience, pulls you up, stops you short, engrosses you entirely, alters your perception, and afterwards goes on reverberating in your mind. The best will stay with you for ever, winking like precious jewels.

T. What do short stories do, in your opinion, that no other work, be it longer or shorter, can do, and why?
E: They can provide that intensity of experience which couldn't be sustained in a longer work, yet they also provide the narrative satisfactions that poems rarely achieve.

T: I think one reason short story collections are not as widely read is that they are often shelved together with novels which sets up a flawed "length-ist" comparison on the basis of quantity and not quality, dooming them to fall short - see, that derrogatory word! - before a reader even opens the book. Grace Paley said that she believes a short story should be read like a poem, slowl, paying attention to every word. Were they shelved together with - or near - poetry, short stories would be approached as an entirely different animal. Dicuss!

E:I agree: Grace Paley was right. And so the stories in a collection need to be read individually, like poems, and not necessarily sequentially. Anyone coming to a story collection hoping to be swept along from cover to cover as in a novel will be disappointed.

T: I don't want to get into the old "why aren't more short story collections getting published?" rant, so let's talk about how you went about getting yours published. How did the process work?

E: My first agent looked at my stories and said 'Fantastic, but no one publishes stories, so please write a novel'. At last, though, Salt arrived. I followed their guidelines, sent a few stories, and a few weeks later Jen asked to see more. Two weeks later she agreed to publish.

T: A few questions I ask the authors I interview for The Short Review: First, how did you choose what order the stories went in? Were you thinking of a potential reader at this point?

E: Yes, I was. I took especial care with the first and last stories which a casual browser would probably scan. I don't think you need to read a collection sequentially, but in case people did I found an arrangement which provided a journey in terms of subject matter and mood.

T: Second: what is it like knowing people are reading your books?

E: With my first book I felt exposed, yet thrilled when people said it had meant something to them. Later I detached, realized that my books belonged to others now, not me. Nowadays I just cross my fingers and hope they like them.

T: Third, what are the last three short story collections you read?

E: Sarah Salway's Leading the Dance, Haruki Murakami's After the Quake and your very own, Tania, The White Road - all of which I loved!! [T: Thank you Elizabeth, blush, blush]

T: Ok, to wind up our lovely dribble interview, how has this Virtual Tour been for you? A highlight, a low point, and a summing-up please!

E: Highs: a virtual Roman banquet, confessing about snails (!), getting to tell my worst nightmare and being invited by such thoughtful interviewers to talk in such depth about my writing and writing in general. Low point: getting utterly exhausted! Summing up : real hard work, but great fun.

T: And, to wind up on a high note, something I was asked on my Virtual Book Tour and which I loved doing: Write a zinging 50-word ad for your book just in case we haven't persuaded everyone to buy it! Go wild...

Want a bit of a smile? Like a good cry? Want to hear about the girl with magic powers or the nurse who never stops singing? 14 different stories which lift the lid on experiences that often go unheard. Stories to relish, a delicious pick n' mix to buy now!

Thank you, Elizabeth, it was an honour to be the final stop on the Virtual Tour. To read the rest of the blog "stops", visit the tour's Cyclone page. For all those who love wonderful writing, stories that will resonate long after the book has been finished, don't miss Balancing on the Edge of the World.

Author interview: Mark Budman

Continuing in the spirit of not talking about myself, I have the great honour of hosting Mark Budman, editor of flash fiction lit mag Vestal Review (for which I used to work as a First Reader) and author of the newly-published novel, My Life at First Try, published by Counterpoint Press. Here is Publishers Weekly's review of the book:

This blazingly fast and funny semi-autobiographical novel follows a Russian man's comically earnest pursuit of the American dream. As a child, Alex, living in 1950s Siberia with his parents and grandparents, sees a picture of his American-born second cousin, Annie, and he believes he has found his destiny. Throughout his formative sexual experiences, he fantasizes about Annie, who embodies the exoticness of Western culture and the wholesomeness of the American dream. By the late 1970s, when Alex's parents decide to decamp for the U.S., Alex packs up his wife and their young daughter, too, and after the trio land in upstate New York, Alex goes to work at the IBM-like HAL Corporation while his wife, Lyuba, an internist, takes longer to settle in. At first, Alex is content with his new freedom-loving democratic identity, but as his children grow and Lyuba becomes more independent the dream begins to lose its sheen. The novel is hilarious, eye-opening and, by the end, a little depressing. It's tough not to have Alex's buoyant energy rub off on the reader.

I talked to Mark over email about the novel:

Tania: How long did it take you to write this book and what was the first section you wrote?
Mark: Well, it took me all my life to write it, but it took me two years to actually put it on paper. I wrote chapter 1 first.

T: What a neat answer, to have started with chapter 1. It took you all your life because it is, more or less, your life story? What made you start two years ago?
M: Original, too. Yes, it's my life story, however I fictionalize it to protect the innocent (I am guilty myself, so I need no protection). My younger daughter urged me to put the book on paper.

T: Was it a story you used to tell your daughters at bedtime? Did they already know a lot of it? Or did she urge you to write it down because she wanted to know?
M: No, I actually kept it mostly to myself. She wanted to know.

T: How was it, exploring something you had kept to yourself for so long? What did it bring up for you? Was it cathartic? Are there parts of Alex that are definitely not you and did this make the process of writing the book easier?
M:It was like quenching thirst. I should have written the book earlier, but I was ashamed to expose myself to the readers. So, yes, it was cathartic, physiologically speaking. As for Alex, he is more adventurous than I am and less inhibited. That's why I made him my spokesman.

T: Quenching a thirst, that's a great way to describe writing a novel! Perhaps you couldn't have written it earlier, I believe things come out when they come out - maybe you weren't thirsty enough before? You have described the book as "a novel in flash stories". You are the editor of the wonderful flash fiction magazine Vestal Review, which publishes stories under 500 words in print and online. What do you love about flash? And was this a conscious choice to write your novel this way?
M: I like the economy and the energy of flash. The ability to say a lot with a few words. As for your question if it was a conscious choice, writing is part art and part science. So you can plan but you need to improvise. Yes, I wanted the chapters to be short, but sometimes they spilled beyond my intended boundaries.

T: You are the co-editor of the You Have Time for This flash anthology but this is your first book. How is it to have a novel published? What are you having to do now to promote it? How much does your publisher do? Any tips for fellow authors who have books to promote (like me, for example!)?
M: When you are a sole author rather than a co-editor, it's like driving your own sports car rather than a rented minivan. Unfortunately, my publisher does very little promotion except for sending a copy to book reviewers. I do most of the work myself through my website and blog, contacting reviewers, blogs and publications. I find reviews of the books that are similar to mine and send a reviewer an e-mail asking if they would be interested in my book.

T: Ok, last question: What's your next project?
M: I have several. A new anthology I co-edit will come come next year from Persea. We still need to add more stories to it. My agent is looking for a home for my next completed novel about two immigrants in search of a diamond.
And I am writing a novel about Lenin.


Busy man! Thanks so much to Mark for taking the time to answer my questions, I wish him much success with My Life at First Try. You can find out more about Mark on his website.

The White Road on New Scientist today...and interview in Haaretz

Just had an email from New Scientist, they are putting The White Road short story up in their online edition TODAY, possibly the audio and the text version! Ok, all a little too exciting, things move so fast. Will link when I get the link...Aaaargh!

Also:


I am interviewed today in one of Israel's national newspapers, Haaretz, which has an English edition and a section where they focus on English speakers in Israel. Click here for a scan of the article with pic. Exciting, and odd to be on the other side of the camera, so to speak: interviewee not interviewer. I would have written about me differently, but I need to let go, let go, let go. OK, off for a lovely weekend in a luxury yurt. Pics to follow.

The Short Review Issue 11 Oct 2008: Travel, Science, Love, Death and Flash

Issue 12 October 2008

Travel is one of this month's themes: with Gary Schanbacher's Migration Patterns, Derek Green's New World Order, as well as St Petersburg, where God lives, according to Tom Bissell.





Andrew Porter's The Theory of Light and Matter and Daniel Marcus' Binding Energy throw a little science into the mix.






Flash fiction is provided by Yannick Murphy's short short stories in In a Bear's Eye, some M is for Magic by Neil Gaiman, and the Wastelands anthology provides apocalyptic tales.


Love and death round off this month: Chavisa Woods' Love Does Not Make me Gentle or Kind, and Rob Shearman's Tiny Deaths.

A bumper eight author interviews provide some background to the collections. Happy reading!

And more about .... me

I am interviewed today over at WriteWords, the excellent online writers' forum whose Flash Fiction group I have been a member of for several years and which I find invaluable, both in terms of stimulation and in terms of community. Here's a taster of the interview:

I started writing fiction at the age of 6 with my first attempt, a novel about triplets, which luckily never saw the light of day! I always loved words, I devoured books even before I knew which way up to hold them. But I also loved maths and science, and growing up in England in the 1970s, my school wouldn't allow me to study arts and sciences after the age of 16, so I went towards science and studied Maths and Physics. At uni, I realised I would never, ever become a scientist, I was dreadful at experiments, so I studied for a diploma in journalism, moved to Israel and worked as a science journalist. While this did combined my two loves, there was always a niggling at the back of my mind about writing fiction. I went to some writing workshops in the US and the UK, including a wonderful Arvon Foundation course on Writing and Science, tailor-made, it seemed at the time, for me!
.....

For the rest of the interview, click here. (I think it is viewable by non-WW members..I hope so!)

And even more... here's another interview with me, at Nik's marvellous blog. Thanks so much, Nik.

Writers on writers: My interview with Vanessa Gebbie in Eclectica

I was delighted a few months ago when Vanessa asked me if I would do an interview with her for the lit magazine Eclectica. That interview is now published in their July/August issue. It was a wonderful experience, thinking up questions for a good friend and fellow writer with whom I feel a strong writing kinship: I believe we approach writing in a similar way, although our stories (and now her poems and novel!) are very different. Her collection, Words from A Glass Bubble, published by Salt, is a must-have for anyone who loves lyrical and imaginative writing with a punch, stories that leave a lasting impression, for hours, days, and much longer, stories with strong voices and many, many layers. Go and get a copy. That's today's message.

Vanessa and I met through flash fiction, and she opened me up to the whole world of flash with the Blastettes in the literary writers' forum she created, the Fiction Workhouse. I tried to think of questions to ask her that I would want to be asked. A little snippet to whet your appetite.

TH Your first collection has just been published and it has been nominated for the Frank O'Connor Award. Congratulations! Tell me, the title of your collection, "Words from a Glass Bubble," is this symbolic of your writing, and, if you agree, what is the "Glass Bubble" that your words come from?

VG Thanks. It is great to be on the Frank O'Connor list. I have Salt Publishing to thank for that... wonderful people!

I think writing comes from a place that is quite fragile; at least, it does for this writer. It is so easy to be discouraged, easy to lose heart, easy to listen to the voices that say you can't do this properly. But the place writing comes from must be beautiful. It's at the heart of me as a person, and for all its fragility, it is a wonderful thing to be able (occasionally) to tap into that place.

TH A glass bubble is also transparent, everyone can see into it. And it also reminds me of a crystal ball, seeing something other people can't see. Does any of that resonate with you?

VG I think it works both ways. When I write, I am laying bare what makes me tick, the things that really matter to me. How I filter the world. So it's me that becomes totally transparent in the real sense.

But I don't see it as a crystal ball. That's an important distinction if we're continuing these analogies. I'm not crystal gazing, more giving the readers glimpses, magical things, and fleeting, like the snow globes we used to have as kids with their magical scenes, moving, and settling. Although some of the stories have deep sadnesses in them, there is also a lot of humour, and, I'm told, beauty, uplift -perhaps that is the snow?

For more, visit Eclectica. There are also interviews with Jai Clare, author of the short story collection, The Cusp of Something (reviewed on The Short Review), fiction, poetry, humour and satire, commentary, reviews - is there anything this journal doesn't cover?! Enjoy.

Bit of inspiration to start the week: Lorrie Moore and Etgar Keret on writing

This weekend's Guardian has interviews with Lorrie Moore and Etgar Keret, two writers whose short stories I adore. A few choice excerpts:

In lieu of discipline, Moore has obsessiveness, which is not the same thing. "I was obsessive with writing, but I wasn't ever disciplined. Because if you're obsessive you don't need discipline. You just do it all the time. Why would you impose a regimen, when this is your love?"

and

Keret says he has tried writing novels, but found it more difficult and likens it to trying to "explode slowly." Writing stories, on the other hand, is relatively straightforward. "It's much easier than living."

Full interviews here and here.

The Short Review Issue 8 June 2008

(Cross-posted with The Short Review blog)

Issue 8 June 2008 of The Short Review is now up - lots of ideas for summer reading if you're in the northern hemisphere and books to keep you warm in the winter months if you're down south.

This month's issue is brought to you by the numbers 3, 13 and 18. There are phantasms, bodies, apologies and meetings, a bumper seven author interviews, some lies, some truths, some very tiny gems, a little fantasy and a lot of great writing.

New Reviews:

You Have Time for This
a celebration of the richness that can be packed into the brevity of five hundred words or less...
ed Mark Budman

Ryan Seacrest is Famous
A successful blend of pop culture and lad lit.....
by Dave Housley

Balancing on the Edge of the World
A temperament both in control and struggling with private rage, corrosive humour, then a gentle, dry empathy....
by Elizabeth Baines

The Dream Lover
He describes the miserable burdens of humanity, but his approach is humorous, not grim – a bit like Graham Greene with jokes...
by William Boyd

How They Met
Teens fall in and out of love and lust while navigating the minefields of school, parental expectation and sexuality
by David Levithan

13 Phantasms & Other Stories
A smorgasbord of Blaylock's best short fiction
by James P. Blaylock

Apologies Forthcoming A sensual immersion in the Chinese Cultural Revolution, with stories that expose the everyday hardships of citizens...
by Xujun Eberlein

Bodies in Motion
The first collection I read for which the label novel-in-stories felt appropriate.
by Mary Anne Mohanraj

18 Lies and 3 Truths: 2007 StoryQuarterly Annual
An assortment of stories, some of which sparkled more than others, especially those from newer writers whose trajectories are surely on the rise.
ed by Tom Jenks, Carol Edgarian, MMM Hayes

The Cusp of Something
An original and often beautifully written collection, which challenges and occasionally frustrates readers with its lyrical prose and complex characters.
by Jai Clare

Author Interviews:

"I very consciously organized the order of the stories, with the one page fictions teaching the reader that Black Tickets was an unusual book"

Jayne Anne Phillips, Black Tickets

"I chose what I consider my best stories – and those with some kind of thematic development."

Jai Clare, The Cusp of Something

"I constantly worry about boring the reader. I think this psychology helps me developing a more captivating plot and pace"

Xujun Eberlein, Apologies Forthcoming

"When writing Bodies in Motion, my advisor, looking at an early draft, said that I seemed to be writing for white people, because I was doing a lot of explaining of Sri Lankan culture.That really startled me,..."

Mary Anne Mohanraj, Bodies in Motion

"It honestly blows my mind to imagine what my junior-year-of-high-school self would have thought had someone told him the story he was writing would be published twenty years later in a collection by Knopf... and that it would be his eighth book"

David Levithan, How They Met

"Jennifer [the publisher] also strongly encouraged me to make the story Bare the first story, so the first four words of my collection are 'I shaved my balls...'."

Dave Housley, Ryan Seacrest is Famous

"It was interesting to see the different ways in which my stories "talked" to each other according to the order in which I placed the rest of them – creating different rhythms of mood or style or situation.."

Elizabeth Baines, Balancing on the Edge of the World