Introducing 2015 Debutante: Diane Cook

ManVnature HCOn May 15th, at our 6th annual Literary Debutante Ball, One Story will be celebrating 10 of our authors who have published their debut books over the past year. In the weeks leading up to the Ball, we’ll be introducing our Debs through a series of interviews.

This week we’re chatting with Diane Cook. Diane Cook’s short story collection Man V. Nature is full of stories that are disorienting yet somehow recognizable and telling depictions of very human characters in extreme situations. A widow moves to a facility where she is expected to forget her late husband and prepare for her official placement with another man. A woman refuses to resign herself to the tradition that a mysterious man will kidnap her newborn children as soon as she drops her guard, though the rest of the neighborhood urges her to accept the inevitable. A group of ten-year-old boys who are declared “not needed” escape their state-mandated destruction and must fend for themselves in the forest. As Ira Glass said of Diane Cook’s stories, “Many of them are dispatches from the end of the world, and it turns out to be a surprisingly familiar place.”

1) Where were you and what were you doing when you found out your first book was going to be published? What did you do to celebrate?

I believe I was in my apartment on the phone. I remember it being kind of fraught and me feeling a bit frantic. You could imagine me like Johnny from Airplane! in this scene.  On second thought, you should imagine I’m all the characters in it. In fact, I believe this is a documentary someone made about the process of trying to sell a book.

You know, we were so broke at the time I’m pretty sure we didn’t even celebrate properly. We probably drank a reasonably tasty reasonably priced bottle of sparkling wine and watched free Hulu. I feel so boring right now.

2) As you said in your One Story interview about “Meteorologist Dave Santana,” the stories in Man V. Nature are about characters giving free rein to impulses people generally feel social pressure to quash. At what point did you recognize that the stories you’d written shared a theme that could bundle them into collection? How did the book come together after that?

I was just writing stories for a couple of years. Then I began to formulate this series of questions for myself about the world and these questions led to certain story ideas. This work built a kind of web of ideas that a few stories lived in. Then, looking back I could see that a couple of stories I’d written in the past seemed to act almost like the delicate anchors to that web. Then it became a book to me and I wrote more stories from there. But really, even though I grouped the stories and called it a book, it wasn’t until I had given the book to others to read and they responded, “This really comes together as a book” that I believed that it actually DID come together as a book.

3) Many of the stories are set in worlds that are only different from ours in one highly specific, brutal way that the characters take for granted. (I’m thinking of “Moving On,” “Somebody’s Baby,” “A Wanted Man,” “The Mast Year,”
and “The Not-Needed Forest” in particular.) What draws you to these situations and how do you come up with them? Did you have any ideas that didn’t make it into a story?

Some of these stories came from me asking What if questions about the world. What if things happened that way instead of this way? What if daily life looked like this and not that? And whatever lens I’m looking through is kind of dictating what I’m seeing, what I’m wondering about. Most of the stories you just named came about that way. It’s fun and fascinating to think about the world this way. But one story—”The Not-Needed Forest”—came about from reading about a lot of deep wilderness living and from trying to write an homage to an homage while at the same time homage-ing the original homaged story (specifically “Young Goodman Brown” by Hawthorne and “The Man in the Black Suit” by King.) What came out of those initial thoughts all swirling around wasn’t that different from the story you can read in the book but it was a shell, lifeless. You ask what makes it into a story and what doesn’t. I think at some point no matter your goals or hopes for the story were, you have to let the story take over. The early draft was really homage-y. But there were these little bubbles coming up, trying to lift the story out of itself, trying to take advantage of what I’d gotten on the page. So I let them come up. You have to if you want to be really surprised by what you’re working on. The best parts of that story came from letting my original intentions go.

4) If you could meet one character from the book in real life, which one would you choose? What would you want to say to or do with them?

Even though I put them through some extreme paces, I love my characters. Gary from “The Way the End of Days Should Be” and Janet from “Meteorologist Dave Santana” are two favorites. I know people can read Stan and Susan in “It’s Coming” as a bit comical, and I used to too, but now they make me weep. I probably relate most to Jane from “The Mast Year.” But if I could meet anyone I’d want to meet Beatrice, the daughter in “Somebody’s Baby.” I want to follow her through her day and see if she is as mysterious and unsettling as her mother thinks she is, or if she is just a little girl.

5) What are you most looking forward to about the One Story ball?

I’m really looking forward to meeting people I only know by name or avatar. A few months after I sold the book we moved to California. It was unplanned and unexpected and pretty stupid timing. We’d lived in New York for a decade and I’d wanted to leave for half those years, but just when living in New York might actually be fun and useful—like, now that I’m a writer maybe I’ll get invited to literary parties!—we bailed. It was probably for the best. I’m a terrible party-goer and pretty timid in crowds. But it was a weird thing to feel like a New York writer (I’d written the book in New York after all) but not actually be one anymore. Imagine all the people I might have met this year if we’d never left. I hope to meet some of them at the Ball.

Introducing 2015 Debutante: Matt Sumell

making niceOn May 15th, at our 6th annual Literary Debutante Ball, One Story will be celebrating 10 of our authors who have published their debut books over the past year. In the weeks leading up to the Ball, we’ll be introducing our Debs through a series of interviews.

This week we’re chatting with Matt Sumell, author of One Story Issue #201 “All Lateral” and the debut story collection Making Nice, available now from Henry Holt. Thanks to Matt for taking time out to talk with us about publishing his first book, memory, first-person, and jolly ranchers.

Where were you when you found out your first book was going to be published? How did you celebrate?

I got the call while I was in the middle of a writer’s group thing with my great and talented friends Marisa Matarazzo, Michael Andreasen, and—One Story Debutante herself—Ramona Ausubel. We still had a few stories to go through, but after finishing up we walked down the block to a bar called The Hudson where I popped a jolly rancher in my mouth and washed it down with five vodka sodas before I pedaled home and made my first purchase: a bigger Brita. Pretty sure I’ve been dehydrated for decades.

It was only about six stories in that I realized Alby was the narrator for all of the stories in Making Nice. That isn’t because he’s an inconsistent narrator, it’s that the world in each story is so fully developed that they seem like stand alone pieces. Reflecting on it, though, the structure of Making Nice definitely suites its story. Could you elaborate more on the form and the way Making Nice developed?

As Barry Hannah put it: “I like the first person—just a guy blasting through with the little he knows.” Me too. And when you have a narrator blasting through the wreckage of his life—taking inventory, trying to sense-make it a little bit, salvage what he can—it makes some sense that it’s not going to track chronologically. You don’t start at point A and move in a hard straight line to point whatever. Memory meanders, circles, loops. It gets tangled. Pull one string and something else comes with it. One memory makes you think of another, and whether that thing happened ten years or three weeks ago is beside the point. Consider your mother. Does it run like a movie reel: your earliest memory to your last? If it does you’re fuckin’ weird.

From the moment Alby punched his sister in the boob, I loved him, and it was interesting to me that, as a woman, I could still relate to a character who expresses some form of misogyny at so many points. Were you surprised that women responded positively to the novel? How did you take gender into account when writing?

I didn’t really consider my potential audience much, if at all, and I certainly wasn’t attempting to please people. Not sure you can read this book and think I was even trying to come out of the gate clean. I’m not interested in that. I just wanted to present a guy honestly struggling with grief in a way that people can believe in–flaws and all—because bad choices—and bad behavior—make for good stories.

As for women responding positively—let’s be honest: some have and some haven’t. That’s fine, and I’m not sure it comes down to gender so much as the ability to read well. All that “misogyny” is surface level. Read a little deeper and it’s pretty clear that beneath all the flawed thinking—the temper, the bad choices, the drinking and drugging, the violence and the girl chasing—there’s an underlying sense of awe and appreciation when it comes to the people—especially the women—in Alby’s life. That he loved his mother. That his sister is important to him. That even at his worst—and there’s plenty of that—he looks back at past girlfriends with the understanding that the ladies who love you, and even a few who don’t, have a way of making things better, and worthwhile, and sometimes even nice.

Alby is decidedly a dog person, something that appealed to me, but I wonder if cat lovers sympathized with Whatsherface in “All Lateral.” Any plans to give cats a starring role in a future novel and gain access to a whole new world of feline-loving readership? 

Alby the dog lover is really—when you think about it—Alby the animal lover. Working from shoddy memory here: over the course of the book he sympathizes with a bird, turtles, an almost drowned grasshopper, gazelles, a wolf that eats gazelles, an elephant, a slug named Cherokee Bob, ducks, bulls, dogs, and—as much as I hate to admit it—even his father’s cat Steve.

What are you most looking forward to at the One Story ball?

What I always look forward to: celebrating with friends.

Introducing 2015 Debutante: Austin Bunn

the brinkOn May 15th, at the 6th annual Literary Debutante Ball, One Story will be celebrating ten of our authors who have published their debut books this past year. As a lead up to the event, we’re introducing our Debs with a series of interviews about their debut books.

This week, we’re speaking with literary debutante Austin Bunn, author of One Story issue #68, “The Ledge.” Nearly 10 years ago, “The Ledge,” kept Editor-in-Chief Hannah Tinti wide awake in the middle of the night, so she called our publisher, Maribeth Batcha, right away to make sure we published Austin’s short story before anyone else.

It’s no surprise that Hannah was haunted by Austin’s work. Like a favorite Don DeLillo, J.G. Ballard, Chuck Palahniuk, or Jose Saramago novel, Austin’s collection will keep you up at night, pondering the bleak fate of humanity. Discovering the world is flat, suffocating in a suicidal cult, learning how to survive nuclear fallout, and terrorism on a tropical island: these snapshots merely scratch the surface of Austin Bunn’s short story collection, The Brink.

Austin’s stories are rich with imagination, exploring the complexity and resilience of each tested character. He explores sexuality, desire, and periods of transformation, ranging from 15th century Spain to 20th century San Diego. Austin’s ability to modulate his voice distinctly from one story to the next is a recognizable feat. While reading, you might ask: how could one man create ten such diverse stories? Austin has lived many lives as a boat carpenter, journalist, playwright, screenwriter, professor, and game designer for reality TV. Perhaps this allows him to crawl underneath the skin of such unique characters, perfectly emulating their point of view and tone.

We thank Austin for taking the time to answer a few questions about his book and the writing life.

Where were you when you found out that your first book, The Brink: Stories, was going to be published? How did you celebrate?

Watering the plants? Reheating coffee in the microwave? Restarting the AppleTV? It’s funny—you spend years waiting for the moment of knowing that your secret project, the countless hours of revision and rumination and prayer, will come to something, and when it happens, you’re on hold with NYSEG. I celebrated by taking myself out to lunch.

As a dramatist and the son of two language teachers, it’s no surprise that you begin the draft process by focusing on a voice. A voice grabs you and you hear the story first. You have so many unique, diverse voices in this short story collection. Where do you find inspiration?

I’ve always been drawn to premise and concept—maybe from too much science fiction and Stephen King in my youth?—but then I realized in my twenties that stories only happen because someone tells them. With that in mind: research. So, for example, once I got fascinated with end-time cults, I tracked down the Time magazine that had, as its cover, all the faces of those that died in the Heaven’s Gate suicide. Most of the faces were older, in their 40s and 50s and up. Just two of them were in their twenties: a young man and a young woman. And I thought to myself, what if they fell in love? I imbibed all the wild idiomatic expressions of their religion—thank you, language prof parents—and a story was born.

How long have you been working on this collection? Which story is the oldest story and which story is the newest?

I first dreamed of knitting a collection together in grad school at Iowa—when amazingly talented classmates (Kevin Moffitt, Nam Le, Matthew Vollmer) were teaching me how by building theirs. But mine was spazzy and not very considered, just the net of everything I’d done up to that point. The “oldest” story is the last, “Curious Father,” but I put it in quotes because after drafting it, I turned it into a play and then back into a story, where it became something else entirely. The “newest” are “Hazard 9” and “The Worst You Can Imagine Is Where This Starts.”

Receiving encouragement from Marilynne Robinson at the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, you completed research on the Spanish Inquisition while writing, “The Ledge.” How much research did you complete on the religious cult Heaven’s Gate while writing “The End of the Age Is Upon Us”?

Let me just say first that it would take a certain willful amnesia to call Marilynne Robinson’s response to the period, gay, sea-faring, ghost story “The Ledge” as “encouragement”! In that first draft, I was aiming for Poe and ended up at John Carpenter. You’re reading a much deepened, more honest, less performative version because of Marilynn’s spectacular let’s call it agnosticism towards that first draft. I did lots of research for “End of the Age”, since much of the cult’s ephemera remains online and was intended for the Internet: goodbye videos, testimonials, religious documentation. After a few months, I was convinced I needed to get to 0 emotionally as well.

In addition to research completed for this short story collection, you conducted research to write your biographical screenplay, Kill Your Darlings. How was that research process different from the research involved in writing these short stories? Do you research first and write second or do you write a first draft and then fill in the gaps with research? What advice do you have for fiction writers regarding research? How historically accurate does a fictional story need to be?

I love research—it feels like the story writes itself. This was especially true for Kill Your Darlings, though at a certain point, there is just not any information and you have to invent. I always read first and immerse myself and take notes and then start drafting when I’m most excited by the material. Then you hit dramatic or emotional corners, and invention is your way out (though I’m proud of just how accurate the film is). I used to be a journalist, so I trust actuality and fact perhaps more than other fiction writers. But I am also a former journalist for that very reason—the world doesn’t always produce stories.

One of the many reasons why your stories are powerful is because they are dark. Why do you feel drawn to writing apocalyptic stories?

A friend just read the collection and told me the same thing, Austin, these stories are so dark—I don’t think of them as dark as much as worlds under threat. My honest answer is that I’m terrified of boring people—the pathology of having of an alcoholic parent—and the fiction that grips me, that compels me to read forward and stay up and see where it goes (Sam Lipsyte, J.G. Ballard, Saunders, Kelly Link) tends to explore the edges of disaster, catastrophe, annihilation. I’m also a kid who grew up convinced that the world would end before I was the age I am now. That does things to you!

At the end of your collection, you mention some of your favorite speculative fiction writers. Would you consider stories from this collection to fit into the speculative genre as well? Do you have any advice for emerging writers who feel like their work doesn’t fit in with “the norm”?

I do find myself drawn to speculative fiction—the permission it gives—and some of these stories might fit the category. But I also love the writers who seem to move in and out of whatever category created for them. There are so many great outlets for work now, and I think the success of these less conventional writers (Saunders especially) has tested what “the norm” is. I’m just drawn to voice primarily, less so genre, so my advice is to trust your point of view more than anything. After “The Ledge” was rejected by two dozen other publications, Hannah Tinti pulled it from the submission pile and it was my first published story. Keep the faith.

What are you most looking forward to at the One Story ball?

Being given away. I want to see what that looks like.

Introducing 2015 Debutante: Ted Thompson

steadyhabitsOn May 15th, at our 6th annual Literary Debutante Ball, One Story will be celebrating 10 of our authors who have published their debut books over the past year. In the weeks leading up to the Ball, we’ll be introducing our Debs through a series of interviews.

This week we’re chatting with Ted Thompson, the first of our debutantes to hail from our sibling publication, One Teen Story, and it happened in the most innocent way. Not long after his debut novel, The Land of Steady Habits, came out, Ted wrote a short story called “The Beasts of St. Andrew’s.” When his agent read it and said it was a very fine piece of young adult writing, this was news to Ted (who didn’t know he was writing YA). And when the story subsequently came across our desk at One Teen Story and we read it and loved it and offered to publish it, we had no idea that Ted had recently published his first novel with Little, Brown.

The Land of Steady Habits is not a YA novel. (You might flip to almost any random page to confirm this, such as the one where the main character, a husband and father in his early sixties, smokes PCP with a friend’s teenage son.) It’s a very grownup novel about a not-so-grownup man who has decided to turn his back on his marriage, his home, his life—only to find himself clumsily second-guessing his every move. We spoke to Ted about what it was like to write, revise, and publish a book about a character coming unhinged.

Where were you when you found out The Land of Steady Habits was going to be published? How did you celebrate? 

I found out the novel would be published on my 30th birthday. That may seem a little too tidy to be believed, but it’s how it happened. The problem was that I had been out the night before with some friends trying not to think about the fact that my book was on submission, and celebrating my impending birthday with a regrettable amount of boozy frozen drinks, so when the call came I was in no shape to celebrate the big news. In fact, I almost didn’t pick up the phone! I was still in bed, feeling awful. I think I faked my way through the call well enough, though I doubt I sounded as enthusiastic as I should have. It really wasn’t until the next day when I could process what exactly had happened. And I think I’m still processing it.

The main character of your novel, Anders, decides in his early sixties to dismantle his life. Part of the fun of reading the book is that we get to watch this dismantling layer by layer. As the creator/conductor/overseer, were you rooting for Anders the whole time, or were you also wincing now and then?

I can’t actually remember my earliest impulses with this book, but it’s probably safe to assume that when I started working on the book I thought I would be rooting for Anders’ destructive impulses. But it only took twenty pages of writing it to understand I was way more interested in the role that regret played in his life, and the fact that he’s continually drawn to the very thing he’s just rejected. So I’m not sure I winced for him so much as felt for him and his competing impulses. I suppose I’m always interested in a character’s shame.

Can you tell us a little about how different The Land of Steady Habits is from the manuscript your agent originally sent to your editor?

Oh gosh, it was a lot different. The major thing was that the novel was originally told from just one character’s point of view. It was all Anders, and we had no access to anyone else. So it wasn’t until I was nearly a year into my edits that I decided to try a major rewrite. I was stuck, and beginning to despair, when I thought “What if I just changed the rules of the novel, the basic physics of how the whole thing is put together?” To me, it wasn’t until I did that–opened up the point of view to other characters–that I was able to find the book’s structure.

Darin Strauss and others have compared this book to John Updike’s Rabbit, Run. Did that comparison surprise you? Would you list Updike among your major influences? And are there—just maybe—more chapters that might emerge one day in the story of Anders Hill?

They surprised me in that the comparison is both flattering and lovingly exaggerated. Darin was a teacher of mine and will be my mentor at the Debutante Ball, and his kind words were helpful for marketing the book. But while I admire the Rabbit novels to no end, the comparison is likely the most apt in terms of subject matter (that is, a domestic novel focusing on a male character of a certain social class with destructive impulses). It’s a tempting thought, writing more about these characters long after the events that this novel covers. I doubt I’d jump into that project anytime soon, but I suppose it’s best to never say never.

What are you looking forward to most at the Debutante Ball on May 15th?

I was fortunate enough to attend last year’s ball and I’m still thinking about the potency of that gin cocktail. So that’s one thing. But mostly I’m looking forward to meeting the other debutantes and celebrating how supportive One Story is to young writers (and also enjoying the fact that none of us has to give a reading).

Introducing 2015 Debutante: Andrew Roe

Miracle-girl-final-coverOn May 15th, at our 6th annual Literary Debutante Ball, One Story will be celebrating 10 of our authors who have published their debut books over the past year. In the weeks leading up to the Ball, we’ll be introducing our Debs through a series of interviews.

First up is Andrew Roe, author of One Story issue #41 “America’s Finest City” and the upcoming novel Miracle Girl,  available from Algonquin Books in April.

“The crowds keep coming. More and more every day it seems . . . drawn by rumor and whisper and desperate wish. Somehow they heard about the little girl on Shaker Street.”

So begins Andrew Roe’s debut novel, which tells the story of eight-year-old comatose “miracle girl” Annabelle Vincent, her family, and the believers and skeptics who flock to see her. Set in Los Angeles at the end of the millennium, the novel offers a moving and unforgettable exploration of the mysteries of faith.

“Roe inhabits characters who are desperate to believe and reveals to us their needs and wounds and hopes, and he does so with kindness, generosity, and wisdom,” says author Doug Dorst. “This is a novel about what it means to be human, to seek connection and hope and maybe even transcendence in the world around us.”

Thanks to Andy for taking the time to answer a few questions about his work for One Story.

1. Where were you when you found out your first book was going to be published? How did you celebrate?

I was at work. Right after I found out, I had to go into a meeting. There I was, bubbling and bursting with the news, but I couldn’t tell anyone until after the meeting was over. As for celebrating: on the way home, I stopped off to buy champagne and chocolate cake, which I shared with my wife and kids (well, no champagne for the kids).

2. When I first had the pleasure of reading your debut novel, The Miracle Girl, the book was called Believers. What occasioned the title change, and are you willing to share any other runner-up titles?

From the book’s inception (or pretty soon thereafter), I had the title Believers. I didn’t ever really seriously consider any other titles, so no runners-up to report. The name change came about when my publisher (Algonquin) suggested it. Though I was pretty attached to Believers, they thought that The Miracle Girl was a more evocative, engaging title, and one that ultimately would generate more interest in the book. And in the end, they were right. The Miracle Girl was the best title for the book. It was a good lesson in letting go.

3. Where did the idea for The Miracle Girl come from?

I’m going to date myself here: It started back in the mid to late 90s, when I saw an episode of the ABC news program 20/20. There was a segment about a young girl named Audrey Santo, who had almost drowned in a swimming pool accident, and as a result, she was in a coma-like state, unable to move or speak. At some point, stories started to circulate about her being the cause of miracles (weeping statues, healing the sick, etc.), and people began showing up at the Santo home seeking her help and intervention. I thought that would make an interesting premise for a story—perhaps a novel. I’ve always been fascinated by the stories you hear about Jesus or Mary appearing in a shower curtain or tree stump, and how people are drawn to such events. Why do they come? What do they hope to find? Do they really believe they’ll encounter evidence of the divine in the everyday?

After watching the episode, I jotted down a few ideas, and I think I might have even had the opening line (“The crowds keep coming”). I also had the notion that there would be many characters and multiple points of view, including the girl’s family and the visitors who come to the house—believers, skeptics, the curious, the sick.

So that was the spark. Then I ventured down a path of what if. What if the girl’s family, unlike the Santo family, weren’t religious and weren’t sure what to make of these supposed miracles? What if the story were set in suburban Los Angeles (where I’m from) and took place at the close of the millennium, amid all the buzz of reckoning and doom and Y2K? I started making stuff up. Years went by, and I ended up stopping and writing another novel, a short story collection too, but I finally came back to The Miracle Girl. The spark, fortunately, was still there.

4. What do you believe in?

My family. Tacos. Books. Music. Kindness. Humility. Empathy. Quietly kicking ass. San Diego craft beer. Coffee. Exceptions to the rule.

5. What are you most looking forward to about the One Story Ball?

Getting to hang out with other writers and the wonderful One Story staff. And Brooklyn too.

Introducing One Story’s 2015 Literary Debutantes!

One Story is thrilled to announce our 2015 Literary Debutantes:

denver_debs_203540_9260picA.jpg

These 10 marvelous One Story authors have all published their first books in the past year. Their debuts will be celebrated on Friday, May 15, 2015 at the annual One Story Literary Debutante Ball. Each writer will be formally “presented” to the literary community, escorted by one or more of their mentors: established authors and/or editors who have helped make their first books possible. The One Story debutante ball will feature cocktails, hors d’oeuvres, live music and dancing. VIP tickets are now available. General Admission will go on sale April 1st.

Patrick Ryan will teach our next Online Writing Class

PRyanDear Friends of One Story,

I’ve always been a firm believer that to be the best writer you can, you need to do three things: put in hours writing, read widely and voraciously, and reach out to other writers to share your work and your thoughts on craft.

I’ve spent my entire adult life aiming to do these things as often as possible. But like most people, I have to pay my bills, and so the writer’s life becomes a juggling act.

When I was a bartender, I had plenty of time to write and read but I had almost no interaction with other writers. When I was a college English teacher, I was surrounded by other writers and had ample time to write, but I had almost no time to read anything other than student papers. And when I was the associate editor of Granta, I had the amazing experience of reading and editing some of the finest writers working today—but I had almost no time to write.

Throughout all that, I never gave up the ghost (so to speak). I never completely stopped doing the three things crucial to writers. And now, having just completed my next collection of short stories, and having just edited a story by Ann Beattie for an upcoming issue of One Story, I find myself eager as ever to share ideas on the craft of writing fiction.

I’m writing to ask you to take some time out of your busy life, and join me for a weeklong online class devoted to the craft of writing. The class is called The Seven Keys to Unlocking Your Short Story. In it you’ll get daily lectures on the seven crucial elements of short story writing containing practical, down-to-Earth advice.

I promise you: you’ll come out the other side of it feeling energized, inspired, more confident, and more knowledgeable about fiction writing.

If you have a story you’re working on, if you’re ready to start something new, or even if you’d like to try your hand at writing a short story for the first time, this class will help you.

The class will start on November 8. You’ll have access to lectures, daily writing prompts, and a message board of other writers with whom you can share ideas and work. You can complete the work on your own schedule — be it first thing in the morning, after work, or just before bedtime.

To find out more, go here.

Deadline to sign up is November 8th.

I hope you’ll join us!

Patrick Ryan

One Story Author & Editor

One Story Workshop Day Five: We All Love Each Other Now

book-heart-valentineThis Friday marked the close of One Story’s fifth annual workshop at The Center for Fiction. Tea and coffee helped ward off the last-day-of-camp blues before students entered into their final workshops with Marie-Helene Bertino and Will Allison. They were reluctant to leave their workshop rooms, lingering to have story collections signed and group photos taken. One writer told me, as she headed for the elevator, “We all love each other now.” While One Story’s romcom may not be The Notebook, it does make for lasting writerly connections. Together we ate a final lunch of pizza and chatted about ways to keep in touch.

We gathered after lunch for a craft lecture by Hannah Tinti, the editor in chief of One Story, on getting “out of the slushpile”. She told us how to manage the business side of being a writer, by walking us through how to get our work published, starting with the basics of preparing it for submission (use a simple font like 12 pt. Times New Roman, number your pages, double-space, etc.), and figuring out where to send–be that to magazines, agents, or small presses. She showed us samples of query letters, and then shared some of her own rejections to show how there are different “levels” of rejection, and finally, what to do if and when you get an acceptance. But Hannah was also clear that “you are a writer if you’re writing, not if your work is published.” She ended the lecture with a quote from Barbara Kingsolver regarding rejected work. “This manuscript of yours that has just come back from another editor is a precious package. Don’t consider it rejected. Consider that you’ve addressed it ‘to the editor who can appreciate my work’ and it has simply come back stamped ‘Not at this address.’ Just keep looking for the right address.”

Time for celebration! After hours of workshops, panels and talks, we travelled home to One Story’s office at the Old American Can Factory in Brooklyn, where students were able to see where the work behind publication occurs. We saw Patrick Ryan’s desk with its strikingly intellectual desk lamp, Hannah’s desk with drawings of demons, the calendars showing our publication schedule, the table where the editorial meetings occur, and, most importantly, the coffee machine that brews our coffee.

Then to The Cantine, the restaurant within the Old American Can Factory. Conference Director Michael Pollock began the night by recognizing the students’ endurance, “I hope you don’t want to write tomorrow. I hope you don’t want to write Sunday. But on Monday, I want you to write, and that’s when this workshop will matter.” Marie and Will thanked their classes, recognizing how easy it was to teach such brilliant people. Then each student gave a three-minute reading at our open mic. Their pieces were beautiful, competent and honest. As were Michael’s physics and whale jokes as he acted as our MC.

Maribeth Batcha, our publisher, and Hannah closed the event by welcoming the students to the One Story family. Writing is about community, so it was only fitting that after a delicious dinner catered by Runner & Stone, we took many class (or should I say family?) photos.

Hannah ended the night with Lauren Groff’s writing advice from “Writing Advice from the Authors of One Story”, a special edition of One Story magazine, that was printed and given out to all the students as a parting gift: “Give yourself the grace of failure – most good stories are made up of hundreds of invisible previous failures; read everything you can get your grubby mitts on; excise people from your lives who bring up turmoil and darkness, then write them clean in your fiction; if you have talent, it is a gift, so try your best to honor you gift by developing it; write every single day, because if you wait for the Muse to land she’ll cackle as she flies on by; don’t worry about publishing because if you write from a place of love and gratitude you will publish; try not to listen to advice about writing because the most important things you learn are things you’ll teach yourself.”

One Story Workshop Day Four: We Map Our Stories

new-york-public-library-lions (475x347)One Story’s fifth annual workshop is starting to wind down. Our incredible workshop teachers, Will Allison and Marie-Helene Bertino, led us in critically analyzing each other’s work for an additional hour today. Whew! But, as usual, the feedback and guidance was well worth it.

After a lunch of falafel, in which we stuffed our bellies as much as we could, the Editor in Chief of One Story, Hannah Tinti, took us on another writing excursion: to the New York Public Library. That’s the one with the two lions in front from the opening scene in Ghostbusters (also where Dorothy and the Scarecrow meet the lion in the movie version of The Wiz). By the way, the names of those lions are Patience and Fortitude, which as Hannah sagely said are, “Perhaps the two qualities that a writer needs most.”

First Hannah talked about ways we could use maps in our stories, from creating action, to filling out setting, to keeping track of our novels and longer works. She also gave us blank story maps and floor plans as tools to keep our readers grounded. Both techniques helped us to learn to navigate our worlds. Our “on-site” exercise at the NYPL was to go look through maps and atlases, find one that we liked, and use it as a jumping off point. Characters are always in a setting. And that setting always has some topology. Creating mental or even physical maps allows us, the writer, to better explore our world so that we don’t get lost. “When the writer is lost, the reader is lost,” said Hannah. “We never want to do that. It’s the quickest way to make a reader put down our book.”

For our evening panel we enjoyed a visit from author Rachel Cantor, who read a few excerpts from her new novel, A Highly Unlikely Scenario. Think of it as a really twisted Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy or a fusion of Ray Bradbury and Italo Calvino. Bizarre, funny, quirky, she had us all in stitches. Then Hannah interviewed Rachel about the struggles and joys of an emerging writer, and how Rachel got this marvelous book published, from first draft on her computer to hard copies in bookstores.

We’re upset that the week is coming to an end, but tomorrow night is our big send off, with a visit to One Story’s office in Brooklyn, an open mic for students, and a grand finale dinner. Stay tuned!