Rainy Day Introspection

I saw that Dana Crandell published his answers to a self-interview prompt first posted by Rick Henry Christopher and thought it looked like fun. So, I decided to put out my own version of the interview, which I hope you'll enjoy.

Though, being the type of person that I am, let me paint you a picture first.

-0-

A disappointing December is nearly gone, when the phone on my desk rings. Outside where there should be enough snow to open the ski hills, a gentle, misting rain falls. Water streaks down the window, running down in melancholy streams in a race to the bottom of the glass.

The year has nearly come to its end. The three ghosts of Christmas have done their work, and we now await the birth of our next trip around the sun.

I sit alone in my office, lost in thoughts about what winds might blow my way in the coming 365 days. Despite the end of a relationship and the ups and downs of a turbulent mental year, I find myself looking forward to the chance for rebirth ushered in by the dropping of the ball in New York.

Meditative, is the word I would use to describe this time of the long year. The time when work and the world slows down, taking a breath for whatever comes next. Every year I think about what I can do to improve myself, what pieces need to be pruned from the vine of my life so that the roses might bloom to their fullest.

And that is when the phone rings.

For a long moment I simply look at it. Communication isn't that abnormal, around this time. Pleasant wishes and invitations I'm not certain I'll have the social battery to accept abound. But this phone, it's for other matters. The one I keep in my pocket works well enough for the rest.

Slowly, I reach out take the receiver off its cradle.

A voice speaks to me from the tiny speaker as I press it against my ear. "Good afternoon, Alex," says a voice I don't recognize.

"My name is Rick, I'm one of the other Vocalites and I was hoping you had the time to answer some questions for me."

"Of course," I say, wracking my brain to see if I know the name from anywhere. "Always happy to chat."

"Given the coming end of the year, I thought it would be a good time to ask my fellow writers some questions about themselves and their art. Since it's the season of reflection and potential, I wanted to get your thoughts on it."

His question is so close to those that have been occupying a little too much of my mind lately that I'm happy to accept. Maybe this will help me too. A form of guided meditation. That or it'll at least be interesting.

"Sounds like fun, Rick. Go ahead."

"Fantastic! There are ten quesitons, and please feel free to be as open and honest as you're comfortable with. This is supposed to be fun," I can hear the smile in the words through the slightly tinny speaker.

" Question 1: What type of writer do you feel you are?"

A laugh bubbles out of me at this. Rick isn't pulling any punches and it looks like he's decided to start with the real existential stuff.

"I feel," I say, choosing my words carefully, "like I'm the type of writer that is difficult to speak to. I don't have a process per se, I simply start creating and every story is different. When other people struggle, I can't relate to them. Our struggles are each our own, and when people reach out to me for help - since I'm one of the more prolific people I know - I have to tell them that I can't."

"And," prompts Rick, "what you make? What do you think describes your work?"

"Hopefully earnest. There are a lot of things I don't understand. And I hope, through my work, that people see me trying. Putting the stories they tell me about themselves, specifically about things I don't or can't understand, into my work, I want them to know that I'm trying. I am the kind of writer who might not get it right, but at least I tried. Does that make sense?"

"To me it does."

"Also," I add on a laugh, "undisciplined. When creating fiction, especially short fiction, it's not the kind of thing I can do every day. The words and ideas flow when they want to, I can just hope I'm in the right place or state of mind to catch them when they come down river."

"Question 2: What type of writer do you not want to be?"

I wrestle with this one for a long moment. It's almost more difficult than the first question. What kind of writer do I want to be? The only answer that makes sense is, "entertaining. I want the people who read my work to enjoy it. That's the most important thing to me. That people like what I give them.

"To me, it's the same thing as cooking. I could aspire to be a great chef, or maybe manage to turn a small profit from it. But in the end, I just want anyone who tries what I make to like it."

Rick chuckles down the phone. "I think that's a decent answer."

3. What do you like about yourself as a writer?

What an unfair question. A person with my self-esteem trying to figure out what they like about themself? It's nearly impossible most of the time. Luckily for me, I'm having a pretty good day, so I can be honest with myself as well as Rick.

"I like how my work can impact people. It makes them cry sometimes. Laugh others. It makes them look over their shoulder just in case the things I create are real and waiting for the right moment to strike."

"You think that you're good at evoking things?"

"Yes. Place, time, fear, anxiety, joy. I think I'm good at bringing those things forward. I like that about how I write. I think it's my favourite part of the process, when people tell me what exactly they liked and why. It shows me that what I tried to accomplish came true."

Thinking about that question puts a genuine smile on my face. It's something to hold onto, going into the great unknown of a new year. That I have things I like about myself. And if there's one, there will be others.

"Question 4: What do you look for in other writers?"

Now that one... it bothers me. I don't always know what I look for in other writers. The number of times I've picked up a book or short story that I should love and just can't connect with are beyond counting. There is no one thing that I could possibly name.

Is there?

"I think it's a combination of things," I say slowly. "Firstly, there's the question of whether or not I'm a fan of what kind of story they're writing. I'm not the biggest fan of romance stories, though I've read more than a few that I've loved.

"Secondly, there's the style. I love more straightforward prose. Writers who try to show off just how clever they are in their work tend to get under my skin. Maybe that's because it's something I know I'm prone to doing, and it's one of those things where we dislike in others what we wish to change in ourselves.

"Thirdly, and this is probably the most important one, I look for their honesty. I want to know, as I'm reading, that the author is as invested in the story as I am. I've read a few novels that felt like they were written to a contact, rather than for the joy of it. Books that probably should never have been published, but were anyway. Soul. That's it. I want authors who put themselves into their stories and give their fiction or poetry soul."

"Question 5: Where do you feel your opportunities are as a writer?"

Opportunities? What could that possibly mean?

There are a million answers to that question. I'm young and I have some decent skill with a pen. There's always the possibility of traditional publishing. But is that what he meant? Or did he mean something more ephemeral?

"I think that my opportunities are legion. It's a strange question that I don't really know how to answer, Rick. Sorry."

"Well, try anything," he says, voice even and patient. I imagine he's had other interviewees who are caught off guard by this question.

"Thanks to Vocal, I think I have the opportunity to improve. Since starting here, I can already see the changes. I'm growing, and even if I can't see it in the moment, I can look back and see the progress there. That’s the opportunity I see, the chance to improve."

"Question 6: Which writing genre or category do you feel is your best?"

"Definitely horror," that was easy. If all the questions were like this one, I could knock off for an early lunch. "I think I'm particularly good at making people feel the creeping dread of a place or an idea. Cosmic horror is my strongest subcategory I think. The type of goblins and gazooees that don't have a reason to exist - if they exist at all."

"And what about dialogue?"

"Luckily I've never struggled over much with that. But I don't know if I'd call it my best. I think my best is the thing that I've improved in the most, the effort makes it more valuable. And description, particularly as it relates to scaring the reader, is what I'm most proud of and so what I feel I'm best at."

"Question 7: In which genre or category do you feel the most challenged?"

"Poetry or anything to do with romance and interpersonal issues," this question plagues me for more reasons than I really want to think about. But I promised to give honest answers.

Though never formally diagnosed, I definitely feel as though I fall somewhere on the autism spectrum. Many things that aren't difficult for most people, or at the least don't cause them a lot of trouble, are very hard for me.

"I've never really understood poetry, and trying to read or write it takes a lot out of me. What I've written and published here has gotten some amazing feedback. But to be perfectly frank, I don't see what everyone loves about it. It's fairly rare for me to really connect with anything poetic, though I'm putting in a lot of effort to better understand it."

"And the romance or friendship aspect," Rick's question is soft. This is an area where he can probably sense the discomfort in my voice.

"So much of both has never made sense to me. Friendship is easy enough. You like spending time with someone, you enjoy their company and doing things together, they're your friend. They can become critically important to you, but they can also hurt you. Sometimes it's because of something you did, I know it has been for me in the past. But I've never fully understood why, or what I did.

"Writing about something you don't understand is one of the hardest parts of the whole process. I've no idea what it's like to be anyone but me. So trying to make sense of things on the page that don't process properly in my head is difficult. Like dancing, music, and romance specifically."

"If I may ask, why is romance so hard?"

"Imagine, if you will, that you're colour blind but love art. You can't fully comprehend it; you're missing a critical aspect every time you look at a painting. That's how I feel with romance, flirting and showing interest in particular. I love love, I love being in a relationship and being with someone I deeply care about, just as the colour blind person loves a painting. But I'm missing something in there. Subtext, inference, indirect, and non-verbal communication. I simply cannot see most of it.

"That's why romance is hard for me. Much as I like it, I don't understand it and struggle to articulate it properly."

"Question 8: When did you first start writing?"

That would be after I learned how to write. But I imagine he's really asking me about when I started telling stories. Just because someone can't put their words on paper, that doesn't mean they don't have things to say or stories to tell.

"I don't know. My parents tell me that I've been doing it forever. My grandparents tell me that they used to love hearing the stories I made up when I was little.

"But as for physically putting words on paper and showing it to people, trying to entertain them? That would be when I was about nine, I think. At least, that's when I first remember doing it. Since then, it's developed into something of an addiction, I'm afraid," my own small laugh at this hint of self-deprecation is met by one from Rick.

He's really quite good at this, putting people at ease with an easy question after making them thinking critically about themselves. A way to ease us back into comfort after politely requesting that we bear our writer's souls for the world to see.

"Question 9: Why do you write?"

"I write," the words come easily. This being a question I've thought about a lot when the imposter syndrome really grinds me down. "I write because I can. I love it, don't get me wrong, the act of making up a story out of whole cloth is maybe one of the most fun things I can think of doing.

"Writing makes me happy. And knowing that other people enjoy it makes me even more so. If I had no one to share it with, I would most likely not write half so much. But I don't think I'll ever stop wanting to tell stories. I write because it's fun, and like I said, it's almost an addiction now. Not sure I could stop if I wanted to."

"Question 10: This last question is off-topic. If you could be part of any television sitcom family, which one would it be and why?"

I don't really watch a lot of television. There's really no reason for this other than that it doesn't hold my attention as well as a book. And sitcoms are one of my least favourite genres. There's nothing expressly wrong with them. I just don't care for them, and really, there's no accounting for taste.

"I think Bob Hearts Abishola would be a good one to join. Despite the rather crass nature of several of the characters, they feel real and as though I could genuinely bump into any of them if I walked down the street long enough. They're authentic, their comedy feels natural. That really appeals to me and I personally recommend it to anyone looking for a good time."

"Thank you for your time, Alex," Rick says, making me wish we were in person so I could shake his hand. "Oh, and a happy New Year."

-0-

As I said earlier this little listicle was inspired by Dana Crandell's excellent piece responding to the same prompt titled "What you read is what you get." Hopefully I manage to come up with a title half so good.

And this whole event was kicked off by Rick Henry Christopher and his excellent self-interview.

Wishing you all a very happy New Year,

- Alex