How did you become a writer?
I think it boils down to two things. The first is I read. Constantly and widely. This one started early and has yet to abate. When I was little, my parents read to me every night before bed, and that became habit that’s served me well. I was one of those kids who always had a book in her hand. And I am one of those adults as well. I am never not reading something. I finish a book and immediately pick up the next one. Sometimes I have students tell me that they want to be writers, but they don’t like to read, and I just say no, sorry, not an option, not even a possibility.
The other thing that made me a writer was I sat down one summer to try to write a novel. I don’t think there’s any way to know whether or not you can write a novel without trying it. When I wrote the last chapter of the first draft of my first novel, I did a word count, and lo and behold, it was novel length. That’s when I knew I could write a book—when I’d already drafted one. (And I was ecstatic.)
What was the most challenging thing about writing Goodbye for Now?
You know, it sounds ridiculous to say this, but it was really sad. You’d think since I was writing a book about loss, death, and mourning I would have expected that, and I did to some extent, but I wasn’t expecting how sad I would feel about it. I kept telling myself, “These people aren’t real. You made them up,” but that didn’t cheer me up. People I’d come to know well and to love died while I was writing this book, and that was very hard for me, and the fact that they were people who existed in my head and nowhere else didn’t matter. You have to be all-in to write a novel, emotionally invested, committed to the characters as people, and so when they hurt, as when anyone you love hurts, it’s hard.
In what ways do you feel your role as a creative writing teacher has affected your own work?
Putting into words what you seem to do by instinct is always a great practice. At first, I thought I’d have a really hard time teaching creative writing because I had the sense that I don’t know how I write, I just do it. That’s less true than it seemed at first though. In fact, when I make myself think about it—as I had to when I was teaching—there are lots of rules, tricks, useful paths, important things to consider, approaches that work, ways to surmount challenges on the page, points to keep in mind. It was very helpful for me to articulate all of that. I’d often find myself preaching something in the classroom and then thinking, “Hey, that’s true. That’s a great point. I should do that.”
The characters in Goodbye for Now feel incredibly real—how do you go about creating them?
Thank you. I’m so glad you think so. I think every writer says this, so it seems like a cliché, but it’s true: they are real people in my head. I get to know them as I write them and rewrite them and rewrite them. Authors spend years working forty-plus hour weeks with their characters, so maybe they’re more like coworkers. That’s a lot of time to spend with anyone, even someone you’ve made up, and so you become quite close, and they, in turn, become quite real. How many people in your life do you know so well you always know what they’re going to say next? Not right away, but eventually, I have that relationship with all of my characters. That’s the key to creating them I think—really getting to know their voices, hearing them loud and clear, nailing that dialogue. Dialogue is my favorite part.
If it were possible to invent a computer program like RePose, how would you feel about using it?
Such a good question, and one you’d think I, of all people, could answer for sure. But I’m not sure. I came up with the idea for RePose years before I came up with the idea for the novel. My grandmother and I were very close, and we emailed one another regularly. When she died, I knew I couldn’t have her back, but it made so much sense to me that a clever computer programmer could fake her emails and send them to me and that that way I’d get to keep a little piece of her. I thought that was such a good idea I was almost angry the software didn’t exist. Then, years later, I started writing a novel about it and realizing all the ways that technology would be problematic at the very least and often quite devastating or maddening. So in some ways, I talked myself out of the technology once I started to explore it. In the end though, I think I’d still use it—maybe not the video chat option but the email for sure.
What do you see as being the best and the worst things about the way our use of technology is changing?
Our connectivity with one another is breathtaking. For me, the best thing is hearing from readers. So many people I’d never otherwise meet or hear from email me or get in touch via Facebook or Twitter to tell me they’ve liked a book of mine, and that means the world to me. It’s amazing to be able to write back and say thank you and also to keep in touch with readers—to be able to pass on writing tips or an article that relates to something in the book by posting it to my Facebook wall. And that’s true for all of us, personally and professionally. We get to keep in touch and make connections and meet people we never would without these technologies, and in lots of ways, that makes for a smaller world and a more connected humanity and a lot of cute pictures of people’s puppies.
But, often I feel I give up real connections with my closest friends in exchange for surface, electronic connections with people I lost touch with for a reason. I spend so much time online I don’t have time for my offline—a.k.a. “real”—life. And though those distinctions—on- and offline, real and virtual—are losing meaning by the moment, they hold something important at their heart. I don’t want Facebook to replace getting coffee with a friend. I don’t want reading blogs to replace reading books. And I know, I know, everyone says I could do both. And I could. Just as soon as I learn to do without sleep, my four-year-old starts self-entertaining, and my groceries buy and cook themselves. I can’t wait! Meantime, balancing these pressures is a challenge, and thinking of socializing as a pressure—instead of a joy and a release and well-earned time off to laugh with friends—strikes me as a high price to pay for all that connectivity.
What are you planning to write next?
I’m working on something, a novel, but I’m not completely sold yet. I’ve got a few other ideas I can’t quite let go of. It’s hard to settle on one. The starts of new projects are always big buckets of impossible decisions for me, and decision making is not my strong suit, so I’m not 100 percent sure what I’m writing next, but I’m so grateful that you’re interested, and I’ll keep you posted.
