SpareMin Book Show: Andrew Mueller

By Brendan O’Meara

It’s not The Creative Nonfiction Podcast, but it’s a micropod I do with a pretty slick app called SpareMin. 

Check it.

TRANSCRIPT

BO: I’ve got Andrew Mueller on the line. He’s a writer and teacher based out of Eugene, Oregon. I know Andy because he’s in a writing group I’ve been recently invited to, which has been a lot of fun to share craft, and stories, and feedback. It really helps everyone level up. And Andy recently shared a story that I want to dive into the process for it. So, Andy, how did you come to the story that you shared with us and what was the itch that that story was scratching when you started crafting it.

AM: You want me to talk about the specific story? Or just writing stories in general?

BO: Tell you what, let’s do just writing stories in general then maybe we can scratch the surface of the one you’ve been workshopping.

AM: I would say that the first idea for a story usually has to be something based on something that I know or something that I’ve heard. So either a really interesting person that I met or a a fascinating situation that I heard about or a feeling or a dilemma I know personally. And if it’s a fictional story, for the first draft, and take that a couple steps further, raise the stakes a little bit either by tweaking the characters, tweaking the setting, tweaking the situation a little bit and ratchet up the tension a little bit. And so, for instance, for this story, the original situation I had where this priest or pastor who’s confronted with this guy sending thinly veiled love poems to the entire church staff, that is something that I heard had happened back home in Chicago. I took that and I ran with it.

BO: You’ve got your antennae tuned to these things going on around you that you look to mold into stories. How do you go about documenting that? Do you carry a notebook with you? Or do you put a pin in it in your head and you run home and scribble out something so you don’t forget it. How do you approach that?

AM: Yeah, I’ve tried carrying around a notebook and writing down things regularly, that usually doesn’t work for me. I think the practice I’ve gotten into of writing, even if it’s just 30 minutes each day, that comes out. So if I’m, if something happens that day, something I’ve been thinking about, I have to have that 30 minutes of writing of ideas. It probably does end up being like a daily journal of interesting things that happened that day just because I’m forced to sit down and write it regularly.

BO: And what would you say your daily routine around your creative work is? How do you warm up that engine and ensure that you’re generating some degree or pages or words, however you measure success? How do you approach that each day?

AM: I have to usually plan it out. So I get my planner our and plan from 6 p.m. to 7 p.m. Usually later than that. I usually do it in the evening. Unless I plan those hours our, writing it down makes it set in stone for me, like it’s out of my hands and I can’t choose whether or not I want to do it because it’s written in the planner. As weird as that sounds.

BO: That’s really brilliant. I have my most productive days when I take the approach of the Ben Franklin daily planner. 

AM: Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

BO: How he just kind he lays it out hour by hour. I think of it like a budget. Money, you want to assign every dollar bill a job in your budget whatever it is. I think of time that same way. I’m going to assign these hours to a certain job whatever that’s going to be and I find that even if it’s just 30 minutes. If you say that 30 minutes is writing time, or reading time, you can get surprisingly big chunk of volume done in that amount of time if you just do it with focus, like you said, put it in stone. It holds you accountable.

AM: Exactly, I think, too, it’s important to block out that time, especially the first part, getting into it can be so difficult. You take 15 or 20 minutes of writing little bits and stopping and struggling and wanting to quit. If you just sit there for long enough with the page in front of you, all of a sudden you’ll find yourself in the middle of writing something that’s interesting and you’re really into it. I think setting aside that time and actually writing it down and making yourself accountable is so important for me. That’s the trick that works.

BO: A lot of people complain that if they want to write, they don’t have enough time, and usually that means they haven’t prioritized enough time to do it. It doesn’t take much. You can still call yourself a writer if you’re doing 10 or 20 minutes every other day. But as long as you make it a point and …. since you teach at the U of O, right? 

AM: Right, right.

BO: You’ve got a lot of responsibility there, so how do you make that time to make sure you’re doing stuff that’s creatively fulfilling for you?

AM: It’s actually interesting. Teaching is one of those things, I don’t know if most other jobs are like this. I’ve only had teach jobs. Teaching is one of those things that will take as much time as you allow it. Even planning out time for that and saying, ‘Okay, I’m going to spend an hour on this lesson plan and no more.’ If it takes longer than that then I’m just going to have to have an incomplete lesson for the day. I have to get to my writing. I think especially for teachers and for people who are teaching it can seem like the writing is not as important and fall by the wayside because you have 60 students that are going to be sitting in a classroom waiting for you to teach them something the next day which is a more anxiety producing prospect than not having your pages for the day. It comes back to that planning and setting limits. I’m going to grade for two hours and however much grading gets done that’s it. If I told them it’d probably be done by this weekend, they’re not gonna get done because I have to keep my sanity and I have to live the rest of my life. Because if you don’t do that teaching will take all of your time.

BO: And what would you say, and this will be the last question before I let you get outta here for this Round 1, because I think it’d be fun to maybe once a month have you on and let’s check in and see how things are going.

AM: That’d be terrific. 

BO: Have recurring guests. This could be cool. As a writer, what’s your proudest moment as a writer to date?

AM: Ooo, proudest moment as a writer to date…huh..I would say…

BO: It could be a published thing. It could be a pat on the back from someone you truly admire who said, ‘Yeah, you’re in the club kid.’ It could be anything that your artistic delusions that we all have aren’t totally lunatic. Something validating, something that fed you in a good way.

AM: Okay, I don’t know if this directly related to my creative work, but when I was in undergrad, I was an English major and in my school they gave out a couple of awards at the end of the year, the top two graduating English majors as decided by the faculty. I won one of those awards at the end of the  year and that was incredibly validating not only because I knew it was stiff competition and related to my reading and my writing ability. But that the faculty had chosen it. The professors I had worked with had looked at all those names and chosen me out of all of them. I’d say that was in general validating for my language skills. That’s still something I think about today and feel really good about..

BO: Fantastic, well, Andy Mueller is a writer and teacher in Eugene, OR, and thank you so much for coming on the Book Show, Andy. This is what I hope to be the first of many conversations we have through the app here. Thank you for your time.

AM: It was good to be here.

Episode 48—Roy Peter Clark Redux

By Brendan O’Meara

This week on The Creative Nonfiction Podcast decided to revisit my episode with Roy Peter Clark (@RoyPeterClark on Twitter), this time condensing that two-hour interview and pulling out the best moments.

In it we hear Roy talk about how he learned to swim in the language, the moment he learned the true meaning of literacy, and when research can become crippling.

I’m experimenting with the form and making it more like a mini one-source profile. Let me know what you think. I think it makes for a better overall listen. Ping me on Twitter @BrendanOMeara with thoughts, or to say hi.

Be sure to subscribe to the podcast on the Apple podcast app and on Google Play Music. Leave a rating if you’re feeling extra kind. Those help.

Thanks for listening!

Episode 47—Shawna Kenney on ‘Zines, Advice, and Finding Your Tribe

Shawna Kenney, punk rock to the bone.

By Brendan O’Meara

Tweetables by Shawna Kenney:

“The punk scene became a pre-Internet web of people for me to connect with.”

“Like any reader, I liked that [words] could take me away.”

“I’m much better on the page than I am verbally.”

“I always wanted to be Hunter S. Thompson without the drugs.”

“It’s not like I pitch an outlet and sit there waiting hopefully.”

“There’s no one right way to do your art.”

Shawna Kenney, author, writer, teacher, coach, editor, joins me on The Creative Nonfiction Podcast to talk about her origin story as a teenage fanzine founder, punk rock, and her delightful short essay “Never Call Yourself a Writer, and Other Rules for Writing,” a brilliant piece of satire.

She grew up in a conservative family in small-town Maryland, so the nearby punk scene in Washington D.C. held tremendous appeal. “I always wanted to be Hunter S. Thompson without the drugs,” Shawna tells me.

Her work has such an edge that I was surprised that she didn’t have that edge in conversation. “I’m much better on the page than I am verbally,” she says, which isn’t true at all. She’s great on the page, and she’s a great conversationalist.

Her work has appeared in Creative Nonfiction, the New York Times, Vice, and Playboy, just to name a few. Be sure to follow Shawna on Twitter @ShawnaJKenney and go to her website to read more about her and her work.

Thanks for listening!

Episode 46—Editor Hattie Fletcher on Seeing Rhythms and the Power of Reading Slush

Hattie Fletcher
Hattie Fletcher, editor selfie

By Brendan O’Meara

Hattie Fletcher Tweetables:

“I spent a lot of time getting at what writers were trying to do with their stories and trying to make stories be the best form of that.”

“If you want to make a print object there’s an obligation to make a nice print object.”

“Editors, I guess, wield power. I don’t know anyone who loves saying ‘no.’ It’s not a personal thing.”

“The best part of my job—and it comes four times a year—is saying ‘yes’ to people.”

“Reading slush is such a great exercise for a writer.”

“I don’t think art that is deliberately mapped out is any less artful.”

Here we are for Episode 46 (!) of The #CNF Podcast with Creative Nonfiction’s managing editor Hattie Fletcher.

If you want to improve your writing and possibly improve your chances of being published in Creative Nonfictionthen this is your episode.

Subscribe to the podcast on iTunes.

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Thanks for listening!

SpareMin Book Show: Truman Capote on Reading, Style, and Time Between Drafts

By Brendan O’Meara

Truman Capote, one of the master writers of his time and a tragic alcoholic, was loquacious as a speaker and a damn-good listen. Or, if you’re reading Writers at Work: The Paris Review Interviews edited by Malcolm Cowley, he’s a damn-good listen/read.

In the conversation he had with Pati Hall, Capote talks about his influences, his writing process, and whether style can—or can’t—be learned. For anyone who has read his work and one need look no farther than his opening passage from his nonfiction novel In Cold Blood, one sees the skillful use of language and imagery.

But can a writer learn style, or is it something somehow genetic?

Capote says

No, I don’t think that style is consciously arrived at, any more than one arrives at the color on one’s eyes. After all, your style is you. At the end the personality has to be humanly there. Personality is a debased word, I know, but it’s what I mean. The writer’s individual humanity, his word or gesture toward the world, has to appear almost like a character that makes contact with the reader.

Then how is a style or voice formed? For generations, writers have stolen the styles of their idols and over time—and with much repetition—forged what can be called uniquely their own voice. And how else does a writer come to that realization other than by reading and reading and reading.

Capote, when asked if read a great deal, said:

Too much. And anything, including labels and recipes and advertisements.

A writer need not look to the classics or great literature to find the language dancing. Sometimes a tweet, a Google ad, or the terse nature of technical writing can provide a certain sense of clarity that often gets lost when writers shoot for florid prose, and, it should be said, often miss.

When it came to writing drafts, Capote opted for a pencil, and always wrote in bed. As with any piece of writing, sometimes it needs … time.

After typing out a third draft using a type writer in the lap the way we may use a laptop Capote:

[P]uts the manuscript away for a while, a week, a month, sometimes 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.

This 1959 edition of Writers at Work features William Faulkner, Dorothy Parker, and Thornton Wilder, offering tremendous insights into the minds of writers. Partner any of these interviews with the many that The Paris Review has published online with modern authors of fiction and nonfiction.

I hope you share this essay with your friends and if you like this, be sure to subscribe to my creative nonfiction podcast, #CNF, on iTunes or Google Play Music, where I speak with artists about creating works of nonfiction.

 

Episode 45—Bronwen Dickey Returns to Talk about the Paperback Release of Pit Bull, Troll Culture, and How Perfectionism Kills

Bronwen Dickey, Brendan O'Meara
Bronwen Dickey, everybody!

By Brendan O’Meara

Tweetables by Bronwen Dickey (@BronwenDickey)

“To be able to see something you put so much time into have a life outside your head is amazing and to connect with readers…”

On trolls: “The way a culture corrects itself is when people refuse to be cowed by that bullshit.”

On when research is over: “As Susan Orlean says, ‘You meet yourself coming the other way.'”

“I’m very drawn to upending stereotypes or going into a community of people that the public may think it knows.”

“Getting into those conflicts is where stories happen.”

“Perfectionism will truly kill you.”

“Everything that I have ever written, I can’t read.”

“The world will absolutely keep spinning on its axis if I write a story that fucking blows.”

“Every project feels like you’re at the bottom of Everest.”

Bronwen Dickey, author of Pit Bull: Battle Over an American Icon, returns to The #CNF Podcast and we had a lot of fun talking about troll culture, how to know when the research is done, why she finds herself at the center of these polarizing conflicts, and how perfectionism kills.

Be sure to check out our earlier episode from 2016 where she was equally illuminating and charming

Please subscribe to the podcast wherever you get them (iTunes and Google Play Music badges are in the right margin) and my monthly reading list newsletter. If you dig the podcast, do me that solid. Thanks!

Episode 44—Philip Gerard on the ‘Thrill’ Creative Research

 

Author Philip Gerard

By Brendan O’Meara

So in a new segment for the podcast, potentially at least, I’m experimenting with little audio essays about various titles I’ve read and the wisdom gleaned from those pages.

It could be from a podcast guest’s book, or maybe not, but the point is to insert some sonic joy into your ears in well under ten minutes.

It can’t hurt to try, right?

Which brings me to Philip Gerard’s The Art of Creative Research: A Field Guide for Writers. The book pulses with curious energy and equips the writer with the tools to cull and curate information. Like a field guide for a series of hikes, this magnificent title leads you through the vast wealth of information and stories out there for the picking.

Just feel the love and joy coming from the pages when Gerard writes:

I love getting in my car in the predawn darkness, watching the dashboard glow blue and silver and red as I turn the ignition, feel the neighborhood still all around me.

They’re all asleep, my neighbors, and I’m awake and stealing away on an adventure.

It gets at the pure fun of the process. Writing need not be a torturous or perilous pursuit. Because inside all those delightful artifacts lie something buried, something to be unearthed.

He writes:

If I am good enough to make it happen.

And I love it that sometimes I am good enough to make it happen.

I love the moment when someone tells me something he or she never intended to say, the look of wonder and discovery in their eyes, the smiling tears of memory, the clutch in the throat that carries all the story you’ll ever need to hear. The pang of good-bye, leaving a stranger who has just confided his most precious secret, hoping you will honor it—I don’t love that, I never get used to that. Yet afterward, how I do cherish the memory of.

The Art of Creative Research stems from what all writers have—whether they know it or not—and that’s curiosity. Gerard writes:

At the highway rest stops, I can’t help but wonder where everyone else has come from and where they are bound: the chic couple in the red convertible sports car, the rowdy family with all the wild kids pouring out of the camper, the pensive loner hurrying back from the restroom with his hands jammed tight in his windbreaker pockets. I want to get in all their cars with them and go someplace else, anywhere but here, and find out why: Why are they going? What’s waiting at the end of the road?

What dissolves away are the illusions of making it big as a writer, the questions of money and fame, and what is left in the stockpot is a love of narrative, story, making something grounded and reaped from the time you spent buried in research.

He writes:

It’s a lot of work, and it takes some gumption, but it sure is a thrill.

For more about Philip’s book and his process, be sure to listen to Episode 38 of the #CNF Podcast and be sure to pick up his book at your library or at your local bookseller.

Please subscribe to the podcast, my monthly reading list newsletter, and leave a kind review. Thanks so much for listening.

Episode 43—Mary Heather Noble on Emotional Charge, Emotional Distance, and Not Discarding Work

Mary Heather Noble’s “Eulogy for an Owl” won Creative Nonfiction’s Editor’s Prize. Photo by H. Romero

By Brendan O’Meara

Tweetables by Mary Heather Noble

“I think it really gets at the heart of whatever people perceive themselves to be, as part of a natural system or not.”

“The emotional charge came to light for me. Before [Eulogy for an Owl] was a creative nonfiction, research-based thing that didn’t have any pow to it, didn’t have a story behind it, it was just a fascination for me.”

“It needs to rise like bread, first, before you can take it any further, or let it cool before you frost it.”

“I know not to throw away writing.”

“Writing is a little bit more like quilt making where you keep these other parts and less materializing from thin air.”

“I’m one of those writers who has spurts and dry spells.”

“Other different art forms can inform our writing.”

“I tend to look at my pieces like a box of puppies that need to find homes.”

Great day and a sad day.

Great that I get to share this episode with Mary Heather Noble (@MH_Noble on Twitter). Sad because I had to delete Episodes 1 through 8 from the #CNF archive for storage reasons.

That will likely be the case from now on. Every new episode will kick out the oldest one. 

If people want older episodes, I’m working on transcripts (ugh) and possibly putting old episodes on CDs. I admire those folks and podcasts with the budgets to keep all their work up indefinitely, but with no ad revenue or subscription service, I can’t keep pace. It already costs me quite a bit as is.

That said…

I welcome Mary Heather Noble, an environmental writer who won Creative Nonfiction’s editor’s prize in Issue 61’s “Learning from Nature” edition. Her essay “Eulogy for an Owl” is a magnificent piece of writing and particularly profound for me it talks about moving out west and the latent guilt of leaving bitter family behind.

Just so you know, the misses and I are totally down with the move, but we receive(d) our fair share of guilt trips, which is particularly maddening, but that’s neither here nor there. We’re here to talk about Mary Heather’s work and her approach.

Housekeeping: Share this episode with someone you think will get value from it, subscribe, leave a 5-star review in your directory of choice. Makes me feel good and will help the podcast reach more people.

Let’s dive in. Here’s Mary Heather Noble.

Also mentioned is Kim Kankiewicz’ episode. 

Episode 42—Roy Peter Clark, America’s Writing Coach on Living Inside the Language, Lowering Standards, and the Meaning of Literacy

By Brendan O’Meara

Tweetables by Roy Peter Clark:

“If I live till 90, I hope that year I’m still learning about the craft and still helping in some way.”

“We’re probably going to see new things in it because our autobiography has changed.”

“If you’re literate, you read in certain ways and you write in certain kinds of ways, but it’s the third element people fail to see: If you are a literate person, you have the capacity to talk about [it].”

“Every piece of writing needs a focus, a central idea.”

“It’s my mission to open the door for literacy and good writing wider and wider so more and more people can imagine themselves as belonging to a community of writers, a nation of writers.”

“What good is freedom of expression if we lack the means to express ourselves?” 

“Too often, more research is an excuse for not writing.”

Howdy there, CNFers, hope you’re having a CNFin good week.

I snagged you a great guest this week, luck on my part and generosity on the part of Roy Peter Clark, America’s Writing Coach, scholar, and author of five books on writing in ten years: Writing Tools, The Glamour of Grammar, Help! For Writers, How to Write Short and The Art of X-Ray Reading.

I’m going to repeat that: five books in ten years. I revisit them all the time to sharpen the saw. Each time I crack open, say, Writing Tools, I become better and better.

In this episode you’ll learn a lot about how Roy came to live inside the language, and how those early experiences led him, ultimately, to the Poynter Institute where he coached and influenced a nation of writers.

Maybe the most important takeaway from this issue of #CNF is the amount of mentors and teachers Roy mentions throughout this episode and the influence they had on his development as a writer and teacher. 

I debated whether to break this up into two episodes, but decided to leave it as one whole.

I do hope you’ll share this episode with others, subscribe if you haven’t already, rate it, if you haven’t already, LIKE THE FACEBOOK PAGE, subscribe to my email newsletter, etc, etc…

Thanks for listening, guys, now sit back and enjoy the one and only Roy Peter Clark.

Some of Roy’s columns from Poynter.org:

Trump on quotation marks

On William Zinsser, author of On Writing Well

On Jimmy Breslin #legend

 

 

Episode 41—Jennifer Niesslein, the Full Grown Person behind Full Grown People

Jennifer Niesslein
Jennifer Niesslein talks about what it means to be an editor.

By Brendan O’Meara

Tweetables:

“I only write when I have something that I really need to figure out.”

“My job is to get the essay to its platonic ideal.”

“I took a personal crisis and made a publication out of it.”

“I wanted to make the magic happen.”

“So much of writing is rhythm.”

Jennifer Niesslein, formerly a co-editor and co-founder of Brain, Child, and currently editor and founder of Full Grown People, joined me on Episode 41 to talk about the art of editing.

Her essays have appeared in Creative Nonfiction, the Brevity blog, Virginia Quarterly, and The Nervous Breakdown.

She’s also the author of Practically Perfect in Every Way.

Why wait any longer? Here’s Jennifer Niesslein.