{Image by Walter Green, excerpted from the story “Golem” appearing in Annalemma Issue Eight: Creation}

Out of the blue, I got an email from Walter Green earlier this year requesting to work with Annalemma. I clicked over to his site to check out his work and immediately recognized some of the images. His work has made an impact as of late in our world of literary small press publishing, most notably at The Rumpus, McSweeneys (where he works as a designer) and the new food quarterly, Lucky Peach. I dig the overall vibe of enthusiasm, delight and unpretentious excitement permeating Walter’s work.

I had a chance to speak with Walter over Gchat about his work, where he gleans inspiration from and the perils of working in an office with x-acto knives and water coolers.

Annalemma: So how’s your day going? Can you talk about what you’re working on?

Walter Green: Sure, my day’s going well! I’m a designer at Mcsweeney’s publishing in San Francisco, and there are a lot of little branches that go along with that and a lot of different hats to wear, etc. So today, I’m working on designs for a few of our magazine/quarterly type projects, mainly this thing called Lucky Peach, which is our new food quarterly with David Chang. Besides that, I do interior design of books, book covers sometimes, book ads, press releases, and lots of little things. But today, mostly editorial design for this food magazine. Also, I am the DJ.

A: That’s amazing. So how’d you land this job?

WG: Well, I interned there a while ago, and never really did a lot of design stuff. I had the desire to do design but no experience really. So I did some things for free for my friend’s bands or their business ideas and what have you, and kind of amassed a little portfolio. Then I moved to New York for a while and helped out at a small but fertile design studio and made my portfolio a little stronger. And when I eventually moved back to San Francisco, I started doing some freelance design and that seemed to work out okay for us all. So after a while they asked me to be a junior designer and I quickly said yes!

A: That’s rad, I have to say I’m really jealous.

WG: Well, it’s fun but often really tough and exhausting.

A: About five years ago I was obsessed with McSweeneys.

WG: Then what happened!

A: I started getting more and more involved with the publishing world, started digging deeper, seeing what was out there, seeing all the presses that were doing cool stuff. I still love what y’all do, but my focus is spread out so far now.

WG: Sure, of course!

A: I thought McSweeneys was the only game in town worth a shit, for a long time.

WG: How long has Annalemma been going on for?

A: We’ve been putting stuff out for four years. But I always looked to McSweeneys for design inspiration, so when I heard you were a designer there I was immediately curious about what that’s like.

WG: Well, it’s fun and exhausting as I said. It’s a two-person design team, essentially. There’s me (I think I’ve dropped the junior from my title now) and an amazing art director named Brian Mcmullen. So we do the bulk of the work, with other people helping out when they need to. Everyone here has some idea of how to work indesign/photoshop/what-have-you.

A: I’ve always been blown away by the ambition and scope of the design work. Where does the driving force come from to make things look so good?

WG: Well, I can’t say for sure for everybody else here. We’ve never sat down and had a real conversation about why we make things look the way we look. Why not put some effort in to make something look good if you can? I guess you could also say that we like to make our things look the way they do in hopes that people will buy them, read them, keep them, etc.

Also, just on a personal level, I think we’re all very interested in trying out new things and new ways to present content, just to keep things fun for us. By the way, the design of your magazine is incredible. The clarity of design is really inspiring. KUDOS, is all!

A: Thanks man, I wish I could take credit for that, it’s all my designer Jen O’Malley, she’s really talented. She comes up with a lot of the ideas, I’m more of the philosophy guy in the background trying to make sure that nothing looks like it’s a part of disposable culture, trying to make it something that people will want to keep around for a long time.

But enough about me, how long have you been drawing?

WG: Since I was a small child, I guess. Though there are always long periods of inactivity–even today–when I don’t draw for the longest time and end up sort of completely forgetting how it’s supposed to be done.

Yeah, it’s tough to talk about drawing. I’m not very good at it, but it’s somehow become a part of what I do, just because I’m so interested in it. I wish I could be the kind of person where my brain and my hand are totally connected and I can draw whatever I can imagine. But it’s probably just not in the cards for me, so in my illustrations that I work on today, I don’t rely on the regular stuff that actual talented artists use. I’m kind of just grabbing whatever is around and throwing it all together and hoping that something sticks I’d say I’m more of a DESIGNER-ILLUSTRATOR than a straight-up-drawing-dude.

A: I like how you incorporate your drawings into your design work though. I’m cruising around on your site here and all your work at first glance just looks like it’s a lot of fun. Like fun to read, fun to work on.

WG: Yeah, I guess being even slightly talented at illustration is a huge boon to the kind of design work that I want to do, so I’m able to fill in holes where necessary in my design and it’s good to not have to rely on an illustrator.

A: What are some design resources that pump you up? What are the daily places you go to that are doing good work?

WG: Hey, hold on a second!!! “BRB”

A: k

WG: SORRY! people are looking for x-acto knives.

A: No problem.

WG: I like to visit that site 50watts.com for a lot of incredible vintage/classic/bizarre/whatever design work. I like to visit the sites of other designers I like. but mostly I like going into Dog Eared Books near my office here and obnoxiously browsing their covers! And a lot of inspiration comes from the people I worked with/have worked with/the work they’ve done.

A: Who are the designers you’re a fan of?

WG: I’ll forget people but some of my favorites are: Paul Sahre, Leanne Shapton, Rodrigo Corral, Paul Buckley, John Gall, and the aforementioned Brian McMullen.

There are a lot more who have sites that I’ll check out, but it probably means something that those are the first names I think of when asked about designers I like.

A: Yeah, first impulses are usually the best. Like I was saying before, I’m really digging the work on your site cause it all looks fun, how do you maintain that attitude? My designer and I can work on something for days and weeks and sometimes it can be hard to keep fresh eyes about it. I guess I’m asking what drives you, what do you want the audience to feel most of the time?

{pause}

WG: Hey sorry I was absent, I was changing the water cooler

A: Sounds busy there today : )

WG: I guess as a designer/illustrator I am going on a project-by-project basis. Some things that are, you know, more light-hearted and fun can be appropriate for some silly colorful hand-lettering, while other projects call for a more serious illustration/type treatment/design treatment/what- have-you.

Mostly, I’m hoping that the design can reflect the content in some way. That’s when it comes to editorial design/cover design/illustration and stuff. As for, how to maintain a happy and fun feeling while designing, I’m not sure that it’s possible all the time.

There’s definitely a large part of what you were saying earlier in what I do, where I’ll start a project and think it’s the greatest thing in the world. You know, ten weeks later, it’s hell. And I hate the whole thing, and I still have to carry on the fun feeling.

A: Haha, yeah when the excitement wears off.

WG: Yeah, definitely. But, I guess I’m lucky in that the littlest things are able to bring me design-excitement, something as simple as just changing one color to a design I’m “tired” of can make me love the project all over again, sometimes. And it’s also good that at my job, I have a wide range of things I can work on, so I can put projects down, and pick them up later and my hatred for them has died down.

A: Haha

WG: And I start to remember them fondly. And even miss them a little bit.

A: I hear that, I keep trying to do that, look at things from a different perspective in order to see it in a new way. I do that a lot with writing, like a story might not be working at all and it’s complete shit in my mind but something will click, like I need to change the perspective from third to first and everything will come together. I love it when those breakthroughs happen.

WG: Yeah, of course, little things like that that bring a clarity to the whole thing and can sort of show you the light at the end of the tunnel are the greatest.

A: So what’s the next release we should look out for? What’s good on the McSweeneys roster?

WG: Welp, I’ve been doing a little more editorial illustration work for a few different clients and that’s been fun. I do a weekly illustrated column for the bay citizen (a nice journalistic website focusing on the bay area) where I review different events that happen. So tomorrow I’ll be going to some sort of yard sale and then drawing the people I see there.

Beyond that, I’m mostly focusing on this food quarterly thing here that is shaping up to be great. This is the second issue, so we’re gonna be able to tighten up everything a bit from the slightly loose style we established in the first issue. And that’s fun because I’m able to do hand-lettering, or type design, or chalk drawings, or vector illustrations–just whatever the articles call for.

A: That’s cool.

WG: Yeah, beyond that, I’m not sure if I’m allowed to give the secret scoop on whatever stuff Mcsweeney’s is doing. But I can say that whatever it is, we’ll be trying to make it look nice!

A: Awesome, well, I can’t wait to see it whatever it is. Thanks for talking to me, Walter.

WG:  Hey thanks for thanks for letting me do some work for your recent issue! I loved that story.

A: I’ll get that mag out to you soon, I spilled a big cup of water on a stack of personalized thank-you letters to contributors I was sending out with mags and I’ve been putting off rewriting them so I think that’s why you haven’t got yours yet.

WG: Gotta hate those big cups of water! No worriez!

A: Cool man, well thanks again and I’ll be in touch.

WG: NICE! Talk to you later bud! We’re CHAT-PALS NOW!

A: Haha, indeed we are, talk to you soon.

Click here to check out Walter’s work appearing in Annalemma Issue Eight: Creation.

{Here’s us}

Hey New York! It’s nice out, right? Fall’s here. Means that old bastard Winter is around the corner, he’s gonna make us stay in doors for three months and question why the hell we live up north. Nothing to do but read some books. Come out the the BBF this Sunday and get a jump on all the stuff you’d like to put in your mind grapes for the hibernation.

Us and Avery Anthology will be at table #71, pimping out our latest wares to all the hungry brains. Come see us! And come see Amelia Gray read at the St Francis Auditorium at 5pm. I’m going cause Amelia is radical and always fun to watch. See you there.

{image by Walter Green, excerpted from the story “Golem” appearing in Issue Eight: Creation}

Issue Eight: Creation contributor DovBer Naiditch is many things: husband, father, writer, rabbi. He imbues all the things that encompass those roles into his writing. In his story “Golem” an old rabbi creates a mud golem for no particular reason who ends up doing menial tasks like yard work. The golem quickly begins to question his existence and take interest in a strange neighbor lady next door.

I had the chance to speak with Dov over gchat about religion, the search for truth, rabbinical studies and mud golems. Enjoy.

Annalemma: Hello Dov, are you there?

Dov Naiditch: Hey, yeah.

A: Great, are you good to chat for a little while?

DN: sure

A: Cool, so I ran into a friend of yours a few months back. I didn’t know you knew Sal Pane.

DN: Yeah, yeah. we were in class together. He’s a sweetheart. Justa kind of cool and open guy.

A: He’s a good dude, what school was that?

DN: University of Pittsburgh.

A: Are you still in the program there?

DN: No, I just graduated in the spring.

A: Congratulations, was it an MFA or undergrad?

DN: MFA in fiction.

A: How’d you like it?

DN: It was a very good program. I don’t have much else in comparison, besides for those charts people put out every now and again, but it gave me everything I needed from a good program.

A: I understand you’re a rabbi as well?

DN: Yes, yeah. I got my Rabbinate in a seminary in Israel.

A: Which came first, the desire to be a writer or a rabbi?

DN: Shoot, that’s a good question. I don’t know. Let me try and explain. First, I guess, to become a rabbi in the community I grew up in isn’t a huge deal, I think. It’s not really expressed as a calling or anything. Jewish law is very complex and intricate, and when your as deep in it as I am, it’s kind of a necessary prerequisite to become one. Many of my friends in my community, for example, have received their rabbinates (though some haven’t and make a point of not doing so).

That being said, my desire to become a rabbi ties very deeply into my expression of myself as a religious person, and so it’s a very central part of me. But then, my decision to become a writer has also been a central part of me. I remember writing in rabbinical school, little bits and scenes and segments of things that caught my eye, or constructing stories. And of course the two are far more intertwined than that. I mean, they both stem from a central desire to find and define G-d.

A: That’s really interesting. Do you teach or lead services?

DN: No. That kind of rabbi you might call a pulpit rabbi. I don’t have a congregation or a community. Rabbis in the most basic sense are qualified definers and determiners of religious obligation in all of its facets. A rabbi, in this sense, is much like a lawyer. He determines what situation is right or wrong (and not just moral situations, but structural situations as well)

If you’re familiar with Kashrut, for example, no mixing of milk and meat, no eating of pig. Well, what if you’re mixing a huge pot of milk and just a little grease from a steak falls in? Is it all bad? A rabbi is called to research the Talmud and additional texts to determine if indeed it is bad (in that particular case, if the grease is less than 1/60th of the milk, than you may still drink the milk). Stop me if I’m getting too off the path.

A: No way, I’m really interested in this stuff. I have a Christian background so I relate to people on a spiritual journey. I’m especially interested in ones that are different than mine. I never thought to draw the parallels between writers and students of religion. But at heart, it seems like they’re both diggers, trying to get to the truth of life.

DN: Hah, all I ever do is draw parallels. I mean, at it’s heart it’s telling stories. Both religion and writing.

A: Right, we’re all trying to determine the ‘how’ and ‘why’ of existence.

DN: Yes. I was at a reading once by A.S. Byatt and she said something about how the novel was the first truly agnostic form, that it arose from the 16th century reformation and ideas about finding G-d on your own, or questioning G-d’s means. Because to believe in G-d is to believe in the ultimate story, that there is a plot to all of this, that we are characters. And so to write, I think, to create your own story–to say, this is how it should be–is definitely an act of questioning.

But since G-d tells a story with us, and in telling stories we are creating in the image of G-d, then in some way in writing, we are creating ourselves in the image of G-d, and so it can be a mystical and reaffirming quality as well. At least, this is what I think.

A: That’s an interesting way to put it, most people from my faith would just call what I’m doing hethanistic secularism Does your writing ever come into contention with your faith like that or do you get judged for those sorts of things?

DN: Most people in my faith would probably call it that, too. But I don’t do it for them. And hecks yeah, I get judged. And I’m sure some of it even comes from a good place. Or a place that wants to be good. But yeah, my writing does come into contention with my faith, all the time.

A: What do you do when that happens?

DN: I know it’s a good story.

A: Hahah

DN: Right?

A: Yeah.

DN:  (Take) the act of charity, for example: there’s a lot of argument, in both of our faiths, about charity, because it is at it’s heart an implicit rejection of G-d’s design. When a man gives charity he’s saying G-d’s plan isn’t working. And he has to step in and fix it. It’s the ultimate form of hethanistic secularism. And yet it’s an essential part of all faiths. So what’s the deal?

A: Yeah, life is full of contradictions, religion being just one area, one garden of contradiction. Navigating them is the conflict. Therefore, it’s where the material is at for writers.

DN: Yeah. Although, honestly, in my writing I’m never nearly as absolute as I am in this conversation.

A: Haha, yeah it’s hard to be that forthright and hard lined in fiction. People most times don’t want that in fiction. So you kind of have to make your messages termites. There under the surface, a little bug digging through the readers brain.

DN: That’s a good analogy. [Ed. note: wish I could take credit for it]. But also, it helps not to have a message. Or to not know what it is yourself.

A: Right, it usually comes in the form of an impulse.

DN: Yeah. Nothing should be clean. If it’s clear cut, you’ve lost it. And that’s not just for your reader, I think, but for yourself.

A: Yeah, I think it goes back to the writer/theologian thing: we’re all diggers and even when we’ve found something that makes sense we still don’t stop digging. There’s always more to learn, more to know. The more our spheres of understanding grow, the more we learn that we know even less that we thought we did.

DN: Yeah. That’s a good way to put it. These are some of the things I don’t like about religion, the morality plays, the bows on top. The this is what we’ve learned (types of stories). They institutionalize inspiration.

A: I agree, it’s impossible to put a bow on the larger questions. I wanna steer this in a different direction before we run on too long. I wanted to talk to you about golems. They’re a re-occurring theme in literary fiction, why do you think that is?

DN: Shoot, again it’s about creation. But here it is a bit different. It’s about the not-quite-right, I think. At some point, I think, every writer writes something and says this feels so right but it’s not alive. It’s got everything in the right place, you know?

A: Right, like it doesn’t have a soul yet.

DN: And this is something we all come across. When I was trying to write more realistic fiction, to accurately describe my surroundings, I always felt that way. At some point it stopped being watching a frog jump around and started being dissecting it. So I gave up. Which isn’t to say that there aren’t writers out there who do it well. I’m very jealous of them, people who can put a soul in setting. Why do you think Golems are popular?

A: I think the idea is appealing to writers because a golem is a blank slate, you can make him whatever you need. And you’ve got a built in story already there that a lot of people know, so some of the legwork is done for you. Plus it’s just weird! A big mud man walking around.

DN: Hah

A: Such an evocative image, something that speaks to a need in our brains. A need for a protector, I guess. I don’t know, is that really offensive?

DN: I think you’re right though. Sadly, i guess. There is a desire in all of us to just have some one around to do whatever we want, a kind of primitive desire to lord it over others. Maybe a golem is just a socially acceptable thing to do so with.

A: What’d you think of how it was handled in The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay?

DN: Honestly, I hate to admit this, but I never read that book.

A: Dude. You gotta read that book.

DN: I know (Micheal Chabon) graduated from Pittsburgh, and I loved the Yiddish Policeman’s Union. I’ll get it this weekend.

A: It’s an incredible read, you won’t regret it.

DN: I know I won’t. I never do regret reading a novel someone suggests. It’s always the getting around to it that smarts.

A: Yeah, that happens with me too. The first 100 pages of some of my favorite books have been the hardest to get through.

DN: Right? I always promised myself that when I wrote a novel it would be exciting all the way through. I just read “Atmospheric Disturbances” by Rivkah Galchen and it was good overall. But man I had to grit my teeth through some chapters.

A: Did you find that the teeth gritting was worth it?

DN:  In a way. It’s a novel that delivers the kind of vague impulse that short stories should deliver. In that way it makes very good. But also I felt like it could have been done in 12 pages.

A: Huh, that’s interesting. Sometimes novels are work, man. And I think that’s okay, a reader can usually sign on for work as long as it has a payoff. It’s got to have a payoff.

DN: That’s why I like Chabon. He knows a novel should have a payoff.

A: I think talking about payoffs is a good place to call it an interview. Thanks for talking to me Dov.

DN:  Oh, man it’s been a pleasure. It’s nice to sit down and actually break down some of those thoughts that have been percolating for so long. Lets do this again. Maybe next time we can talk about the actual story ; )

A: Hah, you got a deal, great talking to you too. I’ll let you know when this thing posts, probably tomorrow or Thursday.

DN: Sweet. Be well. Great job with the magazine, by the way, I’m really honored to be in these pages with some of these awesome writers and artists.

A: Thanks man, glad we could have you, it’s a great story. I’ll be in touch.

Click here to check out Dov’s Story in Issue Eight: Creation.

We had a flood last week and a few boxes of mags got destroyed. We decided to slash prices to get rid of some of the inventory and a lot of folks took advantage the savings over the weekend. Today’s the last day to join in though, so check it out:

$5 off subscriptions.

Regular subscription price = $25.00. Flood sale price = $20.00. That’s a DEAL.

$3 off Issue Eight: Creation.

Regular cover price = $15.00. Flood sale price = $12.00. That’s a DEAL.

$5 off Issue Seven: Endurance.

Regular cover price = $15.00. Flood sale price = $10.00. That is a DEAL.

$2 off Issue Six: Sacrifice.

Regular cover price = $10.00. Flood sale price = $8.00. That is a STEAL.

$2 off Issue Five.

Regular cover price = $10.00. Flood sale price = $8.00. That is a STEAL.

Issue #4 or Issue #3 FREE with any purchase.

Specify which one you want when you order. That should be ILLEGAL.

Your order will be free of water damage. That is a PROMISE.

Offer ends tonight at midnight EST.

Waters from the heavens have been coming thick and fast this week in my neck of the woods and the studio done flooded, damaging a few boxes of mags. This sequence of events let me to the conclusion that I have way too many boxes cluttering up my space. So for the rest of the week I’m putting stuff on sale in the hopes of clearing up some room and delivering some powerful words and images into your brain. Here comes some deals, people!:

$5 off subscriptions.

Regular subscription price = $25.00. Flood sale price = $20.00. That’s a DEAL.

$3 off Issue Eight: Creation.

Regular cover price = $15.00. Flood sale price = $12.00. That’s a DEAL.

$5 off Issue Seven: Endurance.

Regular cover price = $15.00. Flood sale price = $10.00. That is a DEAL.

$2 off Issue Six: Sacrifice.

Regular cover price = $10.00. Flood sale price = $8.00. That is a STEAL.

$2 off Issue Five.

Regular cover price = $10.00. Flood sale price = $8.00. That is a STEAL.

Issue #4 or Issue #3 FREE with any purchase.

Specify which one you want when you order. That should be ILLEGAL.

Your order will be free of water damage. That is a PROMISE.

Offer ends Monday, Sept. 12

This happened over the weekend. A lot of people got pissed off. Some of them had good reasons, some of them didn’t. Seeing as it’s pretty much over, I don’t have anything to add to the conversation other than to say, all that time spent talking and thinking about something like this could have been spent so much more productively, like making something like this:

People like to talk about this stuff because controversy and outrage are a fun distraction from doing work. But it’s easy to forget that it’s just that, a distraction. These are the sorts of topics on the internet that get more hits than any fiction or poem that’s published on the web and further perpetuates the devaluing of art and writing in the world we live in. Bothering yourself with “controversy” like this is taking the place of writing and creating something that will provide a service to people long after you’re gone. There’s so many other things in this world worthy of your ire and scrutiny. In five or ten years, no one is going to remember these flare ups of our small corner of the world. You probably barely will as well. What will matter is what you created. What matters is what dig for and what you make out of it and how it effects people.

It’s easier to talk about creating than it is to create. You think that guy in the video spent hours and days ruminating over the state of the dance world? He probably just danced his ass off.

Let’s stop talking and start doing.

{hat tip to booooooom for the video for “Pop Culture” by Madeon}

“A few months before my 28th birthday, I finally kissed a man.” So begins Amanda Jane Smith’s essay The Measure of Creation appearing in Annalemma Issue Eight: Creation. It’s a beautifully honest essay about Amanda’s experiences coming to terms with her religion and her sexuality. I had a chance to talk more with Amanda about these themes.

Topics discussed:

– Richard Russo

– Mormonism

– Resentment

– The roll of women in the church

– The industrial revolution

Click here to listen.

{music: “Life Swap” by Hays Holiday.}

{Image by Yann Faucher, excerpted from the story “Project” appearing in Annalemma Issue Eight: Creation}

I first got introduced to Peg Alford Pursell’s writing from the Burrow Press anthology “Fragmentation and Other Stories.” Pursell’s story (which the collection borrowed the title from) exemplified what good flash fiction should be about: showing a single important moment in a character’s life, a flare or fracture, which sets a larger action in motion, an action the reader can take with them to continue the story on their own. When we started reading for Issue Eight: Creation, Pursell submitted a story about a married couple experiencing such a fracture. The story further illustrated Pursell’s skills at showing the moments in relationships that are symbols of larger issues. I had a chance to speak with Pursell over Gchat about these moments, the novel she’s currently working on and the reading series she curates in the SF Bay Area, Why There Are Words

Annalemma: So are you in Sausalito at a writing retreat I understand?

Peg Alford Pursell: No longer at the writing retreat, sadly. Just home, in Sausalito, yes, where I live.

A: Tell me about the retreat, I’ve never been to one before but they seem really interesting, what was it like?

PAP: Well, this one was like no other one you’ve been to because it was self-created. I’ve been to residencies before and I’m applying for a couple for next year now. But, I decided I couldn’t wait around for that — I had the time now, a rarity. So I started checking out all kinds of possibilities, from a fairly local Zen center/organic farm to vacation beach rentals, etc. It was last minute, so hard to find something that quickly. Finally, I lucked out with a house-sitting situation for a young creative couple who needed someone to water plants and their garden. A really great cottage not far from me, so I didn’t have to waste a lot of time getting there. No TV, lots of art surrounding me, a wonderful porch where I could take my laptop and work. It was great. So for days on end, I could just live, breathe, dream the manuscript, no interruptions, my schedule entirely. Location was perfect — I took a lot of long walks through the hills or down through town when I needed to get the ideas flowing or sort out details, that kind of thing. I miss it!

A: That’s fantastic, sounds like a dream. I was imagining something closer to Jonathan Ames’s “Wake Up, Sir!” where a bunch of artists are jammed into a community together and end up causing all sorts of problems for each other.

So are you working on a novel right now?

PAP: Yes, I’m working on a novel told in — interconnected — stories.

A: How far along are you

PAP: Fairly close to done. A good draft of the story is complete. I’m working on a concluding “coda” or story, which just came to me, finally. I knew there was something yet missing; working on polishing the ms. — what’s there —  at the retreat last week i got it. Naturally, this requires a reworking of the whole thing. But it’s good. It’s very exciting.

A: I know a lot of writers like to have everything in the can and all rewrites done before they start talking plot points and characters to outsiders. Can you say anything about what the book’s about?

PAP: Sure. It’s set on a fictional barrier island off the South Atlantic coast, loosely based on an island I lived on for a while, years ago. Mainly of the characters come from “off” — transplants from the north. Their lives intertwine and intersect in all sorts of complex ways. I’m most interested in exploring their relationships to themselves — surface and self — to their pasts, and to each other, and the idea of what it means to form a community.

A: That’s funny, I wanted to talk to you about the way you write relationships. In the story you wrote for the creation issue I liked the dynamic between the couple, even though it was a fractured one. I liked how the husband told his wife he wanted to have sex 2.5 times a week. A lot of times guys can be obsessed about whether or not we’re having sex “enough” and it can put a lot of undue stress on a relationship. It’s hard thing to create moments like this and make them feel genuine to a reader, how do you get to that point as a writer where you can show the relevant moments of a relationship?

PAP: Thanks for the kind words, Chris. I’m not sure I know. In many ways, it’s all relevant. But of course, you know that. Let’s see…

Sometimes, for me, it just “appears” or emerges that way. As in, with that particular story, that’s actually what I began with, what I heard first; the character, Martin, presented himself that way. That’s what was on his mind. In other cases, I may have to write a lot before I understand what are the relevant moments, and subsequently discard the rest.

A: I guess that’s what I was getting at. Writing, to me, feels like the ability to parse out what’s important and what’s not. That’s true that what’s “important” is all relative, but things need to be important to yourself before other people can regard them as important. You’re more likely to get excited or irritated about something if you think it’s important and that’s fuel to write. I guess for a lot of writers starting out though, it’s hard for them to figure out what’s important to them. Do you have any advice in that area?

PAP: I mean it’s what feels exciting or interesting to you — you can feel it, can’t you?

That’s what you go with. Sometimes a new writer may feel unsure about what resonates or interests her/him is going to matter to others. And then discards what excited or interested him/her. And in that case, I would say that’s a mistake. That it’s important to follow whatever that glimmer is. Trust that it will lead somewhere. It usually does, even if it fizzles out for some time (years, possibly). Later you see.

A: I’d agree with that, I’d say it’s important to follow some impulse, even if you end up abandoning it later on. It’s all a learning process, the greater mistake would be to hem and haw about what to do for months and years without actually producing anything

PAP: Yes, that’s a trap. There’s some kind of “rule” out there that says you throw away about 90% of what you produce. I remember Stephen Elliott saying this in a lecture/workshop we gave together last year. So you’ve got a make a whole lot to have anything, right?

A: Totally, I’m always interested to see how much writers have written before they’ve produced books. I love hearing stories about people who’ve got five novels and only one of them is published because that’s the only good one. I think that’s an untold reality a lot of people don’t understand.

There’s a lot of writers in the SF area, what’s the scene like? It’s pretty competitive here in New York.

PAP: Since I’ve never lived in NYC, I can only go on hearsay — what others say or have told me. First off, I’m new to SF myself (3 yrs) and I’ve never lived anywhere where’s there’s so much support and creative energy. Wish I’d moved here years ago. It’s been great for me. But I understand that isn’t simply my personal opinion, that others find it that way. I’ve lived in places where there’s little lit community, of isolation. That has its place, maybe, but it can be tough. It’s good to be where others care about words and creating, too.

A: I hear that. It’s a drag when you live in a city where it seems like you’re the only one who cares about books. That’s motivation enough to move sometimes, just to have good conversations. So how’d you get started writing?

PAP: Lifelong writer. In third grade I was prolific; my teacher, Miss Francis, read a story of mine to class at the end of each day while we were waiting for the bell to ring for dismissal. A few years ago I went to a class reunion and someone there reminded me of that.

A:  That’s cool, It’s rare to have that sort of thing written into your DNA, but very cool when it happens. What can you tell me about Why There Are Words?

PAP: It takes place once a month (2nd Thurs.) Six writers, some with books, some not. It’s dedicated to the idea that good writing needs to be heard at any and all times and isn’t tied to the latest book coming into print. It’s all prose, though poets who write any kind of prose, including prose poetry, have read and are welcome. Prose since there’s another poetry series held in the same gallery a different night. It’s a lot of fun. Readers come from all over, and it stays booked out pretty far in advance, which is both great and hard, because there’s always more demand for spots than I can accommodate.

A: That’s great people are coming out and supporting it, another advantage to living in a lit-minded city like SF. I think that’s a good point to end on. Before we sign off I wanted see if you’d weigh in on an issue… NY lit scene vs. SF lit scene: tacit rivalry, tacit alliance or some mixture of the two?

PAP: SF, as far as my involvement or what I can see of it, is alliance. But there’s probably tacit rivalry, too — I mean of course there has to be. Maybe ask me in a few more years.

Thanks for this, Chris. It’s been great chatting. I think you should come out and read out here, and gauge the scene yourself. October is LItquake!

A:  For sure, thank you, Peg. Let me know when those mags get there. Should be some time this week. I’d love to come out to SF, I haven’t been in years.

PAP: Do it!

A: You’re hyping me up now, I just might. That litquake sounds like fun.

PAP:  Well, let me know. I’ve running a WTAW in Litcrawl. Also WTAW goes to AWP this year in Chicago.

A:  Badass, I’ll be in Chicago for sure

PAP:  Well, let’s meet up there, if not before.

A:  Will do, thanks again, Peg!

PAP:  Thanks to you, too.

Hey New York, you know how you’re always going on about how books are great and writers are awesome? You’re about to cream your jeans over this news. The Brooklyn Book Festival is taking place this September 15th through the 18th and Annalemma’s gonna be there. Us and Avery Anthology are teaming up to lay waste to the book fair portion of the festival with our mighty and beautiful journals.

Why go to a stuffy old literary event? Cause all your favorite authors are going to be there. Why go see a bunch of stuffy old authors?  So you can go mess with them, get your book signed, ask them weird questions they don’t want to answer, ask them if they want to go grab coffee, mess up their hair, take pictures with them, become their best friend etc. etc. The possibilities are endless. What will I be doing? Probably stalking people, taking paparazzi style photos for the blog, breathing audibly right up close to their ear. Creep stuff, mainly.

Sounds like a good time, no? Mark it down on the calendar and come out to see us!

Issue Eight: Creation got a very thoughtful review by writer/designer Nancy Smith on The Rumpus today. I keep The Rumpus open in a browser tab pretty much all the time and periodically refresh it throughout the day, so, naturally, this pumps me up to a degree that I’m having a hard time expressing in words.

In the review, Smith focuses on the essays, including Blake Butler‘s piece on RPGs, Jen O’Malley‘s personal history of bridal gowns, and Gina Ishibasi’s essay on the importance of knowing how to work with your hands. Smith also includes some of her personal history and relationship to exercise of making things. I thought this part was especially beautiful:

My grandfather was a clockmaker, and for my fifteenth birthday I received a lovely grandfather clock, which remains one of my most beloved possessions. Why is this more important to me, than say, a clock I bought at Target? Because someone close to me made it, with me in mind. And because there are no others in the world like it. My grandfather made clocks for all five grandchildren, and each one is completely unique, and specific to each of us. He died several years ago, and though I received many presents from him over the years, this is the only thing that I will keep for the rest of my life.

Also, not only is Smith a great writer, but she’s an equally great designer/illustrator. Check out this rad Dear Sugar poster she made (which is available for sale for all you big time Sugar fans):

Thanks Rumpus. I love you and I don’t care who knows it.