Many artists and authors are creative in multiple disciplines. What other types of art do you create? 
I take inspiration from a ton of different sources, so I have become briefly (or not so briefly) obsessed with many artforms. A chapbook I finished recently, Archimedes of Providence, incorporates photos and paintings of my own. Currently, I am painting painting painting and making video trailers for my short stories. 

How has your view of the creative process changed since you first started?  
Learning how to turn my frustration into flow was a big step for me. I have learned to embrace mistakes and see where they take me. Often, the most exciting work I do comes from a slip of the hand or tongue; any annoyance I once felt about these errors has been replaced by curiosity. I'm trying to cultivate an environment in my practice where mistakes lead to something exciting. Sure, a lot of stuff ends up in my cemetery, but all of my future selves have turned out to be grave robbers.

What author or artist’s popularity do you find confusing/inexplicable?
History is littered with unappreciated geniuses. Literature probably accounts for a good percentage of them. Try not to sweat it.

What is your biggest creative doubt?  
The answer could be not having enough time, but I do have serious worry my curiosity will spontaneously evaporate out of nowhere. For me, creativity is mostly paying attention and being curious . . . both of which are, luckily, learnable . . . so, I guess the real answer is time. I suppose then this is also a supplement to Q9 as well; there's the process in real time. Sometimes you're wrong, sometimes you're not thinking at mach 5; be patient with yourself.

Do you have a dedicated or preferred place to work? How does it influence the way you work?  
 I write everywhere. If I'm stuck and I'm at home, leaving the house often works. And keep in mind what that lovable aardvark said: "Having fun isn't hard when you've got a library card."

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start?
I usually start quite a while after I begin, I'm sorry to say. That is, typically a single line emerges and I write it down. I keep thinking about it, it takes me places, I transcribe the directions. The rest is often supported by prior notes. And take notes; they're free, and they'll help you be interestingly specific, which is what our whole thing here is about really.

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up?
Unlimited time = unlimited hobbies, so I'll take this question to mean: What's a hobby you hope to try when you have the resources, of which time is one? That answer: sculpture.

Many artists and authors are creative in multiple disciplines. What other types of art do you create?
I actually love knitting. I like working with my hands and I find it very relaxing. And it gives you something practical like a sweater when you're done!

What author or artist’s popularity do you find confusing/inexplicable?
Arthur Miller. Even he admitted that he couldn't write female characters and I don't think you can be considered a truly great writer if you can't write half the population.

Did you have formal training in literature/art? What ways do you continue your creative education?
I have a degree in theatre, funnily enough. I thought I was going to be an actor but then I developed chronic health issues and started writing as an alternative artistic expression. I am always learning and growing as an artist, whether it's by consuming others' art, taking classes online, or making my own art.

What piece of creative advice have you received that sounded good, but was ultimately not useful to you?
Write every day. It's not bad advice, but as someone with chronic fatigue, I found that I need to give myself time off in order to have the energy to continue my practice regularly.

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration?
Every piece is different, but I do find myself returning to certain themes over and over again, such as death. With my health issues, I've come close to death several times, so it's something I find myself meditating on frequently.

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up?
My heart says martial arts, but my body reminds me that I haven't done that since I was 15 and would probably injure myself quite severely if I were to attempt it now. If I were being practical, I would say music. I enjoy singing, though I have very little formal musical training.

Many artists and authors are creative in multiple disciplines. What other types of art do you create?
I have a degree in Fine Arts in Metalsmithing and have had a long career designing and fabricating jewelry and objects.  Although my work now is primarily analog cut paper collage, I like to experiment with whatever mediums and materials spark an interest.  Recent works have included my original poetry or writings that suggested themselves while the piece was evolving.

How has your view of the creative process changed since you first started?  
Initially I strove to attain a high degree of skill and craftsmanship with the materials I most commonly used.  I planned the pieces before executing them and knew exactly the result I intended.  Once I was proficient, I wanted to expand the limitations of traditional technique in the service of ideas.  Now I will often use materials in the way that seems unnatural or unusual without knowing exactly how the piece will progress, and that can bring unintended and more interesting results.

Do you have a dedicated or preferred place to work? How does it influence the way you work? 
I have a studio in my house that currently supports my metalsmithing work as well as paper/ collage work.  It is a challenge as metalsmithing is a ‘dirty’ process and my type of collage is a very ‘clean’ process.  I don’t have a lot of usable wall space, so I am constantly setting up table space to lay out various pieces, and have lots of files of cut out paper, stacks of magazines and rows of bookshelves.  Early on I realized that I like a lot of visual stimulus when I work, and I work happily and productively surrounded by my collections and materials.

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration?
My works are inherently narrative.  In my collage works, I delve into the intricate layers of time, cultural identity, ecology, politics, and memory by utilizing documents, texts, magazines, and an array of personal papers. This diverse collection of materials invites viewers to explore beneath the surface, uncovering new perspectives that contribute to a more comprehensive understanding of each subject. Words, dates, and significant events merge into the shadows, telling the story from a unique angle, and in this way each piece is a new exploration. My investigations span from contemporary and ancestral portraits to local, extinct, and living birds, and reimagining of philosophical and historical texts.

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start?
I work in 2 distinct ways that somehow seem to be compatible. My portrait commission works start with a source photo which I elaborately map out, deciding what papers I will use before I begin the actual cutting.  When I work on broader themes, such as my current series titled History Lessens, I go to my large archive of texts, magazines and files full of cut out pictures and start to arrange them in groups until the magic happens and they start to tell a story. 

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up?
With unlimited time and resources, I would love to go to Ravello and study mosaic making.  Short of that, I would love to learn how to nap - something I have never been able to do successfully!

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start? 
I like to hide (a troubled question of safety, I imagine) so I start a work with what I find (or what finds me) that begins to lead me out of hiding. If it's a poem, the work begins almost always with a phrase and a rhythm that feels as if it had a life of its own. I begin to discover what it wants (not what I want or even what I want it to want), and what I find keeps changing my mind - a bit like shapeshifting. Sometimes (increasingly) the work involves poems without words that I have been making with my camera phone. They start with things I photograph - the smudge of cannabis resin on a piece of paper towel, for example, or the burnt head of a match, a fold in a piece of cloth, stains on a wall or floor - and then I discover what I can see in the photograph. Recently I have been making icons of war because I have found in the things around me images of distant desolations to which the everyday seems now to be bearing witness. For example this is someone I found, staring out of a photograph of burnt matches.

I had no idea that she existed until she did. When you discover what the work wants and you follow where leads, it can return you to yourself in a way (at least temporarily) that does feel as much to be need to hide? John Cage often said that he was less interested in self-expression than in self-alteration (the feeling of changing his mind), and that describes my interest as well. I also think of what Miles Davis said, that it takes such a long time to sound like yourself (i.e. self and not ego). At 77 - and as I necessarily find myself being slowly or rapidly disembodied - I have also been given plenty of time.

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up? 
In many ways I do have unlimited time though I suppose it may end at any time. "Time without limits" describes what the Torah calls "blessing (olam)," and overall I am and have been lucky and blessed (even when I've felt particularly sorry for myself). I don't know that I have any hobbies, but perhaps instead what I try to do is practice a kind of alchemy that turns whatever happens into a blessing. A heart-attack (I've had 3) or cancer can be very interesting (even life-giving) if given the chance to be interesting. Even pain at times can be received as a message from your body as it tells you who you are? If I'm dying (and at 77 I am) I try to remember that most of us are also and that dying is generous with insights. Perhaps dying as an interest has become my hobby.

What piece of creative advice have you received that sounded good, but was ultimately not useful to you? 
Perhaps it is the advice that you should know what your talking about. It is sound advice but I prefer not to know what I'm talking about.  An antidote to this wisdom might be Wislawa Szymborska's suggestion that someone who writes poetry should write about what they don't know. If you write about what you know, you can write about almost nothing (since that is the extent of your knowledge). If you write about what you don't know, the whole universe is available. When I read a poem over and over, I think I gain a greater intimacy with the words and silences but not any certainty about what the poem means.

What is your biggest creative doubt? 
Everything I do is full of doubt, so I have learned (as much as I can learn) not to worry about it. Perhaps doubt is a form of faith since it encourages you to change your mind. I wonder sometimes if the mind is a virtual reality that the body creates and that nothing is what you think it is. On the other hand, in as much as in Judaism, nothing and no one are the primary manifestations of the divine, maybe doubt is something to believe in - believing in doubt's suspension of belief?

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration? 
I think of each piece as a new exploration, but when I consider the body of the work, I think that I am constantly returning to what I have done (once again) but finding that I am doing it differently. I have been very influenced by Wordsworth and Stevens for whom once again differs from once, and what is happening again is always happening differently. Almost always I am discovering new approaches to themes of terror and love as co-existing and incommensurate forces. Neither is an answer to the other but both occur simultaneously - often in the same experience. They are like the angels who bring grace to Abraham at Mamre and then bring terror to Sodom and Gomorrah? Or like Krishna, Arjuna's kind companion, who is also the destroyer of worlds? Perhaps this co-existence is like a koan - it is not an answerable question but it does change your mind? Of course anything is a koan if you approach it as a koan?

Many artists and authors are creative in multiple disciplines. What other types of art do you create?  
I did an MFA in fiction writing way back when, at Bowling Green State University, and I published some short stories before and after that time. But very soon after getting that degree, I plunged deeply into nonfiction writing, writing some personal essays, and then especially pieces of literary journalism. I truly found my writing voice in nonfiction. While I had written for some newspapers in my undergraduate days, my study of fiction--with my new skills of scene setting, character development, dialogue, drama, etc.—suddenly informed my nonfiction writing: which became the bulk of my writing and teaching career (30 years teaching creative writing at Colorado State University). Also, by this time in my life, early thirties, I had evolved, somehow, from a very shy young man to a guy who loved to talk with people. I understand the male privilege of being able to do this with few or no hassles.

Thus, I fell happily and successfully into hanging out with people who were passionate about what they did, and I knew how (with the usual hard work and revisions) to turn their stories into narratives that magazines found compelling enough to publish. I profiled the owner of the Victorinox Swiss Army Knife factory, who was obsessed with making the perfect knife; a gravedigger in Ohio who believed his work was "the last special thing you can do for someone"; a Buddhist monk in Thailand who was helping villagers regrow from seed a tropical forest that had been clearcut by a tobacco company—he was using traditional Buddhist principles to spur them into action; a forest ecologist who used her past rock climbing skills to pioneer research work in jungle canopies. I completely loved this life, and then the writing workshops that I designed to help CSU students try this themselves.

Now, in teaching retirement, I'm writing poetry.

How has your view of the creative process changed since you first started?
I used to think that "talent", whatever that was, was absolutely the main requirement for writing success. I think now that "talent" matters, but that sticking to doing the work and maintaining a sense of passion and curiosity about the world and people are more important.

 What author or artist’s popularity do you find confusing/inexplicable?
Some aspects of language poetry, and some but not all  poets who write it, still elude my understanding. But then, aspects of many things about the world still elude my understanding. 

Did you have formal training in literature/art? What ways do you continue your creative education?
MFA in fiction writing and undergraduate journalism classes. But after retirement, in deciding that I wanted to become a better poet, I began to willy-nilly read extremely widely, and then I hired a mentor, a semi-retired poet with many books who had taught for years in a respected MFA program. Over about six months of zoom calls and correspondence, I worked with her, and her insights and knowledge truly upped my game. She was also someone who didn't already know me and who didn't write close to the way I thought I was writing--important criteria for me. I have to say that I found it thrilling to put ego aside and embrace being an apprentice--this in my seventies!    

What is your biggest creative doubt? 
Whether I am smart or skilled enough to honor the splendid idea of the writing that has formed in my head. Ha!

What piece of creative advice have you received that sounded good, but was ultimately not useful to you? 
That a writer needs best to be half-crazy or on the edge to write anything good. Bullshit as a have-to, even as this can sometimes be true, for writers whose lives have drama or trauma they may not have wanted or anticipated--Sylvia Plath, Nick Flynn, Ann Sexton, Chen Chen, Ocean Vuong.  

Do you have a dedicated or preferred place to work? How does it influence the way you work? 
I can work anywhere. Doesn't have to be the same time every day, or every day at all. All that matters is that in general I stay with it. 

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration?
I hope for and try to make each new piece a new exploration. At the same time, themes that pop up again and again in my work include finding the extraordinary in the ordinary; honoring the more than human world, its creatures and plants and those who work to maintain it; social justice (in Witness magazine, e.g., I wrote about the aftermath of Tiannamin Square re: Chinese students, some of whom I had likely taught a few years earlier in Xi'an); the endless complications of human beings; the transitory nature of all things (this especially from Buddhism as well as a book I once wrote--Rising Fire: Volcanoes & Our Inner Lives--on volcanoes and human culture.   

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start? 
No matter the genre, often with an image or a very concrete example or story. Also, I'm still working hard to trust Keats' notion of negative capability. 

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up? 
Trekking in wild places around the world. I do this now in retirement, in the Andes and the Himalayas, but wish I had started much earlier. 

How has your view of the creative process changed since you first started?  
I didn’t have a process—and that was the problem. Like many new writers, I was hyper-focused on the output. I wanted my ideas to be strong from the get-go, and I wanted to write quickly, and I would become increasingly frustrated when neither of those things happened. But that’s not how creativity works—you need systems in place—and accepting that has made writing more fun and fruitful.

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration?
Sometimes I feel like a one-trick pony since most of my stories are about sad family stuff. Do I write about witches? Sure. Ghosts? Yup. But the throughline is often anchored in some sort of dark family unrest or trauma. I can’t help it! It’s fertile ground!

What piece of creative advice have you received that sounded good, but was ultimately not useful to you?
Write for yourself, not readers.

There’s truth to it, but as a copywriter (that’s my day job), I know the value of writing for your audience. In fiction, that means adhering to certain expectations around story structure and even universal truths that every reader can relate to. It’s a balance—but you have to keep the reader in mind.

What is your biggest creative doubt? 
There are many. And they’re all big. And my inner critic needs to die.

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start?
For longer stories, I find it helps to sort through structure in advance, to figure out if I actually have a story, so I try to start at the end and reverse-engineer. For short stories, I usually have a rough premise in mind but a clear sense of the vibe or atmosphere, so I start at the beginning and just see where things go.

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up?
Glassblowing. It’s one of those niche skills that takes an insane amount of practice and patience to master. There’s something about the craft of it that’s appealing. It’s sweaty and stressful but calculated and beautiful. It’s cool as hell. (Or hot as hell. Whatever.)

Many artists and authors are creative in multiple disciplines. What other types of art do you create?  
I also draw, paint, and photograph. While my skills are mostly in making patterns and doodling, occasionally I can pull off something worthwhile. I don't paint as much as I used to because of domestic space restrictions. A couple of my paintings I think are genuinely good, but for the most part, it is a hobby. When it comes to photography, I excel at finding attractive patterns, contrasts, and angles. However, when it comes to portraiture, I'm really clueless. 

How has your view of the creative process changed since you first started?  
My creative process has become more intentional and deliberate. I used to start writing poems with random word-associations after starting with a couple phrases that flop around in the dryer of my mind. Now, I usually have an idea at the outset of an idea I want to express, a feeling I want to encase in the statuary of words. Occasionally I will try to shake up my writing routine to try to escape the ruts I occasionally fall into. For example, I usually write the title of a poem after I write the poem (and I change it often in the editing process). However, when I feel like I'm ready to try something different, I will start with a title, and then write the poem. 

What author or artist’s popularity do you find confusing/inexplicable?
When it comes to poetry, I just don't understand the popularity of Elizabeth Bishop. It's not that I think she's terrible, it's just that so often after reading one of her poems, I just have a sense of disappointment, or I find my asking "so what?" I can see she has some skill, but her poems fall flat in my mind. Mind you, it's entirely possible I have not read the right poems of hers. William Carlos Williams is one of my personal favourites, but I think his most popular two poems (you know the ones) can't touch his best work with a ten-foot bargepole. His long poem Paterson is so wonderful. 

Did you have formal training in literature/art? What ways do you continue your creative education?
I did a Master's degree in English Literature, as well as a few courses on creative writing. Literary analysis played an important role in my PhD in Communication and Culture. At one point, I joined a local writing group. However, I didn't find it helped me very much, and one of the women in it called me a milquetoast, which hurt me deeply at the time because she was the one whose writing I respected the most in the group. It's kind of funny now. I mean, why would you tell someone that to their face? Because of the way I grew up, I am a bit of a people pleaser, and that's not everyone's cup of Earl Grey. Lately, to continue my creative education, I engage in other arts, I read writers writing about their writing, and I have been looking up my favourite writers' favourite books and reading them. 

What is your biggest creative doubt?  
My biggest creative doubt is that of not being appreciated for what I think is my best work. The second poem I published I thought was rather silly and not worth publishing, but I thought publication would help me regardless. It did, however, make me examine the distinction I drew between "serious" writing, and everything else. Lately, I've had a few poems I really like published, which has made me much less cantankerous about literature. 

What piece of creative advice have you received that sounded good, but was ultimately not useful to you?
A piece of creative advice I received in a poetry-writing class now fills me with horror. My award-winning teacher of poetry insisted I cut out Latinate words from my poems in favour of Anglo-Saxon derived ones. My knee-jerk response to this now is "So we're just going to forget about the Norman conquest, are we?" At the time, I thought it was an interesting idiosyncrasy. 

Do you have a dedicated or preferred place to work? How does it influence the way you work?  
No.

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration?
Looking back at my work, I can see some thematic strands, but they aren't as obsessive as someone like Kafka or Hitchcock. The impact of chance on human lives is one of those thematic strands. Human futures if we don't change our hearts is another. The primacy of nature is another. 

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start?
I am very passionate about the in media res technique, starting in the middle of the thing. Unfortunately, I've learned many in the publishing business are quite rigid about the beginning-middle-end model. I like to give the reader a chance to imaginatively extend the story both at the beginning and the ending. People take issue with my endings too. Several have said that I should write more at the ending, but in my mind, the story is finished. I'm starting to recognize that my endings can be too abrupt when I write short fiction. I wrote a couple short stories that start with the ending and then trace back to how the characters got there, but they haven't been well-received yet. There have been a couple books I've read that I've felt compelled to respond to with another creative response. After I finished Dionne Brand's book Inventory, I immediately wrote a poem I felt was one of my best, but it remains unpublished to this day. This happens with other media, too. The film Inside Llewyn Davis inspired me to write a poem. 

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up?
If I had unlimited time, I would probably take up wood carving. I just received an engraver as a gift, but I have yet to try my hand at it. 

Many artists and authors are creative in multiple disciplines. What other types of art do you create?
Well, before I got into writing speculative poetry (fantasy, sci-fi and horror), I was a fairly successful fantasy novelist, publishing the Empire of the Saviours trilogy [https://shorturl.at/JdyF8] with the UK market leader Gollancz. Oddly, poetry can pay far more than novel writing! For example, it's possible to make $50 from certain magazines for just a 100-word poem. That's 10 beers for just 100 words, which is 1 beer for just 10 words! Can't argue with that, eh?

How has your view of the creative process changed since you first started? 
It's sort of changed. Everything in life gets easier with practice. Writing creatively is the same. I wrote loads of books that were rubbish and didn't get anywhere, but I was getting a bit better with each one, step by step, until I finally started producing stuff that was of commercial standard. I look back on my first successful novel, Necromancer's Gambit [https://shorturl.at/2y4Hl] with a certain embarrassment, cos I can write much better now, but friends point out I wouldn't have got anywhere without the stepping stone that was Necromancer's Gambit. It's a journey.

What author or artist’s popularity do you find confusing/inexplicable?
None, really. Look, Fifty Shades of Grey really isn't very well written, but it was what the market wanted (perhaps needed) at the time, so its success (the biggest selling book in human history - fact!) isn't at all confusing. Put it this way: if we can't learn from the unexpected success of certain works, then we're being obtuse or dumb. It's also heartening in a way that total rubbish can be successful. So stop trying to write work of Shakespearean worth - instead, just write what the market wants and be happy. Even a hack writer wants to be a good hack writer!

Did you have formal training in literature/art? What ways do you continue your creative education?
Hmm. Well, I have a BA, MA and PhD in English Literature... but none of that helped me with my creative writing, actually. I wish I'd done a good degree in creative writing in many ways, since it might have saved me many years of trial and error (if I'd had the right tutor, who teaches technique with a technical basis, giving examples of good and bad writing). Too much creative writing teaching is utter junk - sitting around cross-legged giving vaguely positive feedback on someone else's writing. That's a waste of time (known as the 'reflective approach'). What you want is someone who teaches you plot-shape, character-building, world-building, literary device and genre as a set of disciplines, helping you analyse mechanics with key examples, and then prompting you to attempt the same in your own work. Indeed, you can find mini-lessons on such disciplines for free on my website (www.ajdalton.eu).

What is your biggest creative doubt?  
I've never had trouble coming up with ideas, quite the opposite. I do have a paranoia that the ideas will suddenly stop one day. I suspect they won't, since ideas-generation is a type/style of thinking or a process, rather than a something permitted only if the gods of writing are in a good mood. On discussion panels at conventions, I often get asked where I get my ideas from. I tell them that there's a really good ideas shop at the end of Old Compton Street. LOL. Nah. I'll often read the work of other people and think, hmm, I wouldn't have written it like that, I'd have written it like this. Ooo. That's a good idea! Maybe I WILL write it like that. And then Stephen King points out: there's no such thing as copyright on an idea - there's only copyright on the manner of the idea's expression. So, look to mythology and the past, and repurpose it!

What piece of creative advice have you received that sounded good, but was ultimately not useful to you?
Neil Gaiman is often asked how to write a novel. He always says - 1 start writing a novel 2 finish the novel and 3 show the novel to someone not related to you. Then he smirks smugly at the audience.

Do you have a dedicated or preferred place to work? How does it influence the way you work?
Now, weirdly, I write/compose longhand, with pen and paper, and then type it up later. I need the graphology of my handwriting, and the crossings out as I'm composing, to write well, I find. Such an approach is often quite meditative/pensive, and I best get into that headspace looking out on the garden, sitting in natural daylight. Works for me, but it's not a prescription for others. There's no 'correct' way except the way that works for you.

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration?
Hmm. I think there's a certain feel to my writing that provides an overarching coherence of sorts. Now, what that feel is, precisely, I'm not sure. The closest I ever got to describing it succinctly was with the term 'metaphysical fantasy'. I coined the term/sub-genre, and I'm now globally recognised as the sub-genre's originator. It's a recognised term in Amazon, etc. It's a type of darkly philosophical (but sometimes whimsical) fantasy.

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start?
The title helps me a lot, even if I then change it at the end. For example, I wrote a cool little poem titled 'Superstring' recently. I came up with the title, then decided there might be a loose thread, which someone pulls, and begins to unravel reality, just as the poem itself unravels. So, I write quite associatively, and organically.

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up?
If I had unlimited time, that would suggest a certain godlike ability to survive forever, no? So, I could take up every single hobby in the world, to see which one stood the test of time!

Many artists and authors are creative in multiple disciplines. What other types of art do you create? 
I also practice photography, writing, paper art, sculpture, music, and disciplines that blend various techniques or mutually inspire one another. This includes writing short stories, sometimes illustrated or, conversely, inspired by illustrations, as well as creating textile patterns, among other things.

What piece of creative advice have you received that sounded good, but was ultimately not useful to you?
Clichés, those obvious pieces of advice that offer nothing special, can give the impression of being helpful but often end up being hollow. For example, phrases like "Just be yourself" or "Work hard, and it will pay off" may sound motivating but lack depth or practical application to truly move forward in the creative process.

Do you have a dedicated or preferred place to work? How does it influence the way you work? 
The workspace influences my creative process, just as the creative process influences the choice of workspace. It largely depends on the artistic field, but also on the atmosphere (music or radio shows) and the time of day (morning or evening). Even for a single piece, like a drawing, the location may vary depending on the stage: sketching in one place, inking in another. However, I usually prefer working in my office, surrounded by objects and artworks that I love.

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration?
The common thread in my work is the desire to tell a story, often imbued with symbolism. However, each piece is an opportunity to experiment, research, and discover new ideas.

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start?
It always begins with thoughts, a story that builds itself mentally before eventually taking shape visually, sometimes long afterward. In some cases, I might need to conduct iconographic research to support the creative process.

Many artists and authors are creative in multiple disciplines. What other types of art do you create?  
I do open-mic comedy from time to time. I write jokes once in a while just for fun. It’s a fun interactive night out. It’s exhausting sometimes, and I couldn’t imagine pursuing a career in that medium. I like to goof off and repeat jokes I’ve heard elsewhere with friends and family too. It’s a great way to make people feel like you’ve engaged with them without actually having to be honest or genuine. 

How has your view of the creative process changed since you first started?  
It hasn’t. Your creative process changes as you get older and sacrifice parts of your energy and cognitive capacity, but your perception of “the creative process” either doesn’t, or shouldn’t change. And if you find that it does, then you had the wrong view from the start and are better off doing something that gives you freetime or makes you money or strokes your ego– but unless you have a deep relationship with that ineffable wellspring of pure subconscious alchemy to an almost monastic level where it hinders your ability to function in life then you shouldn’t be a writer.

What author or artist’s popularity do you find confusing/inexplicable?
There is no such thing as inexplicable when it comes to art. Perhaps confusing. I think it’s incredibly amateurish and naive to get pissed off or butt hurt by a piece of art getting popular. Then you’re not thinking like an artist, you’re thinking like everyone else. I don’t get mad that certain writers are popular. It’s human to get jealous of someone else’s success, but it’s elitist to question why something is popular. 

Did you have formal training in literature/art? What ways do you continue your creative education?
No, I have no formal training in literature outside of reading on my own and maybe high school. I studied journalism in college and didn’t take it very seriously because I was writing stories and novels in my freetime. I deeply regret going to college. It was a waste of money and mental capacity. I should have just gotten a dead-end job and wrote afterwork and on my days off, because I had zero inclination to be a journalist so that’s what I ended up doing anyway. I graduated from college to work in a grocery store for years and just wrote every goddamned night. I wasn’t tough enough yet to know when I was wasting my time. I wanted to be a good boy and go to college. I guess I was scared. I knew I was lazy about everything else. The only thing I ever worked hard at was writing. I knew this about myself and I just couldn’t stop following, as Kate DiCamillo had put it, this ‘prescribed path.’ As far as continuing education, my grandfather gave me a Yale course on tape about syntax theory: Building Better Sentences. I got more out of that than anything else. 

What is your biggest creative doubt?  
It’s all doubt. I mean, you doubt everything you do. When you’re really flowing and getting in those pages, those sentences, you’re on top of the world. But as soon as you go back to tighten it, oh man, it’s brutal isn’t it? 

What piece of creative advice have you received that sounded good, but was ultimately not useful to you?
Somewhere along the line, I got it in my head that writers don’t study literature in college, which is a massive pile of horseshit to think that, and I’m pretty sure I got that stupid notion from a Kurt Vonnegut interview. I avoided being an English major despite my aptitude from it because of this voodoo I had bought into and cheated myself out of several years of joy I would imagine. But I was lazy too. I didn’t wanna write essay’s about books, I wanted to right some fuckin’ books, you know? 

Do you have a dedicated or preferred place to work? How does it influence the way you work?  
I really don’t. I find that I have to change things up. Sometimes my desk is too stifling and I need to go out and be in public. Sometimes, I need the silence and solitude of my room to work. It’s the same with how I write. I tend to alternate between writing longhand and writing directly onto the computer. That shift has a lubricating quality. 

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration?
Uh, well. Oh, geez. I don’t know. Depression and alienation? No, but seriously, I think most of my stuff is about scarcity and resilience. Whether it’s a post-apocalyptic Western, or a horror novel about the North Carolina woods, or a crime thriller about a sex-trafficking victim on a killing spree, or an Indigenous woman who loses her teeth in a car accident, my stuff is hopefully an attempt to map a protagonist’s rise out of a seemingly hopeless circumstance. It’s not very unique, but I think it’s one of the most worthwhile things to write about. 

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start?
The beginning. 

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up?
I would try to learn to speak fluent Armenian. 

Did you have formal training in literature/art? What ways do you continue your creative education?
I have no formal training in literature/art beyond that of my Australian high school education. As an adult I find the most useful education is simply to experience lots of storytelling forms thoughtfully, and of course to continue practicing and challenging oneself with one’s own work.

What piece of creative advice have you received that sounded good, but was ultimately not useful to you?
There are lots of ‘standard’ pieces of writing advice I could unpack here, but I’ll choose “Your first draft is always going to be crap,” because it’s something that rarely experiences any push back. This was a piece of advice that always confused me as a young writer, because it’s simply not the way I work. I write incredibly slowly compared to almost everyone else, but I also barely revise my pieces. What I put on the page the first time (extremely slowly) is essentially exactly what I want the story to be. The vast majority of my published works are “first drafts” in that they are 99% the same as how the story looked when I first typed THE END. That’s simply what works for me.

Do you have a dedicated or preferred place to work? How does it influence the way you work?
Most of my writing is done on the couch with a laptop on my lap, which is usually my preferred way to work. Sitting at a desk feels uncomfortable and too formal; not creative enough. I do occasionally take a notebook and pen outside and sit in a garden or park to mix things up.

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration?
I don’t think there’s an overarching theme to everything I write, but a lot of my earlier work explored the different facets of ourselves: different versions of yourself, or different sides of ourselves that we show to different people or in different situations. As I get older, I think my stories are more frequently about resilience and persistence: surviving and potentially thriving despite of everything.

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start?
I always start writing at the very beginning, and work from the start of the story to its end in the way that I expect the reader to absorb it. This is the case even if the story is non-linear and jumps around in time. This means that I am always very clear on what information I have imparted to the reader at any point, and what atmosphere, rhythm, and tension I am building throughout the piece as a whole.

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up?
Either taekwondo or oil pastels. I really enjoyed both as a kid, but there’s only so much time in the day, and at the moment I have other priorities.

How has your view of the creative process changed since you first started?  
When I first started writing, I thought there was only one correct writing process. Of course, that was many years ago, and since then I have become decidedly aware of the fact that the writing process is never the same for two people. For me, when I sit down to write, I try my hardest to not do any editing until I have a full rough draft of a story. Once this is written, I leave it for a day or two before going back to it and revising it. After I have a new draft, I leave it alone for another day or two before picking it back up again, and so on and so on. I’ve found that taking time between drafts allows my mind to refresh and see my work in a new light. However, this may not work for everyone because we are different people, and this is a good thing! If we were the same, nothing would ever surprise us.

Did you have formal training in literature/art? What ways do you continue your creative education?
I am actually in my last semester of the MA in Creative Writing program at the University of Southern Mississippi, where I am on the fiction track. I’m also planning on entering a PhD program in the Fall, assuming I get accepted (fingers crossed!). Outside of formal education, however, I believe it’s important to further creative education through relationships with your peers and colleagues as receiving feedback from them can be a turning point in your creative process. I’m currently in a group called “The Creative Hub” where I and some writer friends of mine will send work back and forth for feedback. It’s been incredibly helpful these last few weeks!

What piece of creative advice have you received that sounded good, but was ultimately not useful to you?
To take it slow and not go after something that seems impossible. I thought this was sound advice the first time I heard it, especially because I didn’t want to waste time and resources on anything that wouldn’t be fruitful. However, I found recently that taking the risks can be what opens doors for you in your career. Whether this is in publishing or on the job market, go after what you want. Wayne Gretsky’s quote, “You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take,” comes to mind. Don’t wait around for someone else to do it because you don’t think it’s your turn.

Do you have a dedicated or preferred place to work? How does it influence the way you work?  
I do a lot of my work at coffee shops (I’m even answering these questions from a coffee shop!) because I like to keep it separate from other parts of my life. I cannot write in my apartment to save my life, but the moment I open my laptop in a coffee shop, the flood gates open!

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration?
As of now, I’ve been working nonstop on my thesis. This has allowed me to look at my pieces in a different light, and I realized that all of my work has some form of family, whether that’s parents and children, siblings, grandparents, etc. This is likely because my family is such an important part of my life. I do think I explore different aspects of family and family life in my stories, making each piece a unique ride, but I would absolutely say that family is the overarching theme.

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start?
En medias res. I never begin at the beginning (though not for lack of trying), and I’ve found that having the climax done makes it easier for me to go back later and include what led up to that moment, and how my characters will react after the fact.

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up?
If I had unlimited time, I would probably try my hand at novel length works instead of just short stories and flash, but for now I’ll stick to learning French with my brother so he doesn’t fail his French class.

Many artists and authors are creative in multiple disciplines. What other types of art do you create?
I create what I call “artcards”, small postcard-sized cards, collaging snippets of paper from catalogs, magazines, etc., with pieces of text from poetry journals, magazines,  and/or advertisements.

Here is a link to my artcards (over 1,000 of them) in Google Drive.  

How has your view of the creative process changed since you first started?  
When I began to submit my poetry to literary journals, I had to conquer the “impostor syndrome”, and to consider myself a legitimate poet.  I have written poetry off and on since I was 9, with long periods of relative inactivity, and have been “working” as a poet (writing/submitting poetry) since 2018.

What author or artist’s popularity do you find confusing/inexplicable?
Don’t get me started!  I am a bit of a literary/musical snob:  I tend to read literature that is considered well-written and/or purposeful, and I do not like Auto Tune, the way it changed the quality of (and expectations for) musicianship.

Did you have formal training in literature/art? What ways do you continue your creative education?  
I have taken many workshops in writing poetry, and worked one-on-one with a published poet for 10 years, writing two poems a week that were closely read by her.  I continue to watch online readings/interviews/seminars in the literary arts.

What is your biggest creative doubt?  
I was trained in journalism and also worked as a teacher, so  I tend to over-explain in poetry, when I should be more “unclear”.  My mentor often told me to “trust the reader”.  

What piece of creative advice have you received that sounded good, but was ultimately not useful to you?  
The one that says, First choice, best choice.  I believe in editing and revising.  A handful of poems that I have written have easily flowed from my fingers, but these are rare:  I think they come from a different place, outside my mind.

Do you have a dedicated or preferred place to work? How does it influence the way you work?  
I work mostly at my desk, on a laptop, often late at night.  There is an expansive, lovely view out of the windows of an urban (but wooded) hillside across the ship canal, which lets me gaze out while writing, so I’m not just inside a closed room.  There are occasional rainbows!

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration?  
I seem to write in about six different categories/types, which do not overlap very much:  spiritual, political, aesthetic (ars poetica), elegies/praises, word play, and formatted (specific poetry formats).

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start?  
Sometimes from a prompt or quote, or a sentence/phrase that pops into my head.  I usually remember to write down these messages from the universe; otherwise, they disappear.

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up?  
I am retired, and I feel I do have enough time to do what I want to do.  Other than writing and my artcards, I read and listen to music, and I have two extensive container gardens (on my deck and patio) which keep me busy in the warmer months.

How has your view of the creative process changed since you first started?  
Poetry entered my life early through my mom’s passion for Neruda, Amichai and Psalms. She encouraged me to spend time with language. The root systems of Jorie Graham, Elizabeth Bishop, Emily Dickinson and Rilke grew me and served as refuges throughout my teenage years. Poetry was always a ghost in my throat, but it was sidelined by my devotion to science. As I paved a path into the future with my pipette instead of my pen, my poetic landscape shrunk. However, at 27, inching close to beginning my PhD in genetics, a doctor misdirected a needle into my brainstem. The consequent medullary stroke hijacked my scientific career; I was stilled in the silo of self with nothing besides silence and grief. A year into my stroke, I found the pen in my vocal cords and created a ritual of dictating poetry. The art became a mechanism of folding language around my loss and letting the words take on the shape of my sadness while holding fast to my past joy, of troubling time as I meander into my before and after. It is my medium of separation between myself and my story, my means of shifting the gears on what it means to have survived what doctors surmised was unsurvivable. Poetry rescues me each dawn, when I wake to my void of sensation and awareness of the right half of my body, intense pain, and a rush of what no longer lies in store for me. Poetry has flipped the script and continues to teach me how to be with the tether of my breath, the quiet of disability and how to be patient with what is. It is, as Frost said, a new music and, therefore, a ground of untapped potential for a new mind.

Did you have formal training in literature/art? What ways do you continue your creative education?
As a dedicated scientist, journaling was a sideshow in my life until my stroke in 2022. I am now enrolled in an MFA in poetry at Queens University, where I am refining my approach towards lineation and form.  

Do you have a dedicated or preferred place to work? How does it influence the way you work?  
I dictate poetry in my wheelchair, which supports and maintains the alignment of the right side of my body that was affected by my stroke. In this posture, I can pause the unremitting game of hide and seek between my left eye and my right arm and leg, which are no longer linked to my brain. This presents me with the ability to be with the white of the page, to wait without anxiety about my body and see what words I want to spend time with as they emerge out of the void.   

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration?
In light of the ongoing fierce symptoms of my stroke, including vertigo, blistering nerve pain and see-sawing oxygen levels, it is impossible not to be drawn into my body and, in turn, into the sea-change that capsized my life as I knew it. My poetry primarily acts as a malleable coping mechanism to be with the day, to define what is to be me and to create something out of nothing. Each piece is a novelty filled with subtle surprises; every dive into the space of language and the ineffable is an action, a way to have an experience in the world inside a body foreclosed to the physical.

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start?
I start with the silence, with the white. I let myself simmer in its gauze. I let my tears fall. I open my every pore to feeling and see what words come out of what is otherwise too difficult to say. I then let one word at a time guide me down hallways of memory, felt experience and venture, without any agenda at all, into sound as it unwinds in my throat.

Many artists are creative in multiple disciplines. What other types of art do you create?  
I dabble in architectural design and a scattering of concise journeys penned in vampiric fantasy.

What is your biggest creative doubt?  
The story risk of choosing pure authenticity over the fantastical embellishment.

Do you have a preferred place to work? How does it influence the way you work?  
The best anecdotes are written by a rain-soaked window in the dead of night.

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration?
Every piece starts as a familiar friend seen from time’s obstructed angle, until their clouds part.

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start?
Trying to release a certain memory’s chokehold on my consciousness.

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up?
I would love to take up the electric violin, so that I can learn to puppeteer soundwaves.

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up?
What I'd take up is saxophone. I love that sound especially Bari sax. I own one and have played it, but never given it the time to make it mine. AND I don't have the space to practice.

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start?
I start a new piece without any idea what it's going to be. (not totally true of masks, but I let them evolve into what they want to be.) I much prefer response to working from an idea, a narrative or a representation.

I feel that with response, I'm working toward what will be created, rather than finding that the creative process is moving the art away from the "pure" image etc. Some people are good at capturing the"pure" image--I'm not.

What piece of creative advice have you received that sounded good, but was ultimately not useful to you?
Sound Advice  Some galleries want a "cohesive body" of work. for a while I tried to force myself into that, but the response process is unforgiving and demands that I follow where it leads--hence little cohesion between the pieces, though they are almost all in some way car related.

What author or artist’s popularity do you find confusing/inexplicable?
Confusing artist reputation. I find it strange that some artist's work borders on the sociopathic. When they are interviewed, I feel like they relish in their constructed facade, use words that seek to impress and shroud themselves in pseudo intellectual phrases. Overall, I feel like too many of these people lack "heart.".

Particularly worrisome is the cult of adoration that surrounds them. What ever happened to the word, "humble"? Of course, they are often financially successful which kind of speaks for itself.

Many artists and authors are creative in multiple disciplines. What other types of art do you create? 
I draw and play some musical instruments. I don’t think writers necessarily have to engage with other arts, but it’s wonderful if you do. Fiction and poetry both have aural qualities, and music sensitizes you to rhythm and melodic structures. And good writing often uses vivid imagery, which (I suspect) will manifest for the writer more powerfully if they work on literally visualizing things. Drawing teaches you to see. Music teaches you to listen. Dance teaches you how to feel your body and move through space. All the arts teach basic lessons about being in the world. How can that fail to benefit your writing?

How has your view of the creative process changed since you first started? 
This might be evading the question, but here goes: my process is superficially the same, but my motivation for writing has radically changed. I started writing around the age of seven. I went to an all-boys’ school, and recess involved everyone playing soccer in a concrete yard. I hated it, so I spent my time writing ideas down. Those notes became what I later learned were called “poems,” although I’m still not 100% sure what that word means. It’s from the Greek word poiein which basically means “I made this thing.” So I liked making things with words. It felt good. Later, my teachers told me I was adept at making other things with words (called “essays”), so I applied myself to that for applause, and good grades. Later still, I wrote for money (and still do). But in the last few years, I’ve realized that I’m going to die, so now I write because I’d like to leave some traces of my soul behind. And I write because I’m trying to think out loud about what it means to have a soul, because that seems like a tenuous possibility in this Brave New World, and I’d like to fight for the idea that our love of writing matters, and for reasons that run far deeper than applause, or grades, or awards, or money. Writing is a noble way of being in the world.

What is your biggest creative doubt? 
Have you ever gone to a party where everyone seems to know each other, or at least they’re getting along fine, but you don’t know anyone? This is a gross overgeneralization, but that’s more or less how I feel about the literary community. I don’t feel like they’re my people. I don’t know who “my people” are. It’s a real problem. After all, you can have all the confidence in the world to write precisely what you care about, but if you can’t find an audience that gets where you’re coming from, you’re basically talking to yourself. Increasingly I’m coming around to the realization that I need to meet more oddballs. They set me at ease. Is being upset by “cool people” a creative doubt about yourself? Or is it just a standard socio-political insecurity?  

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration?
I like to think that I’m a versatile writer: I produce essays, poems, and fiction, and all in a variety of genres. But looking back on decades of work (I’m 47), I notice that there is a pattern. Nearly everything I write involves the mystery of consciousness, and what it means to be a person trying to figure out what they are, and what is their relationship with the strange world they find themselves in. Tolstoy put it well: “For man’s consciousness of his finiteness amid an infinite universe... has always existed and will exist as long as man remains man... And understanding this... no reasonable man can help pausing to ask himself: ‘What is the meaning of my momentary, uncertain and unstable existence amid this eternal, firmly defined and unending universe?’ Entering on truly human life, a man cannot evade that question.”

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start?
I’m not especially good at skipping stones across the water, but I know enough that you first scout out a good shaped stone, and then you pick it up to get a feel of it. You’re sussing out the stone before you even bother trying to fire it across the lake. It’s the same with writing. Whether you’re composing a lyric poem or an epic novel, you need to spot the idea first. Then you pick it up and get a feel of it, to see if it has the right shape and heft to move the way you hope it will. I often carry an idea around with me for a few weeks (or at least a few days) before I commit to investing the time to convert it into a written composition. I need to get the heft of it. Other people like to strike while the iron is hot, but I did that when I was younger and the result was tons of aborted rough drafts. Maybe that wasn’t all wasted effort though. Volume of writing is important when you’re starting out. But I’m short on time now, so I prefer to carry the stone for a while and get familiar with it before I try to cast it out across the world.  

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up?
It’s not exactly most people’s idea of a hobby I suppose, but I would like to study math. When I was a schoolkid I developed a fear of mathematics. It just seemed like an endless, thankless set of tests with right/wrong answers and no payoff unless you needed it for a future career in a STEM field, or finance. I saw math as the opposite of what I loved, which I called “art” or, even more vaguely, the humanities. My ignorant sense of what math was saw it as number-crunching and some algebra. Geometry was okay, in that it used shapes, but other than that it was math-phobia all the way. But then I came across the work of Paul Lockhart, who wrote an essay called “The Mathematician’s Lament” (chrome-extension://efaidnbmnnnibpcajpcglclefindmkaj/https://worrydream.com/refs/Lockhart_2002_-_A_Mathematician's_Lament.pdf) where he argues that math is perhaps the most pure and beautiful form of conceptual art. That essay moved me to reappraise this sublime artform. I don’t have the free time to explore it with the reverence it deserves, but I would like to.

Many artists and authors are creative in multiple disciplines. What other types of art do you create?  
I write both poetry and flash/micro fiction. I also love drawing and painting. Having been a double major in Studio Art and English, I have formal training in fine art and literature. The creative writing side of me has won out in terms of my focus, but I do still love to create artwork when I can. Many of my poems are ekphrastic (in conversation with artwork) so in that way, I am staying true to both sides of my nature. My recent chapbooks “You’re Never the Same” (https://sevenkitchens.blogspot.com/2023/09/jessica-purdy-youre-never-same.html) (Seven Kitchens Press)  and “The Adorable Knife” (http://www.greybookpress.com/titles/) (Grey Book Press) are all ekphrastic poetry. 

How has your view of the creative process changed since you first started?  
I used to worry about being able to say new things in new ways. The phrase “It’s all been done before” would haunt me. Now, I realize that I don’t have time for that kind of thinking anymore. Listening and tuning into the subconscious has been fruitful for me and now I depend on it to lead me to finished pieces.

Did you have formal training in literature/art? What ways do you continue your creative education?
Yes, as I said earlier, I was a double major in Studio Art and English in my undergraduate studies. Charles Simic was my professor at UNH! I went on to graduate school and received my MFA in Creative Writing with a Concentration in Poetry from Emerson College. Now, I attend workshops in an online program called the Poetry Salon which really keeps me energized and creating work, so much that I don’t know what to do with it all. I also meet monthly with City Hall Poets, a local group that provide and receive feedback for revision.

What piece of creative advice have you received that sounded good, but was ultimately not useful to you?
“Learn how to not be precious with your work by writing something and then burning it!” I save everything I write. There have been times when I’ve lost work due to computer crashes and found it devastating. I know not everything I write is publishable. I don’t need to burn it to know that. 

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration?
Both are true! My work comes from a feminist perspective. Often my work explores dreams, the natural world, crime, fine art, and motherhood. At the same time, I feel like each new piece is a new exploration. My books STARLAND (https://nixesmate.pub/product/starland-jessica-purdy/) and Sleep in a Strange House (https://nixesmate.pub/product/sleep-in-a-strange-house-jessica-purdy/) (Nixes Mate Books) are examples of these explorations.

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up?
Ooh, I would love to join a singing group or learn to play guitar. I would also love to write a thriller someday. (I have two chapters done so far!)

Many artists and authors are creative in multiple disciplines. What other types of art do you create?  
Aside from collaging, I’ve always loved to write, paint and work with textiles, like making bags out of vinyl records and altering clothing to fit a vision I have. 

How has your view of the creative process changed since you first started?  
I used to think creativity would always be there, and of course it is—it’s always accessible, but if I found that if I don’t meet the muse halfway by staying consistent even when I don’t like what I make, the flame dims. Distractions are everywhere, and devoting time to questioning, doubting and examining your mind and environment is crucial to creation. Creativity is inherent in all of us and it shows up in so many different ways.

What author or artist’s popularity do you find confusing/inexplicable?
I guess it’s a monster that changes its face with the ascent of media/internet popularity, but the people who are given their shot and exposure by established publishing houses, agents and art galleries are solely chosen for their follower count on social media. Business-wise, it makes sense, sure. But art is creation for the love of the game—not copying Basquiat or regurgitating two-line poems and being rewarded for how many digital eyes are on you.

Did you have formal training in literature/art? What ways do you continue your creative education?
No formal training (aside from the many essays and presentations written for my philosophy and professional writing degrees), just a love of both literature and art—practicing your chosen craft inevitably improves your skills, and as long as you don’t feel confined by rules or parameters, conceptualizing and executing new ways of creating art is always available. I always try to remain open to new techniques and ideas even if they come out like garbage. Bad art is part of the deal, but it’s all practice. In my early 20s I also pivoted and went to fashion school, which was more of a filter into the entertainment industry in Hollywood. What a time to be a fly on the wall—I still am inspired to this day from my fear-and-loathingesque time spent with those characters.

What is your biggest creative doubt?  
That all I make has been done before, so why would it speak to anyone? What’s the point? But just like faith, it’s something that’s deeply felt and neither confirmed nor denied by logic. Every creative I think questions their path and their motivations, but if beautifying expression is our driving force, the choice to embody that way of being and creating rather than destroying (or remaining stagnant) seems wise. I remind myself that the most mediocre crypto bros are out there not giving a second thought to their impact on the world, and I carry on.

What piece of creative advice have you received that sounded good, but was ultimately not useful to you?
The whole ‘stay in your lane’ argument—to choose one thing to focus on and stick with it. Yes, we need to dive deep and critically think, but our lives are gifts, and we’re meant to explore a range of things. Life is short, find what vitalizes you. Life is long, there’s enough time to course-correct. I think that’s where a lot of Millennials are finding themselves these days. There was never a roadmap, and even though it can be scary, we’re the captains of our fate. Also, that hobbies need to be monetized and become a source of income. NO. Work is separate, and the joy and authenticity can more easily remain in your practice if paying your rent doesn’t depend on you stressing to make sales.

Do you have a dedicated or preferred place to work? How does it influence the way you work?  
My kitchen table has always been my altar—the center of our home. Even though as a family we move countries every couple of years, and even though I thrive in solitude, I’ve always liked a communal and open workspace where energy flows through constantly. I also see it as claiming space for me, so that my best creative self doesn’t die. My identity is not pigeonholed to mother; this table is not only where I serve meals and sustain the lives I’ve created—this is also a space to create new life through art.

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration?
Each piece is a new exploration, but I always believed my collages are the subconscious making itself free and heard and seen. I always felt like I needed to be quiet as a kid, so collaging and writing was where I learned to play, be whimsical, find joy, and explore life’s paradoxes, romance, mortality and death.

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start?
I listen to music a lot, so it’s usually a lyric or a melody when I’m driving that will trigger a flood of images or colors in my head and I’ll try executing—like recreating a dream. Sometimes I like to flip through magazines and see what comes and asks to be put and placed together.

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up?
There’s nowhere on earth I’ve loved living more than Singapore, so I would magically get granted their artist visa, move back but travel everywhere, and then spend time walking EVERYWHERE. There’s nothing better to me than exploring a place on foot.

Many artists and authors are creative in multiple disciplines. What other types of art do you create?
I'm an actor, theatre producer and fight director! I started Blanket Fort Theatre in Lafayette, Indiana in September 2024, which has already met success with our inaugural production! We're already headed into two more before the end of the year. I fight direct, meaning I work with actors and directors to safely tell stories through staged violence. Stage combat is one of my favorite things ever—I also teach it!

Did you have formal training in literature/art? What ways do you continue your creative education?
I graduated from Purdue in 2023 with a double major in acting & creative writing. I continue to take workshops and find coaches to further my training alongside the hands-on training I get from doing my own creative work. I'm a part of a playwriting group that meets twice a month to give each other feedback; one of the best decisions I ever made. The community is the biggest help; not just on the technical elements of playwriting, but in general connection & support.

What is your biggest creative doubt?
That my work doesn't read as "legit" or "professional" and instead reads like a beginner.

What change would you like to see in the publishing world?
I'd love to see more access to information. I got lucky in having a few professors who helped me get started, but most of my publishing has come from a loooooot of digging on my part.

And there can never be too many queer stories published. I'd love to see more stories celebrating characters on the asexual & aromantic spectrums!

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration?
I tend to do a lot of queer adventure pieces—fantasy was a huge part of my childhood (Narnia, Lord of the Rings, Percy Jackson, The Giver, D&D) and I love finding ways to write myself into my favorite genre.

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start?
I tend to start in a freewrite. For my poetry, that morphs right into the first draft (which sometimes, but not always, is the only draft I do). For my fiction and plays, I reorganize that freewrite into an outline of sorts. I don't plot things out beat for beat in a formal bullet list anymore, but I tend to stick to the process if I have some milestones I want to hit throughout the story.

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up?
Archery!

Many artists and authors are creative in multiple disciplines. What other types of art do you create?  
I've been playing piano since I was a child, and recently got back into it. I also enjoy creating paper stars and painting (particularly with paint pens). I have an entire wall in my office covered in paintings created by myself and my friends. 

How has your view of the creative process changed since you first started?  
When I first started writing, I only wrote when I felt like it. Now I am more systematic. I surround myself with writing communities, as well as writing tools. I track my writing goals on MS Excel and it turns pretty colors when I'm on track. It's very motivating for me, honestly. My personal thought is that if I never stop writing and submitting, eventually the thing will be published. 

Did you have formal training in literature/art? What ways do you continue your creative education?
I have a Creative Writing bachelor's degree. Even though I haven't done any more formal training in literature/art, I go to workshops such as Norwescon (https://www.norwescon.org/) and Cascade (https://cascadewriters.org/). I also like participating in residencies such as Ad Astra (https://adastra-sf.com/) where I meet new writers and immerse myself in the craft. 

What is your biggest creative doubt?  
This might sound weird, but I'm afraid I'm going to become too famous to handle the pressure and demands. I love writing and want my work to be seen, but I also want to keep my day job. If I ever make enough money to quit my day job, I'm afraid I might not be able to produce anymore because I'll feel the pressure to be financially responsible. It'll make it hard for me to push my limits with my writing, which is where I find my joy. 

What piece of creative advice have you received that sounded good, but was ultimately not useful to you?
One time someone told me to research markets before I submit. I appreciated the advice, but have found that I have a bad radar for determining if one of my stories is a fit for a certain market. Stories can be read in various ways, and my way of reading my stories is skewed simply because I wrote them. My stories get acceptances from the markets I might have self-rejected. I've submitted genre fiction to lit markets and have had them accept it. I'm not outright submitting things that markets clearly say they won't take, but I don't allow myself to read too deep into requirements. Let the market decide. It's your job to submit. 

Do you have a dedicated or preferred place to work? How does it influence the way you work?  
I technically have an office but I write at the dining room table. I think it is because of all the natural light. I love writing in the morning, when my brain is still partly in the dream world and not yet bogged down with the demands of life. Because of this, my writing tends to have dream logic where things are strange to be strange. I write in coffee shops every now and then, but overheard conversations tend to find their way into my stories if I do.

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration?
I find that at different times in my life, I circle back to themes. Right now, I'm fascinated by womanhood, particularly as it relates to the world we live in. I also love exploring toxic relationships. I find that movies tend to worship toxic romantic relationships, and I want to explore the nuances that come with that. 

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start?
Pieces start in various ways for me. Sometimes I force them by reading tarot cards or using a story builder such as Story Engine (https://storyenginedeck.com/). Sometimes, I'm at a coffee shop and a particular interaction fascinates me. Sometimes, someone at work says something in the right way that starts a chain reaction in my brain. Sometimes, a feeling bubbles up inside me and I have to write it out. I tend to prematurely write my stories before they are fully fleshed out, then use my first draft skeleton to actually write the story. I also have an amazing spouse (https://shedric.com/) who lets me babble about a story until it feels exciting enough to start writing down. 

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up?
Assuming that money is also unlimited in this scenario, I'd love to take up fencing and live out my Parent Trap dreams.

Many artists and authors are creative in multiple disciplines. What other types of art do you create?  
I’ve always been a fruitful and fluid writer, words pouring out with the ease of a tap turned on.  I’ve  been through many phases, of course; I’ve been disciplined by professors and followed traditional models. From childhood  attempts at horse stories to academic writing in grad school and later, from to failed attempts at writing picture books, middle-grade novels, and adult fiction, to some minor success at memoir and personal essays, I finally arrived at poetry as my best genre. Along the way, I’ve also found satisfaction in drawing and painting, usually inspired by a current passion.  In fourth and fifth grade, for example, I taught myself horse-drawing skills with C. W. Anderson’s illustrated books; much much later, the birth of my first grandchild impelled me  to teach myself portrait painting in colored pencil. Interestingly, though, I found I couldn’t focus on writing and painting at the same time—and when the art work began to consume me too much, I backed off and returned to my computer. 

How has your view of the creative process changed since you first started?  
In general, I work from the head until, if I am lucky, the heart takes over and leads me the rest of the way. Knowing my tendency to overwrite, to be too intellectual, too complex, I am constantly striving to simplify, look for the image, make my language more spare.  As my most reliable critic once commented on a piece, “This is a really good essay, Sharon”—meaning that it wasn’t a poem. (Later, after major revisions, it became one, published in The Wise Owl as “Tongues in Trees.”)

What author or artist’s popularity do you find confusing/inexplicable?
I’m enough of a traditionalist to be averse to poems that defy conventional forms of punctuation in favor of :: or  /.  Bizarre formats and spacing leave me cold; these often annoys me so much I won’t bother to read on. Nor do I see any need for so-called prose poems. One or the other, if you please. 

What piece of creative advice have you received that sounded good, but was ultimately not useful to you?
From adolescence on, I have been an inveterate journal keeper; indeed, throughout my 30s, 40s, and 50s, I often devoted several hours a day to recording and interpreting my experiences on paper. The bad advice, from a leader at a writers’ conference: “If you put all your energy into keeping those journals, you won’t have any left over for writing creatively.”  In fact, the habit not only honed my writing and thinking skills, it later provided endless grist for the mill of personal essays, memoir, attempted fiction, and poems.

Do you have a dedicated or preferred place to work? How does it influence the way you work?  
I always work at the computer. I might jot down a phrase or idea elsewhere or during the night, but I enter into the zone as the words flow out of my typing fingers, as I arrange and rearrange and alter them, as the poem pulls me forward to the extent that I lose track of time. The speed of the process made possible by technology seems to function as an ever-renewing trigger for me. 

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up?
Hobbies don’t interest me, but I have always thrived on being a student. So, if I had unlimited time, I would go back to school: at least for an MA, perhaps a PhD, in art history. Though I’ve lived in Florida full time since 2011, I have a recurring dream of being enrolled in, commuting to, or looking for my classroom at Michigan State. 

How has your view of the creative process changed since you first started?
Find teachers and mentors who get your work and get you. I grow the most when I have that. Originally when I went to grad school, I wanted to switch from the Literature MA program to the MFA program. But after taking one MFA class with a professor who was not a good fit, I scrapped that. It’s not that you don’t ever learn in those instances, but I came to understand I didn’t want my work to be shaped by people who so grossly misunderstood my perspective among other things. I learned to stand up for my voice and that I deserved to grow in an environment that was nurturing rather than hostile, uncomfortable, and frankly a bit weird. 

Did you have any formal training in literature/art? What ways do you continue your creative education?
I have a BA in English and an MA in Literature. I also had teaching internship at the St. Louis Art Museum. Right now, I am in Jennifer Franklin’s manuscript class, which has been amazing. I met Jennifer as a contributor to Braving the Body, co-edited by Nicole Calihan, Pichchenda Bao, and Jennifer Franklin.

What is your biggest creative doubt?
My biggest fear is that my voice will be lost along with other voices of trans people. I want to leave a mark. I don’t want our beautiful selves, voices, thoughts, anger, and grief to be lost or forgotten. I feel like I have a responsibility to the future, to us, to do something to preserve that. 

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration?
All the poems I have written in the last few years (and some earlier) are currently being gathered in what will be my first full-length manuscript, which is also an extension of my first chapbook manuscript. The overarching themes are transformation; queer, trans, and disabled embodiment and politics; and queer love. 

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start?
I write a poem when something sparks. A memory or a thought will get triggered perhaps by something I read, an experience I just had, something happening in the world, and I must write it. It feels like a thing that happens to me and not a thing I am doing. There is revision of course, but often poems come out of me fully formed. This is why I don’t force myself to write. This other way is magic. I feel lucky that my brain and body do this for me, at least. 

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up?
This is more an issue of feeling intimidated, but it would be so helpful if I could sew my own clothes. Finding clothes that fit and are gender affirming is difficult for me as a fat nonbinary person who would prefer to dress like some sort of Victorian dandy. 

Many artists and authors are creative in multiple disciplines. What other types of art do you create? 
I'm also an actor. I also had the opportunity to co-direct a play a be a dramaturg for a play in progress. Theater making. 

How has your view of the creative process changed since you first started?
It is not as lonely of a process as I thought it would be when I first started. 

Did you have formal training in literature/art? What ways do you continue your creative education?
I'm grateful for my MFA from Randolph's low-residency program. And, I have to acknowledge my creative education that came before the MFA program and after the MFA program in my community in Portland, Maine. I also make sure to continue reading as often as possible.

What piece of creative advice have you received that sounded good, but was ultimately not useful to you?
"Stay in your lane." What I find a lot more useful is "Stay in your lane of observation." 

Do you have a dedicated or preferred place to work? How does it influence the way you work? 
My living room where I'm surrounded by all of my books.

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start?
Each starting place is so different. Sometimes it starts with a prompt. Sometimes it starts with an obsession. Sometimes it starts from a line from a piece of media or from another artist. Sometimes it starts with just having the space and time to write in the first place.