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Hey friends,
If you are looking for a Spring Break read, go pick up I'm the One Who Got Away by Andrea Jarrell. It's a riveting coming of age memoir in which a mother-daughter pair escape a charismatic but dangerous man. At its core, the book is an exploration of female desire, and Jarrell's chiseled prose comes alive documenting the moments in which a young woman first learns the pleasures and liabilities of inhabiting an erotic self.
And guess what! Andrea generously agreed to do an interview with me!
Writers, the interview is chock full of great thinking about writerly routines and practices.
If anyone is in the New York area over the next couple of weeks, Andrea will be appearing at two events:
April 11 at 5:30PM, 742 10th Avenue, New York, NY
She'll be doing a New York Public library event with memoirist/poet Gayle Brandeis.
May 17th at 7:00PM, 126 Franklin Street, Brooklyn, NY
She'll be reading at WORD Bookstore with novelist Melissa Scholes Young.
I wish I could attend these--if anyone is able to go I'd love to hear about them.
Happy Spring everyone!
Cristina
Cristina: Am I correct in
remembering that you started your MFA as a fiction writer? What led you to the
material in I'm the One Who Got Away?
Was the topic of female desire always front and center or were you at some
point surprised that this topic was going to be a big part of your book?
Andrea: Yes, I began as a fiction writer. Mostly, I think because I
thought fiction was the only realm of writing that used creative world
building, character development, and storytelling. It sounds uninformed to say
that now when memoir and narrative nonfiction are a huge literary force but
this was the 1990’s. I had been reading fiction all my life and that was what I
gravitated toward. But even then, I was writing fiction that grew out of
autobiography. Some of the same material that became my memoir.
If I’d had, all along, more examples of creative nonfiction such
as Jo Ann Beard’s Boys of My Youth or
Megan Stielstra’s Once I Was Cool, I
might have started with it. But I’m so glad I didn’t. I’m grateful I didn’t
begin trying to tell my story but
rather was focused on sensory experience, character development and plot.
Trying to answer: what makes a satisfying story?
I didn’t realize until I was deep into the book how much
female desire was a central theme: desire as a hazard and desire as liberating.
From the beginning, I definitely understood that wanting to be desired was part
of my story but seeing the flipside — owning desire — was key to understanding
the book’s narrative engine.
Cristina: What impact does
your identity have on your writing? Are there roles you fill (for example as a
parent or as a sibling) that significantly influence your art?
“Daughter” is the first identity that has influenced so much
of my writing. No matter what a piece is about my mother always seems to find
her way into it. That’s because for much of my life I lived in a world of two —
my mother and me. Her role modeling influenced how I see the world and how I grew
to be a woman. Coming into my own, making choices that were not her choices,
living my life in ways that are both like hers and not like hers has inspired a
lot of what I write.
The second identity is “lover/partner/wife” — obviously,
there are differences between all of those roles but the lines between them can
blur. I am intrigued by all kinds of intimacy. Those moments when we reveal
ourselves to others, those moments when we see others either because they let
us or because their actions and words unmask them. Capturing intimacy between
lovers — not sex itself necessarily but an intimacy that derives from having
been sexual — has been an important route for me to narrative meaning and
revelation.
A third very influential identity is my role as “mother.”
The experience of being a mother has been enormously important to my life as a
creative person. Artists who become mothers sometimes describe the taxing
effects of motherhood on their creative lives. I found the opposite to be true
likely because I didn’t have an artist identity before parenthood. Having my
children coincided with quitting my full-time job and also with moving to Maine
where I lived in nature in a way I never had. All these factors: childbirth
which opened me up to my personal physicality in new ways; freedom to write
versus work an office job; and being surrounded by nature were a boon to my
creativity. In addition, being a mother gave me new insights into having been mothered.
It also gave me the experience of childhood all over again. As an only child
I’d only known my childhood. By watching my children grow, I saw the ways in
which I had been like any other kid and the ways I was different. These new
understandings fed my work.
Andrea: What does it mean
to you to be a working artist? Did you always take your own art seriously? Was
there a moment you decided to "go pro"?
In some ways I’ve been a “pro” since graduating from college
when I started working in magazine publishing in New York City and began to get
a byline. I’ve been a working writer ever since but more behind the scenes
writing marketing copy and trade magazine feature stories. The moment when I
decided to “go for it” in terms of creative writing was in applying to MFA
programs. An even more crucial turning point was when I shifted my personal
work versus my client work to the front of the line when it came to my time and
energy. I still spend a lot of time on client work but I think of my creative
work remains my most important client.
I can’t remember a time when I did not think of myself as a
writer. I’ve never been shy about calling myself a writer. But that is not the
same thing as always believing that I would be successful as a writer. By that
I mean, almost all my life I have had benchmarks against which I measure myself
as a “good” writer or someone with any talent. The benchmarks hold steady when
I have a setback or rise when I have a success. For example, when I started out
getting complimented in a workshop was a big deal. Then success became getting
into an MFA program, getting published, getting published in ever more
selective places, getting an agent, publishing a book, getting good reviews,
etc. Now my goal is to write a second book. These markers will never stop. I
think it is important not to delude oneself about one’s merits but also to set
goals and to relish victories when you reach them.
Cristina: Tell me about your
routine as a working artist. What are your artistic habits? What do you do if
you ever find yourself stuck? Talk to us about your intuition and your
intuitive habits. How is your intuitive
self alive in your writing?
I am a morning writer. I like to get my coffee and go right
to work often by climbing back into bed with my laptop. If I start the day by
looking at my phone or getting into an extended conversation with my husband
I’m toast. Or so I once thought. Rather than surrender to the feeling of a
wasted day, I have learned to force myself to “begin again” even if I haven’t
had the perfect uninterrupted start. Generally, I like at least three hours to
write. Sometimes, if I’m writing an essay or working on a chapter I will
continue until the evening with a first draft done. Depending on how well the
writing has gone I either feel enormously pleased with myself or I am distracted
and agitated until I can get back to the piece the next day. I am a big
believer in Hemingway’s idea of quitting in the midst of a scene rather than at
an endpoint. It is much easier to begin the next day when you’re in the middle
rather than when the page is blank.
Getting “stuck” can mean different things to me. Within a
piece, it might mean I don’t know where to go next. In that case, I go for a
walk or practice yoga, which loosens up my subconscious. I once worked out a
whole essay on a quiet hike with my husband. If I haven’t been writing because
of work or travel and need to get a jumpstart I read several beginnings of my
favorite books. That gets me in the narrative flow. I also might read some of
my own published work to remind myself that I can do it. I used to think that
it was counterproductive to read another person’s work at the start of my day.
That somehow that interrupted my own flow but now I believe the opposite. This
comes from Jane Kenyon’s advice about “have good sentences in your ears.”
If I really feel stalled and need a reboot I sign up for a
workshop. Last winter, I did a Tin House one-day workshop Leigh Newman and then
did an online workshop Creative Nonfiction workshop taught by Lisa Ohlen Harris.
I kind of abandoned the online workshop but began working with Lisa on my own.
The result has been three new essays and some of my best work to date.
Cristina: Cheryl Strayed
says success in the arts is measured very differently than in other endeavors?
As an artist, how do you define success for yourself? Making art often seems to
me like an act of faith. What inspires you to continue doing your work?
I often think of that Ira Glass video about one’s taste as a
beginning artist exceeding one’s abilities. For so many years, I could write
lovely sentences but could not fashion them into a satisfying story or essay.
Now I have faith that, although it might be challenging and I may be frustrated
along the way, I can write a satisfying narrative. I have faith that if I keep
at it I will get where I want to go. These days, I am most excited about what
revision will reveal. I am at a point where I can get to a publishable piece
fairly quickly on my own. I have always been an avid reviser. Yet now I’m
learning to revise and get to a good place but then through working with
someone like Lisa to get to an even deeper and better piece. I feel it
physically when I get to the deeper gold of a piece and I love that process.
So success to me is about being able to write a deeply satisfying
piece. How do I know it’s satisfying? I want these pieces to be published in
venues that I admire and read alongside other writers I love. I want to hear
from readers—especially readers who don’t know me— that these pieces moved
them. Other forms of success (money, awards, etc.) are wonderful but I consider
them frosting on the cake.
My continued inspiration is the mystery in everyday life and
relationships. I am always looking for the story in the ordinary — the story
that illuminates in a particularly piercing way the human experience.
Andrea: What, if anything,
has writing taught you that carries over into other aspects of your life? Are
there any habits or routines you keep as an artist that support you in your
life in general? In what ways does pursuing your art impact your well-being?
Moving to the last part of that question first, I feel
antsy, almost useless and unfulfilled if I am not writing. In many ways I am my
purest self when I am writing because I forget myself. I am in flow. I also
feel that way when I am practicing on my yoga mat but not to the same
gratifying extent. I can’t imagine not writing because it feels so central to
my wellbeing and to living a fulfilling life.
I recognize in myself that I am disciplined and grateful,
and that I can find satisfaction in small pleasures. I think all of these
traits are informed by my writing life. I have created a very successful
business out of nothing other than my ability to write, to think creatively, to
be a good listener, to pick up on the telling detail, and to understand people.
All of these things inform my marketing business as well as my creative
writing. I love that I have been able to support myself and my family through
writing.
Also the idea that writing is a practice — that I am never
done but always building on what I know to explore and get better — is a key to
feeling satisfied and optimistic in my life.
Cristina: Who's work is
inspiring you right now? Feel free to range wildly and not limit yourself to
literary art!
Andrea: As I begin to work on a new book, I am very intrigued by
blurring lines between genres. I am totally in love with the poet Beth Ann
Fennelly’s genre-busting Heating and
Cooling: 52 Micro Memoirs. By genre mixing, in some cases I mean fiction
and nonfiction; essay and story; poetry and memoir. But other mixing is within
a genre itself such as the “lyrical” and “thriller” mixing that Rene Denfeld
does in her latest novel The Child Finder.
Or Carmen Maria Machado’s mixing of horror and feminist and literary fiction in
Her Body and Other Parties.
I am also inspired right now by Martha Cooley’s memoir in
essays Guesswork: A Reckoning with Loss.
It is making me think about how seemingly quiet observations can build heat and
drama in narrative.
In my marketing life, I have the good fortune of knowing some
graphic designers who are recognized as being among the most influential and
brilliant today. Two whose work and writing always inspire me: Michael Bierut
and Jessica Helfand. Michael’s latest essay collection is Now You See It. Jessica’s new book is Design: The Invention of Desire. I am also really inspired by
storytelling in illustration. A few of my favorites: Wendy MacNaughton, Liana
Finck, and Bryan Rea. I’ve encountered their work in various ways over the
years and I love following them on Instagram for a daily jolt of their genius.