Writers Respond: A Conversation with Amelia Gray

1.
The Featherproof Tour

MOLLY GAUDRY: Hi Amelia, thanks for agreeing to be a part of the Writers Respond family. You might notice that instead of "interview" up there in the title, we have "conversation" instead. Essentially, the Writers Respond interviews and the Writers Respond conversations aim to serve the same purpose: to give writers a chance to talk a bit about their work. But not long ago I realized I preferred the interviews that got a little goofy, the ones that took risks in terms of what "should" or "should not" go into an interview. For instance, Shane Jones shared his favorite sexual position in his interview, and Kyle Beachy, in his interview, admitted he doesn't understand the difference between cupcakes and muffins. To differentiate the serious from the fun, I decided to start an offshoot--a conversation series. The first of the conversations was with Lily Hoang, who, like you, has ties to FC2, and we'll certainly get to that in just second. First, I want to ask you if you would define "interview" and "conversation" differently? And if so, would you rather this be an interview or a conversation?

AMELIA GRAY: Let's get silly as quickly as we can, Molly. Do you remember when you tried to pick a single flower at that gas station in Philadelphia, but you pulled out the whole plant? That was silly. I treasured that. Anyway, they say the best interviews are like conversations. I think we should aspire to do the best we can.

MG: I like how you ask if I remember--as if to imply I might have been so intoxicated (by your presence in Philly, of course) that I could have forgotten. Well, in fact, I had forgotten. Until slowly the details all began to trickle back, many with the help of the photographs in my cell, and those that popped up on the Dollar $tore Reading Tour Twitter page!

AG: The Twitter page that launched a thousand ships. Best to make a scene among friends, I think. That long walk to the cheesesteak place was good for all of us. Don't ever show me on a map how far we actually walked--I want to keep the memory that we were going for forty days and forty nights.

MG: It was more than three miles, I can tell you that much. So, tell us about the tour. What did the tour van smell like?

AG: I will tell a story from the Featherproof tour. We were in New York City, and mostly everyone had gone out to drink more after the reading. Jac and I stayed behind and slept, and I woke up at about six in the morning. Our host was house-sitting and had kindly opted for the couch, so I found myself in this bed in a very bright room with the windows open, and the entire city of New York doing construction below. I got up and stepped over everyone sleeping on the floor and went downstairs. I walked a long way and got lost. I found myself at a scary little nail salon, where I paid a man five dollars to wax my eyebrows while yelling at his wife. I walked back and everyone was still asleep. I had to wake Mary up to let me in. I felt bad about that, but the truth was I wanted to wake everyone up to tell them about the hooked plastic fingers with fake nails at the salon, the back room with a wet vac where I sat on a folding chair and put my face in the man's hands. I wanted to bring my friends coffee and pastries and do their laundry while I told them about how the man's wife showed me the open sores on her arms. Anyway, that van straight up smelled like a butt.

MG: Ha ha. A butt! Wow. (Wait a sec: your host was housesitting? So some poor people left their home in the care of someone who decided to let a bunch of butt-van travelers in?

AG: It's true. By then, though, we were so used to traveling that we didn't leave a trace. There's an efficiency involved when your home is the half-foot radius around your sleeping bag. Ask Shane Jones how fast we got up and left in Albany. It was five in the morning and we did it all in our sleep. The man barely had time to make a pot of coffee.)

MG: Tell me about the eyebrow waxing? Aren't you afraid to have that done? That some weird man will rip off your entire eyebrow?

AG: I usually do it myself, so I know how easy it is, but I ought to have been more afraid of that man. I often find myself in situations like that, where I should have apologized, said I thought that this was a public restroom, wished them a good day on my way out. I'm too stubborn. Plus I figured I'd get a good story.

MG: I love how your answers are perfect little stories within themselves. In fact, your brief recap of that experience is representative of much of your writing--you are a storyteller, and the stories you tell do not need a gazillion words to get the emotion across. I especially like the line (can I call it a line?): "I felt bad about that, but the truth was I wanted to wake everyone up to tell them about the hooked plastic fingers with fake nails at the salon, the back room with a wet vac where I sat on a folding chair and put my face in the man's hands." It's just gorgeous. It's "Amelia Gray" all over. Let me ask: Do you ever pull from real-life events and craft fictions?

AG: Sometimes little elements of real life get into the fiction, but in funny ways. There was a girl covered in seeds in AM/PM, which came from the morning my little eye pillow broke and put a couple of sesame seeds on the bed and I wondered, half-asleep, what would it be like to sleep in a vat of sesame seeds? Would that be nice? Probably it would be slippery.

MG: You know those stress relievers? One of my profs had one and one day it broke, and these tiny little silicon beads (the size of sesame seeds) exploded all over the room. They were soooo slippery. And because they were so slippery we couldn't sweep them up. Basically, for a long time we just had to be really careful how we walked in that room.

AG: How stressful!

MG: Have you ever wondered what it would be like to dive into a swimming pool filled with Jell-O? If so, what flavor?

AG: I've never wondered that. Christ, wouldn't you just sink down to the bottom, helpless? Would it be like quicksand? Maybe I'm thinking of pudding. I'd try it in cherry Jell-O but only if you tried it with me, Molly. And only if we had a crew of emergency medical technicians and lifeguards to haul us out and flush the gelatin from our lungs.

MG: One day, when we have the means to arrange such an idiotic experiment, yes, we will do this. But let's go back just a second: perhaps a few details will make their way into future fictions, but would you ever try and write your New York eyebrow-waxing adventure as a non-fiction? Or is it better to let it exist just as it was--a strange morning in a strange city populated with strange people?

AG: I made a piece of toast while I thought about this: I think I'd have a hard time writing a non-fiction that involved people I know or care about. It occurs to me that I picked one of the few tour stories where I'm walking around by myself. It seems that people like to be thought about and written about, but they don't like to seem strange or uncomfortable, and that's sort of my bread and butter. No pun intended, breakfast.

2.

AM/PM

MG: I just realized we have the same last initial. Looking at "AG" and "MG," I thought, "Aggie and Maggie," and then "Harold and Maude," and then "Benny and Joon." What is your favorite "______ and ______" pairing?

AG: Bonnie and Clyde. I've been getting the facts on Bonnie and Clyde this week.

MG: Good answer. Can you share why you're fact-gathering?

AG: There's no purpose at the moment. I get into fact-gathering. I made the mistake of watching Warren Beatty's Bonnie and Clyde on my computer. I couldn't get through it without researching every little question I had: Is that guy in the background drawn from real life? Did this scene really happen? Where are they buried? What book is Beyoncé reading in the empty swimming pool in the video for 'Bonnie and Clyde '03'? I can really take all the magic out of watching a movie.

MG: Tell us about the John Mayer concert T-shirt. Do you have one? (For those who do not understand this reference, would you provide a little recap?)

AG: I had an Alan Jackson concert T-shirt, which I bought at Goodwill because it looked like his head was floating on the front, and on the back it read DON'T ROCK THE JUKEBOX. It was cool. I don't know where it is now. I might have given it to my sister. It ended up becoming a John Mayer Concert Tee in AM/PM because I have more complicated feelings towards John Mayer and his merchandise: in my mind, the John Mayer Concert Tee looks like one of those Phantom of the Opera shirts kids wear at a performing arts middle school, but instead of the mask, it's John Mayer's face.

MG: What are five things (other than the T) in AM/PM that have some real-life significance for you? Or, hell, fantasy-life significance? Whichever you prefer.

AG: While writing AM/PM, 1) I was drinking a lot of flaxseed oil, 2) I went on a date with a guy whose parents had just survived a plane crash, 3) I had just moved into a place with serious squirrel nesting troubles, 4) My cats had worms, and 5) I observed a gas station setting on fire while I was waiting in line for the pump.

MG: Is there a particular character from AM/PM that you feel most connected to? If yes, who and why? If no, why not?

AG: Not really. One of my goals in writing the book was to create characters that, good or bad, were each an accurate depiction of some believable element of person-hood. In the first draft, nobody had a name. Later I decided to tie them all together under different characters.

MG: How long did it take to write AM/PM, from start to finish?

AG: The generation period was one story in the morning and one at night for two months. Then I spent about a year on and off editing it.

MG: How or why did you decide to publish it with Featherproof?

AG: I was going from of the experience of looking at their books at an AWP three or four years ago. When most of the other tables were offering peppermints and pens, the Featherproof table was giving away their mini-books, and I liked what that meant. Otherwise, I knew precious little about the publishing world when I found them. I got lucky.

MG: Can you tell us about your experience with Featherproof?

AG: Featherproof has this perfect combination of design and story interest. There's nothing finer than working with a couple of people who are sharp at what they do and care a ton about the final product. The stories I hear from people at bigger publishing houses involve editors jumping ship, a total lack of control over design, contract wars. I don't know why anyone would actively wish for something like that to happen for their first book.

MG: Here's a funny (or maybe not) story from last year's AWP: you and I crossed paths in a bar, we were both a bit tanked, we recognized one another, you said you would be at the Featherproof table the next day, and the next day I searched far and wide to find it. Finally, I gave up, returned to the Keyhole table, and asked some folks at nearby tables where in the heck that dang Featherproof table was. Someone pointed, I turned, and there you were, behind me, sitting on the floor. These many months later, was it [AWP] as good for you as it was for me?

AG: Oh, Molly! AWP was good. I got to meet all the people I've worked with for a while. One night I walked alone to the Quickies reading and sat by myself at the bar and just felt excited to be there. This is a good damn time for readers and writers in America. I'm looking forward to Denver.

MG: Tell us about Five Things.

AG: Five Things is a once every-other-monthly reading and music show I put on in Austin with my co-host Stacy Muszynski. We take five objects, images, or ideas, and task five writers with creating a five-minute piece. The idea comes from the Dollar Store Show and Quickies. We just celebrated our first anniversary with a 'Best of Austin' nod. We're thinking of doing a party around the Texas Book Festival, and a writing contest after that.

3.

Museum of the Weird

MG: Let's discuss your forthcoming collection,Museum of the Weird. How long had you been working on the manuscript? Why did you choose to submit it to FC2? What did you do when you learned you won? Details, woman, details!

AG: The oldest story in the collection is about four years old, but I had been fussing with the more-or-less finished manuscript for about a year before I submitted it to the contest. A friend of mine who works in the FC2 office encouraged me to submit. Obviously, the submissions were all anonymous, and my friend didn't know I had even entered until she connected the winning manuscript's assigned number to my name after she got them back from the judge. So, once she found out that I had entered and also had won, she called me and left a cryptic message. I was on a flight from Tucson to Austin and got the voicemail when the plane touched down. I wasn't sure if the good news was that she was pregnant or that the manuscript had won.

MG: Oh wow, we are so at the age where all of our girlfriends call to say they're either getting married or pregnant. Oof. What say you?

AG: God bless girlfriends with babies! There's a special place in heaven reserved for girlfriends that let us say hello to the babies when they're cute and then take them away when they mess themselves. I think of having a baby from a practical standpoint and wonder at the women who write and work and do the motherhood thing at the same time. I can barely keep the litter box clean some days, you know?

MG: Why is it that caring for other living things, people included, and taking care of their excrement is so often synonymous? Anyway, back to Museum of the Weird. If you had to provide the back cover synopsis, how (or what) would it read?

AG: Oh no, I'm horrible at this, I'm an awful pitchman. Here's part of what the FC2 marketing people wrote for me: "A monogrammed cube appears in your town. Your landlord cheats you out of first place in the annual Christmas contest. You need to learn how to love and care for your mate—-a paring knife. These situations and more reveal the wondrous play and surreal humor that make up the stories in Amelia Gray’s stunning" etc.

MG: Do you have a middle name? Why not use it?

AG: Morgan. It's a good one, but if I used it I'd have to write Garden of English Roses or similar.

MG: Amelia Morgan Gray.

AG: Author of The Forbidden Locket.

MG: Okay, I won't ask what would be on the cover of the book. But if it were made into a movie, what would the be on the cover of the DVD case?

AG: Maybe a large birdcage with a man crouched inside. Should it be Adrien Brody crouched inside? Should he be naked? None of this is in the book.

MG: I just totally thought of this cover. Yes? No?

AG:This is exactly what I was thinking of, except the cage must be more ill-fitting. I want the DVD audience to say, "How did naked Adrien Brody get into that cage? He looks uncomfortable." I've got Bender on the brain. She's doing a cool thing with Madras Press.

MG: Goddamn, it seems like every time I turn around someone somewhere is doing something awesome with some press. Thanks for pointing that out! So are you done with the edits for Museum of the Weird? Are you working on anything new?

AG: I'm done! It's weird to have to let it go for a year before it's out. I'm working on a couple new things and mostly returning to old habits, which means starting small, writing a lot of handwritten notes that go nowhere, paragraphs in voice, violent little short-short stories, empty threats, and sprawling openings to novels that are immediately shelved. Nothing has emerged quite yet. I've been lucky to have some little projects, thanks to Drew Burk at Spork and others.

MG: I think this is interesting--your process of getting started. Best-case scenario, what will happen (and how) as a result of these notes and paragraphs?

AG: I'd like very much to write a novel. It is going to take a while and I'll probably end up with eight little chapbooks or a book of sonnets. We can't always get what we want! But if we try sometimes, you know, we get what we need.

4.

Day Jobs, The Golden Girls, and Texas

MG: Do you have a day job?

AG: A couple: one writing job, mostly articles about career training; another writing job, a reading comprehension study guide for fifth graders; and a teaching job, a once-a-week comp class at a community college. None of it offers health insurance, but It's nice, because I don't have to clock in, which means I don't stress out too much when I can't sleep because the theme song to The Golden Girls is stuck in my head and every time I close my eyes it's all, "Thank you for being a friend," on loop, and I want to drive to a retirement home and drop my brain off there. Just say to it, Go, brain. Go find your personal Bea Arthur.

MG: I always thought The Golden Girls would be best watched in the company of a gay man. Not sure why I think this. Is that a weird thing to think? Go ahead, you can say.

AG: Everything's a weird thing to think when it comes to The Golden Girls. For the record, I can imagine you and a man with a nice crew cut sitting on a couch in a dark living room, watching The Golden Girls and eating cheesesteaks. During the opening credits your each reach over and clasp hands. Everyone's sexuality is unclear. Your eyes are brimming with tears. I mean, it's hard not to cry during the opening credits of The Golden Girls, if you're really listening to the lyrics. Who writes "Thank you for being a friend" on a birthday card?

MG: What's Texas like?

AG: You can buy a lot of things crafted in the shape of Texas here. Cheese shaped like Texas, cookies, little iron brands you keep near the grill so when you're grilling meat, you can brand it with the shape of Texas. We drink a beer called Lone Star. Still, I'm not from here, and sometimes I wake up and I have to convince myself I'm really in Texas. It seems like everyone should need a passport to enter or leave the state. Rick Perry is probably working on this. But the weather has been lovely this week; I've had my windows open.

MG: We're just about done with summer here on the east coast. Is it always summer in Texas? Do you have any bad summertime habits that you'll put a stop to? (Me, I'll give up paperback romance novels from the grocery store until next summer.)

AG: Oh man, paperback romance novels are old-school vice. I can't even keep those in the house anymore. It gets chilly here, but never too bad for too long. We had an ice storm in '07 that shut the city down, but that was mostly because nobody had chains for their truck tires. I don't pay for heating, so I'm snug as a bug regardless. I have a bad summertime habit of getting up at noon--that's going to need to come to an end this winter. I want to be back in early mode for spring. There's nothing finer than a spring morning.

5.

Amelia's Picks

MG: Okay, let's have some pick-and-choose fun. Feel free to elaborate, if you like. Thongs or boy shorts?

AG: Tough economic times force honest Americans to scale back on fabric. Patriotism dictates thongs.

MG: Thongs (butt) or thongs (toes)?

AG: Toes toes toes. You can get married in flip-flops out here.

MG: Coffee or tea?

AG: Coffee these days. I've got my eye on those tea packets that bloom underwater, though.

MG: I love those. They are really pretty to watch bloom. Okay, lattes or cappuccinos?

AG: I'm embarrassed to not know the difference. One has more milk, right? I like a good americano.

MG: Cats or dogs?

AG: Either a dog that is in every way like a cat (lightness, quickness, exactitude, visibility, multiplicity, consistency) or a cat.

MG: Wow.

AG: This is how I feel.

MG: Hardcover or paperback?

AG: Paperback! Better for the bath.

MG: Goodwill or upscale consignment shops?

AG: I'm taking a bag of stuff to Buffalo Exchange today, actually. So, downscale consignment?

MG: Scissors or shears?

AG: Scissors, unless you are pinking.

MG: Saran wrap or tinfoil?

AG: It depends where you're wearing the hat.

MG: [I think I snorted when I read your answer.] Apple juice or tomato juice?

AG: Tomato on an airplane, apple if I'm giving blood.

MG: Favorite freshly juiced-in-a-juicer juice combination? (I like apple and carrot, but the barista where I go likes to make me orange, beet, and ginger, which I guess is supposed to be good for me.)

AG: Those all sound good. I like a nice hibiscus lemonade.

MG: Bottled water or tap water?

AG: Tap, unless you live in Charleston.

MG: So You Think You Can Dance or American Idol?

AG: Ryan Seacrest eats six egg whites a day. He adds one yolk on Fridays.

MG: '80s or '90s?

AG: We went to the work of fixing the time travel machine and this is the best we can do? Let's go farther back and find out what it was like to be primordial sludge.

MG: I bet diving into a Jell-O pool would be something like that. Push pins or staples?

AG: I once knelt on the floor of a cabin during summer camp and a push pin went into my kneecap. What's weird is it didn't hurt. I stapled my finger once and that did hurt. So, pins.

MG: That is weird. I hope that push pin made it into your writing somehow. Pocket folders or manila folders?

AG: LISA FRANK TRAPPER KEEPER

MG: Wide rule or college rule?

AG: I wrote a secret admirer letter to a boy when I was in the fourth grade. Sadly, I was the only nerd who used recycled wide-rule. This was back when recycled paper looked like dirty newsprint. I was discovered.

MG: Wallpaper or paint?

AG: Paint, unless you're outfitting a cozy bar. Then, heirloom damask burgundy velvet on red flocked wallpaper.

MG: Copper or cast iron?

AG: Cast iron. Seasoned cookware is useful and charming.

MG: Cheesecake or quiche?

AG: A good quiche is better and more rare than a good cheesecake. I wonder, should the ideal form be the avatar of the object?

MG: And my favorite, cupcakes or muffins?

AG: Scones, for real. But cupcakes are a
tantalizingly close second.

MG: This is why you're fat or Look at this fucking hipster?

AG: Passive-aggressive notes.

6.

Questions from our Facebook Friends

MG: And let's wrap things up with a few questions from our Facebook friends. (Do we need a backstory? Backstory: I updated my status to read something like, "What would you ask Amelia Gray if you could ask her anything in the whole wide world?" There were immediate responses. John Domini asks: "Based on recent experience, which would you say is cooler: Portland, OR, or Austin, TX?"

AG: It's easier to find a margarita in Austin and easier to find dessert in Portland. Otherwise, besides soil composition, the cities are exactly the same.

MG: Erika Moya wants to know: "What will you be this year for Halloween, or is that a surprise?"

AG: Zombie Vanna White? Sexy James Joyce? The possibilities are limited.

MG: Tim Kerlin says, "Remember when we were swimming at my apartment and those teenagers were making out on the picnic table? Wasn't that funny? Then you and me and Michael did synchronized swimming. That wasn't a question, I guess."

AG: This interview is over!

MG: Randy Cauthen wonders: "What's the fastest land animal?"

AG: A cheetah running inside the third car of the Shanghai Maglev train.

MG: Matt Walker wants to know: "Which room in a house is most conducive to a successful seance?"

AG: The loudest.

MG: John Domini asks another: "Italo Calvino, his SIX MEMOS FOR THE NEW MILLENNIUM: lightness, quickness, exactitude, visibility, multiplicity, consistency. Did he leave out anything? Or, is there one on which you'd care to expound?"

AG: Timeliness. Timelessness.

Amelia Gray is a writer living in Austin, TX. She is the author of AM/PM, published by Featherproof Books, and Museum of the Weird, due Fall 2010 through Fiction Collective 2. Her writing has appeared in American Short Fiction, McSweeney's Internet Tendency, DIAGRAM, and Caketrain,among many others. She blogs at ameliagray.com.