 |
(The
particulars noted herein are purely for the perusal of
internet explorers
who may find such details amusing and of course, for any interested publishing
house or literary agent who probably wouldn’t......)
The rights to the following interview remain exclusively
with the interviewee who may choose to change, distort
or exaggerate any and all details in the interest of making
the whole experience more palatable for the reader.
|
My Life or Why I’m
Thinking of Taking up Bourbon
Interviewer (from this point on, referred to as Mama—my
anomalous mythical agent—who lives in my head & pesters
Me endlessly):
Mama: Tell ‘em you were educated at Oxford. That’ll
impress ‘em.
Me: Mama, that was Oxford, Mississippi. That was only impressive
to my school friends who couldn’t believe I could skip
my senior year and escape to college at 16.
Mama: Well, it was good enough for Faulkner and Tennessee Williams
and Eudora Damn Welty, wasn’t it?
Me: Faulkner only lasted a few semesters, Williams went to Missouri
and Welty to Columbia—the real one, not the city in South
Carolina! But yes, all Mississippi writers by birth.
Mama: So why are you bringing them into this?
Me: I didn’t! (sigh) Well, OK, they’re great southern
writers but.....
Mama: Isn’t that what you want to be? Or haven’t
you figured that out yet?
Me: I write about the South because there’s such rich
territory to dig into there. So much so I get stuck there for
story after story......I can’t seem to leave there and
I haven’t even been there for 30 years!
Mama: You’re showing your age, dear. Are you sure you
want to do that?
Me: Can you just ask me something else, please?
Mama: Well, tell folks about those books I see on your shelves.
Of course, where they should be is in a bookstore somewhere & not
in this papered disaster you call a “study”...what
are you studying? And is that a cat sitting on your desk again?
Me: Thanks Mama for bringing up the CWC anthology—Writing
From a Small Country—which included four of my stories.
And that all-American looking one is So Far and Yet so Near,
a collection of stories from expatriates which also includes
a personal story about living in Italy.
Mama: So you have managed to write about something outside your
roots?
Me: Maybe we should move on. Ask me about other stuff.
Mama: “Stuff”? Is that what you call your life?
Me: Ask me about the radio.
Mama: I’m glad you have a radio, dear, but why you insist
on having it so loud.....
Me: No, I mean, my radio show, my program.....The Corner Cafe.
You know... music, interviews, every Thursday night? Using it
as a tool for talking to people about what they’re passionate
about? People’s stories. Experiences. I think there’s
a creative connection! I think.....
Mama: I just don’t see why you have to play it so loud.
Me: Ok, Ok. The creative connection....use that as a segue.
Mama: A what?
Me: A segue---to ask me about Art Echo. You know, performance
art at the local museums? The project I was directing?
Mama: Is it time for lunch, yet?
Me: You always do that! Whenever you don’t understand
something or a little mental effort is required, you start to
think about your stomach! Stay focused, OK? We were talking about
me! Me! Me! Me!
Mama: Is that your echo, dear?
Me: Mama!
Mama: Well, you’re the one who wrote me into your little
interview. If you don’t like to hear what I’m saying,
you can just write me right out.......
Me: Done!
Mama: But before you do, you should write....
Me: Don’t tell me what to write about!
Mama: ...your cousin Martha Ann whose novel has just been published
by Oxford Press.
Me: Martha Ann is published?
Mama: Why, yes and it was your other cousin Jen , you know,
on Bobby Lynn’s side, the literary agent who set it all
up for Martha Ann.....
Me: I have a cousin who is a literary agent?
Mama: On Bobby Lynn’s side.
Me: Who the hell is Bobby Lynn?
Mama: Really, dear. You should eat something. I can always tell
when you need to eat.
Me: What about my biography?
Mama: I think you’ve said enough. Come on. A tall glass
of ice tea and an egg salad sandwich with sweet pickles and mayonnaise.
You’ll write better, I promise.
Me: I wonder if Faulkner had these conversations with his mama.....
Mama: Oh, he didn’t need to, dear. He had bourbon.
|
