In conversation with
Tell me a bit yourself?
I was born and raised in Salem, Oregon. After graduating from high school, I attended George Fox University. Once all attempts to start an all-female football team (The Fighting Quakers) failed, I left and attended Iowa State University, where I was thrilled to discover that the population of hogs outnumbered humans 3 to 1. I worked in a deli called, Cheese and Puppets, where the population of plush animals outnumbered the cheese products 3 to 1. Not long after I was hired, the deli underwent radical management downsizing; I鈥檓 not sure if this is a result of my less-than-stellar job performance, though I have many fond memories of this place and still love cheese tremendously.
What was the transition like between writing short stories and your first novel?
In both forms, I found that a strong sense of narrative propels the larger story forward. I had become so accustomed to thinking in small tight modular 鈥渂oxes鈥, each scene or expository segment another box or glue linking one box to the next, that it was very difficult for me to force my gaze up and onto a larger canvass. 鈥淭hink long, think large,鈥 my writer friends encouraged. 鈥淵ou first,鈥 I鈥檇 counter. A novel, I soon discovered, required from me a looser grip on the reigns, and I found this quite unnerving at times
What鈥檚 your writing process like?
I have some writer friends who are perhaps the most disciplined people on this planet. They rise each morning at 4:30am and write for three hours, maybe four. Perhaps it is a genetic aberration or something in me, but I have tried to work that way; but I鈥檝e not been able to muster up much of anything at those hours. I鈥檓 not even human until 9:00, which is sad for the kids because they have to suffer my pre-human presence from 6:30-8:30鈥攖he crazy hours when they race through their morning routines and dash off to school while I wave a limp goodbye. I鈥檝e discovered that I work best in short increments: a half of an hour here, twenty minutes there, and then perhaps a golden hour while I鈥檓 stirring the pot or watching water boil or something.
Have you spent much time in Russia?
Every picture I鈥檇 seen of Russia, it is indescribably beautiful, vast, and beyond whatever I would try to make of it. My lack of language skills aside, I knew I had to go. I knew, too, that I had to forget everything I thought I knew about this immense country I had never lived in nor seen before. I fell in love with St. Petersburg. A city built of islands; St. Petersburg was like no city I鈥檇 ever seen. After that visit, I knew this country was far too immense, the people and their history far too complicated to be summed up in a single glance.
Who is your favourite character in The Russian Dreambook of Colour and Flight?
Every character in this book is close to my heart. Olga I love because she labours under a mother鈥檚 ponderous heart that beats only for her son and the good of her son. Yuri is an alter ego, I think, a dreamer who is slightly more useful than I am because, at the very least, he brings home fish. Tanya I adore, a dreamer in her own right who longs for all the things she can鈥檛 possibly have. Azade breaks my heart. She holds the lowliest position in this blended community. She鈥檚 connected to dreams, something intangible that becomes tangibly felt and understood by her. She鈥檚 the link, the transition between the two worlds and utterly necessary.
Who are your favourite authors and why?
I鈥檝e always admired Milorad Pavic for his daring architectures. I first read The Dictionary of the Khazars when I was 20 and he is the writer that made me want to write. Under the Glacier by Halldor Laxness must be one of my favourite books ever and when people complain that nobody except South Americans are writing Magic Realism these days, I wave my beloved copies of Glacier or anything Pavic has written under their noses.
If you had to give everything away, but could keep one thing, what would it be?
Our house is packed to the gills with thrift store finds. I鈥檓 fond of these treasures, though I鈥檒l admit I鈥檝e frittered away far too much money on these things. I鈥檝e collected wind-up tin toys that serve no earthly purpose other than to spin or scoot. They are silly and I鈥檇 be sorry to see them go, but not heart broken. There are a few photos of family members that if damaged would be hard to repair or restore, and of course, they hold great sentimental value. I can鈥檛 walk past these photos without pausing because every photo represents a life and history and whole body of stories that bear witness and relevancy and agency upon us even now.
