Karen E. Bender

How did you become a writer?

I became a writer when I was six years old and hit on the head by a rock. This experience is covered in more exhaustive detail in my essay, “The Accidental Writer.”  

After the rock incident, I started many stories and novels with great enthusiasm and then quickly abandoned them. I didn’t know what I wanted to say but I loved the feeling of writing, the rush of expression, the power of creation. I started finishing stories and revising them when I was in college.

I think “becoming a writer” is a problematic term—you are a writer when you write. You become a better writer after revising and pushing and reading and envisioning a beautiful work that you want to create. At some point, I realized that becoming a writer was all about denial--I pretended I was a better writer than I actually was, and then, with patience and ox-like stubbornness, did get better. 

Name your writing influences (writers, books, teachers, etc.).

I’m influenced by whoever I read and fall in love with at any moment. Some writers who have been important to me: Philip Roth, J.D. Salinger, John Cheever, Paula Fox, James Baldwin, Vladmir Nabokov, Flannery O’Connor, Carson McCullers, Truman Capote, Martin Amis, Jayne Anne Phillips, Cynthia Ozick, Denis Johnson, Lorrie Moore, Deborah Eisenberg, Isaac Babel, Junot Diaz, Alice Munro. More recently, I’ve been loving Yan Lianke, Grace Paley, Craig Nova. I love characters who I understand and somehow understand me, and great, vivid sentences that illuminate the world in a new way. 

When and where do you write?

I write whenever I can—usually I try to schedule teaching in the afternoon so that I can write a bit in the morning; I also write when our children go to sleep. I write on a desk in the bedroom.

What are you working on now?

Right now I’m playing around with new stories and a longer piece of fiction. I’m living in Taiwan for the year, and am taking notes, trying to absorb as much as I can; living abroad also highlights all of the peculiarities of America, so it’s helping me see what I want to focus on next. 

Have you ever suffered from writer’s block?

I stopped writing once in my life, for three months, after a class with a charismatic but terrifying instructor who tended to encourage his students to sound like him. I wasn’t cooperating, so I wasn’t getting a lot of affirmation in the class, and when the class ended, he gave the students the option of re-enrolling, with the chance to reach literary glory by learning his method, etc. I decided not to take his class again, and for three months, I took a break from writing. Did I want to sound like this teacher, or did I want to sound like myself? I decided that I wanted to sound like myself, whatever that meant. It was an enormous relief, actually. And then my writing got better.

What’s your advice to new writers?

Know that the deepest, strangest things that you want to say are not to be hidden but shared, and that other people will understand them and be reassured by them. Trust patience and the process that a story may take in finding itself. What you say matters; think about how you want to join the conversation.

Karen E. Bender is the author of the novels Like Normal People and A Town of Empty Rooms, which is now available in paperback. A story collection will be published by Counterpoint Press in 2015. Her stories have appeared in magazines including The New Yorker, Granta, Ploughshares, Zoetrope, Narrative, and The Harvard Review, and reprinted in Best American Short Stories, Best American Mystery Stories, and the Pushcart Prize series. You can read some of her work at www.byliner.com, and visit her at www.karenebender.com.

Roz Morris

How did you become a writer?

I was probably the classic writer temperament; shy, but mad to express myself. As a teenager, I had many penpals, who were treated to long, glorious texts - and may not have appreciated them quite as much as I enjoyed producing them.

In the sixth form, my English literature teacher cornered me at an end-of-term party to talk about an essay I’d written on Chaucer. I quailed, wondering what crassness I'd committed. Especially as I’d wandered off the point by indulging in a detailed muse on the character of the Wife of Bath. 'You should write novels,' she said, with a look that said she meant me to take her very seriously. Gosh, how splendid, I thought. It also seemed impossible.

I got an English degree, muddled along in business publishing, then met a fiction author, who I ended up marrying. I suddenly discovered people whose vocation was storytelling, and these generous souls were eager to help a novice. While I dabbled with fiction of my own, I helped out with writing and rewriting when they were up against deadlines (don’t tell anyone). When an editor changed the brief for a novella my husband was writing, I took it over and delivered a complete manuscript in six weeks. After that, editors knew I could do the job and I started ghostwriting for big-name authors and freelancing as an editor for a literary consultancy. But I didn’t feel I was on my way until I landed an agent for my own fiction. 

Name your writing influences (writers, books, teachers, etc.).

My influence is everything, all the time. Two things I saw today that I will be musing about: a crow whose cry sounds like a man with an accent saying ‘Run’; a Rolls Royce with a bright silver paint finish like mercury. In terms of writers, everyone I read leaves a mark, but particular loves are Iain Banks for oddness, Gavin Maxwell for humanity, Graham Greene for restlessness, Donna Tartt for cleverness, Ann Patchett for passion, Stella Gibbons for spirit, Hilary Mantel and Andrew Miller for slowing down time and magnifying the human experience, Kevin Brockmeier for poetic vision. I could go on. We don’t need pictures in our house; the walls are lined with bookshelves.

When and where do you write?

If I’m planning or drafting a novel, I work on it first thing in the morning. I only spend a couple of hours and I may not necessarily write. Sometimes I might troubleshoot the outline, consider the characters or dig at the concept. I also build soundtracks. Initially they are pieces of music that I choose to conjure the story’s atmosphere, then I discover tracks that seem to suggest a character or a moment in the story. After a few hours I’m boggling so I work on something else – editing, an article or research. But the novel’s still with me on a low burner. I’m very distractible, so this pre-loads my brain with the problems I want it to jump to when my attention wanders.

When I’m editing a draft, though, I can’t get enough hours with it. I do multiple edits - at least 10 or 20. The closer I get to finishing, the more addicted I get to the book, wishing we hadn’t arranged to meet friends for dinner and so on. I hope they’re not reading this.

What are you working on now?

The most intensive project is my third piece of fiction, working title The Mountains Novel. It does have a proper title, but I’m wary of uttering it until the fragments are joined. I’ve also got The Venice Novel. And thanks to a kind gentleman who talked to me about my first novel at a recent signing, I now have The Flying Novel.

Have you ever suffered from writer’s block? 

Yes, and I find it takes many forms. This is how I tackle them. In order of size:

Major: the panic that I don’t have a good enough idea. I especially get this when I’ve released a novel. One moment I had a superfit book I was bursting to release. Once it’s out, I look at what’s still in the nest… a book that doesn’t yet know what it is, or hasn’t yet acquired enough richness. Of course it will, but I’ve forgotten how much work that takes. The best cure is to have a number of books coming to maturity, working on them in rotation. Then you never worry that you’ve dried.

Minor blocks: by this I mean times when I don’t know what to write. Or a scene I don’t want to start because it’s lame. Though unpleasant, this is a very useful kind of block. It’s telling me to stop and reconsider, so I grab an envelope and brainstorm. I usually find something releases me to carry on.

What’s your advice to new writers?

Read like a glutton. For every three books that are your usual taste, try one that isn’t because it might turn you inside out. Also, get comfortable talking to the page - establish a regular habit of creating prose – even if you’re only jotting ideas on scraps of paper. And if you want to write fiction, learn how to construct a story. Find people you like to learn from – trusted advisers who’ll help to steer you and give the feedback you need. Don’t be in a hurry to publish, even though it’s tempting. Try to get an agent, even if you intend to self-publish. Often, if they think you are close to publishing standard, they will let you know and they might give you useful pointers to help you improve. And if they want to represent you, that’s a useful ally!

Finally, improvement is one of those things that happens slowly and without you feeling it, like growing to adult height. So every now and again, look back at your earlier efforts and discover you have actually come a long way.

Roz Morris's books have been on the bestseller lists but not under her name - she ghost-wrote for other authors. She is now coming into the daylight with novels of her own. Her first is My Memories of a Future Life, and her next, Lifeform Three, will be released in winter 2013 - more details from her newsletter. She is also the author of two writing books – Nail Your Novel: Why Writers Abandon Books and how you can Draft, Fix and Finish With Confidence and Nail Your Novel: Bring Characters to Life. Roz also has a writing blog Nail Your Novel. Connect with her on Twitter at @ByRozMorris and @NailYourNovel.

Steven Rinella

How did you become a writer?

In a roundabout way, I became a writer because I wanted to be some kind of Wild West frontiersman. I always figured that I’d grow up and make a living hunting and trapping. But it turned out that those were extremely difficult ways to turn a profit – especially for a teenager. Eventually, I hit on the idea of doing that stuff and then trying to write about it. I majored in English in college, a major that mostly irritated me. (Back then, I dreamed of writing a book-length critique of Shakespeare’s work called Knaves! In Defense of Not Loving the Bard.) But after college I went to graduate school for non-fiction writing at the University of Montana. There I started to discover really inspiring writers. That helped me begin the process of actually learning to write, which takes a lot of work. By the time I was done with that program I was selling my workshop pieces to good magazines. Things went from there.  

Name your writing influences (writers, books, teachers, etc.).

There are four people who immediately come to mind, presented here in the proper sequence:

1) Mr. Heaton, my high school English teacher at Reeths-Puffer High School, in Muskegon County, Michigan; he taught me to write about the things you know about.

2) Jim Harrison, the writer who demonstrated to me that you could grow up in the woods and marshes of Michigan and still find a national audience.

3) Ian Frazier, the writer who first put my work into the hands of a caring editor. 

4) John McPhee, whose writing taught me to handle technical information with as much love and care as you’d handle a sex scene.

When and where do you write?

I belong to a writer’s collective, which is basically a bunch of cubicles in a room that looks like a college library. It’s bone quiet, and the perfect place for me to work. Ninety percent of the usable sentences that I write come between the hours of 1 p.m. and 4 p.m. 

What are you working on now?

I’m working on a few things. I’m just beginning a narrative non-fiction book about my favorite period in American history, which went from about 1810 to 1840. I also do a TV show, and I’m beginning to work on a documentary.

Have you ever suffered from writer’s block?

Yes, I have. But I’ve come to think that writer’s block is a failure of will. Or at least it is for me. It’s laziness, a lack of get-up-and-go.

What’s your advice to new writers?

Don’t be intimidated by people who are better educated than you, or better connected, or better able to play the role of writer. You hold things of value inside your head, things that no one else knows or has. And don’t be afraid to start small. Publish anywhere that’ll take your work. Do a good job, be a perfectionist, and bigger and better things will come your way.

Steven Rinella is the author of three books, including American Buffalo: In Search of a Lost Icon, and Meat Eater: Adventures from the Life of an American Hunter. His work has appeared in publications ranging from Glamour to Field and Stream to The New York Times.