Jerry Stahl

How did you become a writer?

I had no skills, was a horrible guitar player, and (we're talking my late teens/early twenties here) wanted to find something I could do naked and fucked-up at four in the morning and possibly make a dime. I know, it's a high bar. In fact, along with the fiction I'd  been writing (badly) for years, I eventually started doing journalism, starting at a Santa Cruz free paper when I was twenty. My first piece was a review of a bar called Mona's Gorilla Lounge, which I was a year too young to legally enter. The pay was eight dollars an article. Oddly, four decades later, journalism now pays about the same as it did then – minus about eight dollars.

From California I went back to NY, wrote for the Village Voice, among other places, and cobbled together a living penning porn & journalism to pay for the expensive habit of writing fiction. (I used to write the fake sex letters at Penthouse, not to brag – a great apprenticeship for a fiction-writer.) At 21, I won a Pushcart Prize for a story that ran in the Transatlantic Review – but what makes this interesting is that the story got rejected by Hustler first. For better or worse, my work has always had a streak of schizophrenia running through it. It’s been all zigs and zags ever since the beginning.

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

When I was 16 or so, my father decided the best way to deal with his life was by sitting in the garage with the motor in his Oldsmobile running. So, taking pity on me, my sister’s boyfriend gave me a bunch of books and albums he thought would get me through. Nathanael West, Terry Southern and Hunter Thompson. Dylan and John Lee Hooker and Lenny Bruce. Samuel Beckett, Burroughs, Celine, Dick Gregory, etc. Somehow, these guys gave me everything I needed: they were wild, angry, dangerous – but most of all, they were all funny as hell. I remember thinking, as I read them, I didn’t even know you were allowed to say this stuff. To this day, that’s the kind of material I love – artists who say the unsayable. About the world, about themselves, about…everything. At around that same age, I saw Lindsay Anderson’s movie If, and it was such a big kind of “fuck you” to everything that represented authority, it hit me in a way nothing else had. It was like striking a match in my head.

The first real life author I ever met was Bruce Jay Friedman, author of two of my favorite novels, Stern and A Mother’s Kisses. Early on, I got to do an interview with BJF for a literary magazine, in which he said something I never forgot: “When you write a sentence that makes you squirm, keep going.” Needless to say, I’ve been squirming ever since. I also had the good fortune to study with the Wolff Brothers – Tobias and Geoffrey, who both wrote memoirs that had a profound effect on my writing – and the whole idea of self-exposure in one’s writing. They’re very different writers – but both fearless. Which impressed me down to my toes.

The biggest influence, personally, was Hubert Selby. Selby was probably my first literary hero. In fact, the first book I ever shoplifted was Last Exit To Brooklyn. I met Selby when I was struggling to get off heroin, an ordeal he’d been through himself, as he put it, “strapped down in a West Hollywood holding cell.” In any event, when I finally managed to kick, I remember telling him how worried I was – it sounds so ludicrous now – I was afraid that, without drugs, I would “lose my edge.” To this day I can hear his cackle when he laughed in my face. “Listen, you idiot, until  you’re off of everything, you don’t even know how crazy you are.”

For better or worse, he was right. Selby wrote Requiem For A Dream and The Room stone cold straight – and they’re two of the darkest, most disturbing books ever written in English. Staying clean presented a lot of problems, but lack of edge on the page was not one of them. Just the opposite. Sometimes, if you’re not careful, you can scare people – most of all yourself.

What are you working on now?

I just started a new novel. Two came out in 2013, so I wanted to take a breath and do some other stuff. I generally like to work on a few different projects at once. So I’m also working with Larry Charles on adapting an earlier novel, Pain Killers, into a cable TV show. Pain Killers is about a washed up private detective who has to track down Joseph Mengele, the mad doctor of Auschwitz, who (in the novel) is living in the San Fernando Valley, and not happy about it. I guess you’d call it a buddy comedy – where one of the buddies is Dr. Mengele. Ultimately all the screen-work and journalism take a backseat to fiction. Only writing novels can really get rid of the voices in my head.

Have you ever suffered from writer’s block?

No, but sometimes I wish I did. 

What’s your advice to new writers?

Destroy your life; then put it back together. You'll get great material, meet some fascinating characters and – side benefit – the skills you develop will give you greater compassion, insight and range with the people you create on the page – or run into off of it.

Jerry Stahl has written for a variety of publications, including Esquire, The Believer, and Details, (where he wrote the Culture column for three years.) He has also written extensively for screen and television, most recently the HBO film Hemingway & Gellhorn and the IFC series “Maron.” He is the author of eight books, including the memoir Permanent Midnight, made into a movie with Ben Stiller, and the novel I, Fatty (optioned by Johnny Depp). His latest novels are Bad Sex On Speed and Happy Mutant Baby Pills. His late-life fatherhood column, “OG DAD,” runs periodically on TheRumpus.net. Website: jerrystahl.co. Twitter: @somejerrystahl

Lauren B. Davis

How did you become a writer?

A deceptively complicated question. Does one ‘become’ a writer, or is one born a writer? I’ve written ever since I was a kid, a great deal of bad poetry in my twenties, which was wisely refused by all the best lit mags. I stopped writing when my career as an alcoholic reached its pinnacle in my mid-late thirties, however, and it wasn’t until I got sober on March 21, 1995 that I began writing anything even remotely publishable. It was then I realized I couldn’t simply sit down as free-write and expect it to be any good. I had to study. I had to learn the craft and practice, just as a great pianist must practise, or a brain surgeon, or a carpenter. It took time. It took effort. None of that mattered. I simply couldn’t imagine doing anything else for an extended period of time.

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

The books of my childhood were C.S. Lewis's Narnian Suite, the original version of Wind in the Willows and Peter Pan (not the dreadful Disney version) and The Water Babies - lots of dark Victorian children's literature. There are always wonderful new authors, but the ones who found me first were James Agee, Gabrielle Roy, Margaret Laurence, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Steinbeck, Graham Greene, Carson McCullers, James Baldwin...

Timothy Findley – the wonderful Canadian writer – was my mentor and having him work with me through the Humber College Mentor Program was a turning point in my career. His encouragement of my work, and his always-valuable criticism, allowed me to think of myself as a Real Writer, or at least one in the making.

As for book, there are many worthwhile how-to-write books but the one I keep returning to is Janet Burroway’s WRITING FICTION.

When and where do you write?

I’m very lucky. I have my own book-shelf lined office with a fireplace and a view of the back garden and fish pond. I get regular visits from deer, rabbits, foxes, a thousand birds (including a highly territorial hummingbird and a pair of wrens who return every year to the same nest), wild turkeys, and the occasional coyote and bear. Princeton, NJ is far more exciting than I thought when I first moved here!  

I’m a fairly early riser -- about six-thirty or seven o’clock. Then it's out to walk Bailey, our dog (known around the house as The Rescuepoo). I've also taken up an hour of exercise in the morning, since I'm told that sort of thing is good for you. Thus, whereas I used to be at my desk at 8:30 a.m., between the dog and the elliptical machine, it's now more like 9:30. But, cup of tea in hand, I start work. I work a regular “business” day, a discipline I suspect is the result of many years spent as an office worker. (The reason I’m not still working as an admin assistant somewhere is that my Best Beloved is gainfully employed and very encouraging of my work.) If I’m writing a novel it must go forward by 1,000 words each day. Often, of course, I write more than that, and since I start every day rereading previous sections and deleting a great deal of it, it’s probably more like 2,000 words each day.

Writing is a practice, like meditation or prayer. You have to keep at it, day after day, even when it seems like absolutely nothing good is happening. Perhaps especially then.

What are you working on now?

I’m editing my next novel, to be published by Harper Collins in Canada and Chizine in the US. It’s set in 7th century Northumbria (England) during the reign of King Edwin, and explores the clash between the pagan faith and Christianity, really a clash between dogmatic theology and experiential faith. I’d tell you the title but I haven’t found the right one yet.  

Have you ever suffered from writer’s block?

I can’t say as I have, at least not since I got sober. Have I written a vast amount of crap? Absolutely, but I keep writing until something worthwhile happens, and so far, so good.

What’s your advice to new writers?

Writers make meaning of the world through writing, we write because writing is in our marrow. We can no more stop writing than we can breathing. (Spurred by rejection and depression, I've TRIED to stop writing, and found I couldn't. I'm far saner when writing than not, even given the insanity of the publishing industry.) If you can stop writing now, you probably ought to. The writing life is bloody hard. Lots of people want to be ‘authors,' with their books in the shop windows and their face on the television, but few people want to be writers. Writers write, and frankly, that's about all we do. Every day. For hours and hours, often with little to show for it. We spend enormous amounts of time alone, we generally have to work at other jobs to support ourselves since the pay is stupefyingly low, we suffer rejection and criticism with alarming frequency, and rarely get much support or recognition. If these truths haven't put you off, if you still feel compelled to write, then get on with it -- Learn your craft. It takes years to be a decent writer, just as it does to become a fine tennis player or neurosurgeon. Find a mentor, take classes and workshops (yes, I do think they help, if the leader is good and the participants supportive yet honest), study from good books like WRITING FICTION by Janet Burroway, write EVERY DAY and….

Read. READ EVERYTHING. I can't tell you how many students show up in my classes wanting to be writers, but when I ask them what they read, tell me "Oh, I don't read much." Good Lord. Then you aren't a writer.

Slow down. Forget about publishing until you actually have a completed manuscript ready to send out to agents. Again, so many students want to spend all their time asking about how to get agents and how to market their blogs and set up book tours. I ask them what their book's about and they reply, "Oh, I haven't written it yet." Really? Again, good Lord. First things first. Write the book; and make it the best possible book it can be.

Accept that you will fail, often, and don't let that stop you. Accept that the book you imagine before you write it won't be the book you write. It's like trying to capture the essence of that startlingly vivid dream you had last night - you might come close, but its purity will always evade you. Every writer must come to terms with that. Becket said, "All of old. Nothing else ever. Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better."

When you are ready to publish, try not to attach too much of your ego and psyche to the business. Great reviews are wonderful, but they won't sustain you. Only more writing will sustain you. Bad reviews are corrosive to the writer's energy and last forever. Put limited time into fretting about how low/high your advance was compared to others, book sales and awards and market share and platforms and all the stuff that doesn't have anything to do with your life as an actual writer-at-the-page. Of course, there will always be business to attend to, but what I'm saying is, don't let it replace the love and vigor you put into your art.

If you are a real writer, then just surrender to the writer's life, all of it, even the bad stuff. When you do that, the beauty appears: the peace, the meaning, the joy, the fulfillment, the sense that you are doing what you were born to do and what could be better, in the end, than that?

Lauren B. Davis’s most recent work is the bestselling novel, THE EMPTY ROOM (HarperCollins, 2013), a searing, raw and powerful a portrayal of the chaos and pain of alcoholism. Named one of the “Best Books of the Year” by The National Post, and the Winnipeg Free Press, “Editors’ Pick” by Amazon and a “Critics’ Pick” by The Coast (Nova Scotia). Her previous novel, OUR DAILY BREAD, was longlisted for the Scotiabank Giller Prize and named as one of the “Best Books of the Year” by The Globe & Mail and The Boston Globe.

She is also the author of the bestselling and critically acclaimed novels, THE RADIANT CITY, a finalist for the Rogers Writers Trust Fiction Prize; and THE STUBBORN SEASON, a named as one of the Top 15 Bestselling First Novels by Amazon.ca and Books in Canada. She has also published two short story collections, AN UNREHEARSED DESIRE and RAT MEDICINE & OTHER UNLIKELY CURATIVES. Her short fiction has been shortlisted for the CBC Literary Awards, the ReLit Award and she is the recipient of two Mid-Career Writer Sustaining grants from the Canadian Council for the Arts. She leads monthly SHARPENING THE QUILL writing workshops in Princeton, New Jersey.

Lauren was born in Montreal but lived in France for ten years from 1994-2004. She and her husband, Ron, moved to Princeton in 2004, where they now live with their dog, Bailey, known as the Rescuepoo. For more information, please visit her website at: www.laurenbdavis.com.

Joy Lanzendorfer

How did you become a writer?

When I was a kid, I loved writing but I resisted the idea of being a writer because it sounded like a life of rejection and semi-poverty to me. So it was always, “I will be an X and write on the side.” I will be a private detective and write on the side. I will be a computer game designer and write on the side. I will be an actress and write on the side. When I got to college, I went part way through a theater degree before I realized that I’m a lousy actor. Meanwhile I was rocking my English classes, so I decided to quit denying the fact that I wanted to write and began pursuing it. I had my first paid publication when I was 21 and have been writing ever since.

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

There are too many to list, but I do like modernist writers such as Virginia Woolf, William Faulkner, Ernest Hemingway, and DH Lawrence. These writers showed me that a book could actually teach the reader how to read it. A modernist text is often disorienting at first, but as you go along, a pattern emerges that establishes how this specific book works, and the story opens up in ways that couldn’t exist in a straight narrative. This is mind-blowing stuff to me even today; it gets me thinking about the possibilities of language and structure in storytelling.

When and where do you write?

I work at home full time. I put in long hours with lots of caffeine. On an ideal day, I’ll get up at 5:30 a.m., write until 3 p.m., and then take a walk or do errands. Sometimes I don’t manage the early wake up and get up at 6:30 or 7 a.m. and work until 5 p.m. or so.

What are you working on now?

I’m editing my novel, Right Back Where We Started From, as well as working on short stories, essays, and articles. I also maintain a lifestyle blog, Savvy Housekeeping (savvyhousekeeping.com), that I update every day.

Have you ever suffered from writer’s block?

Sure. I think all writers have to go through writer’s block sometimes. For me, it means my creativity has run dry and I need to recharge. Basically, I’ve used up all my ideas for the moment and have to put new information in my brain so it can make connections and give me fresh ideas. Reading is a good cure for writer’s block.

What’s your advice to new writers?

Learn to love discipline. Set up a schedule for yourself—a word count to hit, an amount of time at the keyboard each day—and make it a priority in your life. Always read the publication before you submit to it. Don’t blindly send your work to a long list of journals or magazines—it probably won’t be accepted and you’re just adding to the slush pile. Try not to be envious of other writers when they do well, but instead champion their success as proof that if they can do it, you can do it too.

And read every day. A writer has to read. It’s almost as important as the actual writing itself.

Joy Lanzendorfer’s work has been in Mental Floss, Salon, Entrepreneur, Writer's Digest, The Writer, Imbibe, Bust, Scholastic Instructor, Bay Nature, PopMatters, and many other publications. Her fiction has appeared in Hotel Amerika, McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, Monkeybicycle, Necessary Fiction, Superstition Review, Word Riot, and others. She’s a judge for the Writer’s Digest Self-Published Book Awards and holds an MA in Creative Writing from San Francisco State University. Her Twitter handle is @JoyLanzendorfer.