Summer Brennan

How did you become a writer?

I became a writer by first being a reader. I read a lot, and because I was very poor in my twenties, I often read the same books several times in a row. I would finish the last sentence on the last page and then flip right to the front again and start all over. I wanted to understand books and so I would read them once through to get the effect, and then a few more times to understand their secrets and how they were put together. Then I tried and failed to write a lot of things. Lots of tries and lots of failures. Eventually I got better at marshaling my ideas in a way that other people would enjoy. Generous people helped and encouraged me. Working at a weekly newspaper helped me get better at finishing things—every week I had to think up, report, and write at least one long feature story, plus shorter news items, and that was excellent practice. I wrote (or tried to write) three nonfiction book proposals before finally finishing one that I sent to agents. The first person I sent it to became my agent, and my first book, The Oyster War: The True Story of a Small Farm, Big Politics and the Future of Wilderness in America, was published less than two years later. I'm now working on my second an third books.

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

Writers who have had the most direct influence on my work include critics, literary reporters and memoirists, although as an adolescent I read mostly novels, poetry and plays. I loved novelists that presented richly immersive worlds like Dickens, Tolkien, or Le Guin. As a teenager I especially adored Shakespeare, and was in love with the poetic rhythm of language; how the musical impact of a word could convey as much if not more than just its definition. I then discovered Diane Ackerman, who is a master of sensual and romantic science writing. From there I fell for book-length works of literary journalism that I found by hanging around in bookstores, like Philip Gourevitch'es We Wish To Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed With Our Families or The Botany of Desire by Michael Pollan. I read Eric Schlosser's Fast Food Nation and thought, "that's the kind of thing that I want to do." Other works of narrative nonfiction that have strongly influenced me include The Orchid Thief by Susan Orlean, Into The Wild by Jon Krakauer, The Secret Life of Lobsters by Trevor Corson, and Devil in the White City by Eric Larson. My favorite books last year were H is For Hawk by Helen MacDonald and Voices from Chernobyl by Svetlana Alexievich. I have also been influenced by the books and essay collections of Rebecca Solnit, Joan Didion, Zadie Smith, Eula Biss, and Leslie Jamison, to name just a few.

When and where do you write? 

I write whenever I can, but I prefer the early morning when it's still dark and quiet. When I was finishing my first book, I often woke up at 3am so that I could write before going to work at nine. That was last year, and I think I'm still catching up on sleep. I mostly write at home; at my kitchen table while drinking tea, or in my office which has one wall covered in bookshelves and another that is a chalkboard for plans and ideas, or (quite often) I write in bed on my laptop. My most common writing outfit is pajamas. I'll sometimes go to cafes to write, but I would rather be at home.

What are you working on now?

Right now I'm writing a short work of cultural criticism for Bloomsbury publishers called High Heel: An Object Lesson, as part of their Object Lesson series done in partnership with the Atlantic Monthly. It's about choice, consent, feminism, and performing femininity in the labyrinth of modern womanhood. I am also working on a longer work of investigative narrative nonfiction about an art mystery. My agent will be pitching it to editors soon. In the meantime, I have a few magazine articles I'm trying to finish.

Have you ever suffered from writer’s block? 

Nearly every day. I get writer's block quite severely. No matter how much I tell myself that it's all in my head, it still insists on doing a marvelously lifelike impression of reality. For me it isn't usually a case of not having an idea, but more that I can't get my ideas to behave themselves and show up on the screen in readable English sentences. The worst writer's block I ever had lasted about six weeks. I was on deadline for The Oyster War and needed to write more than I ever had in my life, and yet I could hardly write anything. One chapter in particular was giving me trouble. I ended up going for walks and speaking my ideas into a tape recorder, and then writing the whole thing down 100 percent verbatim. It was a mess, but I sent it to my editor as a placeholder, and then four months later I went back and edited it. It ended up being one of my favorite chapters, and was excerpted in Scientific American.

What’s your advice to new writers?

Before becoming a writer, make sure that it isn't possible for you to become anything else instead. Only write if you have to. Once you decide that you must write, try to write something. An essay, a short story, a book, a novella. Whatever it is, make sure you push through and finish it, because only by doing that will you be able to see the places where you are weak. Obsessively read in the genre in which you want to write. If you want to write a memoir, then read memoirs like a maniac. If it's dystopian science fiction, then read that. Find a few books that are your favorite and read them again and again until some of their secrets are made known to you. I think of it a little like how, when you're very little, your parents will sometimes dance with you by letting you stand on their shoes and hold their hands while they waltz around the room. Reading great writers works in this way, too. Stand on the shoes of people bigger than you. Let yourself be carried along by good plots and good sentences, and after a while you'll be able to dance through them on your own.

Peter Rock

How did you become a writer?

1.  My father read to me. Most notably Ursula Le Guin's Earthsea trilogy, but also The Chronicles of Narnia, etc.  (I now read these books to my daughters.)

2. I got attention for making things up and writing in school.

3. My mom gave me Richard Brautigan's In Watermelon Sugar for Christmas one year in high school and Brautigan--so simple, rather whimsical, attracting very attractive women--seemed like someone to emulate.

4. Kept this idea of being a writer, seeing it as a kind of lifestyle, and followed my education so that I was unqualified to do anything else.

5. Worked on ranches, worked as a security guard in an art museum, read a lot, wrote many bad novels, wrote a lot of letters that were probably better than the novels. Was delusional.

6. Does one become a writer? I like to think I've gotten better at writing, or at least more comfortable amid confusion, but I think of myself more as a person who likes to write. It's not an identity or a calling, really. It's a decision, an action. There are days when I could be called a writer and days when it wouldn't be right.

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

A few: Yasunari Kawabata, by far my favorite; Laura Ingalls Wilder, close second; Ursula Le Guin; Gertrude Chandler Warner; Elena Ferrante, recently; Alice Munro; Maggie Nelson; Hemingway; Julio Cortazar; Murakami; Octavia Butler; folktales of all sorts. Oh man, I just re-read Island of the Blue Dolphins the other day: pretty much a perfect book.

When and where do you write?

In my basement, usually between 4:30 and 7:00 in the morning; sometimes I get some other morning time. I have small children, though, and teach full-time, and am a housewife. I used to have the privilege of possessing many rules for when and under what conditions I could write, but now I just get after it whenever I can.

What are you working on now?

A long piece of narrative prose that revolves around artifacts of my past life in 1994 and involves open water swimming, the painter Charles Burchfield and his writings, floating in isolation tanks, letters to ex-girlfriends, etc; also a fragmentary novel-in-photographs, SPELLS, that has been a gallery show and hopefuly will be a book. It's a collaboration with five photographers. And secret projects that may or may not surface.

What’s your advice to new writers?

Have fun. Don't listen to the hype or worry about whether anyone will ever read what you're writing. Read a lot and give others your enthusiastic attention.

Peter Rock was born and raised in Salt Lake City. His most recent novel is Klickitat, which concerns mysterious writing, wilderness survival and the relationship between two sisters. He is also the author of the novels The Shelter Cycle, My Abandonment, The Bewildered, The Ambidextrist, Carnival Wolves and This Is the Place, and a story collection, The Unsettling. Rock attended Deep Springs College, received a BA in English from Yale University, and held a Wallace Stegner Fellowship at Stanford University. He has taught fiction at the University of Pennsylvania, Yale, Deep Springs College, and in the MFA program at San Francisco State University. His stories and freelance writing have both appeared and been anthologized widely, and his books published in various countries and languages. The recipient of a Guggenheim Fellowship, a National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship, an Alex Award and others, he currently lives in Portland, Oregon, where he is a Professor in the English Department of Reed College. His novel-within-photographs, Spells, was shown at Blue Sky Gallery in 2015 and continues to travel around Oregon; a book of that project is in the works.

David Quammen

How did you become a writer?

I was always, from the age of about 11, pointed toward being either a writer or a biologist. Then in high school and college I had some great English teachers and mentors. Never got the same mentoring in biology. So grows the branch.

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

Writing influences: Faulkner. After him, at a distance, Flannery O’Connor, Carson McCullers, and of course Robert Penn Warren. I was from Cincinnati but my pantheon was full of Southerners. To a far lesser degree, once I turned to nonfiction: Haldane, Eiseley, Hughes Rudd, Ed Abbey, McPhee, Hoagland, Matthiessen, Gould. Did I say Abbey? He and Matthiessen and Hoagland are my adored big brothers. Hughes Rudd, wonderful man, taught me that it’s okay to be serious and funny. Among my own generation: Barry Lopez and Terry Tempest Williams have been especially influential colleagues. Bill Cronon too. And of course others, who know who they are but I don’t mention right here. My writing pals.

Teachers: Two Jesuits in Cincinnati in the early ‘Sixties: Jerry Lackamp, S.J., and Tom Savage, S. J. Then at Yale in the late ‘Sixties: Robert Penn Warren, great friend, great writer, great mentor. Great and good man. Changed my life.

When and where do you write?

When? Get up early-ish, coffee and fruit, read a little to open the brain like a splash of water in malt whiskey; then write. Write. Write. Take a break for peanuts and an errand, clear brain. Come back and write. Stop at dark and get some exercise.

Where? In my wonderful book-lined cave of an office in Bozeman, Montana. Harry the Maremma, noble dog, sometimes snores in the office while I write. Soothing.

What are you working on now?

Finishing chores on the book version of my big Yellowstone project for National Geographic (I wrote the entire May issue, devoted to the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem, related to 100th anniversary of the U.S. National Park Service). But the real heavy lifting right now is on my next major book, for Simon & Schuster, on the idea of the Tree of Life, as radically challenged by shocking new discoveries from gene sequencing. Hope to finish it this year.

Have you ever suffered from writer’s block?

No. Nor jet lag. Not much insomnia either. Knock wood. Some writers cultivate these anxieties as vanities. Just do the work. Writer’s block, in my agnostic view, is a fancy way of saying “Writer is insecure or empty.” Lots of people have demons, freeze-ups. I sympathize with that. If it’s a person who has published one book, we call it “writer’s block."

What’s your advice to new writers?

Don't quit your day job. Don’t do it because you “think” you “might” want to be a writer. Go elsewhere. It’s not a life style. It’s not an answer to your financial problems. It won’t make you famous, almost certainly. It’s a vocation and a damn tough way to make a living over a lifetime. Now that I’ve said that: Good luck, and have fun!

David Quammen is an author and journalist whose fourteen books include The Song of the Dodo (1996), The Reluctant Mr. Darwin (2007), and Spillover (2012), a work on the science, history, and human impacts of emerging diseases (especially viral diseases), which was short-listed for eight national and international awards and won three (including the Merck Prize, given in Rome). More recently he has published Ebola: The Natural and Human History of a Deadly Virus and The Chimp and the River: How AIDS Emerged from an African Forest, both drawn largely from Spillover. Quammen is a Contributing Writer for National Geographic, in whose service he travels often, usually to wild places. He has also written for many other magazines, ranging from Harper’s, The Atlantic and The New York Times Book Review to Rolling Stone, Outside and Powder. Much of his work is focused on ecology and evolutionary biology, frequently garnished with history and travel. In 2012 he received the Stephen Jay Gould Prize from the Society for the Study of Evolution. Quammen has lived in Montana for 43 years, and in the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem for most of that time. His home is in Bozeman, where he shares a house and a small lot with his wife, Betsy Gaines Quammen, a conservationist at work on a doctorate in environmental history, and their family of other mammals.