Jessica Treat's Blog - Posts Tagged "writing"
'Windows' by Charles Baudelaire
Windows (a prose poem)
by Charles Baudelaire
A man looking out of an open window never sees as much as the same man looking directly at a closed window. There is no object more deeply mysterious, no object more pregnant with suggestion, more insidiously sinister, in short more truly dazzling than a window lit up from within by even a single candle. What we can see out in the sunlight is always less interesting than what we can perceive taking place behind a pane of windowglass. In that pit, in that blackness or brightness, life is being lived, life is suffering, life is dreaming....
Above the wave-crests of the rooftops across the way I can see a middle-aged woman, face already wrinkled--a poor woman forever bending over something, who never seems to leave her room. From just her face and her dress, from practically nothing at all, I've re-created this woman's story, or rather her legend; and sometimes I weep while reciting it to myself.
Some poor old man would have sufficed just as well; I could with equal ease have invented a legend for him, too.
And so I go to bed with a certain pride, having lived and suffered for others than myself.
Of course, you may confront me with: "But are you sure your story is really the true and right one?" But what does it really matter what the reality outside myself is, as long as it has helped me to live, to feel that I am alive, to feel the very nature of the creature that I am.
by Charles Baudelaire
A man looking out of an open window never sees as much as the same man looking directly at a closed window. There is no object more deeply mysterious, no object more pregnant with suggestion, more insidiously sinister, in short more truly dazzling than a window lit up from within by even a single candle. What we can see out in the sunlight is always less interesting than what we can perceive taking place behind a pane of windowglass. In that pit, in that blackness or brightness, life is being lived, life is suffering, life is dreaming....
Above the wave-crests of the rooftops across the way I can see a middle-aged woman, face already wrinkled--a poor woman forever bending over something, who never seems to leave her room. From just her face and her dress, from practically nothing at all, I've re-created this woman's story, or rather her legend; and sometimes I weep while reciting it to myself.
Some poor old man would have sufficed just as well; I could with equal ease have invented a legend for him, too.
And so I go to bed with a certain pride, having lived and suffered for others than myself.
Of course, you may confront me with: "But are you sure your story is really the true and right one?" But what does it really matter what the reality outside myself is, as long as it has helped me to live, to feel that I am alive, to feel the very nature of the creature that I am.
Interview about Meat Eaters & Plant Eaters
Read it here:
http://boaeditions.org/BOA-News/2009/...
or here:
Conversation with Jessica Treat
Jessica Treat is a Professor of English at Northwestern Connecticut Community College, where she coordinates the Mad River Literary Festival. She has read and presented her work at numerous festivals, literary venues and universities, including Brown University, New York University, Universidad de Almeria (Spain), Boston Fiction Festival and The Poetry Project.
How long did it take you to write the stories in Meat Eaters and Plant Eaters? Were the stories all written after you finished your second book, or are some older?
A few of the stories are older, some of the longer ones, but most of them were written since the last book came out. My first collection (Robber in the House, Coffee House Press, 1993) was all short-shorts, and initiated their Coffee-To-Go Short-Short Story Series. My second book (Not a Chance, FC2, 2000) had longer stories, some of which I’d worked on since grad school, and a novella.
With this book, I got tired of having my work defined by length, and I wanted to put together a collection that was mixed, where the stories belonged in the book regardless of how long or short they were. And Peter Conners [BOA Editor:] thought that the project was more interesting that way, and overall he was very supportive.
I thought when I finished my last book that there might be seven years before my next one, but it was closer to nine. But I also have a child and a full time job. I’ve also had to accept that I write slowly. But, surprisingly, I felt like this book really came together in the last month, when I wrote two new stories, and somehow that helped me figure out how the book should be ordered.
Speaking of the various lengths of these stories, do you have a potential story length in mind before you start writing, or do you find that each story determines its own length as you go along?
I work very much from the idea that the content of the story dictates its form and length. So I try not to start with any preconceived notions about the story. That said, unfortunately or fortunately, I am just not a novelist by nature. When I’m writing, I zero in. I see novelists collecting and weaving plot and character as they go, whereas I tend to be honing in rather than opening out. So sometimes I’ll be writing a story and thinking it’ll be 14 pages, then I come to a place on page 5 where I find that the story ends. I don't usually know how the story will end and just try and let the material show me how long it needs to be. What happens a lot is I get to a final line and then can't go on. It’s the curse of the short story writer.
Would you consider these shorter stories as flash fiction, short shorts, fiction, or do you worry about these terms and categories? Are these distinctions something you apply to yourself, or something that others apply for you?
It's definitely something that other people worry about. I've come to accept the term flash fiction, but I don't really like the word flash, because it makes the work seem flashy, not something that endures. When I first started writing, the term didn’t even exist, shorter work was instead called tales, then later short-shorts.
I was introduced to this kind of work as an undergrad, writers like Kafka and Thurber and Barthelme, writers working in shorter forms. And that was very exciting to me. I kind of found a home for myself there. I still think that a story, regardless of length, needs to satisfy the requirements of a story, but I also believe that short stories have more in common with poetry than novels. This commonality, this closeness between poetry and short stories, is part of why I’m excited that BOA has started moving into fiction, and why I feel like BOA is absolutely the right place for me to be. Even in the novel that I’m working on, the feeling is still claustrophobic. Novelists and short story writers just feel different somehow.
How did you determine the sections for this book? What similarities do you see between the stories in each section?
I felt that there was a thematic and stylistic separation between the different sections. In Drive, the first section, all the stories are quite short, and tend to revolve around one-on-one relationships between people. Teacup and Covered Bridge feel slightly different, but I felt they still belonged.
The Meat Eaters and Plant Eaters section is about family and pets, life and death. I've been living in the country now for 17 years, and it does change your subjects as a writer. Now I write more about living with animals in a way I never would've living in Brooklyn. Close Your Eyes is the shortest section, and those two stories felt more fable-like. Hans & His Daughter is kind of in the style of allegory, and Close Your Eyes is different in that way as well, but I’d consider that one a therapy story, which is another genre entirely.
The last section, Little Bitches, is all about girls and women, their relationships with each other. Although Violin Lesson is a mother-daughter story. But I think it still fits with the title story for the section, Little Bitches, girls and women coming into their own, and sometimes not acting very nicely.
Your story Teacup ends with the line “It was a mystery she would live with.” This ending seemed to capture something for me about the work as whole. Do you think living with mystery is essential?
I like that you picked that line. I think everyone is drawn to mystery. As readers and in life, we like to solve mysteries, but also there are the continuing mysteries of personality and character and situations that happen in every day life. This reminds of how last month someone left a wooden box on my doorstep, and I never figured out who, or why. These things happen all the time. For me the story is meant to retain that mystery. Life is mystery, and wonderful. It’s not about solving it, but exploring it, the mystery of relationships and memory and personality, and trying to retain that richness.
Any forthcoming projects? What's next?
I've got a bunch of projects started, but Meat Eaters and Plant Eaters was a nice marker for me because it took care of a lot of my new stories, and also older ones that didn't belong in my first two collections. So I feel like I’ve temporarily cleaned the slate with my shorter work. I have three big projects now that I’m keeping in mind. The first is a novel. At least, it feels like a novel now, though I can’t say for certain. It looks at the world of cyber relationships. That’s kind of a new frontier, and since I’m already interested in relationships, the cyber world feels like a place worth exploring.
There’s also a translation project with Chilean writer Javier Campos. I’ll be reading some of my translations of his poems at an event in New York City, which also will feature Martin Espada. I’ve been interested in translation and poetry for many years now, and it would be great to translate a full collection of Javier Campos’ work.
The third project is editing an anthology of short stories written in the form of letters. I had a story like that in each of my last two books. You normally associate the task of working in a specific form with poets, so I think it’s interesting to see how fiction writers handle the epistolary form.
© 2008 BOA Editions, Ltd
http://boaeditions.org/BOA-News/2009/...
or here:
Conversation with Jessica Treat
Jessica Treat is a Professor of English at Northwestern Connecticut Community College, where she coordinates the Mad River Literary Festival. She has read and presented her work at numerous festivals, literary venues and universities, including Brown University, New York University, Universidad de Almeria (Spain), Boston Fiction Festival and The Poetry Project.
How long did it take you to write the stories in Meat Eaters and Plant Eaters? Were the stories all written after you finished your second book, or are some older?
A few of the stories are older, some of the longer ones, but most of them were written since the last book came out. My first collection (Robber in the House, Coffee House Press, 1993) was all short-shorts, and initiated their Coffee-To-Go Short-Short Story Series. My second book (Not a Chance, FC2, 2000) had longer stories, some of which I’d worked on since grad school, and a novella.
With this book, I got tired of having my work defined by length, and I wanted to put together a collection that was mixed, where the stories belonged in the book regardless of how long or short they were. And Peter Conners [BOA Editor:] thought that the project was more interesting that way, and overall he was very supportive.
I thought when I finished my last book that there might be seven years before my next one, but it was closer to nine. But I also have a child and a full time job. I’ve also had to accept that I write slowly. But, surprisingly, I felt like this book really came together in the last month, when I wrote two new stories, and somehow that helped me figure out how the book should be ordered.
Speaking of the various lengths of these stories, do you have a potential story length in mind before you start writing, or do you find that each story determines its own length as you go along?
I work very much from the idea that the content of the story dictates its form and length. So I try not to start with any preconceived notions about the story. That said, unfortunately or fortunately, I am just not a novelist by nature. When I’m writing, I zero in. I see novelists collecting and weaving plot and character as they go, whereas I tend to be honing in rather than opening out. So sometimes I’ll be writing a story and thinking it’ll be 14 pages, then I come to a place on page 5 where I find that the story ends. I don't usually know how the story will end and just try and let the material show me how long it needs to be. What happens a lot is I get to a final line and then can't go on. It’s the curse of the short story writer.
Would you consider these shorter stories as flash fiction, short shorts, fiction, or do you worry about these terms and categories? Are these distinctions something you apply to yourself, or something that others apply for you?
It's definitely something that other people worry about. I've come to accept the term flash fiction, but I don't really like the word flash, because it makes the work seem flashy, not something that endures. When I first started writing, the term didn’t even exist, shorter work was instead called tales, then later short-shorts.
I was introduced to this kind of work as an undergrad, writers like Kafka and Thurber and Barthelme, writers working in shorter forms. And that was very exciting to me. I kind of found a home for myself there. I still think that a story, regardless of length, needs to satisfy the requirements of a story, but I also believe that short stories have more in common with poetry than novels. This commonality, this closeness between poetry and short stories, is part of why I’m excited that BOA has started moving into fiction, and why I feel like BOA is absolutely the right place for me to be. Even in the novel that I’m working on, the feeling is still claustrophobic. Novelists and short story writers just feel different somehow.
How did you determine the sections for this book? What similarities do you see between the stories in each section?
I felt that there was a thematic and stylistic separation between the different sections. In Drive, the first section, all the stories are quite short, and tend to revolve around one-on-one relationships between people. Teacup and Covered Bridge feel slightly different, but I felt they still belonged.
The Meat Eaters and Plant Eaters section is about family and pets, life and death. I've been living in the country now for 17 years, and it does change your subjects as a writer. Now I write more about living with animals in a way I never would've living in Brooklyn. Close Your Eyes is the shortest section, and those two stories felt more fable-like. Hans & His Daughter is kind of in the style of allegory, and Close Your Eyes is different in that way as well, but I’d consider that one a therapy story, which is another genre entirely.
The last section, Little Bitches, is all about girls and women, their relationships with each other. Although Violin Lesson is a mother-daughter story. But I think it still fits with the title story for the section, Little Bitches, girls and women coming into their own, and sometimes not acting very nicely.
Your story Teacup ends with the line “It was a mystery she would live with.” This ending seemed to capture something for me about the work as whole. Do you think living with mystery is essential?
I like that you picked that line. I think everyone is drawn to mystery. As readers and in life, we like to solve mysteries, but also there are the continuing mysteries of personality and character and situations that happen in every day life. This reminds of how last month someone left a wooden box on my doorstep, and I never figured out who, or why. These things happen all the time. For me the story is meant to retain that mystery. Life is mystery, and wonderful. It’s not about solving it, but exploring it, the mystery of relationships and memory and personality, and trying to retain that richness.
Any forthcoming projects? What's next?
I've got a bunch of projects started, but Meat Eaters and Plant Eaters was a nice marker for me because it took care of a lot of my new stories, and also older ones that didn't belong in my first two collections. So I feel like I’ve temporarily cleaned the slate with my shorter work. I have three big projects now that I’m keeping in mind. The first is a novel. At least, it feels like a novel now, though I can’t say for certain. It looks at the world of cyber relationships. That’s kind of a new frontier, and since I’m already interested in relationships, the cyber world feels like a place worth exploring.
There’s also a translation project with Chilean writer Javier Campos. I’ll be reading some of my translations of his poems at an event in New York City, which also will feature Martin Espada. I’ve been interested in translation and poetry for many years now, and it would be great to translate a full collection of Javier Campos’ work.
The third project is editing an anthology of short stories written in the form of letters. I had a story like that in each of my last two books. You normally associate the task of working in a specific form with poets, so I think it’s interesting to see how fiction writers handle the epistolary form.
© 2008 BOA Editions, Ltd
an Interview by Carla Sarett
The wonderful short story writer, blogger and goodreader Carla Sarett asks me some interesting questions in her monthly interview:
http://carlasarett.blogspot.ca/2013/0...?
http://carlasarett.blogspot.ca/2013/0...?
