12 or 20 (second series) questions with Thea Matthews
Thea Matthews
[photo credit: CoskunCaglayan] is the author of
GRIME
and
Unearth [The Flowers]
, whichwas named one of Kirkus Reviews’ Best Indie Poetry books of 2020. Herwork has been featured in The Colorado Review, The New Republic, TheMassachusetts Review, Obsidian, and more. She lives and teaches inNew York City.1 - How did your first book change your life? How does your most recentwork compare to your previous? How does it feel different?
My first book was a triumph-over-trauma composition—a kind ofthroat-clearing for me as a poet and author. It was both a way to processsurvivor visibility and an extension of the research I was pursuing for myundergraduate thesis at Cal. The book became a vehicle to release what neededto be said so I could do the work I do now. In fact, I’ve come to accept thateverything I create as a poet today could not have existed without Unearth[The Flowers].
After finishing my MFA, I went through a phase of embarrassment becausethe book had been published before my graduate studies; I felt unrefined andeven cringed at my own work. That moment has thankfully passed. I am now deeplyproud of the book. As for the craft, I remain humbled and grateful to havetangible evidence of my evolution as a writer.
My two books, in fact, feel as though they were written by two differentauthors. My second collection GRIME is dramatically different, shaped bythe exponential growth I experienced during NYU’s MFA program. That bookreflects far greater intentionality and critical engagement with form, sound,and poetic lineage—asking, on the page, which poets I am in conversation with.I imagine my next book will serve as a kind of bridge, carrying echoes fromboth works into new terrain.
2 - How did you come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction ornon-fiction?
Poetry came to me first. The rest is history, as they say...
3 - How long does it take to start any particular writing project? Doesyour writing initially come quickly, or is it a slow process? Do first draftsappear looking close to their final shape, or does your work come out ofcopious notes?
Projects come quickly, and the writing itself often arrives in bursts.But completing a poem—or an entire project—takes much longer. Nicole Sealey,one of my MFA craft professors, once distinguished between fire poets andcrystal poets. I have come to accept that I am a crystal poet: I need time,pressure, and patience before I am willing to abandon a poem and call it“done.” I am rarely, if not never, satisfied with my initial draft of a poem.Instead, I research more, revise, and return to the work again and again.Often, I’ll draft thirty poems in a single month, but it can take a year ormore before one of them feels finished. My poems, in other words, simmer in aslow cooker rather than sear in a sizzling hot pan.
4 - Where does a poem usually begin for you? Are you an author of shortpieces that end up combining into a larger project, or are you working on a"book" from the very beginning?
Any new poem I write will emerge from one or more of these core themes oflove, survival, resilience, grief, despair, desperation, terror, violence… Ofcourse, there will be surprises—every poem begins with an idea whose finalshape I can’t predict—but having these thematic anchors helps me recognizewhich poems belong to a project and which can be set aside.
5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Areyou the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
I love and deeply enjoy doing readings because I love embodying the poemand the reenactment of emotion. Honestly, readings give me validation more thana heightened flow of creativity.
6 - Do you have any theoretical concerns behind your writing? What kindsof questions are you trying to answer with your work? What do you even thinkthe current questions are?
In my writing, I wrestle with questions of representation andresponsibility: How do I avoid the trap of romanticizing pain? Can I subvertsensationalism rather than fall into it? When meditating on events that have actuallytaken place, I ask whether my approach brings justice to the subject matter. AmI honoring the essence of the people whose voices become speakers in my poems?Am I attentive to the gravity of the moment being reimagined on the page?
7 – What do you see the current role of the writer being in largerculture? Do they even have one? What do you think the role of the writer shouldbe?
That’s a great question, but I can’t say what I think the role of thewriter should be. I’m tired of hearing writers tell other writers what theirrole is in culture and society at large. If you write, then honor the roleyou’re in—celebrate it—and stay in your lane. I am a writer, yes, withphilosophical tendencies, but I am not a spokesperson for writers.
What I know for myself is this: I expose the underbelly of society whilegrappling with the human condition and notions of societal values. My focusremains: can I do that exceptionally well? The practice continues…
8 - Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficultor essential (or both)?
I find working with an editor to be essential to the production process.I value the support of another set of eyes critically engaging with my work,offering feedback, and helping guide the book toward its fully realized form.I’m deeply grateful for the synergy I’ve experienced with the editors of mybooks. Thank you, Jessie Carver and Garrett Caples!
9 - What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily givento you directly)?
Robin Coste Lewis, one of my MFA workshop professors at NYU, once toldus: “Be good to your art, and your art will be good to you.” When I meditate onthis statement, I’m reminded to honor what arrives through me and to cherishit, rather than dismiss it with criticism or despairing envy. Perhaps one ofthe reasons people encounter writer’s block is that they don’t value thewriting that comes.
Robin emphasized that we write to reach what truly needs to be written. Ihold that advice close. No matter how negative or imperfect a draft may feel, Iwrite it out and let the poem breathe. For me, revision cannot come from aplace of negativity; it is an act of reimagining, of allowing the poem itselfto guide me toward its fullest actualization.
10 - What kind of writing routine do you tend to keep, or do you evenhave one? How does a typical day (for you) begin?
My writing routine moves in seasons. Thanks to the poet EK Keith, I makeit a point to participate in a poem-a-day challenge during one or more of the30-day months in a year (April, June, September, November). The remainingmonths are devoted to revising the poems I’ve written.
Throughout the day and week, I’m constantly collecting ideas—whetherphrases, key words, or dramatic scenarios. These can range from somethingplayful, like “grippy socks” or “if the world was a poem,” to somethingharrowing, like a dramatic monologue imagining the fatal subway burning of awoman by a drunk man who claims he remembers nothing. I collect these ideas sothat when the 30-poem challenge arrives, I have prompt-like springboards readyto jump from.
11 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (forlack of a better word) inspiration?
I don’t believe my writing ever stalls. There may be a moment ofhesitation—Okay, can I write a poem? I know how to write a poem. I’ve done thisbefore…—but I never experience a true block. I keep my process fresh. I have astrong aversion to stagnation.
So, my approach to writing evolves constantly. I am methodical in how Iengage with subject matter. My relationship to form also provides inspiration:whether I’m working with a golden shovel, a cento, or a dramatic monologue, Iam critically engaging with other poets, and that conversation keeps mefocused. I don’t seek inspiration externally, because I am either generatingnew material from a collected set of ideas or revising existing work. Theseasonal cycle of writing and revision keeps both the pace steady andcreativity flowing.
12 - What fragrance reminds you of home?
Vanilla with a dash of cinnamon
13 - David W. McFadden once said that books come from books, but arethere any other forms that influence your work, whether nature, music, scienceor visual art?
My books are inspired not only by other books but also by human nature,visual art, and music. Grime, for example, is a musical genre whose harsh,jagged sounds parallel the stark realities in GRIME, the book. I grew upimmersed in punk and rock—especially grunge and alternative—so my writing oftenreflects that distortion: loud guitars, a solo here and there, and the tonalregister of that lyrical atmosphere. Movie soundtracks also inform my work andcan even accompany it; for instance, the Requiem for a Dream soundtrackby the Kronos Quartet aligns closely with the beats of GRIME.
14 - What other writers or writings are important for your work, orsimply your life outside of your work?
I won’t be able to name them all, but I must acknowledge the work of Ai,Terrance Hayes, Robin Coste Lewis, and Bob Kaufman, as well as Sharon Olds’s SatanSays and Patricia Smith’s Blood Dazzler. Their influence resonatesdeeply in my own work and I continuously learn from them.
15 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
Get an originally drafted screenplay successfully sold with producerrights.
16 - If you could pick any other occupation to attempt, what would it be?Or, alternately, what do you think you would have ended up doing had you notbeen a writer?
I have always been an artist. I think I would have been a visual artistof some kind or find some nest in music.
17 - What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
O my soul yearned for it.
18 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?
The last great film I read and watched was The Conjuring (2013).
19 - What are you currently working on?
My next book of poetry and a horror screenplay!
