This week, we welcome the lovely Audrey Kalman to the blog. Audrey writes literary fiction with a dark edge that talks about things that can go wrong when human connection is missing from our lives. She is the author of two novels — What Remains Unsaid and Dance of Souls as well as a book of short stories, Tiny Shoes Dancing, which was shortlisted for the prestigious 2019 International Rubery Book Award.
Audrey also has a really interesting day job (or, more often, night job) as a birth doula! (For those of you who don’t know, a doula is a trained professional who provides support to a mother before, during and shortly after childbirth).
In this interview, Audrey and I talk about the creative process, where ideas come from, why writing “rules” don’t work, and much more. I am excited to have Audrey here. So, without further ado, let’s begin!
Ritu: Hi Audrey. Welcome to the blog! I just read your beautiful book Tiny Shoes Dancing, and I really loved it! It’s evocative, lyrical and has an amazing cast of characters — from C.J. who adopts his dead grandmother’s dog, risking eviction but opening up to the possibility of love to Judy constrained in her marriage, starting a secret life as an erotica writer.
It’s been a while since I read short stories and you reminded me of why I love them. Could you tell us a little bit about yourself and your creative journey until now? How did you start writing? How has this journey morphed and changed over the years?
Audrey: Thanks so much for the opportunity and for your kind words about the book.
My creative writing journey began early in childhood. Apparently I learned to read before I went to kindergarten and started writing not long after that. I remember writing a story in second grade that the teacher read to the class. And I’ve kept a journal almost continuously since I was twelve. I’ve always felt that I couldn’t not write. It sometimes seems less like a creative pursuit than an obsession. Writing has become my way of making sense of the world.
I majored in creative writing at a small liberal arts college and went on to get a master’s degree in journalism. The journalism let me actually make a living by writing and editing, first for a textbook publisher, then in marketing departments at various companies.
Eventually, I ended up in tech in Silicon Valley—far from my original creative spark. But I never stopped writing fiction for myself. When my kids got older, I finished another novel and finally felt confident enough to pursue publication. Since then, I’ve gradually shifted my work back to writing and editing fiction, to realign my vocation and my avocation.
Ritu: The creative process is so mysterious. I think that’s why there are so many supposed “rules” we find for writing both online and in books. People want to somehow catch hold of creativity and put it in a bottle. Is there some “writing rule” or myth that you once believed but no longer do? Is there some misunderstanding about creativity that might have led you in the wrong direction at an earlier time?
I think the idea that writers are either “pantsers” or “plotters” really hurt me at one point. I thought I was neither a plotter nor a pure pantser. Pantsing, to me, sounded completely unplanned and ethereal. I almost felt like there was something wrong with me because I didn’t seem to fit into either camp.
Now, I like how George R.R.Martin talks about different kinds of writers. He says that writers are like gardeners and architects. Each one of us is a bit of both, but with a decided preference. I would say I am around 70% gardener and 30% architect. I do like some structure. I know what seeds I am planting and that I need to water them. But my process is more loose-form than that of an architect’s. What is your style? What would you say is your gardener and architect breakdown?
Audrey: I used to be an intense rule-follower! I was one of those people who couldn’t tolerate grammatical errors—even purposeful ones—and I was very doctrinaire. That’s one area I’ve loosened up on, although I still believe writers should learn and understand some set of common grammar rules before breaking them.
My ideas about creativity have definitely evolved. I feel lucky that creative blocks have never been my problem, maybe because I’ve always practiced my craft regularly. I don’t sit around and wait for inspiration. But in the last few years, I’ve become much more aware of letting myself be open to inspiration.
Stilling my mind, as happens during yoga or meditation or walking, is a great way to let ideas come. As is just doing the work. Every now and then I do get into what artists call “the flow,” where the work seems to write itself and I’m just the medium through which it’s flowing.
But the best way to start the flow going is simply to begin writing. I have a morning writing practice and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sat down reluctantly and forced myself to write for five minutes.
But then I find myself swept up in a stream of words I couldn’t have imagined, expressing something I had no idea I wanted to say. And the only way I would have gotten to that was by sitting down and writing.
I’m a hopeless pantser who aspires to be a plotter. Like you, I’ve finally come to terms with that. It’s an odd quirk of academia—at least during my time in school—that a bachelor’s degree in creative writing and a master’s in journalism taught me nothing about how to write a novel. I had to learn on my own, which I did by writing several novels, all of which are in drawers where they belong.
As I started studying the craft, I learned that I’m a hopeless pantser. Part of the fun of the writing process for me is finding out what’s going to happen next. Of course, that can take you down lots of dead ends. And it can mean throwing away a lot.
The last one I wrote, for example, took me about five years—average novel-writing time for me—and required me to throw away about a third of my “finished” pages along the way. That experience definitely made me wish I could start with more of a blueprint for where I’m going.
I tried that with my current work in progress and I just can’t make it work. So—a pantser I will remain, although once I finish a first draft, I like to play around with applying structure. I’m not sure where that puts me on the gardener-architect continuum.
Ritu: You definitely sound like you lean towards the gardener, Audrey! I know what you mean about the frustration of reaching a dead-end or feeling like you are going round and round. It can feel like a wasted effort, but I guess, in the end, nothing is wasted if it gets us into the heart of our books.
On your blog, you have a post that talks about how you had a dream a few years ago set on a Hawaiin island that featured a character named the Goddess Cash. You transcribed this dream and even wrote a short story based on it. You’ve also written 100 scenes inspired by this dream that you want to develop further.
It was so cool to read this. Dreams are a love of mine (one of the chapters in my book The Empath’s Journey is about working with dreams and the unconscious based on Jungian depth psychology). Could you talk a little bit about this dream and the short story that developed from it?
Audrey: I am looking forward to reading your book! I’ve done some depth work with dreams, especially over the last 15 years when I was lucky enough to work with a fantastic guide before she retired. I go through phases when I do a lot of dream transcription.
Usually, a central image or an emotion sticks with me. In the case of the dream that kicked off my current novel, what stuck with me was a character—a goddess who used to be human—and a tropical island that reminded me of Hawaii.
After that, the goddess figure began showing up during my (waking) morning writing sessions. That’s when I captured the scenes. Now I’m doing the difficult work of figuring out which scenes I should keep and how they all fit together. It’s taking longer than I would like, but—back to your question about creativity—it’s a process that can’t be rushed.
I have to spend time sitting with the not-knowing and have faith that the book will take the shape it’s meant to have. I guess that’s why I don’t do well as a plotter!
Ritu: Yes, I think that not-knowing and mystery are at the heart of the creative process for so many of us. It’s both frustrating-in-the moment as well as amazing when things finally click together.
Could you also give us a sneak peek into the kernel of some other short stories you’ve written? Where did their ideas originate?
I think we are all fascinated by where ideas come from. For me, I find that reading different genres, listening to music or podcasts as well as writing by hand (there’s something to be said about the physical movement of energy), all this unrelated exploration spontaneously combusts into ideas.
Your work is so rich in imagery and in the understanding of the human psyche. Where do you get your ideas? Do you have a way to catch these ideas when they come up?
Audrey: Many of my stories start with a phrase, sometimes the first line, or a title. “Before There Was a Benjamin” was a phrase that came to me and became the title of the story. Then my job as a writer was to figure out what the phrase meant and what story would illuminate it.
I’ve always gravitated toward prompted writing, so several of the stories in my collection began with prompts, especially some of the shorter ones that were published in the now-defunct Mash Stories.
And sometimes they start with a dream image or waking daydream. For example, “The Boy in the Window” was inspired by a wheat-colored house in my neighborhood with a big picture window. I walked by one day and began wondering about the family that lived inside.
Ritu: That is so cool to know. Your mention of titles reminded me of Ray Bradbury’s book Zen in the Art of Writing in which he talks about titles and phrases as a jumping point for his own writing. (By the way, that’s an excellent book for anyone learning to be a writer!)
I can’t not ask you about being a doula! We often hear writers talking about giving birth to their books. There is this sacred aspect to creativity, as if we are pulling it from some larger source than ourselves. Of course, giving birth to a creative project is not the same as giving birth to an actual baby. But there is creative energy involved in both.
I really loved how you talk about the role a doula plays during childbirth as being similar to what a mountain sherpa who takes climbers up a mountain does. A sherpa can’t climb the mountain for someone else. But they can support them through that process.
Is there anything that you have learned from being a doula that you apply to writing or vice versa? How did you get interested in this field and train to become a doula?
Audrey: My work as a doula has really informed my work as an editor, probably more than it has my writing. One of the foundations of doula work is to keep my ideas about birth out of the relationship with my clients, to help them discover what’s most important to them and support their journey.
Similarly, as an editor, my job is not to bring my voice to the work, but to help the writers I work with discover their voices, to help them sound more like themselves.
I got interested in doula work when I had what I now think of as a mid-life career crisis. After many years in tech marketing, I was situated to pursue a VP position if I wanted. And I did want that—until I had my first son, with the help of a doula.
Then my perspective on what was important completely shifted. I worked for a few years as a consultant. After my second son was born, I was ready to complete the transition toward work that’s more meaningful to me. That’s when I made the leap and began realigning my vocation with my avocation.
Ritu: That is so amazing that you followed what felt right to you and moved in its direction. I really respect that. And I can totally see how editing and being a doula are related. I think all books have their own energy, and even in the writing process, you have to get out of the way and think of yourself as a vessel who is helping birth something that already has its own energy, its own shape and form.
Another question that I wanted to ask you is about sharing our work. Today, marketing has become a big part of the writer’s job. Writers not only have to write but also actively promote their books.
Apart from the fact that many of us are introverts and artists who would rather just create, I think marketing is also hard because it really makes us feel vulnerable.
If you find it hard to make an ask, if you have issues around being rejected or abandoned (and who doesn’t, to some degree) or something else like that, then all of that comes out when you are marketing your work. It’s also uncomfortable because we are being asked to push past our comfort zones.
I heard this interview recently where a creative entrepreneur talked about how entrepreneurs experience more fear than others because they are more often in that space of discomfort. What’s your experience been with putting your work out there in the world? How have you navigated this space?
Audrey: Ah, marketing. I feel blessed in that I’ve always been a fairly confident writer. Or, rather, I’ve always been able to separate myself from my writing, so most criticism doesn’t wound me.
The most painful critique I ever received came from my uncle. I had given him a copy of my first novel. My intention was simply to share the good news that it was published; I wasn’t expecting feedback beyond maybe “congratulations.” But several weeks later he called and proceeded to tell me everything he thought was wrong with it.
Believe me, that hurt, and it took me a while to get over it. Now, I’m very specific with relatives and friends when I share my work that I don’t expect feedback. That’s what critique groups and editors are for!
As for marketing, I actually like marketing, which maybe isn’t surprising given my professional background. The problem for writers, of course, is that marketing is just one of many priorities and there are only so many hours in a day. It’s hard to tear myself away from all the fiction I want to write to focus on marketing.
Before Tiny Shoes Dancing came out in 2018, I created a marketing plan, as if I were my own client. I scheduled an hour a day on my calendar to do nothing but work on marketing activities. That was very effective. I also enjoy marketing that’s more personal and lets me meet my audience face to face, like doing readings or visiting a book club that has read one of my books.
The hardest part of marketing these days for indie authors isn’t rejection, it’s deafening silence. There’s so much competition for eyes, ears, and minds, that it’s really difficult even to reach people and get them to read your work. I have a few one-star reviews of my books and I cherish them almost as much as the five-star reviews because at least it means someone took the time to read what I wrote.
Ritu: Yes, that’s definitely true and such a positive way of looking at negative reviews. And yes, I agree, the ground reality of marketing is about reaching people and not the stories about rejection we often make up in our minds.
I also wanted to ask, how do you deal with the burnout that writers can sometimes experience? While some part of writing is those pure, flickering moments of insight and touching the divine, the majority of constructing a book is more like craft, painstakingly laying one brick after the next.
Is there anything that warns you when you are close to burning up your reserves? Is there something that you regularly turn to that renews you?
Audrey: Yes, it’s easy to live for the “pure, flickering moments of insight and touching the divine” (what a lovely way of describing it). Thankfully, I also really enjoy the editing process. At any given time, I often have several works in progress in various stages, so if I feel stuck on one, I can work on another.
Physical activities like yoga, walking, cooking, and even my job as a doula help me recharge. For minute-to-minute recharging, I like a technique I learned from the wonderful writing teacher and novelist Ellen Sussman, which involves writing for a short burst—30 or 45 minutes—then leaving your writing environment for 15 minutes and doing something mundane like washing the dishes or petting the cat, then returning to do another focused burst of timed writing.
Ritu: That’s a great tip for readers to experiment with. Physical activity is so key for writers!
As someone who writes these evocative, beautiful images and descriptions, is there any symbol, any image or story that particularly speaks to you? I have always felt an affinity to the symbol of the turtle.
When I was a child, I used to love Spiderman. And I love spiderwebs. It was really fun to get to know a few years back that spiders are a talisman for writers. In Native American tradition, they are the keepers of the primordial alphabet. It felt a little magical. Not just stories, but our lives can be touched with meaning. Is there something that calls deeply to you?
Audrey: I love that spiders are the keepers of the primordial alphabet!
In my current work in progress, both I and my main character are finding ourselves drawn to and entwined with the ocean. There’s something deeply mythic about the sea. We are made of salt water. The ocean, like us, has inspirations and expirations.
Also—and I know it sounds rather mundane—tea shows up a lot in my books. I have characters drinking tea, heating water for tea, pouring tea from pots. I think tea, and the ritual of making it, is a symbol for me of contemplation, reflection, mindfulness, and connection with my fellow human beings.
Ritu: That is so cool. I can totally see that. And that’s beautiful: “The ocean, like us, has inspirations and expirations.” I feel a great pull towards the image of the sea as well.
So, writing is very hard at times. Why do you think we keep going? I am asking seriously because, at times, I almost feel like “This is so hard. Why am I doing this?” and yet, it’s also true that when I worked in a corporate job, I felt this utter despair.
I am an artist. So, in a way, there is no choice. I could choose to not follow my art. But I know that’s painful because then, I would not be myself.
But the artistic life is uncertain. It’s unclear. It needs a lot of faith (whether in God/Goddess or in yourself). What keeps you writing? What inspires you?
For me, I think I’ve written to access and feel those few moments where everything flows, where everything feels magical. And I hope, as I write more and more, that I can touch this place more easily. What does writing give you? What does it add to your life?
Audrey: I think all writers have slightly different motivations. I love that you write to access that magical state of flow. As I mentioned earlier, I write to make sense of the world. Also, more recently, to connect with my fellow humans on this crazy journey we’re all on. And, finally, as you put it: I have no choice.
Ritu: Yes, it does feel like that, doesn’t it! It was great speaking with you, Audrey! This was a wonderful conversation. Is there anything else you would like to add that I haven’t touched upon? Where can people find you and your work?
Audrey: It’s been my pleasure. I just want to add, addressing your readers: if you have a creative fire inside, whether for writing, painting, music, sculpture, dance, or any other artistic pursuit, go for it. You may not be able to make it your vocation, but do whatever you can to fit it into your life. When you look back on your time on this earth, that’s what you’ll remember.
All of my books are available on Amazon. For those who would rather avoid Amazon, the latest two are available through IndieBound. My website lists links to my published short stories (many of which are in Tiny Shoes Dancing). And anyone who signs up for my email newsletter gets an as-yet-unpublished story sent to them.
Thank you again for the opportunity.
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