About E. G.

ABOUT E. G.

An Interview

Why you? Why now?

Why not? Sorry–I learned this form of deflective discourse when my two boys were teenagers.

Why the nom de plume? What’s that about?

My hero is Samuel Langhorne Clemens, better known as Mark Twain, or “America’s Shakespeare.” (That, according to a guy named Ernie Hemingway.) So, naturally, I had to have one. It reflects my preternatural obsession with wordplay, Read it aloud, slowly.

What caused you to turn to writing fiction so late in life?

Thanks to my parents and four older siblings, I came up a voracious reader, so I’ve always enjoyed literary fiction. I decided in high school to become a lawyer and change the world, so the nonfiction of post-secondary education, law school, and a career took precedence. I was between assignments in mid-2001 when I discovered the A Murder, A Mystery, and a Marriage contest in the Atlantic Monthly magazine. MMM was a novella written by Mark Twain–my literary hero–sometime between “Tom Sawyer” (1876) and “Huck Finn” (1884). For decades, he tried to convince William Dean Howells, the Atlantic’s publisher, to mount a contest in which he’d publish a few chapters of MMM and invite other literary lights of the day to complete the story. Besides being a genius, Sam Clemens was an intense competitor. Howells knew no one in his or her right mind would come anywhere near it, so he put Twain off. The manuscript was though lost until this century, when the Buffalo and Erie County Public Library bought it from a guy in Texas, I think. So, they decided to fulfill the author’s wishes. My partner, Geri, goaded me into entering three weeks before the deadline. I spent a good bit of that time plowing through the Great Man’s papers housed at the Mark Twain Project at Cal-Berkeley. Needless to say, I was inspired. I was one of 10 finalists and was invited to Buffalo for the awards celebration. Three weeks after the 9-11 attacks, I spent three days meeting the other contestants and mingling with Twain scholars and geeks. Sublime. That’s when I decided to scratch the itch and produce a short story collection.

In your past, you’ve done something very different from what you’re doing now. Does your past influence or inform your writing? How?

The easy answer is, as a lawyer I spent years writing lies–excuse me, “creative fiction”–for my clients, so I’d argue it isn’t that much of a stretch. Good writing begets good writing, as far as I’m concerned. Most of my adult life was spent in public policy and politics, so my literary interests are grounded in real people, real problems, and real solutions.

You say your fiction is “contemporary, topical, and speaks to the human condition.” What does that mean, for prospective readers?

It means you’re going to encounter real characters, whose real stories matter. If you’re looking for post-apocalyptic or dystopian themes, or gangs of vampires, wiccans, wizards, or zombies, you’ll be disappointed. Like my literary heroes, I haven’t given up on us yet.

What inspires you to write a story?

Individual or collective experience–anything from an image to a life chapter, mine or someone else’s.

Matters Familiar consists of 12 very different stories. Is there some kind of unifying theme?

The original title was Family Matters, which I changed to avoid confusion with other works. The theme is “We’re all in this together, in a tribal sense; others are suffering, too, but, as long as we’re engaged, there’s hope.” I try to portray full-dimension people in conflict, with grace, humor, and forgiveness.

Among the stories in your collection, do you have a favorite? Which one, and why?

Without a doubt, my first: “The Jewel of Genoa.” A whole gaggle of wild, relatable characters cleverly disguised as the frail elderly, in a situation that we post-Boomers and our kids are facing every day. I’ve never had more fun putting words in someone else’s mouths.

If Matters Familiar had a subtitle, what would it be?

People Matter: Stories.

Why short fiction? It seems to fall in and out of fashion, compared to longer forms like the novel.

I have a friend who’s a successful genre novelist. She said, “I admire you–short stories are way harder than novels!” I don’t have much use for dropping in on a character’s “slice of life,” without resolution. I love the challenge of producing a satisfying, three-act tale that someone can read and enjoy over a lunch hour.

Who among short-story authors would you say has had the greatest influence on you?

No contest–Sam Clemens, or Mark Twain. Besides the power and construction of his word entertainment, everything he wrote is anchored in the human condition. I learned more about slavery, racism, hypocrisy, and other darknesses in our souls, and about our potential for redemption, than from anyone else, fiction or nonfiction. Sholem Aleichem; Saul Bellow; Alice Munro; John Updike; Eudora Welty–anyone who can assemble ethereal humans onto a stage of pulp and spin magic out of their words and deeds. Ernest Hemingway for punch-power–see “Hills Like White Elephants.” Elmore Leonard for character dimension and dialogue; the just-concluded TV gem, “Justified,” was based on his novella, “Fire in the Hole.” I admire George Saunders’ work because he’s crazier than I am, and at least as soft.

What is your writing process? How do you get from concept to “The End?”

I’ve heard John Irving say that he doesn’t begin writing anything until he knows what the last sentence is, and everything that comes before it. I’ve also heard his protege, Abraham Vergese, say he began writing “Cutting for Stone” with a single idea: an Indian nun dies giving birth to Siamese twins. My process falls somewhere in between.

What would you say to those who might dismiss you because you haven’t “paid your dues?”

I’d ask them, “What does that mean?” I was born. I’ve seen; thought; studied; passed; failed; lived; loved; fought; suffered; hurt; healed; married; reproduced; divorced; endured. I’m a card-carrying Homo Sapiens–all paid up, with more to do.

Have you attempted to write in any form other than short fiction?

Some of my stories are long enough to qualify as novellas, I guess. I’ve written and published some poetry in the past, and my adult career as a lawyer was dedicated to producing fact-based narratives as required for clients–in English, I’m proud to say. I’m working on a nonfiction book on political reform, to be published under my real name.

What should a reader bring to your stories, to get the most out of them?

An open mind, a sharp imagination, and a heart with a little room to spare.

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