Interview with Chloe Benjamin!
And some upcoming events, plus weather-related complaints
Hello!
Right away, I must tell you that this is a special two-part newsletter. Below (after I kvetch about the weather) you will find my interview with the wonderful Chloe Benjamin, author of The Anatomy of Dreams and the NYT bestselling The Immortalists. And, if you sign up for Chloe’s newsletter (which she’ll send out tomorrow), you can read Chloe’s interview with me! I deeply admire Chloe’s writing, and it was great fun to read her answers to my questions about craft, genre, process and fashion.
First, though: the weather. It sucks!!! This whole “winter,” Minnesota has been snowless and grey, and it’s barely dipped below freezing all season; this week I went to work without a coat. What I’d like most in this world is a ceasefire in Gaza, please, please, please. Beyond that, I would like just one perfect snowstorm. For months I’ve been waiting to wake to that unmistakable shush, the stillness, the cold beautiful blanketing multicolored glittering white, but all I’ve gotten was thirty minutes of big soggy flakes on my birthday, which melted as soon as they touched down.
The lack of real winter has disoriented and distressed me. I was born in January, raised in snowy New England, and have lived in famously frigid Minnesota for most of my adult years. I’ve set my life’s clock by the four seasons and winter is my high noon, my center. Like sugar maples, I need a good slow deep freeze to get my sap rising. Right now, my sap is NOT rising. My sap is pooling :(
My love for real winter extends into a love for fictional winter, and for books set in cold, snowy places (thus the Antarctic setting in Ink Blood Sister Scribe). Recently, I had the very great pleasure of meeting a fellow writer who shares this penchant for wintery worlds — enter Chloe Benjamin!
Chloe and I met last fall at the Wisconsin Book Festival, introduced by my lovely publicist, Eliza, who thought we would get along—and boy was she right. Over the course of about two hours, Chloe and I realized we have an uncanny number of similarities, most of them directly related to taste. Namely, we discovered we like all the same things. It was one of those conversations where we basically just started naming books at each other and shouting YES!!! in tandem. I think part of our affinity is that we seem to have read many of the same books when we were children—and, as any voracious childhood readers know, the books you read during those formative years shape your soul like no others. So, in this way, Chloe and I have similar souls.
Chloe has a newsletter she releases four times a year, and in this missive she includes (among other things) interviews with authors and artists. We decided that, for the next installment of her quarterly newsletter (which comes out tomorrow), she would interview me—and in return, I would interview her for mine! So don’t forget, if you want to read Chloe’s interview with me, you must sign up for her newsletter before tomorrow.
After the interview, you will find a list of some upcoming events I have in Minnesota, Kansas, Arizona and Florida!
Onward.
Chloe, do you believe in magic?
Oh, man, you’re starting with a hard one. Put simply: I think so. Put more complicatedly: I feel like I have a really high bar for magic, because I want to believe–I want to be convinced–and I don’t want my belief to simply be a reflection of that wanting. Fundamentally, though, I think of magic and mystery in similar ways. There is so much we don’t know about life, the world, the universe. Magic lives in the gaps and in that way I believe in it entirely.
Both your novels have speculative elements, that is, elements of science fiction or fantasy, and I know you enjoy reading what many people call “genre” novels. When you’re writing, do you think about the “genre” of your book, or the elements of “genre” you are working with? Broadly, into what literary conversation do you feel you’re entering as you write?
I’ve been drawn to beautifully-written sci-fi and fantasy since childhood: A WRINKLE IN TIME, THE GIVER, HIS DARK MATERIALS, and so on. But in my own writing, I think I’m just coming to an understanding of how to do that myself, and of the fact that I want to do that myself. For instance, when I was in college and graduate school for creative writing, I was reading a lot of realist, literary short story writers, and maybe I thought that to be taken seriously, I should do that kind of work: subtle, character-driven, not as much plot. I wrote a novel like that, and every publisher turned it down, and I realized that although I admire that kind of novel, I’m not very good at writing it. And I do love story–I want story as a reader. So at that point I sort of gave myself permission to apply what I love about literary work–that close attention to character and prose–to big, propulsive stories that have some element of the genres I loved reading as a kid, and still do now.
I would describe my first two novels, though, as having a more subtler speculative element than anything full-on sci-fi or fantasy. In fact, when I saw readers describe THE IMMORTALISTS as magical realism, I was surprised. I had never thought of it that way. I’d just thought I was depicting the mysteries that are inherent in realism–what is intuition? Is it possible to have psychic ability? My first book, THE ANATOMY OF DREAMS, follows a trio of researchers who are looking at the dreaming mind, and though some speculative things happen, there too I think that those elements remain within the realm of real-world possibility.
The book I’m working on now, which I call Book 3 publicly, is the first time I’m really letting myself go head over heels into something that (so far as we know) could not happen. That’s exciting, and scary, because the burden of invention is totally on me when it comes to creating a coherent, convincing world.
Ultimately, I think genre distinctions are dissolving somewhat as more literary/genre crossover work emerges: Emily St. John Mandel’s STATION ELEVEN, Mohsin Hamid’s EXIT WEST, Ted Chiang’s science fiction. So, to finally get around to answering your question, I do think about genre when I write, to some extent, but I also think you have to follow your intuition, follow the project. Instead of thinking too much about where my work fits into a larger genre landscape, I just have to fulfill the vision I have for the work. I sort of want the reader to forget about category, to be so immersed that they take the book on its own terms.
When you’re working on a project, how much do you talk about it with other people? At what point in the process do you begin showing your work, and to whom? How much does outside (but pre-editorial) feedback play into your writing process in general?
I keep a novel very close to my chest while working on it. This is in part to maintain that private hothouse of momentum/inspiration/vision, but also because I am a perfectionist, and I don’t like to show anybody anything that I don’t feel really proud of. If I were a faster writer, maybe I’d wait until I had a complete draft, but my drafting process tends to take years, and that is a really long time to be working on something in isolation. So I start to share with an inner circle–my agent, my editor, my husband, my parents, and a couple of close friends–when I have a substantial amount of polished material. That sounds like a big group, but it’s probably 7-8 people in all.
My agent is the first person I share with. But I don’t think I even had her read anything until I finished the first half of the book. My husband read it at that point, too; he’s a huge, essential support, and also a really skilled editor. And I should say that he and I are always in conversation about the book, because he has a great mind, and he’ll think through things with me when I’m stuck. I also have a very close creative relationship with my childhood friend Elana Bowsher, a painter. We’re in constant conversation about our work, and there are a lot of parallels between my third book and what she’s painting now. We send voice memos back and forth daily. Of my friends, she’s been my earliest reader.
A massive difference between the process for this novel and my previous ones is that I have a research assistant this time. She’s the only person who is really in the sausage factory with me from beginning to end. It was psychologically challenging for me to let someone else into the process this way, but it has been so worth it. I can’t even imagine how much longer Book 3 would take if I didn’t have research help–especially with science fiction. To be able to say, “I want the world to have this specific element. Can you find a physics-based explanation for it?”, or “I want my characters to do this specific experiment. Can you outline the steps they would take?” is such a huge relief and really freeing. I still do a ton of my own research, but I can offload a lot, too. It’s definitely an act of trust to have someone there on the inside with me, but I’m really grateful for her contributions.
The Immortalists made me CRY, CHLOE. Did you cry while you were writing it? How does emotion factor into your work? Do you feel it physically, in your body, as you are writing? What are three books that made you cry?
This is such a complicated question for me to answer, because for many years, I was terrified to cry; I had chronic migraines, and crying was a trigger, so I suppressed the physical release of emotion. Thank God, I’ve evolved out of that and no longer have chronic migraine, and now I’m finding my way back to my body. Historically, pre-migraines, I was always a crier; I’d cry at commercials! But I don’t think I cried while writing THE IMMORTALISTS. I definitely experienced it in my body in other ways, though. I’ll feel the pulse of a scene in my heart rate. I wonder if the fact that I didn’t cry while writing it has to do with the fact that the writer, unlike the reader, ultimately has control over the story and characters; nothing is a surprise in the way that it is for a reader. On the other hand, I also think that the lack of crying, as I alluded to initially, had to do with where I was in my life while writing it.
With this new book, I experience/express deep emotion while writing. In fact, I just cried yesterday–not exactly from my own writing but from something I learned during research, and the fever of ideas it brought up. The word that comes to mind as I write Book 3 is that it’s tenderizing me. Sometimes I feel so softened by writing it that it’s uncomfortable to be in the world.
As for work that makes me cry, that is another thing I’m just learning how to do now, to let myself cry in response to art. I don’t have any books that come to mind off the bat, but I did cry at two movies recently: Barbie, and Past Lives. I’m excited to cry more while I read, weird as that sounds.
One of the things that struck me about The Immortalists was the patterned structure and how beautifully you carried it off, with readers following four siblings, one by one, to the moment of their death. Was this always the structure you conceived of to tell this story? How did you decide on it? Generally, how much do you think about structure when you’re writing? And specifically, how do you think about the interplay between structure, plot and tension?
I love this question. And I love structure. This is in part because I love all the nitty-gritty tools of craft, from punctuation to spacing–how the words look on the page, and how that endows rhythm. If those are micro tools, then structure is a macro one.
One primary function of structure for me is that it breaks the project down into concrete chunks so that I’m not overwhelmed by the thought of writing it. It makes my job easier both technically and psychologically. But structure also lends this 3D quality to the book itself. It holds the book up. A novel can feel like such an abstract, unwieldy thing–a long, baggy collection of words–but with the right structure, it becomes a shape. There’s an internal logic.
In the same way that it makes the writing more digestible for me, I hope it impacts the experience of a reader. Ideally, I think, structure should feel inevitable, or somehow inherent to the work, so that shape and function intertwine. I want it to feel like, This book couldn’t have been structured any other way. I tend to come up with a structure for a novel before I start writing it, because it’s so essential for me.
I think structure is also key to pacing. With THE IMMORTALISTS, for example, I knew there would be a prologue and four sections, and I wanted each section to cover a life, and so that lent the project a very clear and propulsive set of arcs, which together comprised a greater arc.
There’s a brilliant section in The Immortalists that I can only imagine took a fair amount of scientific research to write. In what stage of a project do you tend to approach research? In the development phase as inspirational building blocks? During the writing, looking things up as questions arise? Afterwards, filling in the gaps? Some combination thereof?
Yes! All of the above! When I come up with the idea for a book, I typically have a period of many months when I’m just formulating ideas. I like to have an overall sense of arc when I start a book while also leaving room for discovery as I go along. I tend to do a big burst of research up front so that I can put the initial pieces together, and then I research as I go along. For Immortalists, for example, once I got going, I did the research I needed to write the prologue first, then Simon’s section, then Klara’s, etc. There was crossover sometimes, of course. And then I usually do have to go back at the end and refine. But I definitely couldn’t leave gaps and fill them in after the writing process, because the research and the writing are so symbiotic for me.
We both have a fascination with the Arctic and the Antarctic, and I’m wondering, is this because we both imprinted on The Golden Compass at a young age? Or are there deeper reasons? What is it that compels you to the poles? Where else in the world draws you as a writer?
You know what’s crazy? I honestly think it’s because of The Golden Compass. You’d think that there would be a deeper reason, but I guess that just shows how powerfully books leave an imprint with us, how they shape our interests and mental landscape.
Beyond that, though, I think I am drawn to the poles because I am drawn to the cold, and to moody, stormy weather. I was born in a rainstorm, and it’s still my favorite weather. I just find it so evocative and atmospheric. It gets my imagination going. And, having grown up in San Francisco with a lot of rain and fog, it also feels like home. You know how some people feel down in winter? That’s how I feel in summer.
I think the poles also represent mystery to me. They’re some of the most untouched parts of the world–by humans, I mean–and it feels as though the veil is maybe a little bit thinner there between the human and the nonhuman. Though to answer your question about other places that draw me, I am also drawn to cities–all that life layered on top of each other. Secrets–a different kind of mystery. Other cold-weather places tend to be the ones that capture me, though not exclusively. I’m fascinated by the Surrealist history in Mexico City, for example, and I would love to visit and learn more.
What are the five articles of clothing you wore most in 2023, and why?
Okay! I love this question. I do also, admittedly, love clothes.
The Babaton Madden skirt from Aritzia in black, though they only have cream left. I wanted a simple a-line mini skirt with a button, and this one fits the bill perfectly. The fabric is both structured and slightly stretchy. It goes with everything. Right now I’m wearing it with turtlenecks and tights.
Speaking of turtlenecks, I have three Madewell turtlenecks: black, gray, and blue and white striped. They’re about $30 and they hold up well. I wear them tucked into skirts or high-waisted jeans.
These are the first (and perhaps the only) comfortable tights I’ve ever worn. They have yoga pant-style waistband, and it’s about $20 for a 3-pack. I’ll never go back.
I’m a passionate knitter, and at the end of 2022, I finished my most challenging sweater. (For any fellow knitters, I used the Myrtle pattern by Kate Davies.) It feels special whenever I wear it.
Aquatalia boots are quite pricey, but I got a gently used pair on eBay for $70, and I wear them constantly. They’re wildly comfortable and supposedly weatherproof, and the sock-style ankle is very cozy in Wisconsin winters.
Process-wise, tell us about your typical writing routine? Location? Timing? Any rituals you feel comfortable sharing?
I split my time between my home office and coffee shops or libraries. I’m very lucky to have an office at home, but novel-writing is such isolated work that I’m also grateful for social interaction, as well as the gentle peer pressure of having others working nearby. I am sensitive to sound, so I always use earplugs if I’m out.
I do a morning session (about 9am to noon or 1pm) and an afternoon session (about 3pm to 6pm). Between 1 and 3 I do some combination of lunch, errands, and movement. I spend so much time sitting in front of a computer, and I’ve learned how important it is to get into my body. I’ve started lifting weights, and I do yoga, but sometimes I only have time for a walk.
In my office at home, I have lots of things that feel supportive or mildly ritualistic–a candle, plants, photos of my mom, grandmother and greatgrandmother, and some inspiring things that I’ve collected over the years of work on Book 3, like a dried, perfectly-preserved morel mushroom I found on a walk. I also have a bulletin board where I pin things that feel pertinent to this particular book–cards, pictures, things I tear out of magazines or find while I’m out in the world.
From a practical perspective, I have a work set-up that I find helpful ergonomically. I have a chair designed for computer work, but the most important piece is this laptop stand and an external keyboard/mouse, so that I’m not looking down at the screen. Because all of that is portable (except the chair), I bring it when I work outside of the house, too.
(The painting above my desk is of a still from The OA, my favorite TV show of all time, which I zealously recommend to anyone who likes the kind of vibes you and I do.)
Lastly, please tell me: Three things you’re really good at (writing doesn’t count), three things you’re really bad at, and three things you love to do regardless of moralistic dichotomies like “good” and “bad.”
Fantastic question.
Good:
Knitting
Debating (Dad is a lawyer)
Daydreaming
Bad:
Making rice (I know. It’s not hard. Or is it?)
Math
Letting go
Love even if immoral:
Cheez-Its
Reality TV
Gossiping (It’s storytelling! Recently I was talking with my Mom about someone who recently made a baffling decision, and my Mom said something like, “I’m not curious, because it’s none of my business.” I couldn’t disagree more–that is, it’s true that it’s not my business, but I’m still curious.)
THANK YOU CHLOE <3 <3 <3
Don’t forget to check out Chloe’s newsletter and her interview with me! And, of course, read her books if you haven’t had the pleasure of doing so already.
If you’re still here for my longest newsletter yet, here is a list of some upcoming events I have going on.
February
I will be at the Oakdale Library in Oakdale, Minnesota this Monday, February 5 at 6pm!
I’ll be hanging out at AWP in Kansas City, February 8-11, and will be doing an off-site reading in Lawrence, KS with my beloved pals Izzy Wasserstein and Abbey Mei Otis! We will be at the Raven Bookstore on Saturday, February 10 at 7pm.
I will be on Facebook Live (and just realized I’ll have to borrow someone’s Facebook) via the Carver County Library on Tuesday, February 20 at 6:30pm!
March
I will be at the Tucson Book Festival March 9-10, in Tucson Arizona! I have three panels on Saturday and Sunday: “The Magic of Storytelling” with Olivie Blake, Roshani Chokshi, and Suyi Davies Okungbowa; “A Good Villain is Hard to Find” with Cory Doctorow, Jonathan Maberry, and Moses Ose Utomi; and “The Draw of Dark Academia” with Melissa Marr and Olivie Blake.
I’ll be at International Conference for the Fantastic in the Arts on March 13-16 in Orlando, Florida! I’m on a panel on Whimsy.
I’ll be at Mini Con in Minneapolis, Minnesota on March 29-31! I’ll be on two panels, “Accidental Romance” and “Libraries and Bookstores and Magic, Oh My!”
Also, I just found out I’m a finalist for the Minnesota Book Award in Genre Fiction, which absolutely thrills me. I’m obsessed with Minnesota, and it is really nice to feel the love returned.
And finally, what you’ve all been waiting for… the one and only Igor.
Til next time,
<3 Emma