Six fiction authors with new novels met in an online group of debut authors. Recently, they got together to discuss how their day jobs inform their writing.
Christine Ma-Kellams is a college professor, Harvard-trained cultural psychologist and author of The Band (Atria, April 2024), which follows a canceled K-pop boy bander who escapes by hiding in the McMansion of an unhappily married therapist with a savior complex. Cherry Lou Sy is a Filipina-American writer, playwright, adjunct lecturer in English/American Studies at Brooklyn College, teacher at PEN America’s DREAMing Out Loud, and author of Love Can’t Feed You (Penguin Random House, October 2024), a People Magazine Book of the Week and an Amazon Editor’s Pick. Ledia Xhoga is an Albanian-American fiction writer and playwright whose Misinterpretation (September 2024) by Tin House Books was a finalist for the Center for Fiction First Novel Prize and a Best of 2024 Book by Debutiful. In Emet North’s previous lives, they worked in an observational cosmology lab, taught snowboarding, trained horses, and wrote a thesis on the many-worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics before publishing In Universes with Harper Books (April 2024). Danny Goodman earned his MFA in Fiction from the University of New Orleans before coming out with Amerikaland from LEFTOVER Books (June 2024). Janie Kim is currently a biology PhD student at Stanford University and is the author of We Carry the Sea in Our Hands from Alcove Press (July 2024).
Does your day job inform your writing, or are they in competition?
LX: Years ago, while attending a wedding in France, someone asked me what I did for work. When I told him that I worked in publishing, the Frenchman raised his glass of Rose in my direction and said, “To New Yorkers and all their fancy jobs.” I didn’t dare tell him that he was right; it was a good job by all objective measurements, but I was applying to MFA programs and really wanted to quit. This is a long way of saying that every full-time job I’ve had, even a decent one, has always seemed in competition with writing for the best hours of the day. The daily routine, being under the scrutiny of a supervisor, the calculated vacation and sick days, didn’t exactly encourage creativity. Having various part-time gigs, which I’m doing now, suits me better and allows for more flexibility when it comes to writing.
CS: I also don’t have one day job per se. I feel like I have multiple gigs as an adjunct lecturer in the American Studies and English Departments of my university as well as adjudicating for high school playwriting competitions, etc. Because I don’t make enough as an adjunct, I also work part-time as a college assistant in the scholarship office, which gave me a lot of insight into the higher education machine. I also have teaching artist positions where I’ve taught playwriting and fiction writing. One of my favorite gigs has been to work for PEN America’s DREAMing Out Loud program. I’ve encountered many very talented immigrants and often undocumented folks from there. Working with them grounded me in the reason for writing. My novel Love Can’t Feed You is rooted in the blue-collar immigrant experience that I and some fellow immigrants have.
CMK: I’ve a similar background with Cherry—immigrant-turned-college professor. I don’t do this all the time, but at least in my debut novel, I have footnotes citing empirical studies that I’ve taught during my day job as a social psychologist and associate professor. I don’t see them as in competition with each other because in fiction as in psychology, the goal is to explain the incomprehensible things in our lives or our world. The only difference is the methods. I’m curious about what Danny would say though, since he works in editing when he’s not writing—
DG: In my non-writing life, I work as a technical editor, as well as a GIS specialist, where I spend a lot of time digging through data and making maps. I love maps, and while this is a profession I came to later in life (I was a professor and editor for nearly a decade first), it is certainly a passion. In many ways, cartography and writing are similar, and, for me, the two certainly inform one another. They are two different forms of storytelling, two different but perfect canvases for bringing ideas to life.
In my debut novel, Amerikaland, maps and mapmaking play an important role, which was not something I planned specifically beforehand. Their inclusion came about naturally during the writing process and immediately felt inextricable. I am, in the end, grateful for the connection, for the ways these mediums inspire one another.
JK: Both! The natural world is weird and often wonderful, and this fascination seems to find its way into both my scientific research as a PhD student and my creative writing (and the happy medium: blogging for a microbiology blog). My research is currently very exploratory—both story-writing and this sort of science teach me to keep an eye out while going about daily business, to look for little details that could sprout new experiment ideas or story ideas. They have also taught me to enjoy the state of being a novice at something (everything is new and shiny and fascinating when you’re a novice!). I think that both science and writing have the same goal of understanding life, except that one is at a microscopic scale and the other is at a macroscopic scale. There’s a lot of synergy between science and writing. But of course, they’re also vying for time.
Think back to your educational training—writing related or not. What did it teach you about craft (if anything)?
EN: Studying physics primarily taught me how to fail. Or, in another framing, how to persevere. It was an area where it didn’t matter how hard I worked—there were concepts that escaped me, problems I was incapable of solving. There was a time in my life when failure was terrifying, but after five years in physics, I’d failed so many times that the fear had worn off. This willingness to throw myself at a problem and make no headway and then try again—I think that’s been immensely useful in my writing life.
CMK: I’ve no formal training in creative writing. Like Emet, I was also trained in the sciences. I was only taught academic writing, which appears to be the opposite of what I do as a novelist. That said, I had to learn the rules of “proper” writing in order to figure out which ones to break. Take, for example, sentence structure. I like to use it as a tool and occasionally, a weapon. This means that I’m all for sentence fragments and run-on sentences if they serve to prove a point. But this only works if I know that I am breaking the rules of syntax for a purpose—otherwise, it just sounds like sloppy writing.
DG: I’ve had almost the opposite experience, with nearly the entirety of my educational life devoted to writing in one way or another (which, on reflection, feels slightly exhausting these years later lol). I studied writing as an undergraduate at the University of Central Florida, where I was mentored by the great Jeanne Leiby. She not only taught me so much about writing, about the confidence it takes to put pen to paper, but she opened my reading world as well. Read everything, she once told me, and never stop learning.
I also spent (perhaps too much) time in graduate school, both at Lancaster University in England, where I was directed by the poet Paul Farley, and later at the University of New Orleans, during which time, much to my surprise, I also became enraptured by nonfiction writing. I wouldn’t trade a moment of it for anything—it all helped shape the writer I became, have become, and fed my desire to be constantly learning, improving, falling in love with writing over and over again.
CS: So I received my MFA in playwriting, which is a different field and genre to prose writing. I was in one fiction workshop and I was told that I have an MFA already. I had to explain that although I had an MFA, the experience is different from writing fiction. Even the way we analyzed plays in my program was different from a typical fiction writing workshop. We didn’t have to read the plays beforehand. We listened to it read out loud by a cast of different readers from class to hear the texture of the play since plays are meant to be heard and performed, whereas prose needs to work for a single reader at any given time and can be done in advance. Playwriting taught me the value of dialogue.
LX: During my MFA at Texas State I learned a lot about craft which was helpful as I was writing my novel. A character has to make decisions, one of my professors would always say. In Misinterpretation, the main character, an interpreter who works with struggling immigrants, makes questionable decisions which take the story to unexpected places. What also comes to mind is a class where we did close readings of short stories. We’d discover and follow two main ideas that coursed through each story. Sometimes one idea seemed to be the winner, but then things changed. In Misinterpretation the interpreter lacks boundaries between her job and personal life. Her attention and efforts are focused outward, toward suffering strangers, which contrasts with her husband’s family-oriented point of view. The fluctuations in their relationship reveal the struggle of the ideas they represent, which deepens narrative tension.
If you weren’t formally trained in writing, how did you learn how to write?
CS: I have an MFA in playwriting, but I wasn’t taught to write plays. It’s already assumed that you can write. At that time, in hindsight, I could barely write in the sense of having a developed voice with a clear perspective of craft and vision. I’ve heard it said that no one can teach you how to write. You just write. Most times, you’ll write garbage. It’s the rewriting that really shapes the writing.
LX: Although I have an MFA, I learned the most from practice and failure.
EN: When I was first trying to seriously pursue writing, I was living in rural Montana working as a snowboard instructor. In the absence of a writing community or instructors, I came across a quote by Ray Bradbury that said that if you wanted to write a good short story, you should write a story every week because “it’s not possible to write fifty-two bad short stories in a row.” Although I didn’t make it a whole year, I lasted six months, at the end of which I put most of the twenty-plus stories in a drawer never to be looked at again. But a few of those stories were good enough to help me get into some conferences and later an MFA, where I was able to study writing and learn from other writers in a more typical way.
CMK: Since nobody has mentioned this yet, I’ll say it: Reading! Once upon a time, right after college, I wrote a novel that was terrible because I had spent all my time reading textbooks and peer-reviewed journal articles. It wasn’t until I started reading for fun again—during a storytime with my toddler at the library, no less—that I also began writing (well).
JK: Reading, for me too! As a kid, the Warrior Cats and Redwall series were my “gateway books” to a love for reading (as seems to be for many), and books like these led to my wanting to try my own hand at writing books. There were lots of bad stories between then and now. In undergrad, as I was majoring in molecular biology, I took a few creative writing workshops. I ended up writing a thesis for my minor in creative writing (this became my debut novel), and I learned so much from that process. A.M. Homes, who has been a wonderful writing mentor, taught me to write what I wanted, to not be afraid to make a mess in the writing process, and to listen to my characters.
Say you win the author lottery tomorrow and end up selling a gazillion of your books. Would you quit your job and write full time?
DG: This is definitely a fantastic question to answer after I’ve had a couple drinks at the end of a long work week… but, in all honesty, I don’t know! I relish the idea of being a full-time writer, as I’ve never had that possibility. In some ways, though, I enjoy the “break,” so to speak, or reset that my job brings. I really enjoy my non-writing work, and, as discussed earlier, the ways it informs my writing. In the end, the real answer to this question is that I’d love to be able to devote most of my time to writing—that would be an actual dream scenario for me—with ample time set aside for editorial cat snuggles.
EN: Absolutely! I adore having vast expanses of time to myself too. Beyond writing, I have far too many different hobbies and pursuits—I think I could live ten lifetimes and still not have enough time to learn everything I’d like to learn.
CS: I think I would live full time, and, of course, write about those experiences since life inspires art.
CMK: Wow, I have to disagree because my answer is: Never! Being a writer full time sounds too solitary. That, and I get bored easily, so I need perpetual stimulation from strangers.
LX: I won’t win the author lottery, but money is wonderful not to worry about, so let’s pretend. I’d write full time, but I will have to be mindful of not losing touch with reality. Maybe themthought of how to help others who need money more than me will keep me grounded. Who knows. Let’s find out!
JK: Probably not. But also maybe ask again in year four or five of my PhD and it’s possible the answer then will be a delighted “YES!”
Christine Ma-Kellams a college professor, Harvard-trained cultural psychologist and author who also writes short stories and essays (for the likes of the Wall Street Journal, HuffPost, Chicago Tribune, Salon, Business Insider, Rumpus, ZYZZYVA, Prairie Schooner, and elsewhere). Her debut novel from Atria, The Band (April 2024), follows a canceled K-pop boy bander who escapes by hiding in the McMansion of an unhappily married therapist with a savior complex. Find her online at www.christinemaellams.com.
Cherry Lou Sy is a writer and playwright originally from the Philippines and currently based in Brooklyn, NY. She received her MFA in playwriting from Brooklyn College, where she has been an adjunct lecturer in the English and American Studies departments. Cherry is also a teacher with PEN America’s DREAMing Out Loud. She has received fellowships and residencies from VONA, Tin House, and elsewhere. Her work has been published in Massachusetts Review, Shenandoah Literature, and others. Her debut novel, Love Can’t Feed You was a People Magazine Book of the Week and an Amazon Editor’s Pick.
Ledia Xhoga was born and raised in Tirana, Albania and currently lives in Brooklyn. Her debut novel Misinterpretation was published by Tin House Books and was a Finalist for Center for Fiction First Novel Prize and a Best of 2024 Book by Debutiful. Her work has been published in Electric Literature, Lit Hub, Brooklyn Rail, Large Hearted Boy, Intrepid Times, Hobart and other journals.
Emet North has lived in a dozen states over the past decade and has no fixed residence, though they feel most at home in the mountains. In previous lives, they worked in an observational cosmology lab, taught snowboarding, trained horses, and wrote a thesis on the many-worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics. Their writing has appeared in The Sun, Lightspeed, Conjunctions and elsewhere, and they have received support from The Clarion Writers’ Workshop, Bread Loaf, Tin House, Aspen Words, and the SLF Gulliver Travel Grant. Their debut novel, In Universes, came out from Harper Books on April 30th, 2024.
Danny Goodman’s writing has appeared in various publications, and he was the recipient of a writer-in-residence fellowship from Rivendell. He earned his MFA in Fiction from the University of New Orleans, where he was a two-time winner of the Samuel Mockbee Award. His award-winning debut novel, Amerikaland, is out now from LEFTOVER Books. He lives in the Hudson Valley with his wife, a book editor, and their editorial cats. Currently at work on a new novel, he is badly in need of a nap.
Janie Kim grew up in San Diego, California and is the daughter of South Korean immigrants. She is currently a biology PhD student at Stanford University and is studying RNA in the symbiosis between V. fischeri, a bioluminescent bacterium, and the bobtail squid, a very charismatic little creature. She likes ocean critters that are fun-sized, or, better yet, microscopic (funner-sized). She often writes about the latter for the microbiology blog Small Things Considered. We Carry the Sea in Our Hands is her debut novel, published by Alcove Press on July 9, 2024.