"Conversation has a kind of charm about it, an insinuating and insidious
something that elicits secrets just like love or liquor."
-Lucius Annaeus Seneca
a conversation with Andrew
It was late afternoon when I met up with Andrew. He was alone, standing on a small bridge, his back against the wood railing, my yellow fringe scarf peeking out from the top of the messenger bag draped over his shoulder.
He wore his hair shorter, didn't smile as much, but his hands were wrapped around a thermos of hot tea the same as the last time I'd seen him, five months ago. We didn't waste time with embrace, kissing hello or asking how the other had been. After noticing a few handwritten pages from his journal floating on the shallow stream below, I jumped right into the interview:
Andrew, you
describe Space For Fragile Things as a conversation. Does the dialogue
require you to surrender parts of yourself? How has the dialogue
changed or evolved?
I believe any dialogue requires the giving of oneself; the revealing
of certain intimate aspects of a person. Whether it be tone of voice,
or choice of words, a conversation by its very nature is an intimate
act. For me, A Space For Fragile Things has required a certain
vulnerability; an examination of the deepest parts of myself, and the
ability to share that with the reader. In the act of sharing, I hope
the reader is able to appreciate what they find.
Which of your pieces was most difficult to write and why? How did you reconcile the piece?
The piece I found most difficult, was the one written especially for
this project. There were times when I was tempted to abandon it and
start from scratch. There were moments when I questioned the flow of
the story. In the end, I had only to trust my own ability, relax, and
allow the piece to flow naturally. I was pleased with the result.
Where is your muse right now and what is he/she/it doing?
My muse (a fashionable lady in her early forties) is sitting in an
airport awaiting a flight from Italy to the city in which I live. In
her hands is a vintage, first edition copy of Charles Dickens’ A Tale
of Two Cities. She has heard my voice amid the breeze settling over the
river in early spring. Packing only what she could fit in a suitcase,
she left the serenity of her cottage, braving tourist and city merchant
to wait – in standby – for the next available flight. She is patiently
waiting.
Seeking a quiet respite away from the madness, Tzynya took refuge in a secluded French bistro outside the city limits. She selected a table in the corner by the stone trimmed fire pit. The sun disappeared behind threatening clouds and a mist began to fall outside. It was here that I met her for our interview. Two mugs of vanilla chai rested undisturbed on the wooden table. Her fingers teased the handle of one, taking in the steamy aroma. I sat opposite her; abandoning the usual greeting. We sat in silence for a moment, absorbing the serenity. Then, after a sip of chai, I began with the first question on my mind:
Many of these pieces are very intimate. Take one (perhaps your favorite), and tell why you wrote it, what (who) inspired it.
My favorite piece in this collection is Bean and the Scent Clover. The memory of a first kiss inspired that prose poem. We were sitting, listening to music, when he drew me close. My lips found the underside of his exposed wrist and then up to the bend of his arm. Months later when I smell a specific scent clover I am taken to that day a summer ago.
Writing is a solitary occupation, and thus prone to the demons that haunt every artist. As such, ever writer has a vice. What is yours? Explain.
Procrastination is my vice. I tend to languish with an idea, hold up with muse for too long a time before getting down to the act of writing. So many things inspire me - nature, yoga, art, love, and melancholy that I am easily distracted. Writing, like any occupation, requires discipline, focus and practice.
Which of your co-author's pieces do you like. Why?
My favorite piece of yours is The Question. The first line of that piece, can’t help but think this means more to you than just random lines of verse stays with me long after I read it. There is a sweetness to The Question that is not apparent in the other pieces.
Click HERE to read the full text to Tzynya's interview on Jaded Muse blog.