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(Almost) 10 Questions for Lance Larsen

- By Edward Clifford

My friend Julia wanted to bask in fame, or wear it in her hair like a dragonfly wing, or maybe roll in it like a dog. Wouldn't it be easier, I said, to just shake Fame's craggy hand? I meant the poet, who had just finished reading. This happened at a snooty conference where Pulitzer Prize winners and untouchables sample tarts from the same tray. My friend Julia refused to fawn, refused to buy his book. Well then, I said, let's join him for breakfast tomorrow.
—from "Dark Harbor," Volume 61, Issue 3 (Fall 2020)

Tell us about one of the first pieces you wrote.
In first or second grade at Washington Elementary in Pocatello, Idaho, my class was assigned to write about hope. Here’s what I turned in, misspellings...


Interviews

10 Questions for Annie Lampman

- By Edward Clifford

Evanthe held still, her limbs pulled into awkward angles—one elbow cocked out to the side, the other braced against a root serving as tripod, both hands grippin the binocular's rubber houseing hard enough she was afraid she wouldn't be able to unbend them again. She didn't dare readjust. Didn't dare move her left knee off whatever sharp thing she'd planted it on. She'd been waiting her whole life to see this: a male paradise tanager...
—from "Birds of the Land," Volume 61, Issue 3 (Fall 2020)

Tell us about one of the first pieces you wrote.
When I was a creative-writing undergrad in a fiction workshop class somewhere around 2003, the professor assigned a two-page writing exercise where two...


Interviews

10 Questions for Amanda Kabak

- By Edward Clifford

When Angie answers a knock at our door, this girl, Molly, starts talking a blue streak, each word rendering Angie smaller and more pale until I finally understand what Angie must have from the beginning: this girl is her daughter, a daughter I know nothing about, an entire daughter Angie never once mentioned to me in our decade together. Since we get closer to sharing everything than any other couple I know, I would turn this girl away in disbelief, but she has Angie's eyes and chin and voice, and we move inexorably inside until they are sitting at our small, round kitchen table, and I am hovering around the edges, barren in my uselessness.
—from "Unsafe Haven," Volume 61,...


Interviews

10 Questions for Mike Day

- By Edward Clifford

Rain fell violently through the night. San Ye thought of the gravestones in Dongba, and the flesh and bones beneath, and the clothes and things buried with the bodies. The coffins must be swimming in slimy muck. . .he couldn't sleep.

He tossed and turned until dawn, got up, and looked outside to see the bridge over the river had collapsed. Sodden planks drifted on the current, spinning gleefully before floating away with bits of rope, branches, and the sedge grass, never to be seen again.
—from "Song of Parting" by Lu Min, Translated by Michael Day, Volume 61, Issue 3 (Fall 2020)

Tell us about one of the first pieces you translated.
Let’s talk about Dorothy Tse’s “Chickens,” the first...


Interviews

10 Questions for Allison Braden

- By Edward Clifford

"I don't consider myself sensual," Antonia said, pulling the sheet across her torso and stroking his hair. Miguel smiled without her noticing. He knew she was trying to draw out praise for her skin, her body, her lips. Antonia was provoking him. She knew she was irresistible. She knew that any movement of hers, however subtle, would set off a chain reaction that would end in a moan, both pitiful and powerful.
—from "Double Antonia" by Andrea Maturana, Translated by Allison Braden, Volume 61, Issue 3 (Fall 2020)

Tell us about one of the first pieces you translated.
The first work I translated was María José Ferrada’s Kramp, a delightful novella about a Chilean girl who assists her traveling salesman father. It...


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