Category Archives: Guest Posts

Meet Cathy Adams

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CathyA45Cathy Adams is a southerner who is a long way from home.  Her novel, This Is What It Smells Like was published last year by New Libri Press, but she is also an award-winning writer with short stories and essays in her repertoire.

Cathy writes about how such a big change in her life is changing her writing voice as well, but I have to admit I am a little envious of Cathy’s adventurous life right now.  I think we should all be encouraged to spread our wings and dare to explore the world a little more.

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On Being a Southern Writer When You’re Not in the South

I’ve been a southern writer all my life. I was born in Alabama and have lived in Georgia and North Carolina. I’m still a southern writer who is no longer in the south. I’m not even in America. For the past seven months I’ve been living in China, on the opposite side of the planet from my southern heritage, and now I have to figure out what it means to be a southern (American) writer in China.

I wear my southern culture like a little birthday suit. It is that thing I understand the nuances of through sight, smell, touch, sound, and taste even if I can’t tell you what makes something southern. I know the taste and texture of a glass of tea the way we (meaning the great southern WE) drink it. I’ve tried to duplicate it with the ingredients I can get here in Xinzheng, but I can not make sugary, filled to the top with ice, sweet tea even in my own apartment the way I did back in North Carolina. The granulation of the sugar is not the same texture. The ice from the filtered machine does not taste the same. The tea is not the same brand or strength. It does not “set” properly the way tea did on humid afternoons in Alabama, leaving the sugar slightly syrupy against the flavor of the tea leaves. Even the color of the liquid is not the right orange/amber/brown. So, I keep settling my taste for the tea of “home” to the altered tea of China, which is, in truth, my home now, and when I sit down to write, the flavor is never quite the same either.

For me, home and voice are intertwined. Where you come from determines, in part, how you see the world, and how you see the world affects voice. I can’t speak for all southerners, but for me Southern culture has created a fiercely unapologetic spirit and a sometimes unforgiving nature. We’re all responsible for ourselves but at the same time we’re all obligated to help one another along and at the very least not put obstacles in the way of others. The latter ideals have served me fairly well, the former has been a burden I willfully try to shake off but never quite lose. I see those worldviews when they come into my writing; if they’re not being funneled directly into my characters they still affect my language choices. I can change my voice to some extent, depending on the character, but that “fingerprint” of my voice always manages to come through, even if only a little bit.

Bringing my southern writing voice to China means it’s going through changes, and I can’t help but wonder, if I spend enough time here in central China will it be altered to the point that I will no longer sound like a southern writer? (Is there even a place in the literary world for hybrid Alabama/Xinzheng writers?) The discomfort seems to lie in the fact that before I came to China I was rather settled into my voice. Over the past few years we’d become familiar chums; it was recognizable, predictable. Now all this growth and change leaves me increasingly uncertain in my writing style. The smart, confident part of me thinks I should jump in and embrace it, run with it to see where it takes me. The fearful part of me thinks I have to sit down and pull it apart to figure it out before I can continue writing. It’s clear which one I should be listening to.

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AUTHOR BIO

This is What it SmellsLikeCathy Adams’ short stories and essays have been published in Utne, The Philosophical Mother, Ghoti Magazine, Heliotrope, and WNCWoman, among others.

Her writing awards include the Mona Schreiber Award for Fiction, a National League of Pen Women’s Prize, and a National Public Radio News Director’s award.  Her work has been aired on Georgia Peachstate and  Isothermal Public Radio networks.

She lives in Asheville, North Carolina, and is busy at work on her next novel. Cathy is a wine and chocolate connoisseur and has dabbled in designing her own clothes.

You can visit Cathy’s Tumblr bog here.

This Is What It Smells Like can be purchased at Amazon or Barnes and Noble, or ordered from your local bookstore.

Meet Judith Kirscht

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Judith KirschtJudith Kirscht is not only a fellow New Libri author, she is also a current Pacific Northwest resident and former Chicagoan, just like myself.  Her book, The Inheritors, tells a story about a different era of Chicago than my Street Stories novels do, and a different societal structure.  But her love of Chicago is the same as mine and her book brings the city alive just the way I hope my books do.

In today’s guest post, Judith reflects on how the city gets beneath your skin, even if you no longer reside there.

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Chicago Stories

I’m a Chicagoan. After more than a half century away from the city, I still think of myself that way and hold the Chicagoan’s belief that “we” are more civilized than our competitors on the other coasts. Unlike New Yorkers, we don’t shove each other to get on the subway; unlike Los Angelians we don’t drive the freeways as though we won’t get there unless we beat everyone else. We are the heartland.

How I manage to sustain such beliefs in the face of the news from the murder-capital, I don’t know. Nothing in my experience leads me to believe it was less violent in the Thirties than it is now. After all, Chicago is best known for Al Capone, and Debra Borys’s Painted Black brings to life the raw underbelly of today’s city. Indeed, her story brings back the days I did casework in the city’s near South-Side.

In those icy winters I roamed the pre-housing project streets where open wires hung in the halls of ancient apartment buildings without heat, and I heard rats in the walls as I brushed cockroaches off the couches to sit down. At least one of those horrid structures burned to the ground every winter, killing scores. But I found stories there, just as Debra found them, among the homeless. The richest and most memorable were those pockets of hope that somehow survived, despite the dirt, the rats, the L thundering outside the window.

My own Chicago, in Hyde Park, was a gentler place, though just as cold and dirty, for the city then heated with coal, and frequently our six-flat was also without heat. I think both influences combine in the picture of Chicago that comes through in my book The Inheritors. The characters are neither the very rich, living in immunity on the Gold Coast, nor Painted Dark’s castoffs, buried under its overpasses. They are descendents of waves of immigrants who struggled to raise families in the burgeoning industrial growth of the Twentieth Century and are the result of that struggle.

They are the descendants, I hope, of Carl Sandburg’s Chicago, for he is, without compare, the voice of the city. I was, in fact, going to use his poem, “Phizzog” as a frontispiece for the book. I can’t reproduce it here, but “phizzog” is a Twainism for “face” and the gist of it is that we never asked for the face we got: “Here’s yours, now go see what you can do with it.”*

* Carl Sandburg, Good Morning America poems, 1928. Complete Poems of Carl Sandburg, Harcourt Brace & Company, 1950, p.390.

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AUTHOR BIO
inheritors-NL website thumbnailI was born, raised, educated and married in Chicago, and raised my family in Ann Arbor, Michigan. I went back to school as an adult and began to write, winning two writing awards from the university—one for a novel and another for an essay.

Following a divorce, I began teaching academic writing at the University of Michigan and continued at the University of California, Santa Barbara where I was active in developing career paths for non-tenured faculty. Though I continued to write fiction during those years, I published largely professional articles and, finally, a textbook with colleague, Mark Schlenz.

I have now moved to Washington State to write fiction full time and have published several novel excerpts and short stories in addition to the novel and the essay that won the awards back in my student days. I share a house overlooking Puget Sound with an old friend, four basenjis and a drawer full of yet unpublished work.

Read more about Judith at www.judithkirscht.com

You can buy Judith’s book The Inheritors in print or ebook from Amazon or Barnes and Noble.com.