I corresponded with Jennifer
recently about her writing.
**
Curtis Smith: I am drawn to the novella. What do you see as the form’s strengths? Its
drawbacks? Was the plan always to have Danceland
as a novella? If not, can you tell us about its evolution?
Jennifer
Pieroni: Danceland began as a short
short, and I thought it was finished until a few incredibly generous readers
told me to keep lurking in it. Somehow I found it easy to see who these
characters were and what had led them there. I never set a goal, although as I
moved through the book a few people advised me to make it as long as it could
be. But one day it ended, and I couldn’t imagine taking it to the next scene.
It just felt finished. Some readers have felt it should have gone on, and maybe
it should have.
I
have admired so many novellas too. I love its brief and bright relevance. To me
it can be the poet’s novel, and hold that weight.
CS: Your writing style is so rhythmic and dreamlike and tight. Where does
this language come to you? Early on? During revisions? Are there any
questions/guidelines you use to help your work at the sentence level?
JP: I
love words, and building with them. The language comes from me with honesty and
purpose. The only rule I have when writing is: is this authentic, are the words
cutting to the facts of the physical and psychological world I’m writing about.
If they seem like junk to me, I’ll cut them.
CS: Can you pinpoint where this story started for you? A relationship? An
image? What were the things you discovered along the way that became part of
the finished project but weren’t part of your original plan?
JP: As
finicky as I am about letting others influence my work, I did have two
incredibly helpful readers. After reading my first draft, the writer Myfanwy
Collins made some smart comments about point of view that led me to switch it
in nearly half of the book. And my editor Erin McKnight was a force in
polishing the book. She helped me in so many ways to incorporate what we called
“British-isms” where they’d make sense.
CS: You mentioned that you drew from Stravinsky’s “Firebird.” What were
your personal experiences with this work? How did you use this as inspiration
for Danceland?
JP: I saw Firebird performed about a
decade ago, and listen to it regularly. I’m not a student of music or dance,
but I know when I am moved. I think art has the capacity to impact us in so
many inalterable, unavoidable ways. To me, these two characters had to meet in
this heightened and formal setting.
CS: I admired your characterizations—you use such quick yet telling
strokes. Here’s one of my favorites: “Lynn was kind of person whose pain was
loose, streaming all over her, washing her away or drowning her, as if she were
one of those lonely Massachusetts towns, a sun-kissed and bucolic valley turned
wet, forever sunk.” It seems to me that you must set some pretty high
benchmarks for yourself in this area.
JP: Until Danceland, characterization had never been a focus of mine. As a
writer I was obsessed with the idea or concept, the overriding inexpressible
takeaway I was hoping to convey through language. What is this thing I am
writing about and how do I make it just as true on the page as it is for me?
Sometimes it was simply an emotion.
When
I became interested in writing Danceland,
I knew that I needed to focus on characterization, and I welcomed the challenge
of mining their fictional lives for clues as to who they were, who they’d
become, and what might be in store for them later. Many of my writing sessions
were about understanding the motivations of these characters, their concerns,
their ambitions, and their psychological flaws.
Learning
how to do this has expanded my repertoire as a writer, and I think I had faith
in publishing this book because I felt that the characters would make it more
accessible to readers than much of my previous writing.
CS: I kept thinking about the clash of worlds as I read Danceland—the worlds we create with those we love and want to
protect—and the greater, and at best, indifferent world waiting without. I
thought of Lettie, the little girl, and I wondered what tides in the story
reflected the thoughts/concerns/fears that were born from your own experiences
of motherhood.
JP: It
is impossible to deny the impact of motherhood on my ability to write this
book. Foremost, because I was fortunate enough to leave my job and spend two
years writing and mothering without other stresses. But also this joy and
responsibility, connectedness and separateness, the confusion it produces—it is
all so rich, and the experience so palpable during those early years. I
dedicated the book to my son because he gave me this gift: to write and what
about.
CS: You and your husband ran Quick
Fiction, which was one of my favorite literary journals. I admired its
size, its look, its content, and its dedication to very short stories. How did
that experience influence your writing?
JP: Thank
you! I loved editing and producing Quick Fiction. We built a wonderful network
of talented writers and artists I’d have never met otherwise. Editing and
writing are so different; I can’t say whether one has influenced the other. It
seems to me that leaving editing was something I needed to do to let go of the
negativity that so often involves that role. Writing Danceland required me to be open, flexible, and deliberately
optimistic.
**
Interviewer
bio: Curtis Smith's latest book is Beasts and Men, a story collection from Press
53. In early 2015, Dock Street Press will release Communion, his next essay collection. In 2016, Aqueous Books will
publish his next novel, Lovepain.