Many artists and authors are creative in multiple disciplines. What other types of art do you create? 
I take inspiration from a ton of different sources, so I have become briefly (or not so briefly) obsessed with many artforms. A chapbook I finished recently, Archimedes of Providence, incorporates photos and paintings of my own. Currently, I am painting painting painting and making video trailers for my short stories. 

How has your view of the creative process changed since you first started?  
Learning how to turn my frustration into flow was a big step for me. I have learned to embrace mistakes and see where they take me. Often, the most exciting work I do comes from a slip of the hand or tongue; any annoyance I once felt about these errors has been replaced by curiosity. I'm trying to cultivate an environment in my practice where mistakes lead to something exciting. Sure, a lot of stuff ends up in my cemetery, but all of my future selves have turned out to be grave robbers.

What author or artist’s popularity do you find confusing/inexplicable?
History is littered with unappreciated geniuses. Literature probably accounts for a good percentage of them. Try not to sweat it.

What is your biggest creative doubt?  
The answer could be not having enough time, but I do have serious worry my curiosity will spontaneously evaporate out of nowhere. For me, creativity is mostly paying attention and being curious . . . both of which are, luckily, learnable . . . so, I guess the real answer is time. I suppose then this is also a supplement to Q9 as well; there's the process in real time. Sometimes you're wrong, sometimes you're not thinking at mach 5; be patient with yourself.

Do you have a dedicated or preferred place to work? How does it influence the way you work?  
 I write everywhere. If I'm stuck and I'm at home, leaving the house often works. And keep in mind what that lovable aardvark said: "Having fun isn't hard when you've got a library card."

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start?
I usually start quite a while after I begin, I'm sorry to say. That is, typically a single line emerges and I write it down. I keep thinking about it, it takes me places, I transcribe the directions. The rest is often supported by prior notes. And take notes; they're free, and they'll help you be interestingly specific, which is what our whole thing here is about really.

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up?
Unlimited time = unlimited hobbies, so I'll take this question to mean: What's a hobby you hope to try when you have the resources, of which time is one? That answer: sculpture.

Many artists and authors are creative in multiple disciplines. What other types of art do you create?
I actually love knitting. I like working with my hands and I find it very relaxing. And it gives you something practical like a sweater when you're done!

What author or artist’s popularity do you find confusing/inexplicable?
Arthur Miller. Even he admitted that he couldn't write female characters and I don't think you can be considered a truly great writer if you can't write half the population.

Did you have formal training in literature/art? What ways do you continue your creative education?
I have a degree in theatre, funnily enough. I thought I was going to be an actor but then I developed chronic health issues and started writing as an alternative artistic expression. I am always learning and growing as an artist, whether it's by consuming others' art, taking classes online, or making my own art.

What piece of creative advice have you received that sounded good, but was ultimately not useful to you?
Write every day. It's not bad advice, but as someone with chronic fatigue, I found that I need to give myself time off in order to have the energy to continue my practice regularly.

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration?
Every piece is different, but I do find myself returning to certain themes over and over again, such as death. With my health issues, I've come close to death several times, so it's something I find myself meditating on frequently.

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up?
My heart says martial arts, but my body reminds me that I haven't done that since I was 15 and would probably injure myself quite severely if I were to attempt it now. If I were being practical, I would say music. I enjoy singing, though I have very little formal musical training.

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start? 
I like to hide (a troubled question of safety, I imagine) so I start a work with what I find (or what finds me) that begins to lead me out of hiding. If it's a poem, the work begins almost always with a phrase and a rhythm that feels as if it had a life of its own. I begin to discover what it wants (not what I want or even what I want it to want), and what I find keeps changing my mind - a bit like shapeshifting. Sometimes (increasingly) the work involves poems without words that I have been making with my camera phone. They start with things I photograph - the smudge of cannabis resin on a piece of paper towel, for example, or the burnt head of a match, a fold in a piece of cloth, stains on a wall or floor - and then I discover what I can see in the photograph. Recently I have been making icons of war because I have found in the things around me images of distant desolations to which the everyday seems now to be bearing witness. For example this is someone I found, staring out of a photograph of burnt matches.

I had no idea that she existed until she did. When you discover what the work wants and you follow where leads, it can return you to yourself in a way (at least temporarily) that does feel as much to be need to hide? John Cage often said that he was less interested in self-expression than in self-alteration (the feeling of changing his mind), and that describes my interest as well. I also think of what Miles Davis said, that it takes such a long time to sound like yourself (i.e. self and not ego). At 77 - and as I necessarily find myself being slowly or rapidly disembodied - I have also been given plenty of time.

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up? 
In many ways I do have unlimited time though I suppose it may end at any time. "Time without limits" describes what the Torah calls "blessing (olam)," and overall I am and have been lucky and blessed (even when I've felt particularly sorry for myself). I don't know that I have any hobbies, but perhaps instead what I try to do is practice a kind of alchemy that turns whatever happens into a blessing. A heart-attack (I've had 3) or cancer can be very interesting (even life-giving) if given the chance to be interesting. Even pain at times can be received as a message from your body as it tells you who you are? If I'm dying (and at 77 I am) I try to remember that most of us are also and that dying is generous with insights. Perhaps dying as an interest has become my hobby.

What piece of creative advice have you received that sounded good, but was ultimately not useful to you? 
Perhaps it is the advice that you should know what your talking about. It is sound advice but I prefer not to know what I'm talking about.  An antidote to this wisdom might be Wislawa Szymborska's suggestion that someone who writes poetry should write about what they don't know. If you write about what you know, you can write about almost nothing (since that is the extent of your knowledge). If you write about what you don't know, the whole universe is available. When I read a poem over and over, I think I gain a greater intimacy with the words and silences but not any certainty about what the poem means.

What is your biggest creative doubt? 
Everything I do is full of doubt, so I have learned (as much as I can learn) not to worry about it. Perhaps doubt is a form of faith since it encourages you to change your mind. I wonder sometimes if the mind is a virtual reality that the body creates and that nothing is what you think it is. On the other hand, in as much as in Judaism, nothing and no one are the primary manifestations of the divine, maybe doubt is something to believe in - believing in doubt's suspension of belief?

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration? 
I think of each piece as a new exploration, but when I consider the body of the work, I think that I am constantly returning to what I have done (once again) but finding that I am doing it differently. I have been very influenced by Wordsworth and Stevens for whom once again differs from once, and what is happening again is always happening differently. Almost always I am discovering new approaches to themes of terror and love as co-existing and incommensurate forces. Neither is an answer to the other but both occur simultaneously - often in the same experience. They are like the angels who bring grace to Abraham at Mamre and then bring terror to Sodom and Gomorrah? Or like Krishna, Arjuna's kind companion, who is also the destroyer of worlds? Perhaps this co-existence is like a koan - it is not an answerable question but it does change your mind? Of course anything is a koan if you approach it as a koan?

Many artists and authors are creative in multiple disciplines. What other types of art do you create?  
I did an MFA in fiction writing way back when, at Bowling Green State University, and I published some short stories before and after that time. But very soon after getting that degree, I plunged deeply into nonfiction writing, writing some personal essays, and then especially pieces of literary journalism. I truly found my writing voice in nonfiction. While I had written for some newspapers in my undergraduate days, my study of fiction--with my new skills of scene setting, character development, dialogue, drama, etc.—suddenly informed my nonfiction writing: which became the bulk of my writing and teaching career (30 years teaching creative writing at Colorado State University). Also, by this time in my life, early thirties, I had evolved, somehow, from a very shy young man to a guy who loved to talk with people. I understand the male privilege of being able to do this with few or no hassles.

Thus, I fell happily and successfully into hanging out with people who were passionate about what they did, and I knew how (with the usual hard work and revisions) to turn their stories into narratives that magazines found compelling enough to publish. I profiled the owner of the Victorinox Swiss Army Knife factory, who was obsessed with making the perfect knife; a gravedigger in Ohio who believed his work was "the last special thing you can do for someone"; a Buddhist monk in Thailand who was helping villagers regrow from seed a tropical forest that had been clearcut by a tobacco company—he was using traditional Buddhist principles to spur them into action; a forest ecologist who used her past rock climbing skills to pioneer research work in jungle canopies. I completely loved this life, and then the writing workshops that I designed to help CSU students try this themselves.

Now, in teaching retirement, I'm writing poetry.

How has your view of the creative process changed since you first started?
I used to think that "talent", whatever that was, was absolutely the main requirement for writing success. I think now that "talent" matters, but that sticking to doing the work and maintaining a sense of passion and curiosity about the world and people are more important.

 What author or artist’s popularity do you find confusing/inexplicable?
Some aspects of language poetry, and some but not all  poets who write it, still elude my understanding. But then, aspects of many things about the world still elude my understanding. 

Did you have formal training in literature/art? What ways do you continue your creative education?
MFA in fiction writing and undergraduate journalism classes. But after retirement, in deciding that I wanted to become a better poet, I began to willy-nilly read extremely widely, and then I hired a mentor, a semi-retired poet with many books who had taught for years in a respected MFA program. Over about six months of zoom calls and correspondence, I worked with her, and her insights and knowledge truly upped my game. She was also someone who didn't already know me and who didn't write close to the way I thought I was writing--important criteria for me. I have to say that I found it thrilling to put ego aside and embrace being an apprentice--this in my seventies!    

What is your biggest creative doubt? 
Whether I am smart or skilled enough to honor the splendid idea of the writing that has formed in my head. Ha!

What piece of creative advice have you received that sounded good, but was ultimately not useful to you? 
That a writer needs best to be half-crazy or on the edge to write anything good. Bullshit as a have-to, even as this can sometimes be true, for writers whose lives have drama or trauma they may not have wanted or anticipated--Sylvia Plath, Nick Flynn, Ann Sexton, Chen Chen, Ocean Vuong.  

Do you have a dedicated or preferred place to work? How does it influence the way you work? 
I can work anywhere. Doesn't have to be the same time every day, or every day at all. All that matters is that in general I stay with it. 

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration?
I hope for and try to make each new piece a new exploration. At the same time, themes that pop up again and again in my work include finding the extraordinary in the ordinary; honoring the more than human world, its creatures and plants and those who work to maintain it; social justice (in Witness magazine, e.g., I wrote about the aftermath of Tiannamin Square re: Chinese students, some of whom I had likely taught a few years earlier in Xi'an); the endless complications of human beings; the transitory nature of all things (this especially from Buddhism as well as a book I once wrote--Rising Fire: Volcanoes & Our Inner Lives--on volcanoes and human culture.   

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start? 
No matter the genre, often with an image or a very concrete example or story. Also, I'm still working hard to trust Keats' notion of negative capability. 

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up? 
Trekking in wild places around the world. I do this now in retirement, in the Andes and the Himalayas, but wish I had started much earlier. 

How has your view of the creative process changed since you first started?  
I didn’t have a process—and that was the problem. Like many new writers, I was hyper-focused on the output. I wanted my ideas to be strong from the get-go, and I wanted to write quickly, and I would become increasingly frustrated when neither of those things happened. But that’s not how creativity works—you need systems in place—and accepting that has made writing more fun and fruitful.

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration?
Sometimes I feel like a one-trick pony since most of my stories are about sad family stuff. Do I write about witches? Sure. Ghosts? Yup. But the throughline is often anchored in some sort of dark family unrest or trauma. I can’t help it! It’s fertile ground!

What piece of creative advice have you received that sounded good, but was ultimately not useful to you?
Write for yourself, not readers.

There’s truth to it, but as a copywriter (that’s my day job), I know the value of writing for your audience. In fiction, that means adhering to certain expectations around story structure and even universal truths that every reader can relate to. It’s a balance—but you have to keep the reader in mind.

What is your biggest creative doubt? 
There are many. And they’re all big. And my inner critic needs to die.

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start?
For longer stories, I find it helps to sort through structure in advance, to figure out if I actually have a story, so I try to start at the end and reverse-engineer. For short stories, I usually have a rough premise in mind but a clear sense of the vibe or atmosphere, so I start at the beginning and just see where things go.

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up?
Glassblowing. It’s one of those niche skills that takes an insane amount of practice and patience to master. There’s something about the craft of it that’s appealing. It’s sweaty and stressful but calculated and beautiful. It’s cool as hell. (Or hot as hell. Whatever.)

Many artists and authors are creative in multiple disciplines. What other types of art do you create?  
I also draw, paint, and photograph. While my skills are mostly in making patterns and doodling, occasionally I can pull off something worthwhile. I don't paint as much as I used to because of domestic space restrictions. A couple of my paintings I think are genuinely good, but for the most part, it is a hobby. When it comes to photography, I excel at finding attractive patterns, contrasts, and angles. However, when it comes to portraiture, I'm really clueless. 

How has your view of the creative process changed since you first started?  
My creative process has become more intentional and deliberate. I used to start writing poems with random word-associations after starting with a couple phrases that flop around in the dryer of my mind. Now, I usually have an idea at the outset of an idea I want to express, a feeling I want to encase in the statuary of words. Occasionally I will try to shake up my writing routine to try to escape the ruts I occasionally fall into. For example, I usually write the title of a poem after I write the poem (and I change it often in the editing process). However, when I feel like I'm ready to try something different, I will start with a title, and then write the poem. 

What author or artist’s popularity do you find confusing/inexplicable?
When it comes to poetry, I just don't understand the popularity of Elizabeth Bishop. It's not that I think she's terrible, it's just that so often after reading one of her poems, I just have a sense of disappointment, or I find my asking "so what?" I can see she has some skill, but her poems fall flat in my mind. Mind you, it's entirely possible I have not read the right poems of hers. William Carlos Williams is one of my personal favourites, but I think his most popular two poems (you know the ones) can't touch his best work with a ten-foot bargepole. His long poem Paterson is so wonderful. 

Did you have formal training in literature/art? What ways do you continue your creative education?
I did a Master's degree in English Literature, as well as a few courses on creative writing. Literary analysis played an important role in my PhD in Communication and Culture. At one point, I joined a local writing group. However, I didn't find it helped me very much, and one of the women in it called me a milquetoast, which hurt me deeply at the time because she was the one whose writing I respected the most in the group. It's kind of funny now. I mean, why would you tell someone that to their face? Because of the way I grew up, I am a bit of a people pleaser, and that's not everyone's cup of Earl Grey. Lately, to continue my creative education, I engage in other arts, I read writers writing about their writing, and I have been looking up my favourite writers' favourite books and reading them. 

What is your biggest creative doubt?  
My biggest creative doubt is that of not being appreciated for what I think is my best work. The second poem I published I thought was rather silly and not worth publishing, but I thought publication would help me regardless. It did, however, make me examine the distinction I drew between "serious" writing, and everything else. Lately, I've had a few poems I really like published, which has made me much less cantankerous about literature. 

What piece of creative advice have you received that sounded good, but was ultimately not useful to you?
A piece of creative advice I received in a poetry-writing class now fills me with horror. My award-winning teacher of poetry insisted I cut out Latinate words from my poems in favour of Anglo-Saxon derived ones. My knee-jerk response to this now is "So we're just going to forget about the Norman conquest, are we?" At the time, I thought it was an interesting idiosyncrasy. 

Do you have a dedicated or preferred place to work? How does it influence the way you work?  
No.

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration?
Looking back at my work, I can see some thematic strands, but they aren't as obsessive as someone like Kafka or Hitchcock. The impact of chance on human lives is one of those thematic strands. Human futures if we don't change our hearts is another. The primacy of nature is another. 

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start?
I am very passionate about the in media res technique, starting in the middle of the thing. Unfortunately, I've learned many in the publishing business are quite rigid about the beginning-middle-end model. I like to give the reader a chance to imaginatively extend the story both at the beginning and the ending. People take issue with my endings too. Several have said that I should write more at the ending, but in my mind, the story is finished. I'm starting to recognize that my endings can be too abrupt when I write short fiction. I wrote a couple short stories that start with the ending and then trace back to how the characters got there, but they haven't been well-received yet. There have been a couple books I've read that I've felt compelled to respond to with another creative response. After I finished Dionne Brand's book Inventory, I immediately wrote a poem I felt was one of my best, but it remains unpublished to this day. This happens with other media, too. The film Inside Llewyn Davis inspired me to write a poem. 

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up?
If I had unlimited time, I would probably take up wood carving. I just received an engraver as a gift, but I have yet to try my hand at it. 

Many artists and authors are creative in multiple disciplines. What other types of art do you create? 
I also practice photography, writing, paper art, sculpture, music, and disciplines that blend various techniques or mutually inspire one another. This includes writing short stories, sometimes illustrated or, conversely, inspired by illustrations, as well as creating textile patterns, among other things.

What piece of creative advice have you received that sounded good, but was ultimately not useful to you?
Clichés, those obvious pieces of advice that offer nothing special, can give the impression of being helpful but often end up being hollow. For example, phrases like "Just be yourself" or "Work hard, and it will pay off" may sound motivating but lack depth or practical application to truly move forward in the creative process.

Do you have a dedicated or preferred place to work? How does it influence the way you work? 
The workspace influences my creative process, just as the creative process influences the choice of workspace. It largely depends on the artistic field, but also on the atmosphere (music or radio shows) and the time of day (morning or evening). Even for a single piece, like a drawing, the location may vary depending on the stage: sketching in one place, inking in another. However, I usually prefer working in my office, surrounded by objects and artworks that I love.

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration?
The common thread in my work is the desire to tell a story, often imbued with symbolism. However, each piece is an opportunity to experiment, research, and discover new ideas.

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start?
It always begins with thoughts, a story that builds itself mentally before eventually taking shape visually, sometimes long afterward. In some cases, I might need to conduct iconographic research to support the creative process.

Did you have formal training in literature/art? What ways do you continue your creative education?
I have no formal training in literature/art beyond that of my Australian high school education. As an adult I find the most useful education is simply to experience lots of storytelling forms thoughtfully, and of course to continue practicing and challenging oneself with one’s own work.

What piece of creative advice have you received that sounded good, but was ultimately not useful to you?
There are lots of ‘standard’ pieces of writing advice I could unpack here, but I’ll choose “Your first draft is always going to be crap,” because it’s something that rarely experiences any push back. This was a piece of advice that always confused me as a young writer, because it’s simply not the way I work. I write incredibly slowly compared to almost everyone else, but I also barely revise my pieces. What I put on the page the first time (extremely slowly) is essentially exactly what I want the story to be. The vast majority of my published works are “first drafts” in that they are 99% the same as how the story looked when I first typed THE END. That’s simply what works for me.

Do you have a dedicated or preferred place to work? How does it influence the way you work?
Most of my writing is done on the couch with a laptop on my lap, which is usually my preferred way to work. Sitting at a desk feels uncomfortable and too formal; not creative enough. I do occasionally take a notebook and pen outside and sit in a garden or park to mix things up.

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration?
I don’t think there’s an overarching theme to everything I write, but a lot of my earlier work explored the different facets of ourselves: different versions of yourself, or different sides of ourselves that we show to different people or in different situations. As I get older, I think my stories are more frequently about resilience and persistence: surviving and potentially thriving despite of everything.

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start?
I always start writing at the very beginning, and work from the start of the story to its end in the way that I expect the reader to absorb it. This is the case even if the story is non-linear and jumps around in time. This means that I am always very clear on what information I have imparted to the reader at any point, and what atmosphere, rhythm, and tension I am building throughout the piece as a whole.

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up?
Either taekwondo or oil pastels. I really enjoyed both as a kid, but there’s only so much time in the day, and at the moment I have other priorities.

How has your view of the creative process changed since you first started?  
When I first started writing, I thought there was only one correct writing process. Of course, that was many years ago, and since then I have become decidedly aware of the fact that the writing process is never the same for two people. For me, when I sit down to write, I try my hardest to not do any editing until I have a full rough draft of a story. Once this is written, I leave it for a day or two before going back to it and revising it. After I have a new draft, I leave it alone for another day or two before picking it back up again, and so on and so on. I’ve found that taking time between drafts allows my mind to refresh and see my work in a new light. However, this may not work for everyone because we are different people, and this is a good thing! If we were the same, nothing would ever surprise us.

Did you have formal training in literature/art? What ways do you continue your creative education?
I am actually in my last semester of the MA in Creative Writing program at the University of Southern Mississippi, where I am on the fiction track. I’m also planning on entering a PhD program in the Fall, assuming I get accepted (fingers crossed!). Outside of formal education, however, I believe it’s important to further creative education through relationships with your peers and colleagues as receiving feedback from them can be a turning point in your creative process. I’m currently in a group called “The Creative Hub” where I and some writer friends of mine will send work back and forth for feedback. It’s been incredibly helpful these last few weeks!

What piece of creative advice have you received that sounded good, but was ultimately not useful to you?
To take it slow and not go after something that seems impossible. I thought this was sound advice the first time I heard it, especially because I didn’t want to waste time and resources on anything that wouldn’t be fruitful. However, I found recently that taking the risks can be what opens doors for you in your career. Whether this is in publishing or on the job market, go after what you want. Wayne Gretsky’s quote, “You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take,” comes to mind. Don’t wait around for someone else to do it because you don’t think it’s your turn.

Do you have a dedicated or preferred place to work? How does it influence the way you work?  
I do a lot of my work at coffee shops (I’m even answering these questions from a coffee shop!) because I like to keep it separate from other parts of my life. I cannot write in my apartment to save my life, but the moment I open my laptop in a coffee shop, the flood gates open!

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration?
As of now, I’ve been working nonstop on my thesis. This has allowed me to look at my pieces in a different light, and I realized that all of my work has some form of family, whether that’s parents and children, siblings, grandparents, etc. This is likely because my family is such an important part of my life. I do think I explore different aspects of family and family life in my stories, making each piece a unique ride, but I would absolutely say that family is the overarching theme.

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start?
En medias res. I never begin at the beginning (though not for lack of trying), and I’ve found that having the climax done makes it easier for me to go back later and include what led up to that moment, and how my characters will react after the fact.

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up?
If I had unlimited time, I would probably try my hand at novel length works instead of just short stories and flash, but for now I’ll stick to learning French with my brother so he doesn’t fail his French class.

Many artists and authors are creative in multiple disciplines. What other types of art do you create?
I create what I call “artcards”, small postcard-sized cards, collaging snippets of paper from catalogs, magazines, etc., with pieces of text from poetry journals, magazines,  and/or advertisements.

Here is a link to my artcards (over 1,000 of them) in Google Drive.  

How has your view of the creative process changed since you first started?  
When I began to submit my poetry to literary journals, I had to conquer the “impostor syndrome”, and to consider myself a legitimate poet.  I have written poetry off and on since I was 9, with long periods of relative inactivity, and have been “working” as a poet (writing/submitting poetry) since 2018.

What author or artist’s popularity do you find confusing/inexplicable?
Don’t get me started!  I am a bit of a literary/musical snob:  I tend to read literature that is considered well-written and/or purposeful, and I do not like Auto Tune, the way it changed the quality of (and expectations for) musicianship.

Did you have formal training in literature/art? What ways do you continue your creative education?  
I have taken many workshops in writing poetry, and worked one-on-one with a published poet for 10 years, writing two poems a week that were closely read by her.  I continue to watch online readings/interviews/seminars in the literary arts.

What is your biggest creative doubt?  
I was trained in journalism and also worked as a teacher, so  I tend to over-explain in poetry, when I should be more “unclear”.  My mentor often told me to “trust the reader”.  

What piece of creative advice have you received that sounded good, but was ultimately not useful to you?  
The one that says, First choice, best choice.  I believe in editing and revising.  A handful of poems that I have written have easily flowed from my fingers, but these are rare:  I think they come from a different place, outside my mind.

Do you have a dedicated or preferred place to work? How does it influence the way you work?  
I work mostly at my desk, on a laptop, often late at night.  There is an expansive, lovely view out of the windows of an urban (but wooded) hillside across the ship canal, which lets me gaze out while writing, so I’m not just inside a closed room.  There are occasional rainbows!

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration?  
I seem to write in about six different categories/types, which do not overlap very much:  spiritual, political, aesthetic (ars poetica), elegies/praises, word play, and formatted (specific poetry formats).

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start?  
Sometimes from a prompt or quote, or a sentence/phrase that pops into my head.  I usually remember to write down these messages from the universe; otherwise, they disappear.

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up?  
I am retired, and I feel I do have enough time to do what I want to do.  Other than writing and my artcards, I read and listen to music, and I have two extensive container gardens (on my deck and patio) which keep me busy in the warmer months.

How has your view of the creative process changed since you first started?  
Poetry entered my life early through my mom’s passion for Neruda, Amichai and Psalms. She encouraged me to spend time with language. The root systems of Jorie Graham, Elizabeth Bishop, Emily Dickinson and Rilke grew me and served as refuges throughout my teenage years. Poetry was always a ghost in my throat, but it was sidelined by my devotion to science. As I paved a path into the future with my pipette instead of my pen, my poetic landscape shrunk. However, at 27, inching close to beginning my PhD in genetics, a doctor misdirected a needle into my brainstem. The consequent medullary stroke hijacked my scientific career; I was stilled in the silo of self with nothing besides silence and grief. A year into my stroke, I found the pen in my vocal cords and created a ritual of dictating poetry. The art became a mechanism of folding language around my loss and letting the words take on the shape of my sadness while holding fast to my past joy, of troubling time as I meander into my before and after. It is my medium of separation between myself and my story, my means of shifting the gears on what it means to have survived what doctors surmised was unsurvivable. Poetry rescues me each dawn, when I wake to my void of sensation and awareness of the right half of my body, intense pain, and a rush of what no longer lies in store for me. Poetry has flipped the script and continues to teach me how to be with the tether of my breath, the quiet of disability and how to be patient with what is. It is, as Frost said, a new music and, therefore, a ground of untapped potential for a new mind.

Did you have formal training in literature/art? What ways do you continue your creative education?
As a dedicated scientist, journaling was a sideshow in my life until my stroke in 2022. I am now enrolled in an MFA in poetry at Queens University, where I am refining my approach towards lineation and form.  

Do you have a dedicated or preferred place to work? How does it influence the way you work?  
I dictate poetry in my wheelchair, which supports and maintains the alignment of the right side of my body that was affected by my stroke. In this posture, I can pause the unremitting game of hide and seek between my left eye and my right arm and leg, which are no longer linked to my brain. This presents me with the ability to be with the white of the page, to wait without anxiety about my body and see what words I want to spend time with as they emerge out of the void.   

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration?
In light of the ongoing fierce symptoms of my stroke, including vertigo, blistering nerve pain and see-sawing oxygen levels, it is impossible not to be drawn into my body and, in turn, into the sea-change that capsized my life as I knew it. My poetry primarily acts as a malleable coping mechanism to be with the day, to define what is to be me and to create something out of nothing. Each piece is a novelty filled with subtle surprises; every dive into the space of language and the ineffable is an action, a way to have an experience in the world inside a body foreclosed to the physical.

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start?
I start with the silence, with the white. I let myself simmer in its gauze. I let my tears fall. I open my every pore to feeling and see what words come out of what is otherwise too difficult to say. I then let one word at a time guide me down hallways of memory, felt experience and venture, without any agenda at all, into sound as it unwinds in my throat.

Many artists are creative in multiple disciplines. What other types of art do you create?  
I dabble in architectural design and a scattering of concise journeys penned in vampiric fantasy.

What is your biggest creative doubt?  
The story risk of choosing pure authenticity over the fantastical embellishment.

Do you have a preferred place to work? How does it influence the way you work?  
The best anecdotes are written by a rain-soaked window in the dead of night.

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration?
Every piece starts as a familiar friend seen from time’s obstructed angle, until their clouds part.

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start?
Trying to release a certain memory’s chokehold on my consciousness.

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up?
I would love to take up the electric violin, so that I can learn to puppeteer soundwaves.

Many artists and authors are creative in multiple disciplines. What other types of art do you create?  
I write both poetry and flash/micro fiction. I also love drawing and painting. Having been a double major in Studio Art and English, I have formal training in fine art and literature. The creative writing side of me has won out in terms of my focus, but I do still love to create artwork when I can. Many of my poems are ekphrastic (in conversation with artwork) so in that way, I am staying true to both sides of my nature. My recent chapbooks “You’re Never the Same” (https://sevenkitchens.blogspot.com/2023/09/jessica-purdy-youre-never-same.html) (Seven Kitchens Press)  and “The Adorable Knife” (http://www.greybookpress.com/titles/) (Grey Book Press) are all ekphrastic poetry. 

How has your view of the creative process changed since you first started?  
I used to worry about being able to say new things in new ways. The phrase “It’s all been done before” would haunt me. Now, I realize that I don’t have time for that kind of thinking anymore. Listening and tuning into the subconscious has been fruitful for me and now I depend on it to lead me to finished pieces.

Did you have formal training in literature/art? What ways do you continue your creative education?
Yes, as I said earlier, I was a double major in Studio Art and English in my undergraduate studies. Charles Simic was my professor at UNH! I went on to graduate school and received my MFA in Creative Writing with a Concentration in Poetry from Emerson College. Now, I attend workshops in an online program called the Poetry Salon which really keeps me energized and creating work, so much that I don’t know what to do with it all. I also meet monthly with City Hall Poets, a local group that provide and receive feedback for revision.

What piece of creative advice have you received that sounded good, but was ultimately not useful to you?
“Learn how to not be precious with your work by writing something and then burning it!” I save everything I write. There have been times when I’ve lost work due to computer crashes and found it devastating. I know not everything I write is publishable. I don’t need to burn it to know that. 

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration?
Both are true! My work comes from a feminist perspective. Often my work explores dreams, the natural world, crime, fine art, and motherhood. At the same time, I feel like each new piece is a new exploration. My books STARLAND (https://nixesmate.pub/product/starland-jessica-purdy/) and Sleep in a Strange House (https://nixesmate.pub/product/sleep-in-a-strange-house-jessica-purdy/) (Nixes Mate Books) are examples of these explorations.

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up?
Ooh, I would love to join a singing group or learn to play guitar. I would also love to write a thriller someday. (I have two chapters done so far!)

Many artists and authors are creative in multiple disciplines. What other types of art do you create?
I'm an actor, theatre producer and fight director! I started Blanket Fort Theatre in Lafayette, Indiana in September 2024, which has already met success with our inaugural production! We're already headed into two more before the end of the year. I fight direct, meaning I work with actors and directors to safely tell stories through staged violence. Stage combat is one of my favorite things ever—I also teach it!

Did you have formal training in literature/art? What ways do you continue your creative education?
I graduated from Purdue in 2023 with a double major in acting & creative writing. I continue to take workshops and find coaches to further my training alongside the hands-on training I get from doing my own creative work. I'm a part of a playwriting group that meets twice a month to give each other feedback; one of the best decisions I ever made. The community is the biggest help; not just on the technical elements of playwriting, but in general connection & support.

What is your biggest creative doubt?
That my work doesn't read as "legit" or "professional" and instead reads like a beginner.

What change would you like to see in the publishing world?
I'd love to see more access to information. I got lucky in having a few professors who helped me get started, but most of my publishing has come from a loooooot of digging on my part.

And there can never be too many queer stories published. I'd love to see more stories celebrating characters on the asexual & aromantic spectrums!

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration?
I tend to do a lot of queer adventure pieces—fantasy was a huge part of my childhood (Narnia, Lord of the Rings, Percy Jackson, The Giver, D&D) and I love finding ways to write myself into my favorite genre.

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start?
I tend to start in a freewrite. For my poetry, that morphs right into the first draft (which sometimes, but not always, is the only draft I do). For my fiction and plays, I reorganize that freewrite into an outline of sorts. I don't plot things out beat for beat in a formal bullet list anymore, but I tend to stick to the process if I have some milestones I want to hit throughout the story.

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up?
Archery!

Many artists and authors are creative in multiple disciplines. What other types of art do you create?  
I've been playing piano since I was a child, and recently got back into it. I also enjoy creating paper stars and painting (particularly with paint pens). I have an entire wall in my office covered in paintings created by myself and my friends. 

How has your view of the creative process changed since you first started?  
When I first started writing, I only wrote when I felt like it. Now I am more systematic. I surround myself with writing communities, as well as writing tools. I track my writing goals on MS Excel and it turns pretty colors when I'm on track. It's very motivating for me, honestly. My personal thought is that if I never stop writing and submitting, eventually the thing will be published. 

Did you have formal training in literature/art? What ways do you continue your creative education?
I have a Creative Writing bachelor's degree. Even though I haven't done any more formal training in literature/art, I go to workshops such as Norwescon (https://www.norwescon.org/) and Cascade (https://cascadewriters.org/). I also like participating in residencies such as Ad Astra (https://adastra-sf.com/) where I meet new writers and immerse myself in the craft. 

What is your biggest creative doubt?  
This might sound weird, but I'm afraid I'm going to become too famous to handle the pressure and demands. I love writing and want my work to be seen, but I also want to keep my day job. If I ever make enough money to quit my day job, I'm afraid I might not be able to produce anymore because I'll feel the pressure to be financially responsible. It'll make it hard for me to push my limits with my writing, which is where I find my joy. 

What piece of creative advice have you received that sounded good, but was ultimately not useful to you?
One time someone told me to research markets before I submit. I appreciated the advice, but have found that I have a bad radar for determining if one of my stories is a fit for a certain market. Stories can be read in various ways, and my way of reading my stories is skewed simply because I wrote them. My stories get acceptances from the markets I might have self-rejected. I've submitted genre fiction to lit markets and have had them accept it. I'm not outright submitting things that markets clearly say they won't take, but I don't allow myself to read too deep into requirements. Let the market decide. It's your job to submit. 

Do you have a dedicated or preferred place to work? How does it influence the way you work?  
I technically have an office but I write at the dining room table. I think it is because of all the natural light. I love writing in the morning, when my brain is still partly in the dream world and not yet bogged down with the demands of life. Because of this, my writing tends to have dream logic where things are strange to be strange. I write in coffee shops every now and then, but overheard conversations tend to find their way into my stories if I do.

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration?
I find that at different times in my life, I circle back to themes. Right now, I'm fascinated by womanhood, particularly as it relates to the world we live in. I also love exploring toxic relationships. I find that movies tend to worship toxic romantic relationships, and I want to explore the nuances that come with that. 

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start?
Pieces start in various ways for me. Sometimes I force them by reading tarot cards or using a story builder such as Story Engine (https://storyenginedeck.com/). Sometimes, I'm at a coffee shop and a particular interaction fascinates me. Sometimes, someone at work says something in the right way that starts a chain reaction in my brain. Sometimes, a feeling bubbles up inside me and I have to write it out. I tend to prematurely write my stories before they are fully fleshed out, then use my first draft skeleton to actually write the story. I also have an amazing spouse (https://shedric.com/) who lets me babble about a story until it feels exciting enough to start writing down. 

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up?
Assuming that money is also unlimited in this scenario, I'd love to take up fencing and live out my Parent Trap dreams.

How has your view of the creative process changed since you first started?
Find teachers and mentors who get your work and get you. I grow the most when I have that. Originally when I went to grad school, I wanted to switch from the Literature MA program to the MFA program. But after taking one MFA class with a professor who was not a good fit, I scrapped that. It’s not that you don’t ever learn in those instances, but I came to understand I didn’t want my work to be shaped by people who so grossly misunderstood my perspective among other things. I learned to stand up for my voice and that I deserved to grow in an environment that was nurturing rather than hostile, uncomfortable, and frankly a bit weird. 

Did you have any formal training in literature/art? What ways do you continue your creative education?
I have a BA in English and an MA in Literature. I also had teaching internship at the St. Louis Art Museum. Right now, I am in Jennifer Franklin’s manuscript class, which has been amazing. I met Jennifer as a contributor to Braving the Body, co-edited by Nicole Calihan, Pichchenda Bao, and Jennifer Franklin.

What is your biggest creative doubt?
My biggest fear is that my voice will be lost along with other voices of trans people. I want to leave a mark. I don’t want our beautiful selves, voices, thoughts, anger, and grief to be lost or forgotten. I feel like I have a responsibility to the future, to us, to do something to preserve that. 

Is there an overarching theme to your body of work, or is each piece a new exploration?
All the poems I have written in the last few years (and some earlier) are currently being gathered in what will be my first full-length manuscript, which is also an extension of my first chapbook manuscript. The overarching themes are transformation; queer, trans, and disabled embodiment and politics; and queer love. 

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start?
I write a poem when something sparks. A memory or a thought will get triggered perhaps by something I read, an experience I just had, something happening in the world, and I must write it. It feels like a thing that happens to me and not a thing I am doing. There is revision of course, but often poems come out of me fully formed. This is why I don’t force myself to write. This other way is magic. I feel lucky that my brain and body do this for me, at least. 

If you had unlimited time, what new hobby would you take up?
This is more an issue of feeling intimidated, but it would be so helpful if I could sew my own clothes. Finding clothes that fit and are gender affirming is difficult for me as a fat nonbinary person who would prefer to dress like some sort of Victorian dandy. 

Many artists and authors are creative in multiple disciplines. What other types of art do you create? 
I'm also an actor. I also had the opportunity to co-direct a play a be a dramaturg for a play in progress. Theater making. 

How has your view of the creative process changed since you first started?
It is not as lonely of a process as I thought it would be when I first started. 

Did you have formal training in literature/art? What ways do you continue your creative education?
I'm grateful for my MFA from Randolph's low-residency program. And, I have to acknowledge my creative education that came before the MFA program and after the MFA program in my community in Portland, Maine. I also make sure to continue reading as often as possible.

What piece of creative advice have you received that sounded good, but was ultimately not useful to you?
"Stay in your lane." What I find a lot more useful is "Stay in your lane of observation." 

Do you have a dedicated or preferred place to work? How does it influence the way you work? 
My living room where I'm surrounded by all of my books.

When you begin a new piece of work, where do you start?
Each starting place is so different. Sometimes it starts with a prompt. Sometimes it starts with an obsession. Sometimes it starts from a line from a piece of media or from another artist. Sometimes it starts with just having the space and time to write in the first place.