Conducted by Sam Campbell
Suzie, I’m so excited to be able to chat with you and pick your brain about all things writing. First, congratulations on winning the 2020 Emerging Writer Prize. All of us here at the Arkansas International were blown away with your piece, “Avalanche Weather,” particularly the point-of-view. How did that particular voice come to you?
“And, I mean, if we’re going to have conscious boobs, why not give them omniscience?”
Thank you! It's thrilling to hear that your incredible team found something to admire in my story—especially one that took me so long to puzzle through. I started with the setting, the Chilkoot Trail, because I'd backpacked it in 2017. But the voice came to me right after. I knew I wanted to work with first-person plural as an exercise of sorts, but in my earliest drafts the "we" didn't belong to anyone specific. It was this disembodied perspective, and at some point I had to ask myself, Who's "we"? Why is "we" bothering with Lauren? The more I thought about it—about how the voice was simultaneously so disparaging and warm towards Lauren—the clearer it became that the "we" was part of her. Who doesn't think critically of oneself from time to time? I don't remember at what point I attributed the voice to the boobs, but when I did, it really opened up the story. Conscious boobs was an exciting way to explore Lauren's psyche from a (sort-of) outsider's perspective. And, I mean, if we're going to have conscious boobs, why not give them omniscience? So, I went with that, too! It was fun to rewrite the piece while considering the boobs' perspective and what their omniscience might give them access to. It was also nice to give Lauren some company on her solo journey.
I was personally impressed with your expert usage of the mechanics—how the form influences the content—particularly the way it was sectioned into thirds, the placement of space breaks within the larger section breaks, the poignant placement of em dashes and parenthetical commentary, and (my particular favorite) the use of superscript. How did you make decisions regarding these mechanics during your writing process? How do you approach the idea of form and content generally?
“ I try to capture what I hear using whatever tools I have access to. So: white space, punctuation, and, yes, superscript! ”
Rhythm is really important to me as I write. I try to capture what I hear using whatever tools I have access to. So: white space, punctuation, and, yes, superscript! Can you read the superscript dialogue without imagining the shrill little tumor that speaks it? I can't. As for something like the sectioning of the story, I suppose that decision was less grounded in craft than in my experience hiking the Chilkoot. My hiking buddies and I took three days to reach the Golden Staircase and ascend the Chilkoot Pass. On the first day we began at sea level; on day two, we reached the treeline; and on our third day we crossed a snowy mountain range into starker, sharper Canada. Each landscape was distinct, and as a first-time backpacker myself on that trip, I experienced—and felt—the journey differently each day. Perhaps I'm veering from your question, but I'll also say that this story concludes two days before the end of Lauren's journey. The Chilkoot Pass is really the halfway point of a five-day trek, but getting her to this moment of accomplishment, when she overcomes the most daunting portion of the trail, seemed like a natural conclusion. Her epiphanic experience on the mountaintop was what I needed to suggest that she'd righted herself in this landscape. That the sheer beauty of the earth had given her what she needed to survive. I think writing beyond this point would not have added anything material to my understanding of who she is.
Moving more broadly, what does your writing process look like?
“Whenever I get stuck, I look to the place of my piece for, I don’t know, emotional truth?”
The stories I'm most excited about are the ones that begin with a voice. I'll hear something—maybe a phrase spoken aloud by someone nearby, or maybe a voice in my head. Whatever it is, I'll have an instantaneous and clear image of a person with a fraught, angsty ball at their core. That's enough to get me going. I also derive a lot of energy from setting. Whenever I get stuck, I look to the place of my piece for, I don't know, emotional truth? Something like that! I wish my process included more about a story's premise at the outset—Wouldn't that be easier!—but I've found that if I start a project with a specific destination in mind, I'm doomed. Unfortunately, because I usually don't know where I'm going, I often take far too long to complete a story. It took me two years to write (and rewrite) "Avalanche Weather." I'm still hoping to speed up my process, but because I haven't yet, I learned to be comfortable drawing my early drafts, working on new stuff, and then returning to the old work again with fresh eyes.
As our prize winner, how did you know this piece was ready for submission? How do you know when a piece is ready for submission, generally?
Does anyone ever know when their work is ready? I don't. But I do tend to know when it isn't. For me, it's about the emotional core of the story. Does the story make me feel something when I read it? "Avalanche Weather" began to feel very real to me when Lauren skulked off alone at the first campground. Here she is, this woman I've imagined as social and funny, but she is withdrawing from anyone who might offer her friendship. Her instinct felt true, not just because she's dealing with a horrible medical diagnosis but also for the simple reason that she lacks confidence in this environment. I haven't mentioned Max yet, but his emotional journey runs in parallel to Lauren's and is just as powerful, at least for me. He, too, changes by becoming more receptive to connection and allowing his kindness to outshine his bitterness. Still, I was never sure this story was ready for submission! The main reason I finally let it loose was because I love Deb Olin Unferth! She's so free in her stories. She'll bop between points-of-view, break the fourth wall, write dialogue in all-caps, whatever. I turned to her a couple years ago when I was experiencing something of a crisis with my work. I'd become too stilted and serious, which wasn't at all how I thought of myself as a writer. In an attempt to rediscover my own writerly voice, I turned to Unferth's work, among others. Her words reminded me that there is no one way to be literary or interesting or thoughtful. When I saw that she was judging a contest—and for The Arkansas International, no less!—it felt like fate. I guess it was.
Did you submit only to contests? How do you decide which contests to enter?
I'd be quite poor if I only submitted to contests, though I've had some amazing luck playing the contest game. Most of what I send out is through general calls for submission. In general, though, I'm fairly selective. I submit to publications that consistently feature work I admire and where I can imagine my work fitting in.
Because writing is very rarely lucrative, I’m always curious as to what professions writers are pursuing alongside their writing. I noticed on your website that you offer freelance editing services. Do you have any advice to writers who might be considering offering editing services?
Editing services are something I offer because I love working with writers, not because I'm looking for a steady income (I get that elsewhere!). Earning my MFA and working in roles ranging from editorial assistant to editor-in-chief for a variety of literary publications earned me experience, credibility, and a reputation. All three are important if you want someone to take a chance on you.
Finally, what are you looking ahead to in your work? Are you working on anything now?
I'm working on a novel set in the high alpine desert of West Texas, my absolute favorite landscape on Earth. I'm simultaneously working on a short story set in the same region, which I'm using to work out some of the novel's kinks and further explore its world. The short story has a somewhat absurdist premise, but it's world and emotions are so real to me. While I haven't yet cracked it, I know I'm close.
Read “Avalanche Weather” in Issue 11 of The Arkansas International.
Suzie Eckl’s work is published in Kenyon Review; Nimrod International Journal, where she won the 2020 Francine Ringold Award for Emerging Writers in Poetry; and Bat City Review, where she placed runner-up in the 2019 Short Prose Contest. She received her MFA at the University of Virginia and her BA at Davidson College as a Patricia Cornwell Creative Writing Scholar. Currently, she is working on a collection of stories set in the American West.
