Craft Chat, An Interview with Brian Turner

By Megan Pastore

When did you first start writing? What/Who was your inspiration?

The earliest I can remember—I wrote short stories, both in prose and in comic-book form, when I was about 7. I don’t think this was all that unusual, as children have phenomenal imaginations and creative potential. If you’d asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I’d have said, “I want to be an historian.”

How do you decide what is worth writing about?

This is something I’m trying to improve upon in my creative life. I often find myself excited to follow a new spark or an intriguing new storyline—and then I become compulsive about it, writing and writing and writing. Researching. Revising. Etc. Etc. And here’s the thing. Sometimes I discover—well into the process—that I’m creating something that I ‘want’ to write. But is it something I ‘need’ to write? I normally start with an image or a phrase and then work my way into the art. So, unless I can discover some other inroads into the piece—I’ll likely continue in this mode.

What is the most important part of your creative process?

Discovering, through the process of following the imagination, the edge of the known. Walking into the strange landscape of the new.

But is that true? That’s the grand vision of art, right? The way we chart our way into the sublime, into surprise, our world and our own interior lives augmented by the journey. And while, yes, there’s definitely something to that, I think it’s the quiet contemplation, the very meditative practice of writing itself that may be the most important thing. Much of that time is spent not finding the words. And yet. In those moments, the world stills and vanishes around me, and I find myself in a timeless state of being, wandering into the past, wandering into the future, considering the universe around me—and this is part of what brings me back to the practice again and again, year after year, decade after decade.

How do you stay inspired? Do you ever experience writer’s block or feel stuck? How do you remedy that?

I’ve long thought that writer’s block is caused by the overwhelming thought—that there is simply far too much to write about, and how are we to choose from everything (especially given the brief nature of our lives)? It’s too much pressure. I know that I’ve written things that simply didn’t work out. Drafts. And more drafts. Versions. Variations. Attempts. Failures. So on and so on. Knowing this takes some of the pressure off of what I might attempt to do today.

What is one poem or poet you always return to? How have they impacted your life’s work?

Two artists I return to: Ilyse Kusnetz and Brian Voight. Ilyse has two books of poetry in the world, and Brian recorded some music in his lifetime, but never wrote a book. They are the two artists who serve as foundation stones for me. Our conversations on art, sculpture, poetry, film, the image, the politics of making, the architecture of cities and the architecture of beauty, these things and more we wrestled with and praised and so much more over the years we spent together. I can easily point to known writers in the field and answer this question as most writers do, but I think most writers aren’t answering the actual question. So often, the gods of art live deep inside of our lives, they are our lovers and best friends, and when asked about them, we sadly turn and talk about famous writers that everyone has heard of.

In what ways has place influenced your work? Where would you like to travel for newfound inspiration?

I’m from the San Joaquin Valley in central California. My most formative years as a child were spent in a rural landscape where orchards and vineyards gave way to cattle rangeland, given a backdrop of the Sierra Nevada mountains. It was an austere landscape, and it honed in me an appreciation for detail, part of what it takes to develop a writer’s eye.

How do you assemble a book of poems? What is your process? What is most important to consider?

Each book is like a lifeform I have to figure out in the making. I have to learn how it breathes, what fuels it, where the fire is that burns the pages forward, and where the deep reservoir of love is that gives it reason to live.

Have you ever feared publishing something/worried over public scrutiny? How do you determine if the risk is worth it? Are there things you only write for yourself?

I’ve written entire books that were (and remain) wholly for myself. It’s important that we understand why we intend to share our creative work with others.  With my first two published poetry collections, I wanted to help spark conversations about the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. I lived in a country that waged multiple wars and didn’t seem to be paying much attention to them. With my new collections, I’m hoping that readers might fall in love with the dead I love who have crossed over into the river of stars. That these great souls might live on in readers, even if only in some small way. It’s a way for Ilyse to be a living part of the world, and the very thought of it brings me a measure of delight.

What is your favorite genre to write in?

It’s usually whatever project I’m working on at the moment. Whether it’s writing or making music or sometimes playing with paint and canvas, it’s whatever I’m doing in the  now that pulls me forward.

What’s next on the creative front? You’ve just published three consecutive works. Do you plan to take a break? Or focus on music?

I don’t really know what a break is—or why I’d take one! I love making art, as difficult as it almost always proves to be. Right now I’m chipping away at a collection of lyric essays (which means I’m trying to learn more about the world we live in). I’m also working on an album of rock music. I’m cooking up some early ideas for a funk album down the road. And and and and and. There’s simply too much to do and not enough time.

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