Writer on Writer: Pete Anderson vs. Ben Tanzer

Welcome to today's stop on Ben Tanzer's virtual book tour, "This Tour Will Change Your Life". We are honored to be involved in this tour, and Ben's journey in general. When we were approached by CCLaP we knew we had to do something special. So we are taking this opportunity to launch a new bi-monthly feature called writer on writer. This is where we will turn over the blog to a writer and have him or her interview another writer. It should be an exciting addition to the site. This week we asked Pete Anderson (Pete Lit) to interview Ben, and the results are below.

Ben Tanzer and I first met at a RAGAD reading two years ago and, watching him read that night, I was intrigued by the energy of his delivery and his distinctive narrative voice. We have since become very good friends, meeting for lunch every few months and swapping war stories and ideas about writing and publishing, and we also now collaborate on This Zine Will Change Your Life, the online journal which he founded and which I humbly serve as deputy editor and unpaid lackey. I thoroughly enjoyed his first two novels, Lucky Man and Most Likely You Go Your Way and I’ll Go Mine, as well as his most recent effort, the short story collection Repetition Patterns. We recently had a lengthy email conversation about the book and writing in general, one which happened to hew quite closely to the tone of our lunch conversations.

Pete Anderson (PA): Just who do you think you are, anyway, and why should we care about Recognition Patterns?
Ben Tanzer (BT): Who do I think I am? I'm just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her. Wait, no, that’s Julia Roberts. Still, why should you care about Repetition Patterns? Because you care about the passage of President Obama’s economic stimulus package and because reading Repetition Patterns has been proven to retard male pattern baldness. Because it’s hip to discover something that pretty much no one else has ever heard of and most never will. I mean like ever. Because I am feeling fragile lately and knowing you care makes me feel warm inside. Mainly, though because reading Repetition Patterns will change your life and what could be better than that?

PA: I was wondering how far we'd be into our interview before you'd slide in the "will change your life" since that is the catchphrase for pretty much every blog post you write. We'll return to the life-changing thing eventually, but for now I want to ask about the "hipness" of "something no one else has heard of." Obviously, as a writer you want your work to impact as many people as possible, but how do you accomplish that while also maintaining your integrity? I know you are very indie-minded in your cultural and consumer choices, but how do you balance that against the desire for widespread recognition? How do you go Hollywood and still keep your street cred?
BT: Great question, the street cred thing is tricky. There’s no doubt that I spent my formative years moving literature in many of Binghamton’s rough and tumble literary neighborhoods and so not only have I come by that cred honestly, but I still have the paper cuts to prove it. Still, if I ever have the chance to impact more than the handful people I have now what will that mean? And how will I maintain my integrity? I think, at least I hope, that even if I were to achieve widespread recognition, unlikely, or sell out in some fashion, and let’s be clear that at this point, I’m not sure what selling-out would look like, I have to believe balance can be achieved in how one continues to support independent arts, artists and arts organizations. I was struck by a comment about John Updike that was repeated again and again as people spoke about him after he died. He was always a supporter and champion for young and unknown writers. One of the reasons I have pushed so hard with my writing and the self-marketing of that writing is because of my desire to meet more writers and artists and some day potentially be the kind of guy that Updike’s fans describe. Supporting other writers and artists, giving them encouragement and a voice, being a sounding board and even a mentor if needed, nothing is or could be cooler to me. I would add, that I hope this not only answers your question, but turns out to be true if I by some freak of nature I ever get to go Hollywood, or even Bollywood, for that matter.

PA: I suspect that even your selling out would have some degree of integrity, since even while you were shilling for Dunkin Donuts coffee last year you did so while wearing the t-shirt of an independent coffee shop. Which I admire - getting The Man to pay you (or ply you with coffee) while subverting "him" at the same time. So since you respect and admire the Literary Godfather role so much (sorry, but I'm not kissing your ring, no matter what), have you ever considered teaching creative writing? Or would that be too establishment and insider-ish for your tastes?
BT: You sir are very generous. I will be honest though, it’s not necessarily clear to me how I define integrity. I try and subscribe to the Supreme Court’s position on porn as my roadmap, I know when I see it, well, I hope I do, and then I try to follow some kind of murky compass. That said, please don’t be shocked if down the road you hear some story about me, a bunch of half-dressed cross-dressers and bowl full of Ecstasy. Either that or a compilation of my greatest hits being sold exclusively at Walmart. Things happen. In terms of teaching creative writing, I think I would really enjoy that, and not just the experience of working with students and other faculty, which from the outside anyway seems like it could be very invigorating, but the lifestyle as well. The fact is, I am mostly happy to work 9 to 5 as long as my family and our mortgage require me to do so, and I am thrilled to do the nonprofit communications and messaging work that I do, but the opportunity to spend more of the day talking and teaching writing, not to mention having more time to write and read, would definitely be pretty cool at some point in my life. Now, having said that, I’m not sure I actually have any idea what one has to know to teach such classes. I’ve never really taken them. And that’s not a point of pride, it just is what it is, because when I could have been taking those classes I was focused on other things, including but not limited to shooting pool, substance abuse, ultimate Frisbee, running, social work grad school, performing with Wham! and working as George Clooney’s butt-double on ER.

PA: I never watched those Clooney scenes very closely, for obvious reasons. And I didn't realize that you were the mythical "third Wham!er", the one that reportedly instigated the tragic George Michael-Andrew Ridgeley split from which civilization will never fully recover. But enough of the college-age Ben Tanzer - let's get back to the present day. Like me, you're a 9-to-5 working stiff, but unlike me you seem quite prolific in your writing, with two published novels and a third in manuscript (I promise I'll read it one of these years, hopefully before it wins the Pulitzer), this story collection and countless stories published here and there. Personally, I have no trouble coming up with story ideas, but I struggle with not only getting them down on paper but also doing the painstaking work of revising and creating a finished product. You seem to have no such difficulty. So, since federal law requires every author interview to ask a question about the author's writing schedule and process, what exactly is your writing schedule and process? When and where do you get the hard work done?
BT: Well, the law is the law, so from that perspective I’m glad you asked the question. And I’m not sure how prolific I am. It never feels that way. As far as process goes though, I have stuck to some basic principles from the start which have helped me a lot. Whether or not they would work for someone else of course is a whole different story. First off, I never try and treat the writing process as something precious. I write when and where I can. Home, office, planes, trains, automobiles, coffee shops, airport, in bed, hotel rooms, morning, night, lunch break, layover, between meetings, over a meal, whenever, wherever. It is something I must do and so I do it. I always try and plot out the week in as far as advance as I can, getting a sense of where the openings in my schedule might be and then staying committed to them as best I can. I look to write for at least thirty minutes a day, every day, during the time I have identified for that day whether I am in the mood or not. The everyday part has gotten harder with the birth of my second son, but I continue to try to mix it up, working on different pieces and different kinds of pieces at different times. I try to never edit the first version of anything as I am writing it, something I know some people get stuck on. I just write. I get it on paper. I put it aside, let it marinate and then edit at some point later on. Getting excited about writing is not the problem for me, time is, and so in some ways time has become my mistress. I will grab it however I can, and I will run with it when I have it at the expense of other things. This mostly works, though I am open to other models if you have any.

PA: Your mistress is time, while mine is sleep - which helps explain why you have three published books to your name while I'm napping on the evening train with a messenger bag full of unfinished manuscripts. So I stand by my claim that you're "prolific", and now I'll also add "diligent." When I'm reading a book, I subscribe to the 50 page rule - I give every book 50 pages, and if it hasn't engaged me by that point I'm free to abandon it, completely guilt-free. From a writer's standpoint, do you adopt a similar standard? If you have what you think is a good story idea but for whatever reason can't translate it right away into solid prose, how long do you work on it until you finally abandon it? And have you ever filed away a stalled story (one that's far short of being even a full first draft) but then after months or years revisit it and manage to revive it into a finished work?
BT: I really like this question and I think it really touches on some of my strengths and weaknesses as not just a writer, but as a person, and yes I know you like to think of me as weakness-free, but I’m okay with it. Really. Mostly. So, no I do not have a similar standard. Which is not to say that I have never walked away from a piece during the writing phase, but almost never, because when I get into an idea I always think I can make it work and I will work at it until I feel I’ve gotten there. In fact, the stories that I have abandoned, are probably ones that just got hammered by editors on more than one occasion after I submitted them. That said, I think a strength of mine as a writer is my compulsion to constantly be writing, and constantly be seeking how to make any and all ideas and stories work. And so I’m always pushing, and as a big part of writing is continually pounding your head against the wall until something clicks anyway, my compulsive nature works well here because with writing I have a place to channel it. The rest of time my compulsive nature mostly serves me well, work for example, parenting at times and as an athlete, when I was one for sure. But it has also been and remains problematic for me. I have very little self-control if something is in front of me that I want, and that could be mean anything from eating popcorn to watching the first season of 24 on DVD to buying books or CDs or sneakers, always a problem, to alcohol and drugs, which is much less of a problem now than it used to be. I would also say here, that this level of compulsion does not always serve me well as a writer either, because that desire to push and push and make things work, what you refer to as "diligent," and thank you for that, sometimes causes me to ultimately embrace pieces that don’t entirely work, but seem like they do because something has finally somewhat clicked. This hasn’t happened a lot, but it has definitely happened. I remember one rejection from an editor that I have a decent relationship with, who has both accepted and rejected pieces over the years, but who always sends me a personal note regardless, where he wrote me and said, "this is really not your best work, right, you know that." And I did not, not really, and definitely not until he said it.

PA: Ah yes, rejections - every writer's favorite war stories. What's the worst rejection you've ever gotten? (Mine was from a print journal which sent me a form rejection on an index card, the reverse of which was an order form for subscriptions to the journal. It was as if they were saying "Your writing's not good enough for us - and not even good enough to deserve a personal reply - but we'll gladly take your money.") And has a rejection ever angered you to the point that it drove you to refine your story into something even better? How do you handle rejection? I'm thinking specifically about writerly rejection, although if you'd like to share any spurned romantic quests from your bachelor days I'd love to hear those too.
BT: I was probably most upset when Grete Heichemer rejected me in high school, at the time she was sort of the equivalent to one of those reach literary journals we don’t really think we can get into, no pun intended, well, actually it was, but then we meet the editor, have some kind of pleasant exchange at a bar, we laugh, receive some stroking, maybe make-out, and we start to believe that maybe, just maybe it’s not such a reach. Alas the rejection is looming none-the-less, we never really had a shot, we, and maybe they, confused a pleasant moment of weakness with something more. We have committed a Grete, believing something is possible when it is not, and we get the Heichemer, the inevitable and eventual rejection, and this is something I have experienced many, many times as a writer. For me, those rejections hurt the most, the form letters and nameless editors who say nothing much can suck, even the occasional nasty response, like the guy who wrote, "This is exactly 180 degrees from what we like," but I just get those pieces out again and move forward. Building some kind of relationship that seems to enhance the likelihood of success and then getting rejected though that just blows. I will tell you an odd sort of ant-rejection story that sort of captures all of your questions and was never posed as a rejection, but ultimately ended that way. Sort of an inverted Heichemer, not be confused with an ollie. I submitted a nonfiction piece to one of the reach journals on my mental list and received a detailed two-page letter from the nonfiction editor telling me how much he loved it and where maybe, just maybe I could make some tweaks. They seemed like great suggestions and I made some tweaks and I mailed the piece back, they weren’t doing the electronic submission thing, and just never heard back. Ever. That’s mostly okay, but this hand-written letter was incredible. I still have it. I read it sometimes when I’m feeling down. I sent some follow-up e-mails to the journal’s general information mailbox, but nothing. I moved on. Until, that is I was at AWP like a year later and there is the journal’s table and there is the editor. I introduce myself. Yes, yes, you wrote that piece, I really, really liked it. Cool, and, what about the revision I sent? Uhh, don’t know, I never got it. Should I re-send it? Well, I oversee fiction now so I can’t help you with it. You know though, he says ,alluringly, it was to me anyway, the editors are all meeting on Sunday to discuss the next issue, and I owe you, get me a fiction piece this weekend, and I will move it through the hopper. What are you looking for, I say? I think you know. Sure. I was already working on a piece, but somehow I did think I knew what he was talking about, so I changed direction and finished it and e-mailed it to the personal e-mail address he had shared with me. Nothing. No response. Ever. I move on, really, but then there I am at the Printer’s Ball a few months later and there he is. Hey man, he says, I liked that piece a lot, but it needed something a little different. Do you ever read Ha Jin? No. Read him. Revise. And send it to me. At this point I should have walked away, yes? Yes, but do I, no. He is my new Grete. I read Ha Jin, I write some more. I send it. He writes me back, he loves it, but, he says, have I ever read Breece D’J Pancake? No. Do so, he says, it will help with that last little revision it needs. I read the Pancake. I like the stories a lot. I write some more. I send it. Nothing. Ever. Again. Strung along and then the Heichemer. Killer. And it was my fault, a victim of the worst kind of relationship desperation. Still, he did make the piece better. And it was published. And it is in this collection.

PA: Now, see? THAT'S exactly the kind of writerly diligence that you possess that I was talking about. If I had come across such an editor I probably wouldn't have bothered, no matter how enticing of a "reach" journal it was. Have you ever had the sour grapes reaction to a journal that rejected you? I remember submitting one of my early stories to a well-respected local print journal that never responded to my submission (which was via snail mail, and all of the hassle that involves) nor to my two or three followup emails. Shortly afterward, I was due to take a writing seminar from the editor of that very same journal, and on my way there I actually stopped in a bookstore and bought a copy of the journal, which I had never read before. I had this idea that I'd chat him up at the seminar, and wanted to seem halfway informed about the journal as I queried him about the status of my story. Well, I never got around to asking him about it, and then later when I finally read the journal I was struck by its numerous typos, its ugly layout and what were very ordinary stories (of course, inferior to mine) and I became not just relieved by getting no response from the journal but even felt angry about it. Which is my long-winded way of (besides shining on myself the spotlight that is supposed to be on Ben Tanzer) asking...wait, what was I asking? Oh, right...have you ever been relieved or even glad for a rejection? Have you, say, been turned down by some middling journal only to have that same piece accepted at a greatly superior place?
BT: First off, I cannot believe it took you so long to talk about yourself. That level of self-control is something I greatly admire albeit something I don’t suspect I am capable of. Nor frankly, all that interested in. Now, have I been relieved or glad for a rejection and maybe even found a rejection to later be picked-up by a greatly superior place? Sadly, not so much. I have had the opposite happen though, not that the place the story ended-up was vastly inferior, not at all, but I wasn’t nearly as excited about the new home. The story is actually kind of fucked-up, though not in a good way. After my older son had some minor surgery a few years ago I wrote a story about the experience from the perspective of parents who are not sure they make good decisions, something that is not entirely fictional, and are questioning whether the surgery is truly necessary, but just can’t quite deal with thinking any more about whether to do it or not. Ultimately, they lose the child. After I wrote it, I saw a call for submissions for a new anthology about parents and grief, submitted it and it was immediately accepted. I was really geeked and then didn’t really hear back from the publisher again for maybe a year and sort of wrote it off. One day I am reading the New Yorker and in it is a piece by T.C. Boyle where a guy first claims his baby is sick and then dead to get out of work and escape his life. It backfires terribly on him and I found the piece quite upsetting. That same week the publisher behind the anthology suddenly sends me the galley’s and includes in her note that the staff working on the project had been crying so hard when they read the piece that they could barely edit it. She went on to say that is was one of the most powerful pieces they had received and that she wanted to thank me again for submitting it. As I read her e-mail I thought about the Boyle story and realized, oh shit, they think this is a real story. I never said it was, and I don’t recall them saying that they were looking for true stories, but what if they are? I wrote her back and told her I thought there might be a miscommunication, but was there, was I misreading something? No, no, I wasn’t, and the piece would have to be pulled immediately because they would never knowingly mislead grieving parents. She was really nice about it, but the piece was out, and though it got picked-up by another journal shortly thereafter, which I was thrilled about, I felt like a jerk on the one hand, and fairly bummed-out on the other. Still am.

PA: I guess that's the danger of writing first-person narratives during this memoir-happy age of ours - you almost have to preface the piece with a disclaimer that says it's fiction. (Unless you're James Frey, of course, in which case you not only skip the disclaimer but actively encourage people to think your fictions are real, even at the risk of getting an angry smackdown from Oprah on national TV.) Sad to say, but we now have to wind down our pleasant little discussion here. Though we've hardly discussed Recognition Patterns, I know you're being interviewed at several other stops on the book tour, so hopefully you'll have plenty of opportunity to discuss the book elsewhere. So, just one last question. I know you've been published everywhere, but what are your dream venues where you lust after to publish stories? And since this is also my last chance to talk about myself (and it feels good, so you're lucky I put it off for so long, or else you wouldn't have gotten a word in edgewise) I'll mention that my dream venues are THE2NDHAND (print broadsheet), Featherproof (mini-book), and Hobart (print). (Todd, Jonathan and Aaron, this formally puts you on notice that I will be hounding you with submissions until the end of time.)
BT: Look at that, beside our good looks and vast prowess in bed we apparently have some other things in common. My short list of dream venues also includes Featherproof and Hobart as well as Pindeldyboz. I have never submitted anything to Featherproof for mini-book consideration, I have sort of felt I would know the right piece when I wrote it, and I have not had that vibe yet. Hobart and Pindeldyboz on the other hand I have submitted to. In both cases there has been at least one piece among others I have submitted to them that I especially thought would be a good fit and then was given the chance by the editor to revise them only to see the revised piece rejected anyway. This kind of rejection is not something I mind. To get that level of interaction with an editor is always amazingly cool, though I will admit that to get that close and fall short only fuels my interest that much more. Sort of addendum to the Grete Heichemer theory of literary rejections discussed above. This also strikes me as a great place to end this interview, well, after I thank you for your time of course and ask why James Frey was even open to the smackdown you describe. While, I rarely skip any opportunity to hype myself, I definitely would not have been able to put up with that. You?

PA: No, I wouldn't have even dared. Oprah doesn't seem like the kind of person you want to piss off, but Frey must have figured that even getting ripped a new one by Oprah would move another hundred thousand units. And his public disgrace didn't stop him from getting a new book deal for fiction, giving ink-stained wretches like you and me yet another reason to figuratively beat our heads against the wall. Okay, enough Frey - I probably just moved ten more units for him and bought his lunch. Good luck in your efforts to get published at Featherproof and Hobart (though you'll have to wait until I'm published there first, of course) and also Pindeldyboz, and all of the rest of your writing. Next time we get together, I'll let you buy lunch. That's just the kind of guy I am. Thanks for the chat, it was great fun.
BT: So, let me get this straight, you just bought Frey lunch and now I am going to buy you lunch? Nicely played sir, as was the interview, I had a lot of fun as well and I don’t care what Jason said about you when he learned you were doing this. He’s just plain wrong. Meanwhile, as far as being described as an "ink-stained wretch" goes, thank you for that, I always wanted to be a writer, and now that I’ve gotten started I plan to be as ink-stained as I can be.

This is the fourth stop on the tour, and for the full list of events visit CCLaP. Tomorrow the tour stops at Does This Font Make Me Look Fat? (Tim Hall's Blog) you can check it out here.