Please welcome our featured writer of May 2012:
William Robinson
Now, let’s find out what makes him tick…
49, but I don’t feel it. I’m pretty sure I don’t act it, either. I take my writing seriously, but I fight hard not to live my life to that same standard.
At age twenty-eight I was working in property management in Boston and after two years I realized that continuing to do so was going to be the end of me. Then one day while walking along Burberry Street, I ducked into a bookstore. My memory romanticizes the following more than the actual reality, but I remember picking up a thick yellow anthology of short stories and reading Raymond Carver’s So Much Water So Close to Home. I don’t know if it was the story as much as I loved Carver’s compressed language, and his ability to string together sentences with such poetic simplicity (deceptive simplicity!). I never knew that a person was allowed to write this way. At that moment I knew that this was what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. In a big way, writing saved me.
You can’t forget your first publication—it’s like your first love. The time I was the featured writer for Talking Writing was equally special, so was carte blanche nominating my story for the Journey Prize. All great moments!
I’m always juggling a few stories at a time. One in particular is about a girl who hurts herself while her mom is off serial dating (and sleeping around). When I hit a snag on one, I jump to another, just to keep my mind moving. I’m also script editing for a major motion picture with Academy-Award winning director, Malcolm Clarke, as well as collaborating on another script with a top composer.
I write for the simple reason that I love to write. I love working out the puzzle that is the process of every story. It’s a constant challenge, but when you nail that turn of phrase, the reward is immeasurable. I think you have to have a kind of obsessive personality, and a sense of inadequacy that propels you to engage in something that is so challenging and invariably requires so much monasticism. I do spend a fair amount of time on a story, trying to mine deeper and deeper into a character’s central yearning. And I guess I write, in part, because as I go deeper and deeper into that yearning, I’m going deeper and deeper into myself.
“Ambush” is about an unhappily married woman whose parents’ spectacularly ugly divorce haunts her every move.
I started with a character that I knew on some level was unsatisfied with her life. And I knew there was some kind of vague on-going chaos, and I connected with that, and I wanted her to explore that—that what was bothering her was, on some level, bothering me. Otherwise I wouldn’t be interested in her dilemma. What I started with is, since my stories are generally dialogue rich and being the anchor around which my stories are constructed, I put the female protagonist in a room with another person. In this case, her husband, and pitted them against each other, letting them drive the structure, the action. This was the main conflict, but there was the conflict between her and her parents, and that between her parents. It’s a good thing to add sub-conflicts, if you can, to enhance the texture and complexity of the piece. Eventually the major theme evolved into a single line: Growing up in chaos you expect things to fall apart, and when they don’t, you wait.
I’ve always had a man crush on Raymond Carver.
Courage. It seems to be the one word that is required of us all, whether it’s overcoming a failed relationship or accepting an illness, or simply growing ever older gracefully. I want to believe that I can learn a thing or two from my characters as I put up obstacles, corrupt their lives at every turn. I want to see if they have the courage to figure a way out of the hell I have put them in.