Interview with Kate Finegan // Tommy Dean

Kate Finegan’s chapbook The Size of Texas from Penrose Press gives readers a chance to experience a dynamic story through both prose and original visual art. Though it only contains one story, readers are swept away by the story of a teacher driving across Texas through tornadoes and anxiety for a student with nowhere else to turn. Finegan’s writing is intriguingly quiet and visceral; the taste of dust and the whip of high-speed winds follow you on a fraught journey of discovery between teacher and student. The visual art creates a new reading experience, demanding that the reader slow down and connect with the characters in a deeper way. Finegan is an exquisite writer of the natural world, and this chapbook highlights her talents for evocative writing with heartfelt characters who are not easily forgotten. 

Tommy Dean: I’m always interested in the initial spark of inspiration that lead to finished stories. Do you remember where the idea for this story came from? How long did it take to write? And what were your original ideas for publishing it?

Kate Finegan: This is probably the most autobiographical piece of fiction I’ve written. I teach second-language learners at the university level, have had an ovarian cyst burst while on a road trip, and once had to pull over and hide in a nasty gas station bathroom during a tornado. I started teaching at the university level when I was 21, and my age—along with the workplace culture—made the line between teacher and peer a bit confusing. Students would often come to my office hours with personal questions and requests. It was difficult to navigate, and I wanted to explore that process.

TD: What was it like working with Penrose Press? And how would you categorize this story? Is it a chapbook? Have you found it difficult to describe to non-writers or family members what you’re hoping they will purchase?

KF: Penrose categorizes this as a “limited edition fine art book,” which I think fits. What was interesting about working with a press that largely focuses on the art of the book is that I came to view the text as a means to an end, with the end being an art object, rather than as an end in itself. Very different from being published in a magazine, which was my original goal! But Natalie is an astute editor who asked such important questions. Most of all, she had me develop Shelby’s character more, which was so necessary. And yes, I think some people only have a very narrow concept of what a book is, so it has been quite hard to describe at times.

TD: I love how patient you are with revealing details in this story. For example, the first two paragraphs start the story on a slant, revealing more about the narrator’s past then her present decision to drive one of her students across the Texas desert. “Once, my parents rolled the odometer back before selling their car. It wasn’t like you saw in the movies—there wasn’t no clicking sound; you can’t hear the miles falling away.” How much of the story did you know before starting to write it? How much of the story did you discover along the way? Is this the original opening?

KF: Here’s the original story opening, from back in October 2017: “Shelby wasn’t her real name, but that’s what she asked me to call her. The medical history and intake forms had her real name on them, but I didn’t look at those, and to this day, I can’t remember her actual name. That bothers me more than anything else that happened—that all I know her by is some name a suntanned recent graduate probably gave her in between hangovers, when he was tasked with getting students to repeat after him, unqualified to teach but hired for his American passport and sandy-blonde hair, his eagerness for an Asian adventure—temporary. Those jobs always are.” As you can see, it starts with Shelby and jumps right into the story, but in a way that I found a bit disorienting. Yes, there’s intrigue there—Why doesn’t she know Shelby’s real name? Why are medical history and intake forms involved? Why does she have a list of things that bother her? Then I go into the gripes about the racism in the ESL industry. Anyway. All those things seemed beside the point; I wanted to get to the narrator first, to set this up as a road-trip story from the start.

TD: I’m wondering about your crafty decision to eschew any backstory from either character? What effect were you hoping for by not letting the reader know anything about either character’s past? Is the reader missing anything from not getting a glimpse into their backgrounds?

KF: I am very much a fan of stories that focus on the present moment and let us get to know the characters through what they’re doing in the here and now, rather than explaining those actions through backstory. I often feel like an observer in daily life, and as an observer, I don’t have access to backstory. I like it when a story lets me into a character’s life in the same way. Sure, the reader is missing something, but I tend to like stories that leave some questions unanswered, rather than belabouring backstory. I find that my editing process is often, in part, a process of deleting backstory. My teacher Rachel Thompson instructs writers to start in the “urgent middle” and then only give the information that’s absolutely necessary in setting the scene and illuminating themes. In the case of this story in particular, there are little hints of Ms. Gardner’s backstory, but as a teacher, she probably wouldn’t know much of Shelby’s relevant backstory.

TD: I’m curious about the explicit silence in this story. Both characters are reticent to talk to each other, yet they are stuck in the car together. Did you find this hard to write? Were there places in rough drafts where one of the characters does a lot of talking, a lot of questioning of the other character, or is this silence so innate to the characters you’ve created that they’ve always been so quiet? Is there a kind of power in writing with this level of silence, a refreshing break from over-stylized dialogue in most TV shows or movies?

KF: I would love to be a good writer of silence. I am super comfortable with silence but feel at odds with most people’s discomfort with silence. Silence is so interesting to me. There was never a draft with lots of talking. In these fraught moments, what is there, really, to say? How could Ms. Gardner speak without either prying or appearing oblivious to Shelby’s circumstances? Silence can say so much.

TD: Without giving too much away, I wonder if we could talk about Ms. Gardner’s vulnerability and her desire to not look bad or old in front of her student, when you would think Ms. Gardner would have the upper hand here since she is doing this extreme favour. Why is it so hard to be vulnerable, especially in front of younger people? Do we ever lose that sense —our pre-teen/teen desire to not look stupid in front of other people?

KF: In my mind, Ms. Gardner is a younger teacher—probably in her mid- to late-20s—and I think her age is a big factor. As I mentioned, I started my university teaching career at 21, so I was very, very aware of my age. I wanted to maintain a professional distance but also be true to myself. I think Ms. Gardner doesn’t quite feel like a professional; I think she’s caught between who she was and who she wants to be. I think she’s also not sure this is a favour she should be granting; I think she’s uncomfortable with the whole thing and worried about what might come of it. She has the upper hand in this situation, but she has to see this student again on Monday, and I think that makes her nervous. Will she be able to maintain her professional demeanour on Monday if she breaks down in front of her student on Saturday? I think she also feels an obligation to be the “strong one,” to reassure a student whose strength she underestimates.

TD: Both Shelby and Ms. Gardner are very similar in their fear of connecting with each other. Did this pose any challenges as you were writing? These characters are more alike than they are foils, so I wonder if it was difficult to create tension and conflict? Or does the conflict, a quiet bubbling, occur only because they are so similar?

KF: I see the conflict in this story as being characters-versus-selves, rather than character-versus-character. Ms. Gardner has to fight against her nerves, her discomfort, and her own body. Shelby is fighting something very much the same. I’m really interested in seeing how characters can exist beside each other and fight similar battles that, in a way, hardly involve the other person. I feel like that’s how life works a lot of the time, and I’m very interested in exploring where our interpersonal connections break down in the face of internal conflicts.

TD: Have you thought about these characters’ futures beyond this story? Are you interested in writing about either of them again? What are you working on now?

KF: I really haven’t thought about where they would go from here. A road trip story is such a self-contained thing. I think I’m probably done with these characters, but I am working on developing a manuscript of short stories that deal, in some way, with the theme of “invasives.” I mean that in the biological sense, but also—and more importantly—how characters react when their lives are thrown off course by unwanted people, thoughts, and circumstances. This story fits into that theme. I’m also working on finding an agent, doing research for my second novel, and trying my hand at poetry.

Tommy Dean lives in Indiana with his wife and two children. He is the author of a flash fiction chapbook entitled Special Like the People on TV from Redbird Chapbooks. He is the Flash Fiction Section Editor at Craft Literary. He has been previously published in BULL Magazine, The MacGuffin, The Lascaux Review, Hawaii Pacific Review, Pithead Chapel, and New Flash Fiction Review. His story “You’ve Stopped” was chosen by Dan Chaon to be included in Best Microfiction 2019. It will also be included in Best Small Fiction 2019. Find him @TommyDeanWriter on Twitter.