Where did you find this guy to interview? He is not prolific, not a science fiction guy, and not, apparently, concerned with writing about the State Of Humanity, Now And In The Future. But he is very grateful to be included in your interview series, and grateful for the interview series as a whole. Thank you, and thank you for the Restack.
Really enjoyed this interview. Can definitely relate to the anxiety about feeling life is passing you by. That being said, Jackson, your answers imply you are more of a participant than you perhaps give yourself credit for. Looking forward to reading your work.
Hi Jackson, apologies it’s Sunday night here, I have arrived late but I did read your interview and both of your recommended pieces. I was wondering, your style is rich and melodic. Each piece feels like it belongs in the one anthology. Beautiful and measured. Is this a full representation of your voice, or do you mix it up and let characters speak with different tone, pace and language too? I guess what I am also asking is, how do you reconcile the zen out look with necessary conflict when you are writing - dramatic tension, within the zen garden and without?
The two pieces that you read probably show the limits of my literary voice, such as it is. “Literary voice” reminds me of the time when I was allowed to be a member of a local opera society chorus. They needed warm bodies to fill the stage, and I was not above-average enough to be a ‘super’ (except for the very first performance after I joined, having been pressed into service just prior to the show) so they allowed me to sing, since I could carry a tune, if I had suitable hand straps for it. Anyway, the point is, during one practice there were but two tenors, me and a good, very good but very aged, singer. After a little bit of preparation, the two of us sang the first tenor line in a critical chorus part. As we sang, I marveled how my voice supported his; he sang with authority, volume, and expression, perfectly on pitch. Our voices blended seamlessly, it seemed. When we finished the passage the rest of the chorus applauded. The director beamed (very unusual), and congratulated…him. So I decided I should not worry too much about my voice.
As to Zen outlook, or its cousin, Taoism, we think of meditation, which I don’t do—I just sit quietly; we think of contemplating koans, which I don’t do, if I can help it (causes stress); and we think of calm. But remember that natural alignment—“wu wei” for those of the Way—is not the same as ‘free and easy’. That Zen aphorism of “Before Zen, chop wood, carry water; after Zen, chop wood, carry water” recommends some pretty strenuous labor, if you do it right. So, when I can’t stand not having written some vignette, I sit down and chop away. I hope that answers your question.
I wasn’t pointing at a limitation of your approach or voice, it’s cultivated and uniquely yours. I framed it poorly. What I was wondering, is how that sense of “grace” (quoting Tiberius), might become, not just a defining characteristic but structural hallmark… an anthology grows. Then I started to think about tension and story telling and how a graceful author might encounter things outside the garden where life might move less gracefully. Do you explore all fiction friction with this dynamic and zen metric, as you flow, carry and chop?
I am not sure I understand what you are asking. Let me see if I can work through it. You are assuming there is tension in storytelling, which I am thinking is either about choosing the right words, or is about an ambivalence over whether I should write something—a vignette, a story, just a Note—or let it go. As to the right words, it is all about—sorry, mostly about—rhythm and playfulness. As to subject matter, if I don’t think I can handle it with some playfulness I leave it unwritten. I doubt you will find a piece from me on prison rape, or on being trapped under tons of immovable rubble, or on my flesh being slowly consumed by an untreatable disease, or…well, you get the idea. None of those things have happened to me, so far, and I hope they never do. Those things are things I would find it very difficult to write gracefully about, so I don’t. There are experiences which I have had and won’t write about. The best I can do, I suppose, is to acknowledge that there are things like that out there which I don’t touch, though others may, and they are welcome to them. I don’t consume enemas or artificial raspberry flavored stuff, though they are fine for other people.
You have got me to thinking, though: might I write a zombie story? Might I try to channel “The Masque of the Red Death”? Or Manzoni’s “The Betrothed”? Probably not. I mean, I could, in some sense, but as the saying goes, ‘Just because you can doesn’t mean you should’.
If I still haven’t gotten at what you are asking, please assume that it is my fault, not yours.
Oh, and an anthology: I might think about that more seriously. You are not the first to mention it. But the big question there would be whether I should suppress my urge to tinker with the pieces. What do you think?
Oh I am not the one to ask, genuinely, how to stop tinkering, I’m not even close. I am just settling my hand to writing after many years of dance, performance and design. I’ve been trained to examine not just language or form but friction as a tensioning device. You have though answered my question, thank you. Honestly it was me being unclear and please don’t write a horror but I do wonder what hymn you would sing to a beautiful monster?
An ode owed to a Beautiful Monster! This is, alas, something that I do have some experience of. A monster is as a monster does, correct? And if a crystal river, a cold unfeeling glacier, moves unfeelingly downstream, to crush relentlessly an admirer, showing (at best) no sign of having ground a devoted soul into a despairing smear (at worst, allowing a glint merely of malicious satisfaction), what can be done? The luminescent diamond image can still be, and should be, celebrated; but from afar, only from afar, as one celebrates the Rings of Saturn, through a telescope.
Read both pieces, but I see why you recommended The Abbess. The reader gets enough information about the Maestro to form an opinion of him without actually hearing from him. Definitely the better of the two, in my opinion.
He sounds very modest and down-to-earth which is great. I love his ambition of noticing things more then, he has in the past. I try to notice more, too. I think age rewards our minds and punishes our bodies but maybe it gets easier to notice things as you get older. Young people can't hold a thought in their heads with the cell phone addiction, but older folks seem to notice more. Very cool interview. I like his honesty.
Where did you find this guy to interview? He is not prolific, not a science fiction guy, and not, apparently, concerned with writing about the State Of Humanity, Now And In The Future. But he is very grateful to be included in your interview series, and grateful for the interview series as a whole. Thank you, and thank you for the Restack.
Nonsense! I love your work, Jackson.
And thank you so much for your regular support of this series 🙏
Really enjoyed this interview. Can definitely relate to the anxiety about feeling life is passing you by. That being said, Jackson, your answers imply you are more of a participant than you perhaps give yourself credit for. Looking forward to reading your work.
Thanks! And thanks for subscribing.
"You see, Watson,
but you do not
observe."
The iguana
was never hiding.
It was just waiting
for someone
who had learned
the difference
between looking
and actually
letting something
land.
Most people
walk past
their own mahogany tree
every day.
He just decided
to finally
notice
what was already
there.
— AËLA
I see that you saw
And understood.
You, too, I imagine,
Sometimes stand
under dense decision trees
Teetering toward one word
Tottering toward another
Till contemplation
Clarifies.
Great interview! I hope you managed to let the cat outside eventually.
Yowling as I type. Thanks!
Ah, H.L. Mencken, he of: “One horse-laugh is worth 10,000 syllogisms. It is not only more effective; it is also vastly more intelligent.”
Ah, just so you're aware, Tiberius, both the story links are broken--they link to private pages.
Fixed 👍
Hi Jackson, apologies it’s Sunday night here, I have arrived late but I did read your interview and both of your recommended pieces. I was wondering, your style is rich and melodic. Each piece feels like it belongs in the one anthology. Beautiful and measured. Is this a full representation of your voice, or do you mix it up and let characters speak with different tone, pace and language too? I guess what I am also asking is, how do you reconcile the zen out look with necessary conflict when you are writing - dramatic tension, within the zen garden and without?
The two pieces that you read probably show the limits of my literary voice, such as it is. “Literary voice” reminds me of the time when I was allowed to be a member of a local opera society chorus. They needed warm bodies to fill the stage, and I was not above-average enough to be a ‘super’ (except for the very first performance after I joined, having been pressed into service just prior to the show) so they allowed me to sing, since I could carry a tune, if I had suitable hand straps for it. Anyway, the point is, during one practice there were but two tenors, me and a good, very good but very aged, singer. After a little bit of preparation, the two of us sang the first tenor line in a critical chorus part. As we sang, I marveled how my voice supported his; he sang with authority, volume, and expression, perfectly on pitch. Our voices blended seamlessly, it seemed. When we finished the passage the rest of the chorus applauded. The director beamed (very unusual), and congratulated…him. So I decided I should not worry too much about my voice.
As to Zen outlook, or its cousin, Taoism, we think of meditation, which I don’t do—I just sit quietly; we think of contemplating koans, which I don’t do, if I can help it (causes stress); and we think of calm. But remember that natural alignment—“wu wei” for those of the Way—is not the same as ‘free and easy’. That Zen aphorism of “Before Zen, chop wood, carry water; after Zen, chop wood, carry water” recommends some pretty strenuous labor, if you do it right. So, when I can’t stand not having written some vignette, I sit down and chop away. I hope that answers your question.
I wasn’t pointing at a limitation of your approach or voice, it’s cultivated and uniquely yours. I framed it poorly. What I was wondering, is how that sense of “grace” (quoting Tiberius), might become, not just a defining characteristic but structural hallmark… an anthology grows. Then I started to think about tension and story telling and how a graceful author might encounter things outside the garden where life might move less gracefully. Do you explore all fiction friction with this dynamic and zen metric, as you flow, carry and chop?
I am not sure I understand what you are asking. Let me see if I can work through it. You are assuming there is tension in storytelling, which I am thinking is either about choosing the right words, or is about an ambivalence over whether I should write something—a vignette, a story, just a Note—or let it go. As to the right words, it is all about—sorry, mostly about—rhythm and playfulness. As to subject matter, if I don’t think I can handle it with some playfulness I leave it unwritten. I doubt you will find a piece from me on prison rape, or on being trapped under tons of immovable rubble, or on my flesh being slowly consumed by an untreatable disease, or…well, you get the idea. None of those things have happened to me, so far, and I hope they never do. Those things are things I would find it very difficult to write gracefully about, so I don’t. There are experiences which I have had and won’t write about. The best I can do, I suppose, is to acknowledge that there are things like that out there which I don’t touch, though others may, and they are welcome to them. I don’t consume enemas or artificial raspberry flavored stuff, though they are fine for other people.
You have got me to thinking, though: might I write a zombie story? Might I try to channel “The Masque of the Red Death”? Or Manzoni’s “The Betrothed”? Probably not. I mean, I could, in some sense, but as the saying goes, ‘Just because you can doesn’t mean you should’.
If I still haven’t gotten at what you are asking, please assume that it is my fault, not yours.
Oh, and an anthology: I might think about that more seriously. You are not the first to mention it. But the big question there would be whether I should suppress my urge to tinker with the pieces. What do you think?
Oh I am not the one to ask, genuinely, how to stop tinkering, I’m not even close. I am just settling my hand to writing after many years of dance, performance and design. I’ve been trained to examine not just language or form but friction as a tensioning device. You have though answered my question, thank you. Honestly it was me being unclear and please don’t write a horror but I do wonder what hymn you would sing to a beautiful monster?
An ode owed to a Beautiful Monster! This is, alas, something that I do have some experience of. A monster is as a monster does, correct? And if a crystal river, a cold unfeeling glacier, moves unfeelingly downstream, to crush relentlessly an admirer, showing (at best) no sign of having ground a devoted soul into a despairing smear (at worst, allowing a glint merely of malicious satisfaction), what can be done? The luminescent diamond image can still be, and should be, celebrated; but from afar, only from afar, as one celebrates the Rings of Saturn, through a telescope.
Read both pieces, but I see why you recommended The Abbess. The reader gets enough information about the Maestro to form an opinion of him without actually hearing from him. Definitely the better of the two, in my opinion.
He sounds very modest and down-to-earth which is great. I love his ambition of noticing things more then, he has in the past. I try to notice more, too. I think age rewards our minds and punishes our bodies but maybe it gets easier to notice things as you get older. Young people can't hold a thought in their heads with the cell phone addiction, but older folks seem to notice more. Very cool interview. I like his honesty.