I first came across Andrew F. Sullivan on Little Fiction, when I read his story "Bright Outside". It's a pretty grody story, and radically different than anything I've ever written.
Anyways, I've been following Andrew on Twitter for a few months now, and his work pops up a lot in online publications like Zouch, Dragnet, The Rusty Toque, Joyland and The Good Men Project.
For a full list of his stories and links, you can check out his blog HERE.
We also share a love for the FX series Justified, which is funny because Andrew's writing totally reminds me of Elmore Leonard's stuff.
I noticed that Andrew got to work with Miriam Toews on his thesis at the University of Toronto, so I was curious to find out what that was like. And to hear what else he's working on.
So we did an interview this week, and you can check it out below:
#1. You seem attracted to stories about shady characters–convicts, drug dealers, murderers–and your work reminds me a lot of Elmore Leonard's crime fiction. What interests you about this darker sort of fiction?
Something happens in it. I want stories with consequences—the actions in the narrative need to carry some weight. Sometimes those consequences are actually just a total lack of payoff. It’s totally a personal preference.
I write the stories I want to read, the ones I hear told at work or by loud strangers in public on the train. I don’t have much interest in writing about writers or the writing process itself. I don’t have a ton of patience for long reflections on the past or prolonged searches for meaning in a cup of coffee. There are writers who can totally pull off stories in that vein—I just know I’m not one of them right now.
Of course, all of this can and will change with time. Eventually I will have to eat my words.
I like to try and find some good in people that usually get written off as worthless or irrelevant. Most people don’t see themselves as bad people—they have their motivations and their reasons for things you and I might consider horrifying or just sad. Part of it is just participating in conversations with people who you might not have much in common with in the first place—exercising some kind of empathy with the cruel or the meek or whoever.
I like to try and find some good in people that usually get written off as worthless or irrelevant. Most people don’t see themselves as bad people—they have their motivations and their reasons for things you and I might consider horrifying or just sad. Part of it is just participating in conversations with people who you might not have much in common with in the first place—exercising some kind of empathy with the cruel or the meek or whoever.
It’s very easy to seal yourself off from the nastier parts of the world; it can be just as easy to wallow in the misery out there or to exploit it for your own purposes. How many dead baby stories do we need to read?
What interests me about these darker elements I guess is finding the human failures in them and pulling those impulses to the surface, putting a face you might recognize on all the boogeymen out there and giving each one a name with a story you might understand.
#2. Your most recent story was "Crows Eat Well", which was featured on the Good Men Project. Can you tell us about how you conceived this story, and what you were hoping to accomplish with it? And why did you decide the Good Men Project was the right home for it?
When I do research, I end up reading a lot of newspapers and archived stuff. That’s where a lot of bits and pieces come from—like the gravel pile in the driveway and the stolen bulldozer. I probably have damaged my eyes by reading so much microfiche.
#2. Your most recent story was "Crows Eat Well", which was featured on the Good Men Project. Can you tell us about how you conceived this story, and what you were hoping to accomplish with it? And why did you decide the Good Men Project was the right home for it?
When I do research, I end up reading a lot of newspapers and archived stuff. That’s where a lot of bits and pieces come from—like the gravel pile in the driveway and the stolen bulldozer. I probably have damaged my eyes by reading so much microfiche.
Honestly, I usually just start with a character’s relationship with a figure in his life and build from there. In this case, it was my narrator and his brother. There wasn’t really any point to accomplish.
In retrospect, I guess I wanted to talk about the idea of a reckoning, the fact that the past is a very real visceral thing, not just something to reminisce about. You can’t outrun it. It’s always waiting for you to catch up.
As for The Good Men Project, I’d read some stories by Roxane Gay and Ethel Rohan on the site. They are two writers with a lot of work online and I like to follow their fiction from place to place. I’d read some of Matt Salesses’ work too—the fiction editor for The Good Men Project—and some of the articles on the site.
As for The Good Men Project, I’d read some stories by Roxane Gay and Ethel Rohan on the site. They are two writers with a lot of work online and I like to follow their fiction from place to place. I’d read some of Matt Salesses’ work too—the fiction editor for The Good Men Project—and some of the articles on the site.
I figured since I had this story about a father and his sons, it was worth a shot. And there was all that business about struggling to do the right thing, to be good. I was very lucky Matt liked the story as much as he did. He was very kind.
#3. You're currently working on a novel called WASTE. Can you tell me about it? What are your plans for it?
WASTE involves a fledging skinhead and a part-time butcher accidentally running over an escaped lion in the middle of the night outside a small town in Southern Ontario. All the terrible things that follow connected to this event in one way or another—the ramifications kind of spiral out of control.
#3. You're currently working on a novel called WASTE. Can you tell me about it? What are your plans for it?
WASTE involves a fledging skinhead and a part-time butcher accidentally running over an escaped lion in the middle of the night outside a small town in Southern Ontario. All the terrible things that follow connected to this event in one way or another—the ramifications kind of spiral out of control.
WASTE is about what happens after dark in a blue collar town, after all the industries decide to leave and all you’re left with are some abandoned factories and a bingo hall downtown that never seems to close. That’s the sort of world that resonates with me and the one I wanted to write about.
I finished the first draft of WASTE in 2010, but it’s been through a lot of edits since then. It’s pretty much finished right now, so we’ll see what comes of it. I’m currently represented by Anne McDermid and Associates.
#4. While you were at the University of Toronto, you got a chance to work with Miriam Toews. (I'm jealous.) What was that process like?
Miriam doesn’t pull any punches—she’ll tell you when a story isn’t working and why. Working with her was a really great experience. It made me treat writing like a job—which it is.
I learned to write every day, to stay in the world of my characters and check in with them each afternoon. I learned to avoid second guessing myself. Miriam was extremely generous with her time and advice. We met once a month or so over the course of a year to discuss the book and where it was going. Her focus was on actually finishing the manuscript, getting through to the end. Every 25,000 words or so, I would go back and edit, but I still retained that momentum to reach the finish, to find a place where the story reached its own conclusion.
And then I went back afterward and realized about one third of it could go. Miriam just wanted to make sure I had a story I could tell. All the cutting could happen afterwards.
#5. You're pretty active with online publications like Zouch and Little Fiction. What do you think about these new publishing methods?
We have to use whatever tools are available. I still submit to print journals and more traditional literary publications. And of course, it’s always great to get paid for your fiction. With the online publications, it’s about getting people to actually read your work, to make it accessible to a wide audience that isn’t subscribing to the print journals.
And then I went back afterward and realized about one third of it could go. Miriam just wanted to make sure I had a story I could tell. All the cutting could happen afterwards.
#5. You're pretty active with online publications like Zouch and Little Fiction. What do you think about these new publishing methods?
We have to use whatever tools are available. I still submit to print journals and more traditional literary publications. And of course, it’s always great to get paid for your fiction. With the online publications, it’s about getting people to actually read your work, to make it accessible to a wide audience that isn’t subscribing to the print journals.
I think there are a lot of great online journals at the moment, putting out funny and poignant stuff. With people moving to e-readers and tablets, it provides an easy way to access your fiction. On the other hand, it’s also pretty easy to open up a blog, pop a header on it and call yourself the editor-in-chief.
With Dragnet or Little Fiction or The Puritan, you can see the effort they put into the presentation and design of each issue and story. Editing still matters; the editorial process is still in effect. Just because a piece is accepted doesn’t mean it’s finished.
Otherwise, we’re all just pissing in the pool.
#6. What do you think of the fiction currently coming out of Canada? I feel like your work is darker and edgier than a lot of typical Can-Lit. Is that something you're purposeful about?
If I set these stories in Ohio, I don’t think anyone would blink an eye. So I guess that part of it is purposeful—a lot of the stories I’m telling come from anecdotes I’ve overheard in the warehouse or the half made-up stories I’ve been told while waiting for the bus to reach my stop. Watching the fallout after a man accidentally tears his only ten dollar bill in half while waiting in line for discount groceries definitely opens up a world that I think often gets overlooked in Canadian fiction.
We have our three-generation stories, our dark family secret stories, our alcoholic father and historical immigrant narratives. And all of those are totally valid, compelling ways to tell a story and to write fiction. I just want to dig into the messier parts. A lot of Canadian fiction spends its time observing others or reflecting on the past. Sometimes it’s a bit hard to get past that distance—I want something immediate and jarring. I want to remain unsettled and undecided.
Of course, it’s extremely easy to stomp on Canadian lit. And the broad generalizations people throw around aren’t really fair at all. I’m sure someone could easily come along and burn up all my straw men pretty quickly.
#6. What do you think of the fiction currently coming out of Canada? I feel like your work is darker and edgier than a lot of typical Can-Lit. Is that something you're purposeful about?
If I set these stories in Ohio, I don’t think anyone would blink an eye. So I guess that part of it is purposeful—a lot of the stories I’m telling come from anecdotes I’ve overheard in the warehouse or the half made-up stories I’ve been told while waiting for the bus to reach my stop. Watching the fallout after a man accidentally tears his only ten dollar bill in half while waiting in line for discount groceries definitely opens up a world that I think often gets overlooked in Canadian fiction.
We have our three-generation stories, our dark family secret stories, our alcoholic father and historical immigrant narratives. And all of those are totally valid, compelling ways to tell a story and to write fiction. I just want to dig into the messier parts. A lot of Canadian fiction spends its time observing others or reflecting on the past. Sometimes it’s a bit hard to get past that distance—I want something immediate and jarring. I want to remain unsettled and undecided.
Of course, it’s extremely easy to stomp on Canadian lit. And the broad generalizations people throw around aren’t really fair at all. I’m sure someone could easily come along and burn up all my straw men pretty quickly.
Mike Christie’s The Beggar’s Garden, Patrick deWitt’s The Sisters Brothers, Esi Edguyan’s Half-Blood Blues—these were all award-winning books last year that I don’t really think fell into any set pattern for Canadian fiction.
This year, there are books from Matt Lennox and Emily Schultz that I don’t really think fall into any single mold either. And smaller publishers, like Coach House and House of Anansi, are usually willing to take chances on things that don’t exactly conform to a Grade 10 reading list.
If anything is holding Canadian literature back, it’s this bullshit impulse to ask if the writing or the story is Canadian enough—as if that means something.
If anything is holding Canadian literature back, it’s this bullshit impulse to ask if the writing or the story is Canadian enough—as if that means something.
The insecurity can get a bit maddening. Kathryn Kuitenbrouwer had a really good piece about it in The Globe and Mail a few months ago, so I will leave that to her.
You can find it here: http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/arts/books/with-canada-reads-the-cbc-is-bottom-feeding-on-culture/article2334092/print/
#7. What writers do you admire, and hope to emulate?
I really enjoy Richard Price, Joe Hill, David Mitchell and Flannery O’Connor. There are a ton of others too, but those are pretty good to start with for now. Miriam has obviously been a pretty big influence, so she’s the one I definitely want to follow.
#8. Do you have any other projects on the go? What are some of your goals and plans with your writing?
I’ve got enough stories for some kind of collection right now, tentatively titled All We Want is Everything. There will be stolen televisions and mutated babies and a pastor drowning in a river somewhere out in Illinois.
#7. What writers do you admire, and hope to emulate?
I really enjoy Richard Price, Joe Hill, David Mitchell and Flannery O’Connor. There are a ton of others too, but those are pretty good to start with for now. Miriam has obviously been a pretty big influence, so she’s the one I definitely want to follow.
#8. Do you have any other projects on the go? What are some of your goals and plans with your writing?
I’ve got enough stories for some kind of collection right now, tentatively titled All We Want is Everything. There will be stolen televisions and mutated babies and a pastor drowning in a river somewhere out in Illinois.
WASTE is still out there in the wild and I’ve got a few chapters of another novel rattling around in my laptop too. Right now, they involve Hungarians, human trafficking and Hamilton, Ontario. It’s basically a Sesame Street episode about the letter “H.”
My plans are pretty simple at the moment: stay busy, stay writing, stay working.
My plans are pretty simple at the moment: stay busy, stay writing, stay working.
