Brief Interviews with Women Writers of the Fantastic #2: Kelly Barnhill

After reading Jeff VanderMeer’s post praising the work of women in fantastic literature, I thought that it might be nice to interview as many of these significant authors as possible for their take on writing, their own work and sexism in their chosen field. The following is part one of an ongoing series. Please note that each author received the same set of questions.

Interview with Kelly Barnhill

Would you mind introducing yourself?

Hello! I’m Kelly Barnhill. I’m a writer, teacher, editor and mother of three completely insane, brilliant and energetic young children.

When did you first consider yourself a serious writer?

Six years ago, shortly after my second child was born. I had written before that, of course, and had published a couple pieces here and there, but once my children outnumbered me, it became abundantly clear that if I wanted to grow as a writer, I had to prioritize the time. So I wrote a lot – most of it drek- for about two years before I started producing drafts that were at least inching towards publishability.

How would you describe your writing style?

All of my writing is borne out of love. It sounds ridiculous, I know, but I swear it’s the truth. I deeply love my characters, and I deeply love weaving a story around them. My prose style tends to be sensual, evocative, provocative and rhythmic. I like prose with a strong voice – a voice that rings in your ear, whispers against your skin. I like prose that can sing.

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Who are your strongest influences?

They are many and various. Firstly, there was the Violet Fairy Book and the Red Fairy Book by Andrew Lang, followed by the brothers Grimm. Later, it was C.S. Lewis, Tolkein, Jane Austen, Robert Louis Stevenson and Charlotte Bronte. In more recent years, it’s been Angela Carter, Jorge Borges, Gabrielle Garcia Marquez, Louise Erdrich and Salman Rushdie. And I can drop all those names and it might make me seem smart, but I would be remiss if I did not mention that, since I was slow to reading as a child, my first experiences with literature were not as a reader but as a listener. My father read Dickens to us when we were little, and Watership Down, and The King Must Die, and Mary Stewart’s Merlin trilogy. Additionally, I had a little Playschool record player, and condensed audio recordings of books – Treasure Island and Kidnapped and Little House on the Prairie – all of which I listened to over and over again, much to the annoyance of my sisters with whom I shared a room.

What is your greatest strength as a writer?

I have a strong aural sensibility in my prose. I like the shape and heft of words in the mouth and in the ear, and I think that comes through in my work. This comes, I’m sure, from my love of listening as a child, as well as from my earlier years as a musician and a poet. Before I ever send a piece out, I read it out loud in my room, over and over until it feels right on my tongue.

What is your biggest weakness?

I’m pretty blind when it comes to my work. While I do well with the oral presentation of my writing, and the performance aspect of it, in the end, it’s the words on the page that makes or breaks us. The revision process is not my strong suit and I struggle with it, but sometimes it’s good to struggle. It keeps a girl honest.

What is your favorite piece out of everything that you’ve written?

My favorite story is a piece called “The Men Who Live in Trees”, which will appear in Postscipts in August. This is a story that was so long and, well, odd, that I worried that it would never see the light of day, which would have been a shame, because I think it’s the prettiest bit of prose I’ve managed to put together so far.

As a woman, have you ever experienced sexism, bias or exclusion in your chosen field?

That’s hard for me to tell. My earlier work faced unanimous rejection, but honestly, I don’t think those pieces were rejected because of my gender – I just wasn’t good enough yet. And I think it’s important for my growth as an artist to be able to recognise that fact and own it. In the end, it’s likely that I’ll face exclusion and bias for all sorts of reasons, gender being just one of them. But it’s unlikely, if I do face such exclusion or sexism, that I will ever notice it or recognize it as such. And this says more about my own personality than anything else. I am much more likely to notice wrongs done to others and to rush to their defense in a tangle of righteous anger. I find it more productive, in my own work, to simply return to the page, finish the next piece, and send things out to the next market.

Do you think that there are some common barriers that all writers who are women face?

Oh, of course. In the end, dear old Virginia was right – women do need a room with a door that shuts, and all too often they simply do not. I know so many male writers who will happily report that their wives take up the slack in the household from meal preparation to finances to child rearing to household management. Most of the women I know who are writers get their writing done only after the afore mentioned tasks have been completed.

Are there any common strengths that women bring to the craft of fiction?

I think that any artist has a responsibility to tell the truth as they see it. This is the reason why diversity in the literary landscape is so important: my perspective as a mother, as a daughter, as a lover and neighbor and teacher and activist and everything else that I have been or will be – these strains of my life hum through my fiction. We need more books from people in the margins, people who have been oppressed or slighted or just ignored.

Over all, do you think that the writing and publishing communities are healthier, worse, or about the same for women writers?

I think the publishing communities are in a tremendous state of flux, and while people tend to wring their hands about the end of Literature and other calamities, I think that a suspension of old rules is only good news for previously excluded groups – women writers, gay writers and writers of color. There was a long time – too long, really, for the health of the genre – that the definitions for fantasy and science fiction narrowed and hardened into brittle little cells. Once the defintions became more flexible, expansive and wild, all sorts of voices found venues to be heard. Now no one can shut them up and I think that’s a good thing.

What are your longterm career goals?

Publish the completed novel. Finish the current novel. Publish that. Repeat. Aside from that, I’d like to spend some time researching the nautical history of the Great Lakes for a novel that I’d like to write next year, and hopefully participate in a few workshops down the road to stretch my various writerly muscles.

What are you working on now?

A bunch of stuff, actually. I’m working on two YA novels that I hope to finish by October, I’m editing an anthology writing by children from around the state of Minnesota, I’m working on a few short stories, and I have a few articles whose deadlines, alas, are looming.

Where can we go to learn more about you?

You can check out my website: www.kellybarnhill.com. You could take my class at the Loft in Minneapolis. Or, if you’re in the mood to check out the fall colors in Minnesota in October (and you totally should because it’s gorgeous) you can come to my reading at Dreamhaven Books.