“My warm-up technique appears to be to waste several hours on the web, waste several more telling myself I’m a fraud, and finally, if I’m lucky, telling myself, oh, hell, just type some words already.”
The Rumpus Book Club talks with Doug Dorst about his second book, The Surf Guru.
This is an edited transcript of the book club discussion. Every month The Rumpus Book Club hosts a discussion online with the book club members and the author and we post an edited version online as an interview. You can see the unedited discussion here. To learn how you can become a member of The Rumpus Book Club click here.
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Stephen Elliott: How did you choose the order of the stories? And were there any stories you wrote specifically for the collection?
Doug Dorst: The order was tricky… In the end, I tried to balance the various styles, tones, and approaches to reality (or lack thereof). I put together a tentative list, and my editor agreed. Made a tweak at the end — decided to close with “Astronauts” instead of “Reptiles.” Better motion at the end, I think.
But there weren’t any stories that I wrote thinking, “the collection needs this.” I was scrambling until the end to get “Reptiles” and “Splitters” done, but mostly because I liked them and wanted them in there.
Stephen Elliott: What did you think of the book club’s selection for favorite story, “Dinaburg’s Cake”? (For the record, my favorite story is “Jumping Jacks.”)
Doug Dorst: I’m glad people liked “Dinaburg’s Cake”. I feel really close to that story.
Stephen Elliott: When did you write “Dinaburg’s Cake”?
Doug Dorst: First draft was when I was a Stegner Fellow. Back in ’99, maybe? But it took a long time to develop. It threatened to get really out of control for a while.
Stephen Elliott: Was it your favorite?
Doug Dorst: I have a different favorite every day. “Dinaburg’s Cake” is pretty consistently close to the top, though.
Stephen Elliott: Do you consider yourself more of a short story writer, or a novelist?
Doug Dorst: At this point, I have no idea if I’m more of a story writer or a novelist. I just want to write stuff that I enjoy, whatever form it’s in.
Stephen Elliott: I’ve been thinking that way too. For the last year I’ve just been writing The Daily Rumpus email. I think about the validity of form all the time.
Alyce: Who are some of your biggest literary influences?
Doug Dorst: Literary influences: Denis Johnson, Adam Johnson, all the Johnsons. And Steve Elliott. Also: I wish I could write as well as David Mitchell.
John F: I personally loved “Jumping Jacks” the most. It reminded me of the 3-page DFW story from Oblivion, the name of which escapes me. A lot of power in its economy.
Doug Dorst: Stephen’s responsible for “Jumping Jacks” — I wrote it for the first Politically Inspired anthology. I wrote it much more quickly than usual, left some more bumps in the prose. I like how it turned out.
Stephen Elliott: That’s probably why I like it so much.
Corey: Did you write “Dinaburg’s Cake” in Austin? How did Austin influence your writing (I think I heard you’re not there anymore? Would you recommend the city from a writer’s viewpoint?
Doug Dorst: I wrote “Dinaburg’s Cake” before I got to Austin, actually. (I had visited a lot and fallen in love with the city.) Added some details after I moved there. It’s a great writing town. There’s a small scene of people who are genuinely interested in seeing each other succeed.
R. Rafferty: I’m interested how you wrapped your brain around the different time periods in each story. None really seem to be set in a very similar period of time or place, yet I feel like there is a quiet theme running through each scene and story. How do you see the stories connecting in your mind?
Doug Dorst: I wish I had a good answer for how they all connect in my mind. There’s just something in my brain that tells me they belong together. I think if I tried to distill it into a particular theme or set of concerns, I’d probably do a terrible job of it.
Martha: Did you know it would be a summer release — did you see the NY Magazine approval index a couple weeks ago? it was on the Highbrow and Brilliant axis, slated as a Smart Beach Read. Do you think of it as a summer book?
Doug Dorst: Not particularly… it’s just when my editor wanted to put it out. A bit less competition, I think, than in the fall.
Tara: I’m interested in knowing why “The Surf Guru” became the title — like some people in the discussion group, it just kinda didn’t feel right to me! I know sometimes it’s vagaries of editors or publishers…
Doug Dorst: I knew I wanted the title to come from one of the stories. Mostly I thought The Surf Guru sounded catchiest. Vikings is too boring, Astronauts had been done, Dinaburg’s Cake had a possible pronunciation issue, and no one but me liked The Monkeys Howl…
When Monkeys Howl was going to be in McSweeney’s, nobody could think of a good title for it. It was originally “A Long Bloodless Cut,” which an intern (I think) came up with. It was the best we had. I’d originally called it “Rebels.”
Kevin from Seattle (in the Horn review) suggested the Candidate in Bloom as the best title, and I think his reasons were excellent. I suppose I just didn’t think the words themselves were catchy enough.
Alyce: I think What Is Mine Will Know My Face would’ve been a cool title.
Doug Dorst: I think you’re right.
Frances: Doug, you mentioned scrambling to finish “Splitters” and “Reptiles.” What were the major obstacles you were faced with for those particular pieces?
Doug Dorst: The big obstacle in “Splitters” was in attempting to manage the main-text and footnote storylines. Honestly, I still don’t think I pulled it off.
Sarah: How do you move from sort of traditional short stories like “Dinaburg’s Cake” and the “Gachet” and “Splitters” stuff? Do you just have a really vivid imagination? Or do you consciously try out different styles or forms?
Doug Dorst: I do consciously try to think of different ways of telling stories. Mostly because I think it’s fun. And if I’m not going to have fun writing, I might as well get a job that actually pays.
Stephen Elliott: Ha! There are few benefits to being a writer, and they’re hard to name.
Kevin: How much did the stories change between their first publications and the final collection? “The Candidate in Bloom” is the only one I have, and it’s much improved.
Doug Dorst: Some stories changed a lot; all of them changed a little. “San Humberto” probably evolved the most.
Sarah: It looked like you were having fun, moving from one form to another. I liked that feeling of enthusiasm or something like that that was maybe my own enthusiasm, but created by the variety.
Doug Dorst: I don’t want to knock the tightly-unified story collection as a form. I mean, I might try it sometime. But for this one, I wanted to range pretty far and wide.
Bill: How did you decide to play around with some stories and the method of delivery as opposed to the ones you told in a more straightforward way?
Doug Dorst: I try to let the material dictate what form the story wants to be in. “Dinaburg’s Cake,” for example, felt like it wanted to be very straightforward, with a very slow build. “Gachet” had the “various portraits” idea built into it. (There are in fact two of them in real life.)
Bill: Do you ever find yourself second-guessing that impulse, and reworking straightforward prose into something more experimental? Vice-versa?
Doug Dorst: Sometimes, although usually if it doesn’t work the way I originally think of it, it doesn’t end up working well. (While I can think of times I went from more-experimental to straighter, I can’t recall any that went in the other direction.)
Kim: I thought the names of people and plants in “Splitters” were somewhat Nabakovian: Quilcock — Quilty. Wordplay, smart, wink-wink.
Doug Dorst: You give me too much credit. Quilcock was, above all, just a dick joke.
Nancy Lili: Because your style is so diverse — and yes, you like to have fun (which shows and makes it fun for the reader, too) — do you have any special writing warm-ups or techniques?
Doug Dorst: Yes. My warm-up technique appears to be to waste several hours on the web, waste several more telling myself I’m a fraud, and finally, if I’m lucky, telling myself, oh, hell, just type some words already.
T. Burton: Reading “Vikings” and “What is Mine Will Know My Face,” I was consistently reminded of that great Townes Van Zandt quote, “Aloneness is a state of being, whereas loneliness is a state of feeling. It’s like the difference between being broke and being poor.” Did you consciously include this theme in creating the stories, or did it come about more organically by how you defined Phil & Trace and their relationship?
Doug Dorst: That’s a really nice way of putting it. I think those stories came from the characters, and the themes just emerged from that. The aloneness / loneliness distinction is something I’ve thought about a lot, though, just in going through life.
John F: You really did cover a LOT of ground in this collection. And very convincingly.
Stephen Elliott: But I know none of these stories really came easy to you. You kind of slave over these things.
Doug Dorst: I wish I could write more quickly and more, I dunno, lightly. That’s one reason I particularly liked writing “Jumping Jacks” — I didn’t have time to obsess or worry, and so I didn’t. I’m gonna try to do more of that.
R. Rafferty: “Splitters” at times reminded me of one of the shell stories in Cloud Atlas…
Doug Dorst: Cloud Atlas is pretty much my favorite book of all time… although I wasn’t thinking about it when I was writing “Splitters.” Mostly I was just having fun playing in the sandbox of botanical rivalry and ill humor.
Nancy Lili: I thought the collection as a whole was more about the things that are out of reach. The things we want but can’t seem to attain. Am I alone on that? Was that intentional?
Doug Dorst: That wasn’t necessarily a conscious decision (theme: things out of reach), but it does seem to be the sort of story I’m drawn to.
John F: Could you talk a little about what you’re working on now? I read something about your next book and it sounded very interesting. Something about a couple being buried alive, was it?
Doug Dorst: I’ve started a novel about a couple who fake their own deaths, but I’ve back-burnered it for now. Needs more time to stew. In the meantime, I’ve got a couple of stories going, as well as a weird thing that seems to be threatening to turn into a novella (and thus dooming itself to irrelevancy). And I’m working on a screenplay, too.
Tara: I’d like to know where you get your obsession (or fascination) with taxonomies (I’m looking at “Splitters” and “Reptiles,” but also to a certain extent “Gachet,” and even “the Surf Guru”). I saw taxonomies as a more general theme though too (I’m not just asking whether you were a biology major, ha). Taxonomies being a way to classify the world and make it all make sense.
Doug Dorst: My wife is a plant taxonomist. So in a way, “Splitters” is kind of a demented love letter to her. As for “Reptiles,” I just have an inner science geek. It was fun to let it out. As to taxonomies — that’s a good point. I think we’re all looking for ways to order the world. (Stories themselves — any kind of narrative — do that, too.)
Kim: Were the taxonomical plant names in “Splitters” made up?
Doug Dorst: Yes, all made up. Some are inside jokes or shout-outs to friends; some I thought were funny; some were just nonsense that I just liked the sound of.
Threemoons: I saw every story as having characters that were “stuck” or “loser-y” and unable to get out of it. Something about striving or NOT… about accepting defeat in a way.
Doug Dorst: It’s funny how many reviewers (both those who’ve liked my stuff and those who haven’t) have referred to many of my characters as “losers.” I don’t see it that way — they might make poor decisions, they might be a little deluded, but I think they’re every bit as worthy of respect as those who’ve succeeded. Obviously, these are scars from my high school experience showing through…
Travis: I’m curious what you read, not necessarily what your literary influences are. “Splitters,” obviously, but there are times when you seem to skirt really close to newer theory produced in academia.
Doug Dorst: I mostly read contemporary fiction. I’m not a theory guy in the least. I’m a little embarrassed, actually, about how much lit theory fails to make sense to me. Or to interest me, I suppose.
Neal: It was a pleasant surprise to see Phil and Trace reappear later in the collection. What was it about these characters that compelled you to return to them?
Doug Dorst: I think I just liked them, and I thought they had more stories in them. There’s a degree to which they’re modeled on some friends of mine, which probably made it more fun to work with them.
Tara: I second the previous question about what you read or are reading, particularly when you’re writing! I always wonder whether reading something while you’re also trying to write something is… confusing? inspiring? distracting?
Stephen Elliott: When I’m writing a book I try to read things that are similar in tone and topic. While working on Happy Baby I re-read Blood Meridian and it stopped me cold for months.
Doug Dorst: Sometimes I want to avoid reading other stuff while I’m writing (for fear that I’ll be too much influenced by it — in a way, “Vikings” is probably an example of that). But sometimes reading other people’s stuff is inspiring, gets me excited enough about the act of telling stories that I can start to ignore that inner You’re-a-fraud voice.
John F: You said you write because it’s fun for you. What else drives you to write for a living?
Doug Dorst: What drives me to write for a living? The fact that the only other thing I’m qualified to do is be a lawyer. Been there, did not love it. But also, there’s nothing like the feeling of writing when it’s going well. I kinda live for those moments.
Nancy Lili: Ooh, more on this lawyer history, please?? How did you make the transition to writing? When did you fall in love with it?
Doug Dorst: I had always loved writing, but I had never allowed myself to believe that I was allowed to do it. I went to law school straight out of college because my parents wanted me to — which is a lousy reason to do anything — and it wasn’t until I got through two and a half years of abject depression that I hit bottom and decided to apply to MFA programs. Kind of as a cry for help.
Stephen Elliott: So you went to Iowa then for an MFA, right?
Doug Dorst: Yep, MFA at Iowa. It was a great experience. I needed that kind of support and structure, I think, to convince myself that it was OK to think of myself as a writer. I practiced for a year in San Francisco after I went to Iowa — figured I’d give it a shot, pay off loans, etc., but I did not distinguish myself in the work, and I was lucky enough to be offered a Stegner Fellowship, which made it easy to pull the ripcord.
Bill: Do you ever worry about modeling characters after people too much?
Doug Dorst: Yes, I do worry about it. I’ve made some mistakes in that realm that I regret. It’s a tricky business, for sure.
Stephen Elliott: I’m a big believer in using my life in my work. But you have to figure out some things first. But Doug, you don’t use your life too much in your writing. In most of your stories the author doesn’t seem present. They’re not “protagonist author” stories.
Doug Dorst: I think I do use my life a lot in my writing, although I tend to mask it pretty heavily. I absolutely do not have the courage to do what you do.
Stephen Elliott: I mean, of course you use your life, but you don’t put yourself at the center of the story. The reader can’t draw conclusions about you, the way they can (and will) in protagonist-author fiction.
Tara: What are you reading RIGHT NOW, Doug??
Doug Dorst: Right now? Just finished The Imperfectionists. And before that, Julie Orringer’s novel, which is a hundred kinds of amazing. About to start Joshua Ferris’ new one. And I’ll probably pick up the new David Mitchell at Powell’s tomorrow. And maybe Jennifer Egan’s new one, too.
Sarah: It was just a delight to read all those stories, even the ones I didn’t like as much, because it seemed like you were really stretching and trying stuff.
Doug Dorst: Thanks. And really, that’s the best kind of read any of us can hope for… y’know, that if a story doesn’t fly, the reader at least thinks about where it failed for them and what the writer might have been trying to do.
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