Conversations with Writers Braver Than Me: Shalom Auslander

Auslander: Well, look, you know, this is not a good situation for anybody. I would not wish this on anyone. Of course, as a human being, I have compassion. But there is also a question of survival and that question gets more and more depressing when you’ve got first a wife and then two kids, and you start to go, “Um, well, but fuck them.” Because there is something more important, and I know what I am like around them and I know what it was like to have a failed marriage around me, and I am just not going to do it. And so, writing for me is very much – it is critical.  It is even for your own therapy. It allows me to be the person I want to be. There are days where things just are not going well, but if I have like an hour left to the day and I have not written anything, the thing that will get me to write just one funny thing – one scene that makes me laugh or happy – is the thought of, well it is three o’clock now, you are going to be home at 4:30, and you are going to be a fucking asshole, so just write something.  This is not about publishing or career or selling, it is about you want to go home and play with the kids and not be a fucking asshole so just write something.  So I do, and I feel better. Everything gets filtered through that. This is necessary. This is no choice.

Rumpus: See, now, I do not have kids, so I do not get to say that. Actually, I feel like I partly do not have kids because I do not really want to have my parents so close to me.

Auslander: Right, but think about that. You are actively making a decision on their behalf. You are doing something out of somewhat pathological concern for these people. Look at the price of that.

Rumpus: I have to admit, though, I am kind of loving my childless life. But I’ll be pissed at myself if I wind up with a writing-less life. That’s why I’m having these conversations – to try and push past my fears and start writing again.

Auslander: It is very difficult to get up to the point where writing comes easily. I have to get good and angry.  I do not mean the writing needs to be angry.  I need to get sort of like, as if someone were trying to keep water and air from me.  I am just like, get your fucking hands off of me, you know.  There are these things with like Kafka and Beckett and when people first read them, they were always amazed that someone gave them permission to do that. Who told them they could write like that?  Where did that bravery come from? And I am convinced it does not come from bravery, it comes from desperation and necessity.

Rumpus: I often feel as if keeping in what I have to say is killing me. Ironically, I feel sort of pregnant with it, and as if nothing else can come through me until I get it out. Every now and then, I’ll start to write it, and I’ll start to feel okay, and the writing will get funny, and I’ll have a good time with it. Then there is a part of me that starts to hope I can write all these things, and my parents can read them, and even if they don’t like them, they can somehow accept me. And maybe afterward, they will become less of a pain in the ass than they were about all this.

Auslander: It is not going to happen. I am sure that in the history of mankind it has happened once or twice, but, yeah, no.

Rumpus: It is funny, a couple of years ago, before I went and published a few pieces where my father appears, I told him I was blocked, and he said, “Why don’t you write something about your crazy old man?” And I took that as license.

Auslander: Your first book will be called “My Crazy Old Man.”

Rumpus: I am going to have to let go of hoping that my parents will ever be okay with anything I write. And also the notion that what I write will destroy them.

Auslander: It is a constant fight.  I mean, there is never a part where you just have courage and now it is all easy. Because it is all difficult. Each time I have to remind myself that the fear is coming from a certain guilt, and that I am imaging their reaction to be far worse than whatever it could be. In a certain way I’m punishing myself with my own, what I think is my own sin. I’m imagining them covered in shrouds for the rest of their lives, or just opening the book and just bursting into flames.  But it’s never really as bad as we imagine. The horrifying affect your words are going to have on people is never really as bad as you think it is and they will find some other way to get hurt, anyway. Trust me.

Rumpus: For now, like even with this interview, I just take comfort in my parents’ general lack of Internet savvy. They barely know how to google something, so I’m kind of safe.

Auslander: Oh, no. That’s lame. It reminds me of when I was getting ready to tell my mother I needed six months of not being in touch. I called her up and said, “I have something to tell you,” and she said, “I have something to tell you, too, and I go first: I have breast cancer.” I went to my therapist and was so conflicted, and he said, “No, you have to do this anyway. If she dies without you having taken this step, it will be bad for you.” So, I changed it to three months and stuck to it. And then it became six months. And now it’s been six or seven years.

Rumpus: What about other people you write about, like your wife. Does she mind you writing about her?

Auslander: Well, she comes off pretty well in the book, and she’s pretty fucking nuts, so I cannot imagine she would have a problem with it. Relative to me, she is the sane one, although she would say vice versa, too. Oddly, I am the sane one for her. But, anyway, she does not come off that bad.

Rumpus: Wow. What about, you know, g-dash-d. In the book you write about fears of repercussions for making him come off like an asshole. Any complaints from him?

Auslander: Well, my second kid was colicky. I always thought that was payback. But otherwise, no.  Then again, god plays the long game. He likes to play chess five moves ahead. Things have been going well, but it just feels like I am Humpty Dumpty and he is putting the wall higher and higher, and when I’m feeling confident and I least expect it, the shove is going to come. As you can see, I am much better with failure and sadness than with success or happiness.

Rumpus: Well, this was really helpful for me. Thanks for talking with me.

Auslander: Sure. Let me know when it’s up on the site. Oh, and give me your father’s email address. I’m going to send it to him.

***

Want to read more conversations between Sari Botton and brave writers? Visit the archives here

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9 responses

  1. A good interview which comes off more like a conversation than an interview. I like the part about when things aren’t going well writing-wise: “This is not about publishing or career or selling, it is about you want to go home and play with the kids and not be a fucking asshole, so just write something. So I do, and I feel better. Everything gets filtered through that. This is necessary. This is no choice.” Doesn’t get more honest than that. And it’s a different take on the idea that having kids stops you from writing. Sometimes it forces you to write even more out of an awful kind of desperation. You can’t afford to squander time anymore because, if you have kids, you probably don’t have much of it.

  2. “heroine abuse”?

    do tell.

  3. “Heroin abuse.” The “e” has been dropped and the female hero is fine.

  4. Hey, I just figured it was part of the vibe. No worries, mate. =)

    I’m sure everyone knows this but me, but is that really his name? “‘Peace’ ‘Outsider’”??? Talk about an oxymoron of a destiny.

  5. oh and I think there’s a mixup of “affect” and “effect” in there somewhere, too.

    Sorry. It’s the old copyeditor in me that I just can’t shake.

  6. ” I will stand in front of a room full of people who I am very glad are there, but I know that my whole job in my head, in order to write, is to say, “Fuck all of you. I do not care what you think.”

    This is an amazing quote.

  7. I’d translate auslander as foreigner rather than outsider, but that’s just my personal take.
    I like your series very much, Sara. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I guess I feel like I’m saying “forgive me Father for I have sinned. It’s been a whole lifetime since my last confession…” and then I write this stuff. I do not know if anyone wants to read it, ought to read it, why I want to write it. I have to say at the beginning, it’s all not true, so I don’t have to go on Oprah and explain if any of the facts are off-tweaked from the “public record”, like James Frey explaining A Million Little Pieces. (If I wrote of my times in drug treatment, I’m sure I could skew a COUPLE of the facts–although I do remember the names of anyone I had sex with there, against the rules.) Thank you for your provocative series of interviews with memoirists, Sara. I may figure myself out one day, with your help :-), and be able to properly conceive of my writing in its context.
    Shawn

  8. Hi Sari,
    I’m sorry I called you Sara at least twice in my little comment above. I guess I can’t read very well.
    With apologies,
    Shawn

  9. Aaron Freed Avatar
    Aaron Freed

    It is hard to tell, but I get the impression that Shalom’s family was modern orthodox. I am confused by his attendance at an ultra-orthodox yeshiva for boys, but it could have been cheaper. And, there was mention that money just wasn’t there for them, especially with his father being a carpenter? I don’t think this takes anything away from his story, but it would be nice to know if the fundamentalism is flowing from Chassidic, black hat orthodox, and/or modern orthodox institutions. I worry as a modern orthodox adult that my children who attend a local orthodox institution are not getting a literal/fundamentalist education with respect to their Judaism. I am constantly having the conversation with them about what is it they are learning so as to make sure that they are not receiving a warped mesorah (tradition). When I hear Shalom’s pain, it echoes with me. Even while I didn’t grow up Orthodox, the education I received was filled with ridiculous midrashim (legends) and Chassidic stories from school to adult. Now I am spending a lot of time kicking out all the crap. I actually have no problem with it, that as I don’t fear anything, because here’s the thing. If G-d is real, G-d is not some juvenile G-d that so many people perceive. It cannot be. It would be irreconcilable and absurd.

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