You Must Be This Tall to Anthologize: BJ Hollars on the Making of an Anthology
by Jessica Pitchford
B.J. Hollars is an MFA candidate at the University of Alabama where he’s served as nonfiction editor and assistant fiction editor for Black Warrior Review. He is also the editor of You Must Be This Tall To Ride published by Writer’s Digest Books. He’s published or has work forthcoming in Barrelhouse, Mid-American Review, DIAGRAM, Fugue, Hayden’s Ferry Review, Puerto del Sol, Hobart, among others and has twice been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Visit www.YouMustBeThisTallToRide.net.
Q: Congratulations on the publication of your debut edited anthology. You’ve got some heavy hitters participating in this book. Can you talk a little about the genesis of the anthology’s theme and how it came to be? Were you reading a lot of coming-of-age stories and thought they might work well as a collection, or did you have specific authors in mind?
A: Probably a little bit of both. I’ve always been a bit obsessed with coming-of-age stories. I think it’s a genre that doesn’t get much respect when the fact is several of today’s most preeminent writers have certainly renewed its respectability. People hear the phrase “coming-of-age” and think my favorite show is Dawson’s Creek and I love The Jonas Brothers. But that’s not really it. What I love are stories like Benjamin Percy’s “Refresh, Refresh” (first published in The Paris Review and then The Best American series) and Ryan Boudinot’s “The Littlest Hitler” (Mississippi Review to Best American Nonrequired series). Clearly, the literary world agreed that there was merit to these stories, and yet people still stick up their noses at the genre itself. I knew I wouldn’t have any problem finding 20 literary coming-of-age stories that steered clear from the clichés. And I did. And I could have found 100.
Q: Since all of these stories have appeared elsewhere, some in other anthologies, I’m curious what the process of getting permission to reprint is like. Along those lines, with such a list of acclaimed authors, how did you go about approaching them with the idea for the book?
A: Well, the rights were not the fun part. Actually, several of the stories (such as Ryan Van Meter’s “Youth Group” and Laura van den Berg’s “To The Good People Of Mars,” among others) were published here first, though you’re right, I had to talk to quite a few publishing houses as well. I also tried to set my sights on stories that had First North American Serial Rights (mainly stories that were published in lit mags as opposed to books) because then the rights belong to the authors. But even the publishing houses were incredibly generous, and I was sure to thank all of them in the acknowledgement. I view it like this: If I were a publishing house, why wouldn’t I want the free publicity for my author? I’m not sure if that’s how the publishing houses saw it, but they were kind enough to agree all the same. Plus, the authors were always wiling to add a little pressure when necessary.
Q: In your introduction to the anthology, you posit the notion of writing as a rite of passage, the act itself a kind of coming of age. What rites have you had to go through, both as a writer and editor?
A: Still going through them! But I think the rite of passage which continues forever for writers is attempting to complete that “perfect story.” Clearly, it’s impossible, and yet we have no choice but to try, try again. It’s no different than riding a bike (another rite): we fall down but we ignore the scraped knees and get back up again. We just have to remember the getting up part.
“There’s something about coming-of-age stories that leaves writers with their guards down. The fact is no coming-of-age story is 100% fiction or 100% nonfiction—our memory makes sure of that.”As an editor, I think the rites are sort of the same. We’re always searching for that “perfect story.” Here’s the math that helps me sleep at night: If there are thousands of writers out there all attempting to write the perfect story, perhaps one of the editors will get lucky enough to find the diamond in the rough. The odds are with us. Eventually, if we work hard enough, we’ll find one.
Q: I love that each story in the anthology is followed by not only an inside look at the making of the story but also a related writing exercise developed by the author. That’s invaluable insight for readers and writers alike. Was that aspect of the book planned from the get-go, and how did your authors respond to the idea? (Jack Pendarvis’s comment about why people write fiction comes to mind.)
A: Haha. Yeah, Jack was a bit adverse to it (as were a few others who will remain nameless). But their adversity was for good reason. I myself am a proponent of the “It-just-sorta-happened” theory, in which we can’t really dissect just how we create what we create; sometimes it just occurs. Stephen King talks about his stories coming out like fossils, how his only job as a writer is excavating the fossils already within him. Who knows how we do what we do. Writing’s a bit witchcraft, a bit magic. Throw in some eye of newt, some Harry Potter spells, see what develops.
Nevertheless, I really wanted to push the writers to self-reflect on their stories. I think it’s a helpful exercise for all writers, and it’s especially beneficial to those of us who are still learning the terrain. If we could figure out our secrets, we’d probably be a hell of a lot more productive. Adding a little method to the madness, you know?Q: I noticed that quite a few stories in the book use humor to reconcile the woes of young adulthood. Was that coincidence, or do you find it a regular occurrence in writing about youth?
A: Well, it’s certainly true of my own coming-of-age stories. I think that despite all the horrors of growing older, we can all rest assured that we’re all in this together. And since it’s a trauma we all endure, it’s a trauma we can all understand. That’s one of the primary reasons I wanted an anthology of coming-of-age stories to begin with. Because it’s common ground. We can read Steve Almond’s “Tell Me Where It Hurts” and think, “Yeah, I remember when I lost my virginity. Likewise, we can read Aimee Bender’s “Tiger-Mending” and think, “Yup, I used to mend tigers all the time growing up,” (well, maybe that one’s a stretch). Nevertheless, there’s some common ground to be had in our shared experiences. And since the trauma doesn’t last forever, sure, I think laughter’s the best medicine for it.
Q: In many of the essays that follow the stories, the authors don’t just discuss craft and technique, but the extent to which their own personal experiences are imbedded in the narrative. I’m wondering if that was part of the assignment—to dispute or acknowledge the nonfictional aspects of their stories—or if that happened naturally. Do you think writers feel compelled to defend the fiction of their fiction more often when the subject matter is that of childhood experience?
A: That’s a great question. First, that wasn’t part of the assignment. I simply asked the writers to reflect. But isn’t it interesting how that reflection often led to the writers defending the “fictiveness” of their fiction? There’s something about coming-of-age stories that leaves writers with their guards down. The fact is no coming-of-age story is 100% fiction or 100% nonfiction—our memory makes sure of that. Even if we’re trying desperately to write a nonfiction coming-of-age story (Stuart Dybek and Ryan Van Meter are the only two nonfiction pieces I have in the anthology), some distorted memory almost always slips in. It’s as if memory veils the hard parts to soften the blow, and our attempts at recreating the trials of growing older are always a bit off from the events themselves. But to answer your question, yes, I do think writers feel compelled to defend their fiction when the subject matter is of such a personal nature. Since we’ve all grown older, chances are, we all have at least one story to tell. And if we’re trying to write a coming-of-age story, what better resource to draw from than our own experience?
Q: Having worked at both the fiction and nonfiction desks for Black Warrior Review, what would you say is the most common mistake new writers make when submitting their work for publication? For you, what’s the best part of getting to read submissions?
A: The most common mistake is probably the same mistake I make: sending out too early. What writers need to understand is that the piles of submissions are so great that editors have to find any way they can to narrow down those heaps. So, for instance, if a query letter is a ten-page biography of the writer, chances are the editor will read the submission with a bad taste in his mouth. Or, if there’s a typo in the opening line, that’s a good reason to read the piece less seriously, too. Sometimes all a writer can do is follow all the rules so the editor has no reason not to read the submission with the utmost care. It’s sort of like one of those lengthy questionnaires they give you before interviewing for a job you probably didn’t much want in the first place. Questions like: “So you’re working the cash register and no one’s around. Do you skim a few bucks off the top?” Clearly, the answer is, “Of course not. I am a loyal and dedicated employee.” The same goes for submitting. Don’t give any reason for your submission to be read faster than it deserves. Simply following the rules and reading your piece five more times before sending it in the mail will probably offer your submission the best chance.
My favorite part of reading submissions? The opportunity to find that elusive diamond in the rough. It’s rarer than Bigfoot, but it’s out there.
Q: You’re an MFA candidate in a creative writing program. How do you balance your writing life with your editing life, and does one ever get in the way of the other?
A: They certainly conflict, and while it’s probably the wrong answer, I balance it like this: I put my writing first. I simply have to. If I’m not writing then I’m in no mood to edit. For my own sanity, I need to try to crank out a few thousand words a day just so I can be in a place where I can “relax” and read some good stories. I owe it to the submitters. I think writing your own words and admiring others’ words are two parts of the healthy balance. For me, they’re both necessary. And we should probably throw teaching into the equation as well. I think we need to have a third of teaching too. It’s the closest thing a writer has to a social outlet. Haha.
The following are standard, SER quick-response questions and can be answered in a word or a sentence or two.
Q: Name a writer whose work is currently making you jealous.
A: Jon Meacham. American Lion won the Pulitzer for a reason.
Q: Fitting for this book—what kind of child were you?
A: I once cried when someone took the last brownie at a birthday party. Enough said.
Q: What’s your relationship with rejection like?
A: Water off a duck’s back.
Q: Do you have a writerly habit you’d like to break, or, in the spirit of anthologizing, do you have a writerly habit you’d like for other writers to break?
A: Haha, I’ll leave writers to breaking their own habits. But for me, I’d like to learn to take a chill pill and not always feel as if I have to write until carpal tunnel sets in.
Thanks so much. Please be sure to check out our online magazine at http://www.youmustbethistalltoride.net. We’re currently updating the site to make it more “story-centered,” so by next month at this time, it’ll be much improved.
