Ask the Author: Stephen J. Matlock
Answered Questions (13)
Stephen J. Matlock
A More Beautiful and Terrible History (Theoharis)
Mediocre (Oluo)
Reading While Black (McCaulley)
One Coin Found (Kegler)
Non-Violent Atonement, 2nd Edition (Weaver)
Mediocre (Oluo)
Reading While Black (McCaulley)
One Coin Found (Kegler)
Non-Violent Atonement, 2nd Edition (Weaver)
Stephen J. Matlock
Wow. Hard question to answer. I prefer fiction for the freedom it gives me to make things up. (I'm told that non-fiction should be somehow attached to factual claims.)
When I write about non-fictive events, such as racism, I enjoy exploring this real world, but I find that non-fiction can feel limiting. Sometimes I write the story I want to tell as fiction because I can dive deeper into meaning and symbol and purpose.
So--I think fiction, but by a 60:40 ratio.
When I write about non-fictive events, such as racism, I enjoy exploring this real world, but I find that non-fiction can feel limiting. Sometimes I write the story I want to tell as fiction because I can dive deeper into meaning and symbol and purpose.
So--I think fiction, but by a 60:40 ratio.
Stephen J. Matlock
Thanks, man.
It was a hard book to write. There's a lot of pain in our history, and it's not all flags and bunting and parades.
It was a hard book to write. There's a lot of pain in our history, and it's not all flags and bunting and parades.
Stephen J. Matlock
No worries. I hope you enjoyed it.
Stephen J. Matlock
Now there's a question....
I was raised in a part of the United States where we didn't talk about or acknowledge race. Which is actually most of the United States.
I was challenged by a friend to see him as he was: black. It was very upsetting to me because I'm a very nice person who doesn't offend people, and here I was offending him because I didn't recognize one of the more salient parts about his existence!
So I set out to learn about what I was deliberately choosing to ignore.
And boy howdy was I ignorant!
I started researching and reading and listening. I read a hundred books, listened to a thousand songs, watch dozens of movies, listened to an increasingly diverse and undiscovered set of voices speaking out.
I know! Here I was, living in this country, and an entire set of people were rendered invisible to me.
I did a lot of listening, and started building up the idea of a world living in parallel to mine, intermixed with mine, and yet never really touching mine.
I read and read and read, all sorts of original source documents. My library went from a nearly pure-white set of authors to an incredibly diverse set of viewpoints. I read narrative and poetry and song and newspapers and magazines.
What is this thing, to be black in America?
As a straight white Evangelical man, I had no idea, and *never needed to know*.
But I started to get some insight.
One point in the black experience struck me, hard, and that was Emmett Till. I had *never heard of him*. He was murdered a few years before I was born, and as far as I could tell, his death was unnoticed by everyone around me.
And yet...every single black American I talked to or listened to knew all about him.
An ordinary boy, thought to be living "safe" in the South, murdered by crazy, racist, ordinary Americans.
His story stuck with me, because I could remember being 12 or 13 and being harum-scarum, and *knowing* I was safe being cocky and confrontative and fun-loving.
He was not safe, and what he did to deserve being beaten and tortured and drowned, at 13, was simply to use his speech therapy and his confidence to speak to a white lady in the South.
And I was in a writers' group that met weekly to talk about their writing. One of the things we did every week was to get a prompt, then write for 15 minutes, and share the flash fiction.
I got the prompt "The car ran through the STOP sign as if it wasn't there..."
That led to the gem of the idea. A car driving through the STOP sign is a sign of a man who does not obey the rules.
What would it be like to be young, and see that the rules you were taught about weren't really the real rules? How do you grow up as a boy into a man, and discover what those real rules are? How is it that STOP signs don't stop cars, admonitions of respect and love don't cause love and respect, commands to be good and true and kind from your religion don't make you *be* good and true and kind?
That prompt had me writing furiously for fifteen minutes, and the entire world of Henry Valentine fell into place.
I knew I had a story in those 1000 words.
And I started plotting out the ideas. Henry Valentine, raised to believe in law and justice, sees the impunity with which those laws and justice are ignored for expediency and revenge and the lust to destroy others. He's 13, and he must grow up to understand that the world of adults which promised him safety and order and respect was actually just a thin veneer on what *actually* happens in the world.
I fleshed out the story over the next year, and then I finished with the story of a young baseball player in a small town in East Texas. I set in in Texas rather than Mississippi so that I could avoid direct comparisons between my story and Emmett Till--I did not want to pretend I understood that story at all--and I just let the characters introduce themselves and go through their lives.
There are bumps along the way, twists and turns and betrayals, and care and love and honor. Henry learns what is in his heart, and learns that you end up doing the right thing when you let your heart tell you what to do.
I sign the copies of my book with the words of Henry, never spoken in the book: "Your life is as big as your heart is."
You won't live until you understand this. When you understand this, then all of life is before you, to bring about healing and care and love, no matter if you are a young man in 1950s racially segregated East Texas, or an old guy living in the racially segregated United States of America of 2018.
I was raised in a part of the United States where we didn't talk about or acknowledge race. Which is actually most of the United States.
I was challenged by a friend to see him as he was: black. It was very upsetting to me because I'm a very nice person who doesn't offend people, and here I was offending him because I didn't recognize one of the more salient parts about his existence!
So I set out to learn about what I was deliberately choosing to ignore.
And boy howdy was I ignorant!
I started researching and reading and listening. I read a hundred books, listened to a thousand songs, watch dozens of movies, listened to an increasingly diverse and undiscovered set of voices speaking out.
I know! Here I was, living in this country, and an entire set of people were rendered invisible to me.
I did a lot of listening, and started building up the idea of a world living in parallel to mine, intermixed with mine, and yet never really touching mine.
I read and read and read, all sorts of original source documents. My library went from a nearly pure-white set of authors to an incredibly diverse set of viewpoints. I read narrative and poetry and song and newspapers and magazines.
What is this thing, to be black in America?
As a straight white Evangelical man, I had no idea, and *never needed to know*.
But I started to get some insight.
One point in the black experience struck me, hard, and that was Emmett Till. I had *never heard of him*. He was murdered a few years before I was born, and as far as I could tell, his death was unnoticed by everyone around me.
And yet...every single black American I talked to or listened to knew all about him.
An ordinary boy, thought to be living "safe" in the South, murdered by crazy, racist, ordinary Americans.
His story stuck with me, because I could remember being 12 or 13 and being harum-scarum, and *knowing* I was safe being cocky and confrontative and fun-loving.
He was not safe, and what he did to deserve being beaten and tortured and drowned, at 13, was simply to use his speech therapy and his confidence to speak to a white lady in the South.
And I was in a writers' group that met weekly to talk about their writing. One of the things we did every week was to get a prompt, then write for 15 minutes, and share the flash fiction.
I got the prompt "The car ran through the STOP sign as if it wasn't there..."
That led to the gem of the idea. A car driving through the STOP sign is a sign of a man who does not obey the rules.
What would it be like to be young, and see that the rules you were taught about weren't really the real rules? How do you grow up as a boy into a man, and discover what those real rules are? How is it that STOP signs don't stop cars, admonitions of respect and love don't cause love and respect, commands to be good and true and kind from your religion don't make you *be* good and true and kind?
That prompt had me writing furiously for fifteen minutes, and the entire world of Henry Valentine fell into place.
I knew I had a story in those 1000 words.
And I started plotting out the ideas. Henry Valentine, raised to believe in law and justice, sees the impunity with which those laws and justice are ignored for expediency and revenge and the lust to destroy others. He's 13, and he must grow up to understand that the world of adults which promised him safety and order and respect was actually just a thin veneer on what *actually* happens in the world.
I fleshed out the story over the next year, and then I finished with the story of a young baseball player in a small town in East Texas. I set in in Texas rather than Mississippi so that I could avoid direct comparisons between my story and Emmett Till--I did not want to pretend I understood that story at all--and I just let the characters introduce themselves and go through their lives.
There are bumps along the way, twists and turns and betrayals, and care and love and honor. Henry learns what is in his heart, and learns that you end up doing the right thing when you let your heart tell you what to do.
I sign the copies of my book with the words of Henry, never spoken in the book: "Your life is as big as your heart is."
You won't live until you understand this. When you understand this, then all of life is before you, to bring about healing and care and love, no matter if you are a young man in 1950s racially segregated East Texas, or an old guy living in the racially segregated United States of America of 2018.
Stephen J. Matlock
America elected an orange fascist. Now they lack the will to remove him.
Stephen J. Matlock
Two things, really.
One is that I like to talk and write--that is, I like the whole process of thinking about things then creating a story or essay to follow along and even to push my thinking. I especially like it when I have some unformed thoughts or not-quite-developed ideas that come together as I start writing--especially when what I'm thinking and feeling is still quite, quite deep and the story itself brings it out in a way that a planned essay cannot. (As some know, my first published novel came about as I was thinking about various issues, but I had no idea what I'd write about--and a lot of stuff from my own past experiences came out filtered through various scenes that were echoes and reflections of my own life.)
The second is that I like to explain what I think and feel in a way that can help me connect with someone, and I think that for the most part a story is the best way to do that. People relate to what people do, I think, rather than by a step-by-step essay of logical thoughts. If I can help someone understand me and what's important to me, then maybe we can connect as humans and understand each other--I can help them understand my own thoughts and values, and maybe help them think about themselves and their own values. I think people need a safe place to think about what's important to them, what scares them, what they aspire to be like, what they are fearful of or ashamed about, and a story is a safe place to think about those things. My stories helped me think my own thoughts and venture my own risky ideas; I think that others, when they read them, can experience something similar for themselves.
Oh, and I want people to have fun and enjoy my writing. So I try hard to do a good job with a good story. That's three, I guess.
One is that I like to talk and write--that is, I like the whole process of thinking about things then creating a story or essay to follow along and even to push my thinking. I especially like it when I have some unformed thoughts or not-quite-developed ideas that come together as I start writing--especially when what I'm thinking and feeling is still quite, quite deep and the story itself brings it out in a way that a planned essay cannot. (As some know, my first published novel came about as I was thinking about various issues, but I had no idea what I'd write about--and a lot of stuff from my own past experiences came out filtered through various scenes that were echoes and reflections of my own life.)
The second is that I like to explain what I think and feel in a way that can help me connect with someone, and I think that for the most part a story is the best way to do that. People relate to what people do, I think, rather than by a step-by-step essay of logical thoughts. If I can help someone understand me and what's important to me, then maybe we can connect as humans and understand each other--I can help them understand my own thoughts and values, and maybe help them think about themselves and their own values. I think people need a safe place to think about what's important to them, what scares them, what they aspire to be like, what they are fearful of or ashamed about, and a story is a safe place to think about those things. My stories helped me think my own thoughts and venture my own risky ideas; I think that others, when they read them, can experience something similar for themselves.
Oh, and I want people to have fun and enjoy my writing. So I try hard to do a good job with a good story. That's three, I guess.
Stephen J. Matlock
I listen to people, watch people, and enjoy people. I write down what I think and feel about that. That prompts me for my writing.
Stephen J. Matlock
Several pieces
1. A sequel to my first published book. The sequel takes place in the same town, 5 years later, and it serves as the true coming-of-age for a high-school senior. ("Many Waters")
2. A book about going through the turbulent years 1962-1965 in Los Angeles. (The Sky-Splitters)
3. A contemporary murder mystery set in Seattle, where the protagonist is a musical-theatre critic and his targets are dropping like flies. (Musical Chairs)
4. A contemporary detective set in Seattle, where the protagonist struggles with her own identity while seeking the true identity of the murderer.
1. A sequel to my first published book. The sequel takes place in the same town, 5 years later, and it serves as the true coming-of-age for a high-school senior. ("Many Waters")
2. A book about going through the turbulent years 1962-1965 in Los Angeles. (The Sky-Splitters)
3. A contemporary murder mystery set in Seattle, where the protagonist is a musical-theatre critic and his targets are dropping like flies. (Musical Chairs)
4. A contemporary detective set in Seattle, where the protagonist struggles with her own identity while seeking the true identity of the murderer.
Stephen J. Matlock
Stop aspiring. Write. Risk being honest. Risk failing. Risk revealing yourself. If you _want_ to be a writer, you'll write. If you're not writing and not willing to write, you are not a writer.
Stephen J. Matlock
Being able to write out what I'm thinking and feeling, and then working to make sure that I am able to communicate the thoughts and emotions through the words and the format.
Stephen J. Matlock
Two things: I write something else until I can get back to the original piece, and I sit with the original piece and write something about it, or in parallel, or as a side note. That's if I can't get the creative juices flowing. If I just don't want to do it--then I don't have an answer for that.
Stephen J. Matlock
I was confronted by a friend about what I knew of him and his culture. I determined to correct my ignorance, and I began listening to a much wider and more diverse set of resources. The books I read, the songs I listened to, the movies I watched, and the other materials I absorbed and considered became the source for the book, which was to answer the question of "What do you do when _you_ must decide what is right and wrong?"
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