Beth Hahn's Blog

CRAFT Literary is fairly new, but it gets a reader’s attention right away. The writing is wonderful, and each new story comes with an author’s note on some interesting aspect of craft. Right away, I knew I wanted to send them something, and off went “A Girl Like You.”

When I write short, I love to experiment with form, turning it one way and then the other, and when I first conceived of the book I’ve been working on for the past two years, I imagined it as written in fragments, but the parts of a short story–taken from historical events, altered, added to, and refocused–are far less complex to juggle than the vast world of the novel. They are such different creatures, the story and the novel, and that is what my essay on craft is about.

Many people are familiar with the case of the Black Dahlia, and those with more than a passing interest will recognize the scene in the shoe store. They will recognize Richard as Matt Gordon. They may or may not recognize May as Beth. I have tried to give her nuance, complexity, and most importantly, to give her the autonomy of her own narrative.

Read “A Girl Like You” on CRAFT

     I tend to become absorbed in the worlds I’m creating–I linger in imagined rooms and landscapes as long as I’m writing–and sometimes well after. The novel I’m working on is a post WWII novel set in Los Angeles. It is specific in mood and setting, and in order to depart, I had to be sure I could find my way back.

     Luckily, when Platypus asked if I had a story to contribute to their first digital shorts series, I’d just finished a major draft, so I set it aside and edited “Elucidations,” a short story I began after finishing The Singing Bone.

     ”Anat did not call her mother Mom—but Mimi, like another grownup, like a stranger, but also like her grandmother, Nana, who called Mimi Mims, and Anat Ana, dropping the t and somehow softening the whole name so that it sounded like a whisper.” 

     -from “Elucidations.” Coming in 2018 from Platypus Press.

I’ve always been a fan of Mr. Beller’s Neighborhood, so when I finally finished my essay, “You’re Out of the Night,” I decided to send it to them. It’s a New York story, and like a multi-burrough subway transfer, the completion of it was complex and time-consuming. I’ve had various versions of this essay stored away on my hard drive for years, trying one way to write it, then another, but when I was asked to read at Dixon Place for the Spine-Out series, I knew I wanted to finish it.

Little Bear, AKA “Gangsta.” LES 2001.

And I’m so glad I finished it. I found a way to weave together all those disparate elements that defined a particularly intense moment in my life and to celebrate the people (and cats) who made it manageable. Enjoy “You’re Out of the Night.“

I spent an afternoon in Philadelphia talking to Dan Buskirk about writing The Singing Bone for his podcast, Fun2Know.

We recorded in Dan’s apartment, which turned out to be next door to a building that I once lived in. His apartment, like my old one, is filled with salvage detailing–half glass-paned doors with transoms and rooms broken-up in unpredictable ways. And Dan’s apartment, like mine once was, is filled with record albums and books. When I left Philadelphia for New York, I never had the same sort of space, and I purged books and music when I moved, a trade-off that often felt unfair.

We sat at Dan’s kitchen table and talked about all kinds of things–cults and kids; folklore and the 70s; music, movies, and art. I used to see Dan around a lot in Philadelphia. We were both into music (he’s a DJ here and here), and we knew a lot of the same people. At some point, we lost touch with each other. He moved away. I moved away. But the best thing, clearly, about losing touch is that it’s such a pleasure to catch up.

Enjoy the episode–and do add Fun2Know to your favorite podcast list.

I’m honored to be reading with Rita Arens, Meg Leder, Laura Lippman, Michael Northrop and Marie Rutkoskisome for the Spine-Out series tomorrow night at Dixon Place. Spine-Out: Novelists Read Personal essays is hosted by Emmy Laybourne.

During my first long-ago year of art school, I imagined I’d illustrate children’s books, but when I found myself making choices, I was interested in line and depth and less keen on representing the same character or landscape again and again, so I chose printmaking as my major.

Drawing became etching, my favorite, though lithography ran a close second. But it was really the line–its fragility, beauty, weight, the complexity of the visual balancing act–that captured my imagination.

It still does.

Pencil and ink on paper. April 2016.

For all the years I made art, I wrote too, but I didn’t think of myself as a Writer. Writing felt so natural–the simple byproduct of massive reading. I wrote in scraps. I remember an enormous antique typewriter, experimenting with poems, a notebook of words. And later, my first writing class, where putting together a short story that made sense seemed like trying to build a house without instructions.

Pencil and ink on paper. May 2016.

Writing never really got easier, but I began to feel like I understood the tools that built the house and the possible types of houses that might be built. Like drawing, like the line, it is both satisfying and mystifying. Space and shape can be taught and understood, but there is always that inexplicable bit.

I’m deep into writing my next novel now, and after a day spent with it, the rhythm of working visually soothes and quiets. I’ll be posting this drawing series on Instagram as it unfolds. If you like, check it out at raccoonandcat.

Chapters 5 & 6 of The Singing Bone are up on Criminal Element today!

It’s hard to believe The Singing Bone will be out in two days. What was once only mine, private, quiet, will now be public, stocked in shops, will arrive in the mail at the click of a button–all the words, the research (check out my Research Notes essay on Necessary Fiction), the difficult revisions and the fun ones–March 1st, March 1st! How I’ve looked forward to March 1st.

I’ll be at the below spots giving readings and signing books. This list will likely grow, so I’ll be sure to update. For now:

Friday, March 11th, 2016, 7 PM

Reading & signing

Chappaqua Library 195 South Greeley Avenue

Chappaqua, New York 10514

Wednesday, March 16, 2016, 7 – 8 PM

Beth Hahn in conversation with Cara Hoffman, author of Be Safe, I Love You

Astoria Bookshop

31-29 31st Street

Astoria, NY 11106

Saturday, April 9, 2016, 12-2

Reading & signing

Scattered Books

29 King Street, Chappaqua, NY 10514

Monday, May 9, 2016, 6:30-9:30

Reading & signing

Kramer Books & Afterwords Cafe

1517 Connecticut Avenue, NW, Washington, DC

Grief

Cats peer from the dark

A snake is coiled, ready

Skeletons stretch beneath white sunbeams

Summer

You said you couldn’t stand the thought of your dog’s mortality, a small dog with big eyes. You were as far away as the ocean when you said that.

A kitten’s pink tongue

An axe in a stump of wood

A bright carnation against a black sky

Fall

Sometimes I can’t stop thinking about it, you said. To think of him hurt is too much. Small dogs live longer than big ones, I told you. There is time.

A turtle trapped on his back

A black rainbow

An eclipsed sun

Winter

In the dark, it’s comforting to put a hand on a dog’s side, to feel him breathe, the rise and fall.

There is so little time.

Small Dog, Dandelions, Butterfly. Grant Huang, 2015.

Read Kirkus’s review of THE SINGING BONE