I have recently experienced an evening that I am slowly starting to understand affected me in more ways than I initially thought. So, my instinct was to write a piece of creative non-fiction about it, to excise it, to exorcise it. And that’s exactly what I did. Nearly 1,500 words later, I’m a little more at peace with the world.
Would you please tell us a little about your writing process?
My writing process is no process, if you will. It might sound cliché, or even self-indulgent, but I get to write when I feel like it, or when inspiration hits, which I guess is the rare privilege of the hobbyist writer. That in turn means that my writing is intrinsically related to that creation spark, which, ultimately, we are all in pursuit of. I can’t say I didn’t set countless resolutions to make a disciplined writer of myself, to make room for allotted time every day to write, regardless of inspiration, mood etc., but as it usually happens with any good-natured, sensible resolution, I failed to abide by it. That’s probably why prompts and challenges work for me, and also creative non-fiction. That old adage of “writing what you know” couldn’t be more suited to inspiration-dependent writers; things happen every second, so you’re bound to find something in your own spending of this time on Earth that warrants being carefully arranged into beautiful wording and shared with the world.
How do you believe a writer improves? Practice? Mentors? Reading everything? Attending festivals?
I can’t speak for every writer, but my gut tells me to answer this question intuitively, if rather self-explanatory: writing improves… by writing. A painter improves by painting, so does a carpenter, or a nail technician. Certainly, there are steps I, as an amateur writer, have taken in the last 5 years since I’ve started this creative writing journey, – attending workshops, taking part in challenges, feedback beta-exchanges, reading about writing. And yes, I do recommend doing everything you think can help, anything that piques your interest, and engages you to your full creative potential. But, in the end, it’s the work you actually pour into the craft, it’s your trying and failing, trying again and failing again. It’s your relentlessness, your hundreds of rejections, followed by hundreds of “shaking yourself, dusting yourself off, and keeping at it”s. It’s opening your mind to ideas, to creativity ebbing and flowing in every aspect of life: from books you read, people you meet, conversations you have, art you consume, walks you walk, nature you explore, music you listen to… So, whilst I’m not 100% sure how other writers do it, I do it by just doing it. I read, write, sleep, then repeat.
What motivated / motivates you to write?
I write when I get inspired, or else when I challenge myself to meet a prompt. But really, the most powerful motivator, for me at least, is having something to say. Now, as I’m answering these interview questions, I have recently experienced an evening that I am slowly starting to understand affected me in more ways than I initially thought. So, my instinct was to write a piece of creative non-fiction about it, to excise it, to exorcise it. And that’s exactly what I did. Nearly 1,500 words later, I’m a little more at peace with the world. Having something to say also applies to fiction, I think. When you write fiction, it might not be about something that’s happened to you, but in a way it’s about something you wish did happen, or something you envision for the future, or it’s just a metaphorical way to express an emotion. It might be fiction, but it’s real at the same time, and I think that’s beautiful. I personally have written dark prose, I’ve conveyed twisted imaginary worlds, and created dystopic futures, things that are (still) far from reality, but which are ultimately rooted in a unique perception of the world, a reading on life mine and mine alone. In the end, my truth bleeding onto paper.
Do you enjoy writing?
Immensely, perversely so. I never lose track of time quite as I do when I write. It’s my safe space, my personal bubble where time-space continuum rules disintegrate, where nothing bad can reach me, and if it does, it’s only because I have come up with it as a twist for my unsuspecting characters.
What are the most important steps an amateur writer can take?
First step: write. Second step: write. Third step: continue writing. If it reads like the rules of Fight Club, it’s because I, much like Edward Norton’s alter ego, can’t stress this enough. And then, ever so important are the next steps: edit, edit, edit, get feedback if, when, and as much as you can, from fellow writers but especially from readers, then edit some more, read other people’s work, read very good literature and ponder what on Earth you were thinking in believing you can create this type of art, but persevere. Take some space from your writing, let it sit for a couple days, get back to it, read it again, and then edit some more. Also, very important, you DO NOT need as many “that”s as you think you do. Cut them mercilessly, you’ll thank yourself later when your story reads and flows so much better. And just. DO. NOT. GIVE. UP.
What is the best piece of advice you have received? Or, what is the best piece of advice you would offer an aspiring writer?
I can’t really say there’s a specific piece of advice that’s shadowed me, that I received since I started writing in English, a language that’s not native to me, some 5 years ago. A lot of good, practical, and pointed advice on my works from fellow writers have proven immeasurable, and they’ve shaped the way I look at my words as well. But I can’t put my finger on an AHA! moment of pure awe. There are, of course, general rules of writing, good writing at that, such as “show, don’t tell” or “kill your darlings” (a very hard pill to swallow, I might add; it’s taken me an awful lot to understand that my writing can have nuance and heaviness without the overembellishment of metaphors, or the suffocating pressure of fancy wording), but, in the end, I think that good writing can get away with following or breaking any kind of rule, so long as it’s coming across as honest. In conclusion, I guess my advice for aspiring authors is find your unique voice, write truthfully and wholly, and maybe on a more practical note: write for your readers, not for other writers, nor for what you imagine a contest judge would appreciate. Good writing is writing that readers constantly and consistently want to read, it’s as simple as that.
Who would you say are your literary forebears? Who have you learned the most from?
This feels like giving myself too much credit, like I’m following in the footsteps of Hemingway, which I’m definitely not. I don’t feel like I have forebears, per se, and I honestly can’t say I can pinpoint whose work I consciously learned from. I am of the firm belief that everything you read becomes your own little treasure, a sedimentation of an inherently human experience that afterwards no one can take away from you. I guess what I’m trying to say is I don’t know if I’ve learned from someone’s work that I read, more aptly put is I’ve learned something from every piece of writing I’ve ever read. By reading, I’ve learned what I like to read, which in turn transformed into what I’d like to be able to write.
Which books is it most important for an aspiring writer to read?
I can only recommend one book on writing, since it’s the only one I’ve read, ha ha. But it was suggested to me by a fellow writer, Romanian as well (shoutout to Manuela), and I found it mesmerizing. I guess it’s so good, or it resonated with me so strongly precisely because it’s written not for fellow scholars, but by having the reader in mind, so it flows like a piece of fiction or creative non-fiction, all the while being driven forward by amazing insight into the writing process. It’s called “First You Write a Sentence”, it’s written by Joe Moran, and I’d describe it as an unpedantic ode to sentence creation.
What do you believe is the function of your art?
It might read as an unexpected answer, but I’ll go ahead and shock you: its primary function is to make me feel good. I cannot pretend I don’t write for my own enjoyment, because it brings me pleasure, or catharsis, or boosts my self-esteem. I could pretend, but I’d be lying. And I like to think this is a universal truth. Actually I highly suspect it is. I suspect we get the chance to read “East of Eden” or “The Stranger” because Steinbeck and Camus couldn’t not write. Because they were extracting their life juice from the act of writing, because they were compelled to, because it bettered their lives, first and foremost. And then… well, then, the fact that a piece of writing resonates with people, that readers are able to see in print their emotions and unnamed fears, their hopes and tribulations, black on white, in words that reaffirm their grasp on the magnitude that is life… well, that’s nothing short of a miracle, isn’t it?
If you were to begin writing today for the first time, would you do anything differently? Which would be your first steps?
No, I wouldn’t change a thing. Again, it’s a cliché, but I’m where I am because I took those first steps exactly as. If I’d do anything differently, who knows, I might not get published by or win one of The Letter Review’s CNF contests. And I just can’t have that.
Hailing from Bucharest, Romania, Teodora Vamvu is a marketing specialist at a national radio station. She has short prose published on Spillwords, 101Words, Globe Soup, and MetaStellar, where her story is pending publication in this year’s annual anthology, and she is also part of two prose anthologies and a poetry one, self-published through Amazon. Her first CNF piece was a finalist in F(r)iction’s Creative Non-Fiction Spring 2024 contest.