7 Questions, or, an Interview
Discover more from if not, Paris
7 Questions, or, an Interview
on 1 year of Substack writing, the creative process, & fallow fields for inspiration
Q: Let's start by talking about Substack. I believe you were my first friend to set up shop on the platform. Can you recount your earliest impulses to launch if not, Paris and how your perception and usage of the newsletter has changed after one year?
A: The main reason I joined Substack was to remind myself that I was more than just a novelist. After spending years on a book that has required multiple rewrites, I began to feel alienated from what I believe is an essential aspect of being a writer (or any artist, for that matter): being willing to put your work out there, not so much out of a desire for validation as an ability to finish a project and move onwards.
Writing novels is a fascinating exercise in patience and humility, but it can also be a lonely, alienating activity. Early on in 2021, I realized that few people had ever read anything I’d written in the past six years, which was mostly my fault, because I’d only published one novel (Slim and The Beast, Inkshares, 2015), and despite completing an MFA and writing almost daily, I rarely if ever felt ready to share my work with the world.
Substack was a way to remind myself not to be too precious about my writing.
My goal for the first year was to publish something I was proud of every. single. week, and I did. In that sense, the platform liberated me—almost immediately—from the yoke of the classic “I’m almost finished with a big new novel, one day you’ll read it” syndrome, which allows us writers to hide behind lofty pursuits at the expense of being willing to be vulnerable and engage with a reading community.
As far as how my perception of if not, Paris has changed since its inception, the short answer is “not much at all.” I’m still driven by my initial desire to put something out that I’m proud of every single week, so whether that means answering seven wise questions, sharing a serialized chapter from one of two novellas I’m writing on this platform, sharing a piece of music, etc., if not, Paris is a promise to myself to share those parts of myself that in the past I was either too shy or too afraid to think were worth sharing.
Q: The bar is rather high for literary newsletters: Substack is home to George Saunders, Chuck Palahniuk, and others, not to mention contemporaries with whom you've personally connected and begun correspondence via letter writing or other collaboration. Which writers on here have set a certain precedent for you and inspired you to delve deeper into your craft?
A: I’d be remiss not to mention the first Substack I knew about, that of the Paris-based photographer
, to whom I happen to be married.Augusta had grown tired of having her work censored on Instagram because it occasionally featured a female nipple, and she educated me about the ways in which Substack was subverting antiquated paradigms early on. I’m damn thankful that she encouraged me to start if not, Paris just a little over one year ago, because I’m proud to say that as of today, I have 669 subscribers and 60 paid (Good Sir Ryan, you’re #60; your prize is A DIGITAL KISS).
Yes, it’s still possible to make money as a writer in 2023.
Another major inspiration has been the journalist / fiction writer
, not the least because she was one of the first people who reached out to me and simply said “I like your writing. Let’s talk literature.”I am neither savvy nor very interested in social media, which is why Elle’s serialization of her first novel via Substack and her willingness to engage with me in various conversations about literature have been invaluable in helping me cultivate my own community and online literary identity. Elle also taught me about alternative publishing, how to use Substack to engage with readers in ways that feel authentic, and why it’s really mostly our ego talking when we think that the only route to validation as writers is via traditional publishing models that cede almost all of the power (not to mention profits) to an antiquated industry.
She even inspired me to write this treatise on the state of literature in the 21st century:
Why I’m Not Over Dead French Writers Just Yet
Q: As artists, the act of play is fundamental to what we do. In a recent conversation with Amran Gowani, you stated that you personally write to escape. When faced with pandemics, a war on European soil, or just everyday administrative headaches, how do you personally reconcile the pressures and distractions of the existential world and give yourself permission to escape into your work?
A: There’s a line in Ernest Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast that sums it up quite succinctly:
When the spring came, even the false spring, there were no problems except where to be happiest. The only thing that could spoil a day was people and if you could keep from making engagements, each day had no limits. People were always the limiters of happiness except for the very few that were as good as spring itself.
In the past years I’ve learned to avoid—or at least keep my distance from—people whose own challenges begin to infringe upon my own happiness.
There are a million reasons for anxiety, and I have my fair share of anxiety just like everyone else. A few years ago, I realized just how much of my anxiety comes from being caught up in the anxiety of other people … needless to say, in the past I’ve dealt with varying degrees of a Rescuer Complex.
Because of this fact, I’ve learned not to surround myself with too many folks whose worldview leans on the pessimistic side, not the least because at my worst, I am prone to glass-half-full thinking myself.
To this end, I believe what Hemingway says: in my own experience, people tend to be the only limiters of my own personal happiness. I love walking alone. Reading alone. Writing alone. Playing piano when nobody’s listening. So when I’m feeling low, I’ve learned to step back and realize that it’s often because I am surrounding myself with people who are not capable of being happy with themselves; “The essence of being civilized,” Gertrude Stein wrote in Paris, France (1939), “is to possess yourself as you are.”
Q: Are there any aspects of your creative routine that you suspect may have grown TOO routine, too unchallenging, and may be due for a change?
A: I wish I could say yes, but the fact is, as a freelance tour guide, teacher at the Sorbonne (in the autumn), co-host of semi-monthly literary salons, amateur musician, and dedicated novelist, my day-to-day life feels like a constant battle to get in the 3-4 hours/day of “Samuél time” that I know is essential to remembering to possess myself as I am.
This past year for me has seen the culmination of two major projects in my life—Orange Blossom Memory, my upcoming novel about history, memory, and the Nazi Occupation of Poland, and the culmination of my indie-pop band project, Slim and The Beast, which concluded in August after seven years of joyful success.
In honor of these personal milestones, I’ve made an active choice to give myself a break from sticking to the daily writing schedule/music playing/create more-more-more/be better/prove yourself/do-more-all-the-time mentality that often provides me with a lot of beautiful experiences and creative output but ultimately alienates me because I end up being incapable of giving a singular project the proper attention.
Farmers leave a field fallow for a time in order to harvest it the following year, and all I can do is make sure I have the requisite tools in the shed for when it’s ready. My dream, for next year, is to work on a single project. In the past months, I‘ve begun to miss the consistency of having a regimented routine that serves daily work on a novel, but it’s hard to maintain this kind of routine when my schedule changes every week. In any case, I can sense something new and big is coming, which is why I’ve been happy to honor my 1-post-per-week schedule for Substack this past year.
Q: let’s talk side projects. I recently attended your first-ever solo performance here in Paris, an undertaking you've wanted to try for a while. What is another creative endeavor, perhaps unspoken, that you’ve always wanted to explore?
A: Not only did you attend it, but you mixed the sound (recorded off of an iPhone, no less) and you made the music sound beautifully legitimate. Thank you, friend.
I’ve always been interested in film, and over the past year I’ve been playing with combining film and music for the sake of learning about basic film editing.
At some point, I’d love to produce a short film (or series of vignettes) related to life in Paris, but for now, I’m focusing on taking long, static shots of places that give me peace—I’ve already got folders and folders of films ready to be harvested when the time is right.
Given all the noise out there in the world—and especially the noise I subject myself to on various screens—my idea for the few films I’ve already shared on Substack is to provide viewers with an opportunity to take a big deep breath and listen to an original song whilst watching mostly static imagery of nature in all of its dynamism and beauty. I have to remember to take my time, and film demands precision and patience; or, as I was reminded the other night when I rewatched Cool Runnings, “Peace be the journey.”
a song by an Irish river
Q: With age, hindsight, and over a decade living abroad, what aspects of your particular American culture have you come to embrace and maybe even cherish?
A: There is a certain gregariousness about Americans that has served me well throughout my 13+ years in Paris. I grew up in North Carolina, where Southern Hospitality remains a cornerstone of the culture. Whether it’s meeting complete strangers or friends of friends, I was always taught to be kind and welcome people into the folds of my social circles. This doesn’t always mean I become close friends with folks, but it does mean that everyone has a place at the proverbial “supper table.”
I also do think that there is something quintessentially American about deciding to move to a foreign country to pursue a creative life. That isn’t to say many other cultures don’t also promote this, but I do think it’s at least part of what it means to “be American,” to believe in the reality of our own dreams.
Upon reflection, it makes sense: whether it meant me moving to Paris to study abroad for a year in 2008, returning in 2010 to write a novel and immerse myself in French culture, starting a band in 2015 which ended up playing, poetically, at Paris’ 5,000-person Zenith Arena just days before Covid changed the world (we reached the zenith!) and generally believing in the power of possibility when it comes to reinventing myself, my social circles, and reimagining, renegotiating, and rediscovering familiar surroundings, even starting a Substack last year was its own kind of revolution for me, because I finally stepped up to the plate with my writing and said, “you know what? This place is me.”
Q: if not Paris, where?
A: Great question. For some reason, the first answer that comes to me is Berlin. I’ve always been fascinated by the history of modern Germany, but I’m also damn curious about delving into Berlin’s music and art scenes. There’s a funkiness there—a hardness, too—that you don’t often find in Paris, perhaps because Berlin has been at the center of so much complicated contemporary history.
I know very little about Berlin, to be honest, but it feels like my kind of place, and the idea of living in a cheap (is it still cheap there?), big warehouse-style apartment with eccentric artist neighbors who tell me to put on some black leather because we’re going dancing at this underground club all night, well that seems like fertile ground for a future chapter in my life, which could of course become the inspiration for a future novel …
But with that being said, I chose if not Paris as the title for my Substack because Paris is the closest place I’ve ever felt to a sense of home. I love New England, particularly Vermont and Maine, and I must admit I have a romantic vision of following in Mary Shelley’s and George Orwell’s footsteps to hole up in a cabin and write a novel in Scotland or Ireland, but for now, life in Paris continues to feel more alive and better illuminated than anywhere else I’ve been in the world.
 | A guest post by
|
7 Questions, or, an Interview
I loved this, your writing continues to be amazing 🤩
I enjoyed reading this so much. Thank you Samuel.