Monthly Archives: April 2007

An Interview with DyAnne DiSalvo

I had no doubt that I wanted to do what I wanted to, and this was the way I was going to do it. Which meant going to publishers, and calling back agents, and getting in editor's faces, and not ever thinking that I wasn't going to get what I wanted. Because of course I was. Just, somebody give me the contract!

DyAnne DiSalvo

Photo credit: Brian Butler.

Your creative output is pretty striking, with dozens of children’s books to your name. Is there anything that you attribute your productivity to?

Well, I try not to judge myself. I try to be “my own best friend.” [laughter] Which is a lie. But I try not to get too wrapped up in the difficulty of the moment because I’ll just wallow in that for as long as I like, feeling bad for myself. So what I do is, I read. I play music. I have conversations with my friends about poetry or writing or whatever they’re working on. I walk my friend’s dog. I travel a lot. Whatever fills up that time. And I’m always thinking about my story, whatever I’m doing, as I’m doing it. And I think that’s incredibly helpful. I just allow myself to never lose sight of my art-piece and to live life.

Do you ever worry about burning out?

I think yesterday at one point it went through my head that “you’re not going to write this story, so why don’t you just quit it now?” [laughter] And I thought “But oh no! I have all these other things I have to do!” Because I have so many different story ideas that I can’t wait to pick up again and write. So I’m not at a loss for ideas. I’m just sometimes at a loss for how to put it together.

Right now I’m teaching myself how to write a novel. I’ve never written a novel before. The Sloppy Copy Slipup was humorous. And it’s pretty easy for me to be humorous and write short, clippy, fun things. But this is for fifth grade as opposed to third grade and they want a little bit more.

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An Interview with Jonathan Coulton

Musician Jonathan Coulton talks about his year recording a song a week, why it's good news when his characters start saying ridiculous things, and the value of solitude and boredom.

Jonathan Coulton

Photo credit: Emily Rawlings.

In the course of the year you spent working on Thing a Week, did you develop any techniques that seemed to help you tap your creative side?

I wish I could say that I developed a sure-fire strategy for writing a song. That’s one of the things I was hoping would come out of Thing a Week — that I could somehow discover a process that worked every time. But it was always different.

I spent a lot of time walking and riding my bike, mumbling under my breath, making up lines about things I saw or thought of. Ideally, one of those lines would be interesting enough to stick with me and grow into something. Sometimes I would get inspired early in the week and the song would sort of write itself. Other times I would think and think all week, and Friday would find me with no good ideas.

The one thing I did learn was that even the good songs have a point when they feel awful — for me there’s always this deep valley of self-doubt when it seems like I should stop writing and abandon the idea. But sometimes even the songs that started with bad ideas would have a very strong finish, and I would find that I’d pulled something really great out of nowhere. Not always — there were certainly some songs that never really got good. And I think that’s an important part of the process too — you’re going to write some clunkers for sure, but you’ll never really know unless you write them. Starting a song is easy; finishing it is a lot harder.

How did you stay focused and productive, particularly on those days when you were feeling a little less inspired?

JC: Solitude and boredom. If I ever found myself stuck, that was usually a good time to take a long walk or a bike ride. There was something about separating myself from all the instruments and gear in the studio that made things move forward — I think it’s easy to get bogged down in a particular detail when what you really need to do is brush lightly over the surface of the whole thing. And I have so many patterns that I rely on when I’m actually playing the guitar that it can sometimes be a hindrance to write with it in my hands — my brain makes different choices when it’s by itself.

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Category: Music/Dance

An Interview with Natalie Marrone

Choreographer and teacher Natalie Marrone talks about dancing with her audience, finding inspiration at the coffee shop, and traveling to Puglia, Italy to research the tarantella.

Natalie Marrone

Photo credit: Stephanie Mathews

Where do you find the inspiration for your choreography?

Eighty percent of the time, the music is what feeds me information. It may not be the music I wind up using, but for me, any kind of inspiration starts with a visceral response to sound and wanting to move to that sound. And the sound isn’t always a beat, although I love rhythm and using polyrhythm. When a soundscape comes on that’s speaking to me, it’s almost like I have a socket and it plugs in and I know that I need to go from there….

One of the things that always inspires me is a person’s story as it’s written on their body — especially as it’s written on their face. I might not have a job soon if this Botox thing continues. [laughter] I look at people. I look at their physical shape and I look at the way they move. And just for an instant I can almost be inside their being. It’s always something about the story in the lines, the wrinkles — the story of their life is written there. I need to sit at the local coffee shop and just look at people and watch them walk. And feel their walk…. The other thing I really need is in-nature time. I get a lot of sensibility about movement just from the wind sometimes or from sensing the path of wet leaves underneath my feet.

Are there any other day-to-day activities that you’ve found helpful?

Cooking. I remember one time I was on a calzone kick. [laughter] I was in Ohio, missing home. So there I am just trying to do this, and as I’m kneading the dough, I’m simultaneously evaluating what it takes physically to be working a calzone and understanding the sort of physiological structure that I’ve been born with as it’s meant to do certain work, and certain dance, and certain play.

When I’m cooking a lot, I have these moments where I can feel an entire history of people just in the musculature of my body, and an identification with an entire community of people that really has been lost in many ways. So I’m not talking open the jar. I’m talking grow the tomatoes.

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Category: Music/Dance