Curtis Smith is the author of The Species Crown, An Unadorned Life, and two short story collections published by March Street Press. His most recent novel, Sound and Noise, is forthcoming from Casperian Books in the fall of 2008. Curtis’ stories and essays have appeared in over fifty literary journals, including American Literary Review, Mid-American Review, Hobart, Greensboro Review, West Branch, Bellingham Review, and Passages North, among others. His work has also been included in a number of anthologies and has been cited by The Best American Short Stories, The Best American Mystery Stories, and The Best American Spiritual Writing. Visit his MySpace page and his website.

The work in your most recently published book, The Species Crown—a collection of short stories and a novella—varies widely in style and subject matter. Often times, it seems to me that a lot of short story authors explore the same themes, and essentially write the same story over and over again. It’s terrific when a writer such as you comes along and gives the reader something new and different every time. How close to the surface do you find material, or do you often have to head to the quarry for it?

I enjoy trying to write new things or in new ways. There’s material and inspiration all around. I just have to be smart enough to look at it in the right way. Things strike us for a reason – at some emotional or aesthetic level – and it’s usually in a realm outside of language. To discover why something strikes me and then to put a tag of words on it – that’s cool – and fun. In that sense, I never the leave the quarry. Recently I’ve found a number of my stories featuring Russians and monkeys. Maybe someday I’ll figure out why.

Sound and Noise, your second novel after An Unadorned Life, is forthcoming from Casperian Books in the fall of 2008. What’s at the root of this story? How long did it take you to write it?

For the past twenty-five years, I’ve taught special learning at a public high school. I’m one of the resource room people – so I get to do a bit of everything. I do a lot of math, a lot of science. The idea for the title came from a conversation I had years ago with a physics teacher who defined the difference between sound and noise using the old tree-in-the-forest deal – a tree falling in the forest makes a sound, but noise requires an ear to record it. I started thinking of that concept in human terms – how we spend our lives making sounds hoping they’ll register somewhere as noise. The book is about faith and fidelity and art and love – and the sounds and noises we create in our attempts to make these things come true in our lives.

I think it took me two years or so to write. It’s probably about seven or so years old. It was taken by another publisher who went under – but theirs wasn’t a quick demise, and I’m more of a loyal, go-down-with-the-ship sort of person, so that took up a few years. The upside is that when it came time to shop it again, I knew I had a pretty polished piece – and now that it’s been taken up by the good people at Casperian, I’m thankful for the bizarre journey that led me to them.

And aren’t you prolific! You have another novel in the works for potential publication in 2009. How do you do it? Give us a preview or two of this one.

For some reason, the discipline to write isn’t hard for me. I can’t wait to sit down – if it’s for twenty minutes or an hour or – luxury or luxuries – two hours or a whole morning. I crank out a lot of work in my teacher’s summers. And during the school year, I set aside a block of time in the morning and some more at night. And in between, I write over lunch or with any other bits of free time that float my way. The absorption in the process is its own reward. I love thinking and planning – and I really love revision, going back and trying my best to make it sing. All I need to do is write a kicking sentence or shine up a paragraph to make me feel like I’ve come away from my desk with something worthwhile.

This novel is a David and Goliath story that pits a rather lost young man against an entire political movement led by a man part Will Rogers, part Mussolini. It’s a lot of fun.

Let’s talk about small presses. You’ve published four books and have two forthcoming, all of which are small press titles. In addition, five of your six books have gone to a different small press. First of all, what do you like about publishing with a small press? Secondly, do you use an agent? Third, what should writers know about the small press game and breaking into it?

If I ever make any real money in this venture, it will be a bonus. I’ve already got the real prize of finding my art form. When people ask why I write, my standard – and probably true – answer is because I can’t draw. I wanted to discover something to do artistically and I lucked out in finding something I had some aptitude for. I’ve got a job that pays the bills, decent benefits – that bit of security allows me to keep the whole money thing out of the picture. The small presses I’ve dealt with have had such respect for my voice that I am indebted to them for allowing me be one of their authors. I got a taste of the bigger markets when I worked with my agents. Nothing against them, but I don’t want to write with their target market in mind. No, I don’t have an agent – I’m not ruling it out – but I just don’t see it happening with any of my current projects.

What do writers have to know about the whole small press scene? I’d say just be aware of it. The internet is great for finding them. Check them out – and then support them.

So you had an agent at one time? What was their vision for your work?

I’ve had three agents. I guess they saw more of a mass market potential for my work. So I gave it a shot — I tweaked here and there, took the suggestions they offered that made sense to me. But they all cooled after the first few waves of big house rejections came in, all of them more or less the same — nice writing, good characters, but not viable in today’s market.

Do you think your attitude toward writing would change if money were involved?

I’m sure it would — but I’m glad it’s not. It’s allowed me to keep it pure in a sense. Money and art — it’s not an easy mix. Some people can do it — but I have to believe the ones who pull it off are artists first and the money part just happens.

Do you belong to any writing groups? Who do you bounce ideas and drafts off of?

I don’t belong to a group. My wife reads my stories and essays before I send them out, but that’s about it. For my novels I have three or four readers I’ll send drafts to. I’m always looking for one or two more folks like that – I really like it when someone comes to my work and sees possibilities I’ve overlooked – it’s like a whole new door is opened and you see it all in a new light.

You have an impressive list of accomplishments. How long did it take you to get where you’re at? When did you start writing with an aim toward publication?

I started writing in my late twenties, and in the years since, I doubt if I’ve ever taken off more than a day or two to at least jot down some ideas. I started submitting right off – it took a couple years to publish my first stories. Then through my thirties, I’d place a story or two a year – and in my forties, I’ve seem to hit a nice stride. I’ve always worked hard – I think I just understand myself and my craft better now than I did before.

How do you choose the markets you submit to?

I cruise the web, read the journals – I like submitting to both established places and new ones. I’m drawn to print more than web – and I love a cool cover.

How has fatherhood changed you as a person? As a writer?

Someone once asked me if fatherhood was what I thought it would be. The answer was I had no preconceived notions of it – I knew it was beyond my comprehension. It’s one of those things that has to be experienced. Undoubtedly it’s made me a better person and a better writer. It’s a new type of empathy – thinking that everyone was once a child. What greater bit of commonality could we share?

Do you have a book you cherish above all others?

It’s got to be Gatsby. I still have the copy I read in high school, all yellowed and wonderful. I have sections highlighted and underlined, an old bus pass as a marker. It was probably the first book I ever looked at after I’d read it and realized I’d just experienced a work of art.

Your life would not be the same without:

We’ve already talked about writing and fatherhood and love and art. That just leaves us with beer.