Michelle Tandoc-Pichereau grew up in Manila, lived for a time in Los Angeles, and now resides in Bretagne, France. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in GUD Magazine, The Humanist, Eclectica, SmokeLong Quarterly, elimae, Word Riot, Brink Magazine, Raving Dove, flashquake, and other magazines. In addition, Michelle was a finalist for SmokeLong Quarterly’s 2008 Kathy Fish Fellowship. Visit her newly launched website.

I would describe much of your work as writing with a social conscience. Is that a fair assessment?

I hope so. I hope to capture what is happening around us and make a stand. If I were not writing, I’d probably be standing in a picket line or in front of a tank–although of course, one could do both.

What social issues have you tackled in your work?

It’s a mixed bag—the rape of women and children in Darfur, illegal immigration, sexual and domestic abuse, women’s rights, abortion, war, the Cambodian crisis, discrimination on different levels, and religious intolerance. I read the news every day, and when the Muse is kind, I write.

In fact, aren’t you putting together a collection of fiction based on humanitarian themes?

That’s the dream! “Brevitas” is a flash fiction anthology divided into three main sections that all together speak to what’s happening in society today and attempt, or at least that’s my hope, to make readers think, spark an exchange of views, and inspire them to action. The first, “Gravitas,” is tragedy, the darker underbelly, the ills that plague us. “Levitas” is both life’s comedy and farce. “Veritas” is the interpretation of our beliefs, or what we see as truth.

Is there a particular part of the world you’re more interested in, or find yourself writing about more often?

There’s so much to discover that if I could learn and write about every inch of it, I would. I do hope I can someday write about my home country, the Philippines. I’ve actually met people who equate being Filipino with being a nurse, accountant, house help or nanny. I hope to correct and expand that picture, and to share what I love and admire about our culture.

I think Filipinos are incredibly hardworking and resourceful, for example. We make excellent chameleons and entertainers. And we’re quite paradoxical. Family ties are incredibly important and yet most parents would sacrifice not watching their children grow up in order to work abroad and provide them with a better future.

Having lived in three countries, you’ve been exposed to different ways of life and different governments. Will you compare and contrast each culture from your own experience? What are your personal “politics”?

The more I experience different places, the more I’m convinced there’s no promised land. Every place has its shiny and screwed-up side, methinks. I really miss the sense of community and family in the Philippines, and how people respect their elders. I think it’s easier to earn a living in the U.S. As for France, I really admire how they’re uber-protective of their history, and of nature.

But you know, I also think cultures are slowly merging together, osmosis-like, which may be good or bad depending on your point of view.

As for my personal “politics,” can kindness be a political strategy? I’m so jaded when it comes to politics. It’s not an easy animal, trying to lead nations and solve issues. Everybody has conflicts of interest. All I ask is for elected leaders to be honest and kind. Oh, and to not impose their religious beliefs on the country as a whole.

Do you find it difficult to express yourself in a culture different from your native Philippines?

Sometimes. Some expressions don’t really have an equivalent in another language. What’s more, finding the right words doesn’t necessarily mean those words will carry the same weight for non-native readers. But as any writer or editor would say, that should never be an excuse for sloppy writing.

You currently have three novels “running in your head.” Can you tell us anything about them?

Wish I could, but I’m still coaxing them out of the shadows. I’m afraid that if I talk about them too soon, the need to write about them will disappear.

You actually think of yourself as more of a poet than a writer, however, so why do you focus on short stories and novels?

I don’t really want to label myself as anything—it would be such a blessing if I could write in any form, be it poetry, short stories, novels, plays or even film.

That said, I do have a soft spot for poetry. When I was six, my mom left to work abroad and she sent me a poem in one of her first letters. I remember writing a silly verse in response, something like “one plus one equals two, i love you” and she encouraged me to keep on. That’s how writing first got a hold of me, methinks.

Also, some of my fave authors are poets—Nobel Prize winner Wislawa Szymborska, for one. It’s amazing how she can say so much in so few words! Janet Fitch, another fave, said that poetry plays a great part in her fiction writing. She always reads poetry before she writes, to sensitize herself to the rhythm and music of language. I think that’s great advice.

Did your mother write the poem she sent you? Who else has encouraged you to pursue the craft?

No, but she did write when she was younger, and has always been supportive of my goals. I’m lucky to have people who cheer me on unconditionally—from my mom, to my family in the Philippines and Canada, to my friends, to my husband Bernard, who has been my best editor and critic.

Do you prefer to write, or read, a particular style of poetry?

Long answer is that content matters more to me than form, so as long as the words resonate, I’ll enjoy anything, from haikus to free verse to something more traditional, like sonnets and villanelles.

Short answer is that I love prose poems. I’m a firm believer in midtones, in the multiple sides of an issue. Prose poems, having one foot in prose and the other in poetry, is a fun form for me.

Are you a visual artist as well?

I wish! But I do like taking photos, sketching and playing with images on my Mac. The things you can do with a computer nowadays is just mind-boggling.

Talk about your different writing journeys—from studying in the Philippines, to script reading and grant writing in Los Angeles, to writing fiction full-time in France. Has place determined opportunity in any way?

Ten years ago, right after getting my Communications degree, I moved to L.A., to chase the American dream. Then, last September, my musician hubby and I started a sabbatical in France, to focus on our creative projects. Both times, the decision came quickly, sort of like jumping onto trains as they hurtled past and keeping our eyes wide open.

So did place determine opportunity? Yes. But the inverse is also true. Wherever you are, I think it’s as important to create chances as it is to take them.

When I arrived in L.A., I didn’t have any work experience as a writer, so I did odd jobs and incorporated writing into my responsibilities—volunteering to write brochures, penning articles for the employee newsletter, that sort of thing. I studied fundraising books and was thankfully hired as a grant writer, which I later parlayed into an editorial job at a communications firm. Throughout it all, I took courses, joined writing groups and wrote.

I do think it’s easy to be distracted from one’s goals, however, and to feel undeserving when opportunity calls. Now that I have time to just write, I feel incredibly guilty. How can I help my family if I’m not making money? How can we save up for retirement? With costs of living skyrocketing each day, are we really doing the right thing?

But then I take a deep breath and let gratitude take the place of worry. We’ve been given a gift, even if it’s just for a while. I intend to make the most of it.

That’s an admirable philosophy—”we’ve been given a gift…I intend to make the most of it.” Are you the type of person who thinks deeply about life and its meaning(s)? On a personal note, what do you think “the meaning of life” is?

I have to laugh. My beautiful best friend Emily used to tell me that a chair is just a chair, that there’s no deeper meaning behind it. So yes, I plead guilty. I have the habit of thinking too much.

As for what life personally means to me, I’m still trying to figure that out. The picture is always changing, which is great.

I do know whatever I think or say is just that—personal. Like in John Godfrey Saxe’s poem about the blind men who each perceived the elephant differently depending on what part of it they touched, I think we all travel blind in this elephantine world of ours. I don’t think we’ll ever see the whole picture—but hopefully, by sharing and acknowledging each other’s ideas, we’ll get to see a little further out.