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.

The new issue of the Oxford American is out, and get this—it’s a HOME issue! But not a home issue as in a fancy display of products and projects only a few can afford. Nope, this is a home issue about “the real places we live…and the intimate relationships we have with our domestic spaces.” The editors say: “There is no place like home, especially in a dangerous economy, and our writers specify why, offering perspectives on the homeless and the homesick, the modern masterpieces you’ve not heard about, the highs and lows of home ownership, and the settings the exude our personal histories and innermost secrets.” Sound good? Read some content online, or order this issue, by clicking here. I highly recommend it.

Five Star Literary Stories


This is a new blog that brings together the story, the editor, and the reviewer. Editors nominate a story from their journal, and the website’s “publisher” assigns a reviewer from his accomplished panel of writers. All stories appear on the web, so readers can check out the work for themselves. Pretty neat, right? Stories from Hobart, Vestal Review, The Summerset Review, and Night Train have received reviews thus far. Head on over to the site and browse around. Click here.

Michael Leone’s work has been published or will be published in Green Mountains Review, the Jabberwock Review, The Ledge, North Atlantic Review, the Southern Review, and the Saranac Review. He is a member of the National Book Critics Circle and writes reviews for the San Francisco Chronicle, the Plain Dealer, and the Kansas City Star. He lives in southern New Jersey with his wife and daughter.

How would you define your writing style as far as fiction is concerned?

I used to obsess about style. I’d read Nabokov and Faulkner and Richard Yates and yearn to write like they do, adopting their voices, the result being that I was writing phony stories. Now I don’t think about style at all. Style is who you are, how you walk, how you wear your clothes, the plaque on your teeth, the fungus on your toenails. (I do floss, and my toe fungus is gone, thank you.) For instance, I wrote a story that got published in FRiGG—which I’m grateful for—it’s called “Out of the Valley,” a period piece that takes place on a farm. But it’s not really me. It’s me trying to be Cormac McCarthy or Breece DJ Pancake or something (and failing). The story is a distillation of voices, but it’s not the real Michael Leone that my friends know, this geeky, neurotic guy who almost chopped his foot off the other day running his Cub Cadet lawnmower, the guy who lost his turnpike ticket last week because it scurried out the car window. I guess it’s a part of me, but it’s not my essence. If a writer has to think about style then they are thinking about manufacturing a style, which is only a form of posturing. Be who you are: in life and on the page. Send that one in to Bartlett.

That’s a great observation and piece of advice—be who you are. Don’t manufacture style. What stories have you written that are the real Michael Leone?

I’ve got one coming out in Sou’wester called “What’s with your Teeth?” that I think is the authentic me. I’ve written another called “Paper Tiara” that has yet to find a home. The newer stuff I’m writing seems more Michael Leoneish, and less derivative, I hope. Who knows? It’s a process.

You mention trying to write like Nabokov, Faulkner, Yates, Cormac McCarthy, and Breece DJ Pancake. Who else do you credit as literary influences? How do you separate your admiration for these writers from the desire to write (be?) like them?

Everything I read and love is an influence. Chekhov, Joyce, Flannery O’Connor, Katherine Anne Porter, John Cheever, J.D. Salinger, Raymond Carver, Leonard Gardner, Brian Moore, Larry Brown, William Gay, Antonya Nelson, Tim Gautreaux, David Jauss has a brilliant collection of stories called Black Maps. The stuff I hate, too, influences me, because it reinforces what it is I want to do and what it is I want to avoid.

Admiration and envy are good motivating tools, but at the end of the day, you are who you are. Stay true to that and your stuff will be unique.

You’re currently working on short stories, and trying to “come up with a gimmick to link them.” Why do you feel it’s necessary to have a linked collection? Are they easier to sell?

In this market you must have a novel, frankly, and the next closest thing is a linked short story collection, which more often than not is a transparent attempt to sell a bunch of shoddily strung together short stories. Sometimes, such a collection works, like Donald Ray Pollock’s “tour de force” debut, Knockemstiff, or Ron Currie’s God Is Dead. But I’ll be honest—I find novel writing daunting. I don’t know if I’m a novelist. I’ve written one, and maybe four or five unfinished ones, and they’re just crappy. I feel my short stories, however, do have enough weight and are rich enough with characters to be made into novels, if I can just commit to the process. It’s like I have novelist’s ADD or something; I tend to lose focus, or interest, for that kind of sustained narrative. I’m much better in shorter bursts, which makes me feel like a short story writer. But I shudder to think this, because in this market, short stories are so arcane, so overlooked, I may as well be writing Petrarchan sonnets.

How long have you been writing book reviews? How did you get the newspaper gigs?

I’ve been writing for newspapers for about three years. I started out writing reviews on Amazon, believe it or not, basically because I was bored. I wrote little blurbs about books I liked, or didn’t. Then a friend of mine suggested I send some out and actually get paid for it, which I did. I started first at free places, a few online, a few in print, and built up some clips, and after some time, say a few years, I mailed off these clips to every conceivable newspaper across the country. It takes a lot of scrambling, lots of envelopes and stamps—just like submitting fiction. Occasionally, the editors bite, but most often they don’t. I was lucky a few did.

National Book Critics Circle. What is it, and how do you join?

Um, it is admittedly a fancy sounding organization, but the truth is, if you have some clips published in newspapers and fifty bucks to spare—voila!—you’re a member of the National Book Critics Circle.

Are there specific guidelines you follow when writing book reviews?

Yes. John Updike has guidelines he uses, too, and I follow some of those. For one thing, I always try to quote a passage from the book to give a sense of the author’s style. I refuse to simply rehash the plot. Almost every book review you read today, not only in the Sunday Times Book Review, but in such “esteemed” venues as The New York Review of Books, is a plot synopsis. It just boggles my mind. No attempt has been made to offer an analysis of the work, its themes, its characterizations. Of course, this is next to impossible in your average 600 – 800 word newspaper book review, but I try to see the work as a whole and honestly tell how I feel about it. The latter part can sometimes be a problem; frankly, most books aren’t very good, but I know it’s very hard to make even a bad one, so I try to find something positive to say in every review. There are a lot of great book reviewers out there, by the way, better than the ones you read in the really posh places. Google Todd Shy, Floyd Skloot, Irina Reyn, Eric Miles Williamson. Great writers who write intelligent, perceptive reviews.

For you, what makes a book good?

Great writing should leave you feeling a bit wounded. A rupture has opened in your universe and you will never look at life the same way again. I still remember trembling when I finished Madame Bovary. Same way with all great books: Bleak House, Lolita, Revolutionary Road, Fat City, The Great Gatsby, The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne, Stoner, Light in August, Mrs. Bridge. I also love comic novels, which are just as serious as any tragedy. Evelyn Waugh, Gogol, Robert Plunket. Of the latter—try finding a copy of My Search for Warren Harding. It is one of the funniest books I’ve ever read. I can only strive to reach those heights in my own work.

You’ve told me that you’re not “Mr. Serious Writer” guy. Does that mean you regard writing as more of a hobby, or were you referring to your personality?

I guess it was my way of saying, and perhaps it is my own insecurity, that to talk about writing is to seem very pretentious, especially when I don’t feel I’ve particularly earned the right to sound my opinion at all. Talking is easy, and if you let me, I’ll talk your damn ears off. The doing of it is the hard part. Maybe it’s the blue collar guy in me—though I work as a librarian! No grease on these hands. I grew up in a working class family. Dad was a cop, mom was a court officer: the municipal middle class. The truth is, I take writing very seriously, as anybody who knows me can attest. But I’m also not one of these thousand words a day dudes. I wish I was.

With the exception of a two week stint in Seattle, you’ve lived on the east coast your entire life. First of all, what made you go to Seattle, only to leave it two weeks later? Secondly, tell us what you love about life on the east coast.

“Love about life”? Is this a joke? I am the last person to describe anything that way. I visited Seattle once in the early 90s with an ex-girlfriend with the intention of living there but I found it too cool and bohemian for my tastes. Too many would-be artists lugging satchels and battered guitar cases and defaced notebooks to scribble their bad poems in, and within two weeks, we hurried back to the gritty glamour of New York. Of course, New York has its downsides too: expensive rents, crowds, noise, constant, earth-shattering construction going on. We moved to Brooklyn and had roaches the size of lizards in our apartment and mice, and this was not a cheap place. One night I came and saw my drunken super pissing on the side of our building. What a caretaker. That’s New York. Love it or hate it. I’ve since moved to southern New Jersey, and it’s been an adjustment, but I’m an hour and a half away from NY if I want it.

That’s true—you probably would not use the term “love about life.” You have, if you don’t mind me saying, a morbid sense of humor. So maybe you can end the interview by telling us a bad joke.

Why did the hippie move to the North Pole? To meet cool people.

Remember the lyrical Dennis Mahagin? He talked to the Writer Profile Project on May 10th of last year. Need a memory jog? Click here. So what has Dennis been doing this past year? Here it is, straight from the poet’s mouth:

Dennis says:

Allo, all!

It’s been a year of ups and downs for me, writing-wise.

I applied for a couple prestigious literary fellowships, and was roundly shot down in flames, both times, for my efforts!

I try not to read much into that reality; however, rejection stings— whether it comes from a magazine editor, or a panel of academicians. I try to keep in mind these words I heard Dorianne Laux say once, in an interview. Dorianne said:

“Remember: YOU are not your writing…” That is so true Choice words of consolation–from one of my favorite poets.

Also, there has been further delay, in the publication of my poetry collection. I’m philosophical about this, as well. Worrying about something which is beyond your capacity to control is an excellent way to waste your time and/or lose your mind! My fingers are crossed— that ’09 will be the time, for my book called Grand Mal.

On a positive note, I’m quite encouraged by the progress I’m making on my second book— entitled I, Q. This book is a combination of fiction and poetry, much along the lines of what Charles Bukowski pulled off with Septuagenarian Stew.

It feels like the book is three fourths finished, which in reality means: it’s a little over one fifth finished! However, I have some momentum going—and have begun sending out extracts of the book– to agents and publishers.

* crosses fingers and knocks wood *

Recent work can be found, or is forthcoming, in FRiGG Magazine, Exquisite Corpse, Unlikely Stories, Pequin, Zygote In My Coffee (Poem Of The Week, Issue 106), Juked, Stirring, Underground Voices, and Everyday Yeah (People Who Died In ’83 Feature).

Here’s wishing a very productive ’08, to all my scrivener pals in cyberland.

Keep the Faith, y’all.
Follow your Heart.

J.M. Patrick lives in Connecticut where she works for an engineering company. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in NOÖ Journal, The Summerset Review, Pequin, Juked, Night Train, SmokeLong Quarterly, and other places. Visit her online at www.jmpatrick.org.

You’re a young lass. How long have you been writing with an aim toward publication?

I am a young lass, I’m 22. I used to be petrified that people would discredit my work if they knew how old I was. I thought it might be held against me, but I really underestimated the writing community. It still worries me, sometimes, when I know I’ll be meeting editors or other writers in person, but I’m growing more comfortable with it.

I’ve always had an aim toward publication. I distinctly remember telling my first grade teacher that I wanted to be the youngest published writer in the world. She was nice enough to let me believe that was possible. My first publication was a poem in one of the Chicken Soup for the Souls when I was 13 or 14.

Now, I read it and I’m humiliated, but at the time it was really exciting. Seeing that book for sale in the grocery store really solidified my desire to do write for publication. Now, I’m just chasing that feeling.

It’s interesting you thought your young age would be held against you. It seems like we’re living in such a youth oriented culture (here in the United States anyway).

I didn’t know what to expect. I suppose it was my own insecurities – looking up at all of these fantastic writers and thinking “Oh boy…” I live in Connecticut, not quite a metropolis of art and culture, so it was a little difficult to gauge what the reaction might be.

Most of your published work is flash fiction. Is this the form you started out in? What do you like about flash?

It’s the first form I’ve taken seriously. I thought I was a poet when I was younger (like most teenaged girls), but I’m pretty terrible at poetry. I went to an arts high school for creative writing, so I was lucky enough to have been exposed to a number of different forms pretty young. Screenwriting, memoir, humor, poetry. I tried all of them, but the only one I was any good at was flash.

There’s something so raw about really good flash fiction. Something almost primal. The more restrictions you have, the more creative you are forced to be, I think. When you’re working with less than 1,000 words it’s a challenge to fit as much as you can into that space and still have room to move around.

Flash is also a bit of a Rorschach test, for me anyway. It leaves enough room for the reader to breathe their own life into it, which is what I appreciate most about art in general.

I’m trying my damndest to write short stories, but I’m having a hard time. It feels like walking on solid ground after jumping on a trampoline – I’m trying to change rhythm and it’s difficult.

I love hearing about these types of schools. Was it private? Charter? How do you think the education you received compared to the standard high school experience? Tell us more!!

ECA was a magnet school – students apply for one of the five departments (visual arts, dance, writing, theater or music). We took core classes in the morning at our regular schools and study at ECA in the afternoon.

It was a life-changing experience for me. I grew up in a suburban, all-American town and my high school was very sports-oriented with very little interest in the arts. If it hadn’t been for ECA, I wonder if I would have pursued writing at all. We had wonderful teachers, all working artists, who really showed us that it was possible to make a living in art; something I really wasn’t aware of until then.

I took Circus Arts as an elective one semester. I learned to ride a unicycle and juggle. Our teacher was a hippie clown, one of the greatest people I’ve ever met. During the first class he told us “everything can be funny.” It’s quite a bold statement, but I’ve learned it to be true, and it’s a lesson I never forgot.

The writing department was located in an old temple – a beautiful building that was flooded with bright colored lights from the stained glass windows. It was a small department, maybe 30 of us in all, separated into two “classrooms” where we sat at big round tables and work-shopped. It seems that in most public schools the “art kids” are kind of outcasts. My first day at ECA felt like a homecoming. I kept thinking “all of these people are just like me!” I can’t say that of my public high school experience.

You’ve talked about compiling your stories into a collection. What elements must you take into consideration when organizing your work?

Readability. My flashes are great on their own, but sometimes together they’re too much.

Since I put them all together and read them one after the other, I’m much more aware of myself as a writer. I write about sex a lot, and religion, and horribly dysfunctional families. I hadn’t realized that. I use the second person more than I care to admit. It’s fascinating how a flash can work so well on its own, but sandwiched between others it doesn’t read the same.

It’s quite a trick trying to make it all work, and I’m definitely not there yet. I’m not sure if anyone would buy it as it is now. It’s missing something. When I figure out what it is, I’ll let you know.

Will your collection have a unifying theme?

I hope so. Right now it looks like “coming of age.” Most of the protagonists are young girls dealing with some gravely serious issues – death of a parent or sibling, abuse, addiction, abandonment. That sounds quite uplifting doesn’t it? I’d like to say that most of my characters are, at the very least, hopeful.

I’ve noticed that many of your stories are about family, and familial relationships.

Yes, family does seem to be a recurring theme. I should take this opportunity to say, on record, that my family is nothing like the people I write about. I feel bad for them sometimes, all these stories about extremely dysfunctional families.

My mother called just this weekend to tell me she’d read “Sail On, Silver Girl” at Between the Cracks. My sister was in the background saying, “Yeah! The first line is ‘My sister is finally dying and I am fucking her boyfriend.’ What the hell is that?!”

I have the habit, as I think all writers do, of taking parts of the people I love and writing them into characters. For this reason, my family, especially, has a hard time distinguishing between my fiction and non-fiction. They are terrified of my writing. Sometimes my father will actually stop himself from telling a story and say “I’m not going to finish this, she’s going to publish it somewhere.”

I’m not sure what it is that draws me to these familial themes over and over again. Children fascinate me, and family is really a child’s entire world. Maybe that’s what it is.

In the current issue of Tom’s Voice, you have a non-fiction piece titled “One of Us.” I’m impressed by your honesty, and the courage it must have taken to own this experience. Tell us about writing this very personal essay.

Oof yes, that was a tough one. That piece took a lot out of me. It was the only thing I wrote that month. I didn’t workshop it; I didn’t show anyone. I closed my eyes when I hit the “send” button.

Thank you for your kind words, but I have to say that my honesty and courage pales in comparison to the honesty and courage of someone who is struggling to overcome an addiction. Tom’s Voice is a blessing and I am indebted to Vanessa Gebbie for creating a magazine that says so, so much.

When I started dating the “you” in “One of Us,” I had no idea. I didn’t know that addiction reaches into all the tiny crevices in your life and destroys them, one by one. It’s terrifying to watch someone go through that, and it’s easy to be swept up in it.

I have great neighbors, I am lucky to live flanked by the two of the most patient and understanding men in the world, and if it weren’t for them I don’t think I would have been able to write that piece. They’re like living with therapists. They gave me the perspective I needed to step outside of the situation and realize that it was time to move on. I’m grateful that I finally reached a place where I could write something like “One of Us.” I never thought I’d see that day.

It was my finale, I guess. It was the last time I let myself worry about it, think about, or let it consume me.

You re-read The God of Small Things almost monthly? I love this book, too, but what about it compels you to sit down with it so often?

I read that book quite a bit, yes. I’m not sure if it’s monthly anymore, but it was at one point. God, Arundhati Roy amazes me. It just never gets old. I can pick it up and flip to any page and find something that just blows me away. Her characters, her prose. It’s just a beautiful book.

In the introduction to Best American Short Stories 2007 Stephen King said that all of the stories he selected made him want to grab the person next to him and say “Read this!” That’s what The God of Small Things does to me – every single time.

I read that growing up you wanted to become a famous writer, then you realized there was no such thing, and focused instead on “becoming a successful writer.” Have you come to any conclusions about what “success” means to you?

It’s funny – I think we’re all raised to believe that success and money go hand in hand. It doesn’t, for me. It never has (which is a good thing, because I’m not making any!).

Success is finding the right word, it’s an acceptance letter from a magazine I really wanted to be published in, or it’s an email that says “I loved that piece!”

The meaning of ‘success’ is always changing for me. My sister recently had a baby, and it completely shifted my definition of that word. She’s young, my sister, and he was a surprise. She manages the stress of everything that comes with being a young, working mom with such grace. That’s success. Doing all of that and not losing yourself in the process… Man, if I had an ounce of that motivation and determination…

If I can do what she does, I will consider myself successful.

You love children, and currently volunteer for Big Brothers, Big Sisters of Connecticut. What have you learned during your time there?

Self-awareness. I learned a lot about self-awareness. Being a Big Sister in the program is a huge responsibility in that you’re an assigned role model. That can be scary.

In the beginning I was so conscious of everything I said and did and wore and played in the car and brought along with me, but as time went on I learned to relax a little and enjoy myself. My “littles” have taught me more than I’ve taught them, I think.

What fictional character do you most identify with?

This is tough. It’s always changing. Right now I think I’m a lot like Holly Golightly from Breakfast at Tiffany’s (minus, of course, the prostituting). I’m in the process of learning about myself, as she was. We’re roughly the same age. I’m a scatterbrain, always relying on my neighbors to unlock doors or remind me to eat. I’m a little naïve and a lot dreamy. If I knew how to play the guitar, I’d certainly sit outside and sing “Moon River.”

I don’t normally do book reviews, but I want to say a few words about this book and its authors. Mary Akers is the first person I interviewed for the Writer Profile Project back in March of 2007. As my guinea pig, she was very graceful and forgiving of my newbie awkwardness. It was great working with her. Andrew was lucky to have such a partner! And from what I hear, Mary was equally as lucky in meeting Andrew. Together, they turned this project into a beautiful book that I, for one, will return to again and again.

At the time of the interview, the book, then called “Beyond Self-Help: Lessons from Siberia,” was being shopped to publishers. Less than a year later, the book was published and available for purchase. Whew! That seems quick, doesn’t it? That must have been a hell of a year. Good for them! This won’t be the last time you see Mary and Andrew as co-authors either. In this interview with Clifford Garstang, Mary reveals that they are working on a second book about aging gracefully. And of course, Mary is still writing fiction.

But let’s talk about Radical Gratitude, shall we? I don’t normally go for work that is even remotely self-helpish or religious in theme, but this book reads differently. Not only is a story being told in between the lessons, but the lessons themselves are unpretentious and, well, downright moving. Every lesson, from Radical Gratitude to Love Heals, is a terrific reminder on how to live thoughtfully and healthily. One of my favorite passages is about mindfulness:

“It also takes courage to be in the present moment. So much of what we do involves ‘futurising’ our time. Where will I go on my next vacation? What will I make for dinner? What should I do with my life?” These are important considerations, but we must be careful not to spend all of our time thinking about what is yet to come. The future will always be uncertain, but the ‘now’ of our lives iscertain. It is here and now. We are in it…”

As the passage goes on to say, this notion of appreciating the now is known in eastern philosophies as mindfulness. As a person who inherited a “restless” gene, this is great reminder for me. When that restlessness hits, I’m cranky. Everything annoys me (because I’m annoying me) and nothing that I’m presently doing makes me happy. When I slow down and appreciate what I have and what I’m able to do, I’m truly content and relaxed. So, when I hit a restless streak, I’m going to pull out Radical Gratitude and remind myself to quit being a whiner, because as the book says: “…if you are in a position to take things for granted, you are already blessed beyond your needs.” And coming from Andrew Bienkowski, who, as a young child endured several years of banishment in Siberia, who knows first-hand what it means to suffer severely, I will listen. He’s not preaching what he’s been instructed of him. He’s sharing what he knows personally.

On the subject of religion. I’m the person who sees the word God or Bible, and runs in the opposite direction. Am I an atheist? Not necessarily. I just don’t subscribe to any religion, philosophy, or definition, and I don’t appreciate it when others try and sell me their brand. What’s great about this book is it doesn’t force a viewpoint on you. Yes, religion and spirituality play a role. In the story of Andrew’s family, their life is what it is, without apology or evasion. Andrew’s grandmother had a strong belief in Catholicism. We learn about her beliefs without being asked to adhere to them, or told they are the correct beliefs to have. In the lessons, spirituality, or faith, is present, but for the most part, it’s inconspicuous. When it does come in to play, the authors leave the meaning of the terms up to the reader.

This is not a book for the religiously minded. It is a book for the human race.

Purchase Radical Gratitue.

Dave’s interview for the Writer Profile Project went live on March 29th of last year. He talked about SmokeLong, acting, writing plays, being a dad, and more. Read it here. What has he been up to since then?

Dave says:

Because the name of this is “The Writer Profile Project,” I feel like I don’t have much to say about what I’ve been up to the past year. I did manage to write a whopping two flashes, though! One of them, Nothing, was solicited from a private office at Zoetrope by Miriam Kotzin at Per Contra, and appeared there earlier this month. I like the other one, too, but it needs some re-working. Two sounds pathetic, but it’s an increase in volume over the previous year.

I’m also done contracting at Microsoft, and started working for a very cool architectural firm in Seattle, building web applications for them. Through there, I learned about an event called Pecha Kucha, and I’ve presented work from SmokeLong there twice now. And I went back to speak about writing to high school students at my alma mater for their annual Writers Week. That was a phenomenal experience, one I still need to blog about. And SmokeLong is closing in on its fifth birthday, so we’re busily putting together a special issue to celebrate that.

And the boys are great. They’re nine and (almost) seven now. They’ve both become involved in mixed martial arts, and received their first belt promotions recently. I got a little misty presenting Cam’s belt to him, because I could see in his face how very seriously he took it. Zach’s less serious about it, but having a ball, and it’s hilarious watching him make running attacks on the punching bag only to go bouncing backward through the air onto his butt. Good times.