An Interview with Author Susie Finkbeiner, Christy Award Nominee

  

Susie Finkbeiner

You received a Christy Award Nomination for All Manner of Things in 2020 and the book was a Michigan Notable Book winner. What did these awards mean to you? How have they influenced your career?

Honestly, awards are nice confirmation that someone noticed the hard work an author puts into their writing. They’re also good for giving courage to keep on writing. That said, I try my best not to think too much of them. When the awards come in, it’s easy for me to rest on my laurels and think I deserve the accolades. You know, the old ego can get pretty noisy sometimes.

The Christy Award Nomination (I didn’t quite win that one, but I was a finalist) was recognition by my peers in the Christian fiction industry. The Michigan Notable Book award was recognition by the Library of Michigan which has consistently given so much to me and my family by way of our local library and literary heritage in the State I love.

The Michigan Notable Book win was particularly helpful in exposing new readers to my writing, readers who might not have otherwise read my books. That’s the best result I can imagine from winning a book award.

 

All Manner of Things deals with a family’s experience with the Vietnam War. You recently published The Nature of Small Birds (July, 2021), which focuses on the same topic. Can you talk about why you decided to tackle this subject?

I grew up in the 1980s with a father who is a veteran of the Vietnam War. I heard stories about his year “in country” and what it was like to come back home. I listened to the music in the car with my parents and coveted my mom’s groovy bellbottoms. It seemed natural for me to spend time writing a few novels set in that era. I’m glad I did.  

In an interview linked to All Manner of Things being selected as a Michigan Notable Book winner, you mention that you come from a family of storytellers. How has this influenced your writing?

Writers have to surround themselves with stories in order to grow in their craft. For those of us fortunate enough to have been raised in a house with plenty of books, access to good public libraries, and families who share stories around the table — well — we might have an unfair advantage. I feel that my upbringing gave me a bit of a head start. I’m not complaining!

In addition to that, my family has supported me without exception. They cheer me on with every writing success and commiserates whenever I biff. They understand the importance of story. They’re such wonderful people.

 

In the same interview, you said that one motivation you have for writing is that it has a cathartic effect on you. Could you go a bit deeper?

I think that everyone has had to develop some coping mechanisms over the past few years. We’ve found ourselves in need of a way to process the realities of our circumstances and a way to stay sane. My husband goes out for a run. A friend of mine cleans her house (I wish she’d clean mine while she’s at it). My way of coping, of understanding the world around me, of staying emotionally and mentally healthy is writing. Even if what I’m writing has absolutely nothing to do with what I’m experiencing, it still is capable of triggering my brain to relax, assess, and find hope no matter what the situation.

You also mentioned that you are an avid reader, and that reading has helped you become a better writer. You listed John Steinbeck and Wendell Berry, among others, as writers that you admire. Could you mention a few more, and why you hold them in esteem?

Oh, man. I could list a thousand names. Daniel Nayeri, Patricia Raybon, Maggie O’Farrell, Nguyen Phan Que Mai, Katie Powner, Gary D. Schmidt, Rachel Joyce, Jason Reynolds, Jocelyn Green, Leif Enger, Tobias Wolff, Jasmine Warga…I could do this all day long.

What I most admire about these authors (and the thousand more I adore) is they write with emotional honesty. They don’t hold back, but they also don’t sensationalize. These authors cause me to feel when I read their books. They show me pieces of the world I might not          otherwise experience. They write beauty and hope onto every single page.

 

You’ve stated that hope is a big theme in your writing. These days, where do you find hope?

I’m writing this answer just a handful of days after an 18-year-old with an assault rifle entered an elementary school in Uvalde, Texas and took the life of 19 children and 2 teachers. We’re still learning details of the attack, hearing stories about the families who lost loved ones, and we’re all remembering the history of school shootings that have happened over the past twenty or years.

If I’m honest, hope is hard to come by this week. I have to work a little harder for it than I
usually do.

Even so, I do have hope and I’m holding onto it for dear life.

Last week (before the shooting) I attended my local orchestra’s performance of Mahler’s Resurrection Symphony. The evening was dedicated to the people of Ukraine. Rightfully so.

If you haven’t listened to that particular symphony, I highly recommend it. And I encourage you to look up the translation of the German lyrics. Not only does Mahler acknowledge pain, suffering, and death, he points to courage, triumph, and renewed life. I’ve been contemplating that work much this week.

It fuels my hope.

 

Susie Finkbeiner/Jocelyn Green

You said that “right now, we’re seeing a lot of echoes [for example, the civil rights movement and the sexual revolution of the 1960s] in history.” And that now is a time when we need to listen to each other. Could you say a little more about that?

History is more of a cycle than a line. At least that’s how I see it. While what we’re experiencing now isn’t a repetition of history, it’s akin to it. Pandemic, political strife, cultural upheaval (for both good and bad), extreme violence, etc. Even fashion joins in on the cycle.

Recent events follow that spinning cycle of years.

And we need to talk about it. We need to listen with the goal of understanding — not just people we happen to agree with. We need to listen to people who we think are dead wrong. Because, whether we like it or not, we share this history with each other. This moment isn’t just for us and the people we agree with.

That’s not to say that we enable hate or violence or backward thinking. But how do we have any hope of encouraging someone to change their mind if we write them off before giving them a little time.

Wouldn’t it be something if, a hundred years down the road, historians looked back and the story wasn’t about strife, but about how people worked together to actually fix a problem?

 

Can you talk a bit about the importance of empathy, and writing ‘with a light hand’?

Empathy is a key tool in understanding others. Not only that, it’s what motivates us to want good things for each other and to want to eliminate and prevent suffering. Empathy is part and parcel of what makes us human. If we don’t possess empathy for others, we’re missing out. On top of that, a lack of empathy hurts society as a whole. I often wonder if that is one contributing factor to the struggles we have in our world (historically and currently).

As I see it, empathy in the writer informs a certain kind of gentleness that extends to the reader. That’s not to say that I avoid difficult subject matter or deep emotions. It just means that      I write in such a way as not to preach at my reader, to be careful with them emotionally and spiritually.

 

You’ve said that Julian of Norwich influenced the title of All Manner of Things. You used a well-known quote of hers: “All shall be well, all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well. Can you expand on that?

I think that it’s common to slip into tunnel vision when encountering difficult times (such as the characters from that particular novel face). In those situations it’s easy to think that all is lost, that goodness is gone forever, that nothing will be okay. But it’s in those moments that we need to remember that dawn always comes, that darkness doesn’t last forever. It’s essential to think back to times when we and others have overcome, endured, survived, and found joy on the other side.

 

You’ve said that “Michigan is so much of who I am. I just love our state so much!” As one Michigander to another, what do you most love about Michigan?

I’ve only ever lived in Michigan and I’m happy about that. Michigan not only has the BEST shape on the map (I mean, the Lower Peninsula is a mitten and the U.P. looks like a rabbit, fox hybrid. Could we be any cooler?), but we have the best inland seas (if you’ve ever seen them rage, you know they aren’t cutesy little lakes). We’ve got wild places galore and cities with all sorts of great things to do and see. We’ve got wild seasons and wild critters and some wild people too. We possess a distinct culture, accent, and the best ginger ale in the world (we all know Vernor’s will fix what ails ya!). On top of all that, we have a strong and talented literary community.

I’ve loved this State my whole life. Michigan, my Michigan.

 

How has your writing evolved over the years?

I think there’s a certain measure of evolution that every writer goes through over the course of their writing life. If they don’t grow and change, I worry that they suffer stagnation, which is not good for the creative soul.

My writing has evolved in many ways. I no longer write in clipped sentences and I have stopped trying for the shock factor. I pay much more attention to character development now than I used to and I spend a lot more time researching.

Honestly, the writing is harder now than it used to be. There’s lots more pressure. But I still (usually) love it as much as ever.

Is there anything else you’d like to mention?

Thank you for having me in this space. I appreciate your thoughtful questions!