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Amy Scribner

NonfictionHumorEssays

Samantha Irby

Interview by Amy Scribner

Everything Samantha Irby touches turns to laughter, and this Q&A is no exception. The humor writer and essayist talked to BookPage about moving to Kalamazoo, Michigan, working in Hollywood and writing her newest book, Wow, No Thank You.

You are an amazingly candid writer, offering essays on everything from sex to your tough childhood to body issues. What topics are off limits for you? What topics would you like to tackle but haven’t yet?
THIS IS A TRICK QUESTION. I can’t tell you my off-limit topics because then it’ll become a whole thing and your follow-up question will be, “Well why don’t you write about that?” and then I’ll end up talking about a thing I don’t write about and then we will continue in a back-and-forth loop until one of us dies. So I’ma say this: I try to only write what I know about, which is why 99% of my work is about myself, because I don’t know anything and I can’t read!

You say your stepchildren are not allowed to read your books (as part of your hilarious “detachment parenting” theory). Surely you let your wife read your work, though. What is her general reaction?
I don’t let my wife read anything in which she isn’t specifically referenced before I send it to my editor, because I can’t shake off criticism. I don’t read or listen to anything anyone who isn’t editing me has to say about a thing I’m working on because the instant I hear it, it becomes a part of my body. That “this could be tighter” or “this part is confusing” crawls inside my ear and burrows its way into my brain where it will live until I pass away, still fretting about why my sentence structure is bad. I don’t read interviews or reviews or anything about myself ever, because I don’t have that gene that allows you to take critiques in stride and keep it pushing. Anyway, it was written into our vows that she is required to say that she likes every single thing I commit to the page, so I’ll never know what she actually feels, but I believe that she’s a fan.

“Nothing is fun when it feels like your life depends on it. That sounds extremely dramatic, but it’s real.”

It was fascinating to read about your time in Hollywood working in the writers’ room for the show “Shrill.” Do you see yourself working in Hollywood again?
I just wrapped a different Hollywood job! Although, we worked in Chicago this time, and the show shoots in Chicago, so it was just like going home to chill with my friends for a few weeks, not like fancy Hollywood. I was just in the writers’ room for Showtime’s “Work in Progress,” a show I was absolutely obsessed with when it first came out, so when they asked if I would join the room for season two, I leapt at the chance. I don’t know though. I’m not 19 and optimistic, show business fucking sucks, and everyone lies to your face while telling you how much they love you, and there’s absolutely zero transparency, which I never expect under any circumstances, but it’s jarring when it happens, and making the choice to be a 40-year-old beginner in an industry like that??? No thank you! I’m too old to be subjecting myself over and over again to that shit! I’m sure publishing has its detractors, too, but at least I’m already successful at that. So I’ll work in Hollywood when cool opportunities to work with genuine people I like present themselves to me, but I will absolutely never be a rabbit chasing breathlessly after that elusive stick.

What are you most proud of in your career so far?
That I spent 14 years at the same job (working in an animal hospital in the burbs), punching the same clock, and that I was dependable and reliable and really good at it. Creative writing isn’t a career, it’s an unrelenting anxiety dream in which my money and future are tied to the whims of people I’ve never met and a market over which I have absolutely no control. However, many years from now when I’m filling out the application to be a regional manager at Target because no one reads anymore, no one is gonna give a shit that once upon a time I wrote some books. They want to know that I have exceptional customer service skills, which I absolutely do.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Read our starred review of Wow, No Thank You.

You moved from Chicago to Kalamazoo, Michigan (which, until embarrassingly recently, I didn’t know was a real place). What was the hardest part about leaving a major city? What was a welcome surprise about the move?
The best thing about having moved is that there are a precious few people here who ever ask me for anything, and that is the best thing in the fucking world. It didn’t really dawn on me how great getting away from a city full of people with my phone number was until the first time someone hit me up like, “Hey dude, can you do my show for free next Thursday night at 11:59 p.m., I can comp you one well drink,” and I got to respond “SORRY NO I DON’T LIVE IN CHICAGO ANYMORE.” I miss my friends, and 90% of my waking hours feel like I am going to die without being in close proximity to them, but Jesus Christ, EVERYONE HAS A FRIGGIN PODCAST, and they all want you to come to their apartments after work and awkwardly try to hold a microphone while shooing away the dog, and I don’t have to make up an excuse not to do that anymore! “I can’t, I live in another state!” is the perfect way to get out of every in-person interaction I would die rather than suffer through. Technology is catching up to me, though, and people have started to pivot to “Hey, we can just Skype!” or whatever, but I just got a new phone number, so now I can avoid that shit, too. Everyone should move!

You wrote in an online book club chat: “I’m no good in New York. It’s so busy and everyone is mean.” In which cities are you at your best?
The Middle West. Chicago, especially. Detroit is a close second. Also: literally any place with more strip malls than people.

In your acknowledgements, you say you “had a weirdly hard time working on this dumb book.” Why was that?
Wow, you read that far? That’s hilarious! Hmm, well. I don’t know? I didn’t have writer’s block, per se, but I was extremely unmotivated to sit down and write for long stretches of time while working on this collection, and if I had to pin the blame on one thing, it would probably be that this time it was my actual job to be writing a book rather than a fun hobby I get to use as an emotional outlet. Nothing is fun when it feels like your life depends on it. That sounds extremely dramatic, but it’s real.

In your final chapter, you write about how you published your book and allude to the tail-between-your-legs emails asking writers you admire if they would please blurb your book. Who’s written your favorite blurb?
I love all my blurbs equally, especially since they were each so skin-crawlingly humiliating to get, but Jia Tolentino referring to my work as a “snack tray” I think really speaks to the essence of who I am and what I want my writing to be.

“I don’t believe in guilty pleasures. I like what I like, and I don’t care who doesn’t approve.”

You’re pretty active on Twitter, which is simultaneously one of the best and worst places on the internet. Do you encounter a lot of trolls? How do you handle them?
This is so funny because I don’t see myself as active on Twitter? Like, I make a pretty concerted effort to never tweet takes and only occasionally tweet jokes, because that place is a fucking toilet and I hate fighting and I’m also not smart enough to offer an educated opinion about anything that actually matters. I like to retweet things to promote other people while also trying to tweet links to my own shit at a clip that is steady but not nauseatingly so, especially since I decided a few years ago that the only way I could not feel like absolute shit on that website was to use my platform for good. I don’t need to dunk on idiots or react to articles I haven’t read all the way through. I just try to amplify people’s shit while scrolling through to get a laugh. All I want to do is laugh at shit and skim popular articles so that if anyone asks, “Hey, did you read [that thing everyone is talking about] today?” I can convincingly lie and say, “Yes!”

I’m sure I get trolled, but honestly idk about it? I mean, I have so few spicy takes that I can’t imagine what someone would want to climb up my asshole about, but I know there’s always something. Anyway, I have my settings and shit tweaked so that I don’t see anything from anyone I don’t already follow, plus I mute words and phrases I don’t want to see, which is basically the textbook definition of “self-care.” The whole “engage with trolls” thing is just not my fucking bag. The thought of arguing with a faceless stranger online has zero appeal to me? It’s not like people want to have a healthy discussion and exchange of ideas. They want to call you a fat bitch and tell you all the ways you should fucking kill yourself. I can’t dedicate any of the rapidly waning emotional energy I have left to that shit, and besides, I already have the death pills counted out! (jk jk)

I absolutely loved the chapter called “Late 1900s Time Capsule,” in which you offer up a mixtape of songs from the ’90s and divulge what they meant to you. What is your guiltiest pleasure music these days?
I don’t believe in guilty pleasures. I like what I like, and I don’t care who doesn’t approve. I’ve already lived through the years of telegraphing how cool I think I am to people who don’t give a shit, so now I just do whatever I want. That’s not the answer you’re looking for—I know you want me to embarrass myself even though I refuse to feel shame about pop music—so here you go: Every song on Katy Perry’s album “Witness” is a fucking jam, and also I absolutely cannot stop listening to the new Selena Gomez. Has your bloodlust been satisfied???

 

Author photo © Ted Beranis

We talked to Samantha Irby about moving to Kalamazoo, Michigan, working in Hollywood and writing her newest book, Wow, No Thank You.
NonfictionHumorEssays

Rachel Bloom

Interview by Amy Scribner

Comedian, screenwriter, actor and showrunner Rachel Bloom adds “author” to her list of credentials with I Want to Be Where the Normal People Are, a collection of personal essays and hilarious tidbits from her life and career. We asked Rachel a few questions about theater, mental health and the difference between writing a book and writing for her hit TV show, "Crazy Ex-Girlfriend."

The title of your book, I Want to Be Where the Normal People Are, is interesting since, if you actually were normal (whatever that means), you probably wouldn’t have had your extraordinary career. Do you still want to be where the normal people are?
No, because *spoiler alert* there is no such thing as normal. And if I did consider myself normal, all evidence points to the fact that I would be a shallow and boring person.

You write candidly about your experiences with mental health, specifically obsessive-compulsive disorder. Why was it important for you to share this part of your life? What message do you hope to convey to readers about living with mental illness?
This was the most important thing for me to share because it’s the biggest example of me feeling out of place and completely alone. For many years I didn’t talk about this part of my life with anybody because I was really ashamed, and it weighed on me. So I always knew that, especially in a book about normalcy, this piece of my story was essential. The messages I hope to convey to readers are that you’re not as weird as you think you are and you didn’t do this to yourself.

You not only sprinkle excerpts from your childhood diaries throughout the book but also share screenshots of the diary entries. That’s some serious sharing. What would 13-year-old Rachel think?
She’d hate me.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Read our review of I Want to Be Where the Normal People Are.

You cover a lot of topics in your book—from childhood insecurities to dealing with professional rejection to therapy. Are there any subjects you intentionally chose not to write about? Why?
Yes. Anything that reveals intimate details about people with whom I still care to have a good relationship, and any identifying characteristics of a few of the other people I talk about. I don't wish for anyone to be targeted, doxxed or canceled because of stories in this book. As far as that guy in 7th grade—yes, that is his real name, but it's one of the most common names in the world, so good luck finding him.

There’s a section in the book called “Normal People Choose Safe Careers.” What would your safe career have been?
Teaching—but I know how hard it is to be a teacher, so apologies to any teachers who are like “fuck you."

You say you’ve always been a theater kid. What was your best theater experience in high school?
I was in the musical Honk!, which is a musical about the ugly duckling, and it was the period of time when I fully found my group of friends and started to become way more confident as a person and performer. When Honk! ended, I actually fell into a mini-depression. I think I even said to myself, "The magic time is over."

What has been your favorite theater experience as a fan?
Hamilton. I know that sounds trite, but my Hamilton experience was as follows: I had just won a Golden Globe, and afterward I immediately flew to New York to do press. So I'd had no sleep and was incredibly emotional. I bought myself a single ticket to Hamilton for $800, and as the audience stood up at the end of the show, I started sobbing. I called my husband to say, “I cannot believe I’m seeing an audience react to a musical about history the way that people react to Star Wars. I never thought I’d see this. This is unbelievable.” I could not stop crying.

"There were long stretches of me putting stuff on paper and not knowing whether or not it was garbage."

You proclaim in the book that your celebrity cause is making amusement parks smarter. Now this is a cause worth taking on. I think your idea of a weed edible station would be extremely popular, and the “Get Born” Rapids that reproduce the birth canal experience is . . . interesting. How are you going to take this idea to market?
Well, I think it goes without saying that I need a billion dollars. So . . . do you want to give me a billion dollars?

You write fairly late in the book that “writing another book right now sounds like getting a pap smear in a World War I trench.” Was writing this book harder or easier than writing for your (amazing) TV show “Crazy Ex-Girlfriend”? What’s the biggest difference between the two?
They were equally hard in different ways. The hard part about the book was that I had no one to bounce things off of in the process of writing a draft. Once I turned it in, my editor was my unofficial writing partner on this book, but it’s not like I could read a chapter aloud to her to see what she thought. There were long stretches of me putting stuff on paper and not knowing whether or not it was garbage. And also, to be scientific: A book is a lot of words and a TV episode is less words.

You share several stories about being bullied in school in this book, including a particularly brutal incident in which a couple of popular girls convinced a boy to pretend he liked you. Have you gone back to any class reunions, and if so, did you bring your Emmy with you?
I actually missed my 10-year reunion because it was in the thick of season one of "Crazy Ex-Girlfriend," and I was just too tired, which is such a flex I guess. Not to be a downer, but high school was a lot better than middle school. So if I went back to a reunion, it wouldn’t be as triumphant as you’d like because, unfortunately for the sake of my own narrative, people got way nicer.

 

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Love audiobooks? Check out I Want to Be Where the Normal People Are and other nonfiction audiobook picks.

Author headshot © Robyn Von Swank

Comedian, screenwriter, actor and showrunner Rachel Bloom adds “author” to her list of credentials with I Want to Be Where the Normal People Are, a collection of personal essays and hilarious tidbits from her life and career.
Mystery & SuspenseSuspense

Megan Abbott

Interview by Amy Scribner

Despite the dance studio-setting of her new thriller, The Turnout, Megan Abbott was decidedly not a ballerina growing up.

“My dancing background is restricted to two years at a strip mall dance studio in Michigan,” Abbott says with a laugh. But that didn’t stop her from developing a lifelong fixation with ballet. “Like a lot of young women, because it’s so tied to femininity, I had a fascination with it at a young age. I read all the ballet memoirs. I loved all the stuff about ballet and about young women dying or contracting terrible diseases.”

Abbott famously writes intense, often noirish books. Her breakout 2012 thriller, Dare Me, was an unflinching look at the cutthroat world of high school cheerleading, and some of her 11 other novels are inspired by famous crimes from decades past. So talking to her on the phone from her home in the Queens borough of New York City is surprising; she is effusive and lighthearted as she talks about the inspiration for her haunting new book, The Turnout. 

It’s a beautifully written look at a musty ballet studio run by sisters Dara and Marie and Dara’s husband, Charlie, who came to live with Dara and Marie when they were teens. All three grapple with the trauma of their deeply troubled childhoods and the toll ballet has taken on their bodies. Once the most promising dancer of the three, Charlie has endured four surgeries and lives with ongoing chronic pain. “His body, still as lean and marble-cut as the day their mother brought him home, was a living reminder of how quickly things could turn,” Abbott writes, “how beautiful things could all be broken inside.”

“It seems the impulse is still there, despite everything, of women judging other women.”

The physically and emotionally grueling world of ballet was a subject Abbott had considered for years before finally sitting down to write The Turnout. “I was interested in the smells and the sort of fixations with the repetitions and discipline required,” she says. “The mind games dancers will do to get in that space.”

The relationship dynamics between women—how they both support and undermine each other—is a prominent theme in many of Abbott’s books. “When I started, there were a vanishingly few crime novels that had female characters,” she says. “I realized, oh, people haven’t really talked about [female relationships] so much in this world. . . . We know this [competitive dynamic] goes on and the way women talk to each other and are passive aggressive with each other. We know the casual comments that women know are a veiled insult—this secret language of women. [After] seeing how rich a mine it was, I just kept going back.”

One perhaps unexpected inspiration for The Turnout was the hit true crime podcast “Dirty John,” which tells the story of John Michael Meehan, a charmer who conned a successful California businesswoman into marriage with disastrous results for her and her family. 

“The listener comments would be almost entirely women commenting and basically trashing the [victims], these women who had been conned and brutalized,” Abbott says. “It seems the impulse is still there, despite everything, of women judging other women, particularly for their romantic choices. It’s obviously a really defensive posture, a fear that this could happen to you.”

When writing her suspense novels, Abbott starts out with a story and perspective in mind, but she remains open to her characters making choices, too, and she speaks of them as if they are co-authors. “We’re complex and complicated and ambivalent and change over time,” she says. “It does feel like they’re telling you what you want to do in the moment. I follow the breadcrumbs, so to speak.”

Constant change is an unavoidable part of another of Abbott’s passions: the “love story of her life,” New York City. She’s been a New Yorker since the early 1990s and has watched the city go through several iterations and waves of gentrification. “It was still a little rough around the edges when I moved here, then there was this Disneyfication and the slow ‘everyone is moving to the outer boroughs,’” she says. “Manhattan was becoming empty condos of wealthy internationalists, and now it’s coming back to life. I’ve seen many versions of it. I’ll never leave it.”

Despite this, Abbott does not set her books there. In fact, several of her novels are fairly vague on their exact locations, and that includes The Turnout, where the studio is set on the top two floors of a squat, rusty brick office building downtown—though downtown where is not readily apparent. 

“New York is home, so to me, it’s not exotic,” she says. “I do tend to want to write places where I don’t specify too many regional signifiers, so you can picture it and relate to it. I don’t want them to be quite that grounded.”

Living through the COVID-19 pandemic in the city was not easy for Abbott, but having consistent projects in TV and movie writing (including adapting The Turnout into a limited series) forced her to stay productive and focused. “Luckily I needed to basically write all the time during the pandemic,” she says. “With TV and film scripts, you literally don’t get paid until you finish it, and people are waiting! It gave me a rigor. Script work also kept me connected to people in a strange time. As a novelist, it’s a solitary life, but now I couldn’t even leave my apartment, so it was an umbilical cord to the rest of the world.”

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Read our starred review of The Turnout.

One of Abbott’s favorite recent TV projects was writing for the HBO series “The Deuce,” set in the seedy Times Square of the late 1970s. Abbott said it was thrilling, if daunting, to write about this period in the city’s storied history.

“I was so terrified that it really made me obsessively research,” she says. She describes most of her stories as being “very small . . . set in hothouses,” whereas the stories in “The Deuce” are “very expansive, with multiple characters and worlds like the police and pimps.”

Now that vaccines are available in the U.S. and the country appears to be opening up again, Abbott knows exactly how she’s going to reclaim her beloved city. “What I really missed, maybe the most, is a sweaty, loud, noisy bar with friends and the music throbbing and the sensate experience of that,” she says. “That experience of having to strain your voice to talk to your friends about some book you just read or movie you just saw.”

 

Author photo by Drew Reilly.

Despite the dance studio-setting of her new thriller, The Turnout, Megan Abbott was decidedly not a ballerina growing up.

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