Interview: Kirstin Valdez Quade

Albert Liau: The Five Wounds is a fantastic reading experience. It is an immersive story, and for those of us who are looking, we can find craft elements being used to these degrees that at least I had not…
Albert Liau: The Five Wounds is a fantastic reading experience. It is an immersive story, and for those of us who are looking, we can find craft elements being used to these degrees that at least I had not…
The woman sitting in front of me loudly whispers in her crying baby’s ear, “Sobby Robby, stop it. Shut up, Sobby Robby.” There’s a glob of hard dirt stuck below her right ear. Or maybe it’s a birthmark. Her…
By Jessica Lampard • Revealing character—not just how a character serves the story, but who they are beneath their public persona—is the bedrock of all good fiction. It’s how real truths about human nature take hold within our imagination.…
On the day the buyer is to come, my aunt and I put a green dress on the baby, sleek her hair, and fit a cap on her. The baby’s socks are different―one is yellow with two white stripes,…
When the drink arrives, it isn’t because I’ve ordered another. The server floats a short glass from her tray to kiss the back of my hand on the table. What was once, until recently, my favorite kind of short…
I ignore him as he takes the chair across from mine, though I knew of course that he’d be here—back porch of the local backwoods dive bar, the night cool, the back of my neck burning. It is November…
Francine always did her shopping on a Wednesday, which used to be her favorite day of the week. She was born on a Wednesday and first gave herself to Peter, emotionally and then physically, on two separate Wednesdays. Billy…
Christmas, 1978. I recognized my father’s rushed, angular handwriting in Santa’s note beside the empty scotch glass and plate of sugared crumbs on our coffee table—but I was eight, and I wanted to believe. That year, my father bought…
He sighted down the barrel. He could see her legs moving, her arms pumping. She was wearing a billed cap, probably her 49ers hat, and she was running down a road on the other side of the forty-acre cleared…
They thought I’d be the best kid on the team, made plans before the season started, me at striker or wing—using my speed to split defenders, Inside Scissors to a Step-Over, moving that ball from heel to toe like…
The majority of my creative nonfiction is really just the extraction of memories. Some are exact and accessible and as sharp as a picture—running on a soccer field in the early autumn, the grass and dirt stained socks, the immovable sun, leaves turning colors, the white and black checkered balls pinging back and forth. All these details are invaluable to recreating the memory and each sticks to each other to build the scene. This part of the writing is my favorite. I can focus my attention cinematically, as if on a dolly, and follow the action. Here, I exercise the poetic muscles I’ve built over the years of writing poetry and lean entirely on language and descriptions—on metaphor-rich and image-driven storytelling—stories that are as in tune to cadence as they are to syntax and rhetoric. But the real challenge is blending poetry and prose; it’s in creating a story where something happens, where something matters, and this story is one that matters. “When Steve Urkel Played Soccer” is an exploration into the stereotyping of Black and brown boys, but it is also just about a kid trying to fit in. Creating that balance is very important to my storytelling, marrying the individual to the universal. Yes, this story is about tokenism, about being one of the only minority kids in town, about being stereotyped, about how color is somehow equated with athleticism, about how all Black and brown people somehow look and are considered the same—and yet, this story is really more about failing and the humiliation that follows. I believe that is more powerful—that my readers, no matter who they are, can see themselves in my narrator, in me, and feel empathy. I believe that makes a good story.
DAVON LOEB is the author of the lyrical memoir The In-Betweens (Everytime Press, 2018). He earned an MFA in creative writing from Rutgers-Camden. Davon’s work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net and is featured in Ploughshares Blog, CRAFT, PANK Magazine, University of Nebraska Press, Pithead Chapel, Split Lip Magazine, and elsewhere. Besides being a writer, Davon is a high school English teacher, husband, and father living in New Jersey. Currently, he is writing a YA novel. His work can be found at davonloeb.com and on Twitter @LoebDavon.