Kira Leigh on Feeling Your Story Deeply

Inspiration is a funny thing. It can come to us like a lightning bolt, through the lyrics of a song, or in the fog of a dream. Ask any writer where their stories come from and you’ll get a myriad of answers, and in that vein I created the WHAT (What the Hell Are you Thinking?) interview. Always including in the WHAT is one random question to really dig down into the interviewees mind, and probably supply some illumination into my own as well.

Today’s guest for the WHAT is Kira Leigh author of the upcoming debut series, Constelis Voss, a queer, anime-inspired, psychological sci-fi trilogy.

Ideas for our books can come from just about anywhere, and sometimes even we can’t pinpoint exactly how or why. Did you have a specific origin point for your book? 

As I’ve been writing CONSTELIS VOSS in various forms for over 3+ years—and I’ve had the characters for far longer than that—it’s really hard to pin down an origin point. It comes from a lot of places: real-life challenges I’ve faced, my love for 90s anime, the hardships of my friends, and wishing that we could all just cut through the arbitrary bull of hegemonic life and start really caring for each other as the messy, imperfect people we are.

To get to that point, I worked backwards: to tackle a problem, we have to identify it, analyze it, find its weak points, and destroy it. It’s a literary exercise in expelling demons on many fronts. Societal demons, personal demons, and the phantoms of what boxes constrict so many.

It’s so many different things, but I guess the easiest to package answer is that its origin is a contemporary absence, in many ways. 

I didn’t see many characters like me, stories I could relate to, or concepts I thought important to touch on. I knew they were out there, but they were in different genres. Different media pieces. Different time periods, even. The execution of what I want to see is so rare right now.

I had to write what I didn’t see happening, now. All passionately made art comes from defining what isn’t and what you want. It’s desire and longing. I wanted to read characters like me. Complicated, messy, imperfect, queer as the day is long. So I wrote them. I gave them important challenges to tackle—probably far too big for them to be honest—and hoped they’d succeed. 

It’s in that seed of absence, that origin of longing for reciprocity and true progress, that CONSTELIS VOSS was born. It’s messy. It’s not perfect. But it was created as a solution to the lack of something in contemporary media. I think I succeeded.

Once the original concept existed, how did you build a plot around it?

I’m a notorious pantser when it comes to writing. I more or less let the characters react to obstacles in play, concepts I find vital, or events that have to happen, and if it pans out it pans out.

I had an initial throughline because this story started as a DnD-esque roleplaying game. Think: group storytelling with multiple characters and writers. But as that story quietly fell away into the night, and I still had so much more I wanted to tackle, I started writing it all on my own.

I started with that basis, carried my ideas through, and it fell into place. It wasn’t a difficult concept to plot around, because it’s incredibly important to me.

Have you ever had the plot firmly in place, only to find it changing as the story moved from your mind to paper?

I don’t think meaning-making is generally static, so the notion of the plot/concept changing isn’t really a thing that I think about or something that bothers me. What I mean to say is that, well, there really aren’t any new ideas.  

There’s nothing inherently conjured that hasn’t been touched on before, in various media. Because of this, our stories and our concepts are often borrowed from the cultural and world-level tapestry of collective creativity. Moreover, the only actual true change we make as creatives in adapting the language of all the art that’s come before us is execution. Execution is everything.

Combining the prior ideas together; if meaning-making isn’t static (like life is ever-changing), and all ideas have been done but not quite in our way as individual creatives, change is natural and expected. Adhering to a rigid structure is foolish.

If the story had to diverge from the initial concept, there was a reason. Be it being inspired by a different form of media, a feeling, wanting to chase a beautiful/tragic idea, or otherwise.

In the end, if you’re good about truly staying in character and your concepts are as alive as your blood, you’ll never really lose your plot. Because it lives inside your bones.

Do story ideas come to you often, or is fresh material hard to come by? 

I am constantly inspired by everything and create on a daily basis. Either paintings, 3D animations, short stories, articles, or songs—you name it, I make it on a daily basis. Fresh material is easy. Having the energy and focus to devote to one specific thing? That’s challenging. Inspired by too much is a good problem to have, but I only have one brain and two hands.

How do you choose which story to write next, if you’ve got more than one percolating?

It’s moreso about what would benefit the whole of the work most of all. I’m a true believer that form and function must be married in art, and that art is a conversation between the artist and the audience.  

The form of CONSTELIS VOSS needs to be married to what I’m intending to do; which is very many conceptual things. When I say this, I mean to say I have to look at the work as a whole and decide what the best next play is. For myself, and for prospective readers. 

Would they like to know more about the individual characters? Perhaps a segmented novella is in order. Would they want to see what happens next? Then a sequel, which I’m already working on. 

I’m working on both, to be honest. A prequel novella told from multiple perspectives in systematic chapters, and a fun sequel that breaks even more barriers.

Depending on reader feedback, and depending on how I feel about what the strongest conceptual next step is, the choice will be obvious upon the release of the third book in the CONSTELIS VOSS trilogy.

I take my next choices in art-making very seriously, especially considering it’s aiming to be a long-standing IP.

I have 3 cats and a Dalmatian (seriously, check my Instagram feed) and I usually have at least one or two snuggling with me when I write. Do you have a writing buddy, or do you find it distracting?

Cats are lovely. We only have 1. I love him, but earnestly he is very vocal, and I have focusing challenges. I find it pretty distracting to have a ‘writing buddy’ but I do like reading my work to people, or just asking for feedback as I’m making it, so I know the form and function (and concepts) are working well.

I don’t need complete silence or anything like this—I actually write chapters to music, specifically chosen to color the writing and give me a good pace to create at, much like real-life exercise. But if there’s too much outside interaction, I tend to lose my spot. Not unlike losing your place in line.

I’d love to just sit with my cat Rolly on my lap and type away, but he likes to meow and paw my nose if I spend too much time doing anything other than cuddling him. Which I love doing...but I’d definitely never write anything ever again if he was my writing buddy. He demands constant attention and he’s adorable enough that he’d get it :)

Inspiration & Imagining 2030 with Michael R. French

Inspiration is a funny thing. It can come to us like a lightning bolt, through the lyrics of a song, or in the fog of a dream. Ask any writer where their stories come from and you’ll get a myriad of answers, and in that vein I created the WHAT (What the Hell Are you Thinking?) interview. Always including in the WHAT is one random question to really dig down into the interviewees mind, and probably supply some illumination into my own as well.

Today’s guest for the WHAT is Michael R. French, whose work includes several best-sellers, and has been warmly reviewed in the New York Times and been honored with a number of literary prizes. His new book Cliffhanger: Jump Before You Get Pushed imagines the year 2030 — viruses, spy drones, terrorism, and joblessness have eroded American optimism. People want something to believe in. As demonstrated in a Midwest high school election, politics have taken on the inflexibility and dogma of a new religion. Only true believers will survive and prosper. Or so they think.

How does inspiration usually find you?

Whether it's a lightning bolt or a slow-simmering memory, something that initially burns brightly in your imagination doesn’t necessarily age well on the page. For example, the allure of a plot or theme or characters  may fade by the middle of the book, and then you have to figure out why you’re no longer excited, and god forbid, what will the reader think?

Can you successfully rethink your initial inspiration, or should you go on to another story? Tough call, but to me if you struggle too much on a draft, best to park it on your hard drive for a while. I have a lot of false starts in my document file. Most of these die there. Miraculously, however,  some come back to life and you finish a book that exceeds your initial expectations.

Once the original concept existed, how did you build a plot around it?

Well, sometimes the original concept is the plot, a well-built one too. It’s like giving birth to a fully-developed baby after one trimester. A small miracle. So you end up spending most of your time on the characters who inhabit your plot. Don’t limit your imagination by thinking there’s only one way to finish your book.  The possibilities can be diverse. Putting together a finished novel is no less complex than a building a house from scratch. Neither are modest undertakings.  

Have you ever had the plot firmly in place, only to find it changing as the story moved from your mind to paper?   

It’s a good idea to know where you think your plot is heading, but don’t be in a rush to the finish line. Insights unavailable to an author in the beginning of a story suddenly appear in the middle or end. Your characters should come to life with quirks and actions that surprise you. Be sure to consider building on them.  

Do story ideas come to you often, or is fresh material hard to come by?

I had an imaginary gopher when I was five years old, and it dug imaginary holes in the family lawn. Thankfully my parents never doubted  my claims. If you give your imagination, curiosity and fantasies carte blanche at a young age, you may grow up to  be a pretty decent storyteller.  

How do you choose which story to write next, if you’ve got more than one percolating?

Writers I know sometimes feel plagued by too many stories percolating at once. Hopefully, one particular story feels so urgent that it demands to be heard first. Sometimes you have to exorcise it, like a wild animal has taken over your mind and won’t leave you in peace.

I have 5 cats and a Dalmatian (seriously, check my Instagram feed) and I usually have at least one or two snuggling with me when I write. Do you have a writing buddy, or do you find it distracting?

I love animals, but  when working I prefer to put myself in solitary. No distractions. The great author John Cheever once said that even a sip of sherry  in the evening can cause disaster in your writing.

Claudia Riess On Finding Inspiration In Art

Inspiration is a funny thing. It can come to us like a lightning bolt, through the lyrics of a song, or in the fog of a dream. Ask any writer where their stories come from and you’ll get a myriad of answers, and in that vein I created the WHAT (What the Hell Are you Thinking?) interview. Always including in the WHAT is one random question to really dig down into the interviewees mind, and probably supply some illumination into my own as well.

Today’s guest for the WHAT is Claudia Reiss, a Vassar graduate, who has worked in the editorial departments of The New Yorker and Holt, Rinehart, and Winston and has edited several art history monographs.

 Ideas for our books can come from just about anywhere, and sometimes even we can’t pinpoint exactly how or why. Did you have a specific origin point for your book?

While I was looking to jump-start the third book in my art mystery series—researching artists with interesting back-stories—I came across a quote by painter and chess enthusiast, Marcel Duchamp: “Not all artists are chess players, but all chess players are artists.” I thought about conjuring up a brain-teaser centered on one of his chess-board paintings, but decided instead to look for a contemporaneous chess player to see if I could find or invent a connection between them to get the ball rolling. I didn’t have to go far to find an apt quote from World Chess Champion, Alexander Alekhine: “Chess for me is not a game, but an art.”  Sheer serendipity to discover that he and Duchamp had played on team France in the 1933 Chess Olympiad and furthermore, that his death in 1946 remains a cold case to this day. The confluence of these events was the starting point for another mystery prompted, but not dominated by history.

Once the original concept existed, how did you build a plot around it?

Alekhine’s death was the springboard.  I had to come up with something related to that event that would emerge present-day—like unearthing a letter of Alekhine’s that could rock the art world. The letter would be addressed to a person of international repute and would offer information on art looted during Germany’s occupation of Paris.  The young man in possession of the letter would be brutally murdered and his mentor, Harrison Wheatley, art history professor and Harrison’s amateur sleuthing partner, art magazine editor Erika Shawn, would hurl themselves into the dual mission of tracking down both the killer and the looted art.   

Have you ever had the plot firmly in place, only to find it changing as the story moved from your mind to paper?

Often.  I start out with 5x7 cards, each describing a scene intended to advance the plot.  I then arrange the cards in consecutive order.  Once I begin typing all bets are off.  Scenes are omitted, others added.  The driving force of characters that come alive as they interact and move through space is far more compelling than jottings on 5x7 cards.  They may come up with a new plan of action when they’re in a tight spot—or over a cup of coffee.  Sometimes how they perform in a situation demands an explanation, calling for a scene to be added earlier in the story.

Do story ideas come to you often, or is fresh material hard to come by?

It’s easier for me to come up with premises that intrigue me—a uniquely conflicted relationship, a global issue with an unusual twist—than following up with proper stories, with subplots and arcs and resolutions.  Kind of like digging into a particularly rich dessert and feeling you’ve had enough of it after only a few bites.  But how much more gratifying it is, after these false start-ups, when an idea piques my interest and then sustains it.

How do you choose which story to write next, if you’ve got more than one percolating?

Right now I’m choosing among my art mystery ideas, since I’ve just signed a contract to come up with three more books in the series.  I may choose the idea that’s most timely, or the one that I think will challenge the protagonists most, or the one that’s been gestating the longest.  Most probably though, I’ll start doing some research on the historical events and the painters associated with these raw ideas, and a storyline centering on one of them will suddenly emerge and monopolize my attention.  

I have 5 cats and a Dalmatian (seriously, check my Instagram feed) and I usually have at least one or two snuggling with me when I write. Do you have a writing buddy, or do you find it distracting?

I’ve always had pets—cats and dogs—to keep me company, but now that I’m living in a small apartment in Manhattan, I only have my fictional dog, Jake, a loveable chocolate Lab, to vicariously snuggle up to.  He’s my protagonists’ (Erika and Harrison’s) old pup and come to think of it, when I’m writing a scene in which Jake plays even an incidental role, my pace slows down as I engage, with the characters, in a stroke of affection, a tender word. I suspect that Jake has the same effect on my blood pressure that a real dog would.