Whispers of Grief and Independence: Nahar Trina on Toni Morrison, Flash Fiction, and Rooted Displacement

This is a Part 2 of my interview with Nahar Trina. 

On Toni Morrison's Sula
EN: You translated Toni Morrison’s novel Sula into Bengali. What drew you to this particular book, and what challenges did you face in carrying Morrison’s rich, poetic language, cultural nuances, and emotional depth from English into Bengali? How did the process of translating her work influence your own writing, especially in terms of voice, rhythm, or exploring themes like friendship, grief, and Black womanhood? 

Nahar Trina: Before translating Toni Morrison’s Sula, I was a devoted reader of her work, and I still am. By the time I began translating Sula , I had already published four translated books. Among them were two collections of children's stories featuring tales from home and abroad, and a translation of a short story collection for adults comprising works by some of the most celebrated authors in world literature. Another significant project was translating ‘Death to Life, Bangladesh’, a book by Jim McKinley based on the 1971 Liberation War of my motherland. The modest confidence I gained from translating these diverse books largely gave me the audacity to take on this particular novel by Toni Morrison.

 

Truth be told, I encountered obstacles at almost every turn while translating Sula. It is a reality that proficiency in the English language alone does not guarantee a successful literary translation. This is because language is intrinsically bound to culture. While it might be possible to break down linguistic barriers, scaling cultural walls often proves to be far more daunting. Added to this was Morrison's highly distinctive and peculiar prose style.

 

In any translation, I generally strive to prioritize the contextual essence first and then focus on the literal words. I strictly adhered to this approach for this novel as well. To readers of world literature, Toni Morrison is a deeply revered figure. She possesses a narrative style entirely her own—one that is simultaneously intricate and mesmerizing. The more adept a translator is at dissecting the spellbinding nature of Morrison's language, the more lucid the core narrative becomes in translation. Personally, I believe attempting to translate her work is an act of sheer audacity, as her writing demands immense effort. When dealing with such challenging texts, a piece of advice from Gabriel García Márquez serves as a brilliant strategy: he noted that the easiest way to truly understand a foreign book is to translate it. My desire to comprehend Morrison's writing on a deeper level, combined with my growing fascination with her work, encouraged me to display this audacity. Furthermore, I felt that introducing the readers of my native language to the creation of such a rare and monumental literary figure would be immensely enriching. This thought also fueled my courage to translate Sula.

 

Moreover, as a translator, I felt that Sula had the power to create a profound impact on Bengali readers in various ways. Although published around 1973, its appeal remains  timeless —especially for women in a society like ours, where women are still compelled to live within patriarchal structures. Here, a woman's personal freedom is often subjected to ridicule, and speaking of sexual autonomy is considered almost sacrilegious. Among the four central women in Sula, except for Nel Wright, the other three were remarkably advanced in terms of personal independence—especially Sula herself. The way Sula voiced her longing to live as an independent entity in such a hostile, prejudice-ridden era decades ago makes her journey even more deserving of recognition today. Through Sula, perhaps the seeds can be sown for readers to aspire to—not lawlessness—but a truthful, independent existence. This vision heavily influenced my decision to translate the book.

 

Another compelling reason was the novel's depiction of good versus evil. The tension between these two elements revolves around the core narrative. Yet, there is no overt attempt to explicitly label what is good or what is bad. None of the major characters bother to justify their actions or engage in rigorous self-defense. Their lives simply unfold like flowing water or the passage of time. Morrison leaves the judgment of good and evil, sin and virtue, entirely to the readers. Furthermore, it is impossible not to fall in love with the profound friendship between two individuals evolving from girlhood to womanhood that lies at the very heart of the book. The temptation to share my own profound admiration for this work with Bengali-speaking readers played a definitive role in translating Sula. Ultimately, as to how much her work has influenced me as an author, I believe that is for my readers to judge.

 

Your English-Language Debut

EN: Your recent English-language debut, Fleeting Impressions, is a collection of flash fiction exploring grief, belonging, and the quiet power of language. What inspired you to move into flash fiction for this book, and how does it connect to or differ from the stories in your Bengali collections like Studio Apartment (which won the Ekushey Book Fair award)?

 

Nahar Trina: The biggest inspiration behind writing the flash fiction pieces in Fleeting Impressions was the desire to capture the profound depth hidden within transient, momentary emotions. In this genre, the unwritten rule of “show, don't tell” deeply attracts me. This form allows the narrative of an entire lifetime to be distilled into just a few lines. A fleeting image, a sudden silence, or an unfinished sentence—each becomes as powerful as a full-length story. Due to displacement and geographical relocation, the fragmentation that seeps into life, the sudden stirrings of memory, or the soft shadows of grief—these emotions often materialize more vividly through brief, sharp, and silent prose rather than lengthy descriptions. Flash fiction has taught me to harness the power of that silence. This minimalist form has instilled a sense of discipline in me; here, the weight of every single word and the quietness of every pause matters. It feels like a distillation of emotions through language.

 

There is both a bridge and a distinction between this work and my Bengali stories. The stories in ‘Studio Apartment’, which was selected as the best short story collection in the Pencil Publications Talent Hunt Competition at the Ekushey Book Fair in 2020, are comparatively longer, character-driven, and allowed me the time to carefully craft the atmosphere. (On a side note regarding my other works, the children's story collection ‘Vindeshi Goppo’ (2023) was published after winning an award in the Ekushey Book Fair manuscript competition, and my first prose book, ‘GoddoCollage’ (2026), was published after being selected in a manuscript competition organized by Kitab-e Publications of West Bengal, India). In my Bengali books, I could seamlessly utilize the intimacy and comfort that our mother tongue naturally provides.

 

On the other hand, since English is an acquired language for me—a process that is still very much ongoing—writing in it requires a high degree of conscious effort and caution, which is never the case with Bengali. Spontaneity possesses a unique strength of its own, which is quite evident in my Bengali stories, and I am consistently striving to bring that same fluidity into my English writing. I hope readers will notice that very effort to find a rhythm within the English language in Fleeting Impressions.

Yet, a deep thread connects both books—they both attempt to explore the quiet, internal landscapes of human beings. Grief, loneliness, the tug-of-war of memories, and the experience of changing homes—all of these themes return in both languages, albeit in different forms. Alongside presenting narratives in elaborate detail, flash fiction has taught me that not all stories need to be spoken aloud; many stories can be whispered. And sometimes, it is within those whispers that the truest emotions are captured.

 

On Legacy, Bridges, and the Future

EN: Looking at your journey—from editing Golpopath to publishing in both Bengal and international platforms—what do you hope your body of work contributes to Bengali literature and to the broader South Asian diasporic conversation? What are you working on or dreaming about next?

 

Nahar Trina: My journey from editing to my own creative writing—has been a continuous process of learning and exploration. My involvement in the Bengali literary world is not just as an author; for a long time, I served as both an editor and a writer for three literary webzines: Porua, Shishukagoj, and Golpopath, (though the publications for Porua and Shishukagoj have now ceased). This experience taught me that editing is not merely about selecting texts or proofreading spellings; it is about carefully nurturing a writer's voice, clarifying their vision, and building a bridge of dialogue with the reader.

 

Conversely, my role in the English medium is different—there, I am primarily an author. When writing in English, I find that the language provides a certain necessary distance, opening up opportunities for analysis, structure, and connection with a global audience. Furthermore, working in English allows me to regularly learn from international editors. They evaluate a piece of writing based strictly on its literary merit rather than personal acquaintance, which I find immensely inspiring. When an article or story requires edits prior to publication, the warmth, sincerity, and professionalism they display not only help me grow but also leave me deeply impressed. The experience in the Bengali literary circle is often quite different, where a writer’s familiarity or personal network sometimes takes precedence over the actual quality of the text. This occasionally confronts me with ethical questions as a writer. Nevertheless, both contrasting environments have taught me invaluable lessons and have positively shaped my literary journey.

 

Flag of Bangladesh

When it comes to the broader discourse of Bengali literature and the South Asian diaspora, there are countless talented Bengali writers making significant contributions. I do not know how far my own voice will resonate in that grand space. However, as an author, my only desire is that whatever I write should serve as a harmonious bridge between these two worlds. I want the memories, the soil, the complex relationships, and the lived experiences of Bangladesh to reach global readers; at the same time, I wish for the isolation, the wordlessness, and the identity crises of diasporic life to be translated back to Bengali-speaking audiences. For me, the dialogue between these two realities is paramount.

 

Currently, I am working on a few short stories, translations, and long-form essays where the boundaries of language, memory, and identity blur into one another. My dream is to create a body of work in both Bengali and English that offers readers not just a narrative, but an immersive experience—where roots and displacement, home and exile, memory and the present moment coexist. Additionally, one of my primary goals next is to translate my debut Bengali novel, which is set against a historical backdrop, into English. There are still so many stories waiting to be penned; writing is an endless, continuous journey. My only wish is to remain on this path as long as it brings me joy.

EN: May it ever be so. Thank you, Nahar, for sharing your story.

 

Read Nahar Trina's A Shoreless Abyss.

An Interview with Nahar Trina on Roots, Migration, and the Writer’s Soul--Part 1

You might say I "discovered" Nahar Trina quite by accident. One morning I received an email asking for permission to translate my Imaginary Interview with Leo Tolstory into Bengali, the language of Bangladesh. I said yes, of course. It's one more example of how interconnected the global community has become in this technological era of wonders. 

In her email signature she included three links, the first leading to books on Goodreads and the second to a Bengali collection of stories intriguingly titled Whispers of Fireflies. The third link carried me to Galpopath.com, the Bengali publication where my fictional Tolstoy interview now resides. 

Interested in learning more, I Googled and found her painfully beautiful story A Shoreless Abyss, which left me breathless.

Nahar Trina is a bilingual writer, literary translator, and book artist whose work bridges Bengali and English, memory and migration. Born in Bangladesh and now based in the U.S., she has authored seven books in Bengali and recently published her English-language debut, Fleeting Impressions, a flash fiction collection exploring grief, belonging, and the quiet power of language. Her work has appeared in both print and digital platforms, including international literary magazines.  

On Beginnings and Early Influences

EN: Born in Dhaka, the capital of Bangladesh, and starting your writing journey around 2008 through community blogs and forums, what initially drew you to writing? Were there particular books, writers, or life experiences in Bangladesh that shaped your voice early on?

 

Nahar Trina: The chapter of my writing that began on community blogs and forums actually traces its roots back to my childhood and school days. Along with writing for school wall magazines and annual periodicals, I regularly participated in yearly essay competitions. My initiation into the world of writing was fueled by the immense encouragement of my parents and my elder sister. My family always inspired us to pursue extracurricular activities alongside our school studies. Among my siblings, some excelled in dance, some in music, and others in recitation. While dance and music were not my cup of tea, I did a lot of poetry recitation during my school years, and I wasn't too bad at it. The rewards for these achievements came in the form of books. Moreover, as we excelled academically, a steady stream of books entered our house as prizes. My siblings and I received so many books that we had a dedicated bookshelf just for them.

 

My parents played a monumental role in fostering this love for reading. My father, in particular, had an extraordinary passion for books. He spent a significant amount of time in Europe for his teaching profession. When returning to Bangladesh, instead of bringing back materialistic luxuries, he would bring heaps of rare books. I share a very fond memory from my childhood: when my father returned home after completing his PhD, two trucks loaded with goods arrived in front of our house a few days later. Many curious neighbors gathered at our doorstep to see what my father had brought in such massive quantities. To their utter amazement, what unloaded from the trucks were mountains of books! And it wasn’t just literature on hydrology, the subject of his research; there were rare gems of world literature.

 

Our most valuable asset was a house filled with books. Thinking about the authors of those books filled me with a sense of profound wonder. It struck me how books could be infinitely more valuable than any luxury item, and I used to think that the people who wrote them must belong to some ethereal, mystical world. Perhaps it was the magnetic pull of that very world that eventually drew me into the realm of writing. Thus, it wasn’t a single event, a specific book, or a lone author that shaped me; rather, it was the entire familial environment, the abundance of books, and countless authors who subtly influenced me behind the scenes. And when it comes to my emergence as a writer and the publication of my books, the person whose encouragement has been the greatest is my brother, Dr. Moniruzzaman.

 

On Migration and Diasporic Experience

EN: You’ve lived between Bangladesh and the United States. What are the primary themes that run through your work? How has your own experience of moving to the U.S. and building a life in Illinois changed or deepened your writing?

 

Nahar Trina: The deeper a tree's roots penetrate the soil, the stronger its bond with the earth becomes. Human beings are much like trees; the land where one is born, and where childhood and adolescence unfold, establishes a profound connection with the soul. I moved to the United States in my youth, having already spent a significant portion of my formative years in Bangladesh. Had I come here as a young child, perhaps the homeland I left behind would not constantly envelop me the way it does now. In my thoughts, my birthplace naturally surfaces, with or without reason, and its imprint is inevitably left upon my writing. This is an invisible pull of a thread that seems to reside, more or less, within almost all diaspora writers. If I may be so bold—as they are revered literary figures, and mentioning them as an obscure, emerging writer might seem audacious—I would like to look at Kazuo Ishiguro, Salman Rushdie, or Jhumpa Lahiri. They are all diasporic writers, even though their specific experiences and positions differ. Yet, if you notice, their native lands frequently peek through their work. The execution may vary, but the signs of cultural duality are clear. No matter where we settle after moving away from our roots, that primal pull remains, whether loudly or in whispers. My own writing bears that distinct mark.

 

That being said, it is not as though living in the United States has left no impression on my work. It certainly has. If the absolute prerequisites for writing are freedom of expression and peace, the United States offers them to me in full measure. Here, I have the liberty to write candidly whatever I wish to write. In my homeland, that was often not possible. Especially with the kind of writing I do lately, various obstacles, ideological constraints, and taboos might have turned into barriers. Here, I can write without having to worry about those constraints, which creates a peaceful environment—and as everyone knows, 'peace' is a vital component for a writer. This flow of free speech and peace helps me immerse myself in my work. 

 

Back home, even when I could write something in my own way, the chances of seeing it published were often uncertain. Various ideological sensitivities and institutional hesitations sometimes made publication more difficult than writing itself. Here, in the United States, the freedom to write is accompanied by the freedom to publish—and that combination has had a profound impact on my creative life. 

 

At the same time, the experience of living in this country and interacting with the locals teaches me to focus deeply on the subtleties and psychological depth of my writing.

 

On Bilingual Writing and Translation

EN: As a bilingual writer who works in both Bengali and English, and as a literary translator (including your translation of Toni Morrison’s Sula), how do you navigate the two languages? Are there things you can express more easily in Bengali than in English, or vice versa, and what has translation taught you about your own creative process?

 

Nahar Trina: There are many bilingual writers in the world who are immensely successful. My journey as a bilingual writer, however, is relatively recent. Most of my previous writing in English was confined to the pages of my personal diaries. Personally, I like to think that if the Bengali language is my maternal home, English is like my in-laws' home. Both homes are dear to me, and both are essential. Therefore, my movement between Bengali and English is not a conscious effort to maintain a balance; rather, you could call it an attempt to capture the natural rhythm of my current life through my writing.

 

I think, feel, and write in both languages. It is as if the two languages open different doors within me. Bengali offers me the warmth of a mother’s womb, memories, and the raw scent of the soil and its people. On the other hand, English extends its hand as a bridge to close the gap of distance, providing analysis, structure, and sometimes, a necessary detachment. Which emotion flows more easily into which language depends entirely on the very nature of that feeling.

 

There are certain things that feel incomplete if not expressed in Bengali—such as the bond with one's mother and motherland, the village, childhood, deep wounds, and nostalgia. In these realms, Bengali feels much more tangible and visceral to me. Conversely, certain thoughts, especially abstract ideas, philosophical musings, or the subtle layers of complex emotions, sometimes attain a sharper clarity in English. Both languages grant me distinct depths, and I continue my pursuit of writing within these two dimensions.

 

More than anything, translation has taught me humility in my creative process. While translating a novel like Toni Morrison’s ‘Sula’, I realized that language is not merely a collection of words; it is history, the repository of a community's culture and lifestyle, their pain, their shadows, their silence, and occasionally, their resistance. Re-creating a sentence in another language makes you realize that to carry the original author's voice, you must step back and quiet your own voice as a translator. This experience helps me become more cautious, attentive, and restrained in my own original writing. 

Translation has shown me that every language possesses its own inherent ethics, and writing has taught me that standing between two languages means carrying the light of two different worlds simultaneously. Furthermore, when my original writing faces a creative drought, translation serves as a vital exit route, keeping my momentum alive. This is precisely why I rarely have to grapple with the dreaded ‘writer's block.’ 

TO BE CONTINUED

A Visit with Patra McSharry Sevastiades, Co-Author of Grace Unbound

Patra McSharry Sevastiades

Patra McSharry Sevastiades is an accomplished author, editor, and advocate whose career bridges publishing, education, and community leadership. She began by editing scientific papers for Soviet émigré scientists before authoring nine acclaimed children's nonfiction books, including The Vietnam Veterans Memorial and The Hoover Dam. Her editorial work includes significant religious texts such as Apocalypse: The Book of Revelation and The Gospel of Love: A Meta-Translation. 

She served as Editorial Director at Rosen Publishing Group in New York and later as Executive Director of the Duluth Library Foundation, championing literacy and civic engagement. A widow of Greek Orthodox priest Fr. Philemon Sevastiades, she now lives in Duluth, Minnesota, with husband Dean Casperson, their blended family of seven children, and nine grandchildren. Her latest work, co-authored in 2025, is Grace Unbound: The Sacred Activism of an Orthodox Bishop, a compelling narrative of faith-inspired social justice through the life of Bishop Demetrios C. Kantzavelos.

 

EN: What was your role with the Duluth Library Foundation and what is the foundation's mission? 

Patra: I worked at the Duluth Library Foundation from 2011 to 2021. In the last several years of my time there, I was the executive director. Before that, I was an independent contractor, a consultant trying to make things happen. The mission of the Duluth Library Foundation was to expand the Library's capacity to purchase materials and offer programs beyond what the city budget allowed, and I'm happy to say we were able to accomplish that owing to the graciousness of generous donors and the success of pursuing grants. 

 

We had an endowment, of course, which grew from $700,000 at the time that I started, to $2.1 million by the time I left. That felt pretty good. Obviously, that has to do with how money is invested and how the market is doing, but it also reflected remarkable bequests and gifts from people with a heart for the library and books. It gave us a capacity to help the Library, as did several fundraising events and campaigns that we ran each year. It was a joy to see the librarians happy with expanded resources and especially to see children and adults enjoying something that the Foundation made possible.

 

EN: What prompted you to ask Santa for a dictionary when you were six?

Patra:  Why did I ask Santa for a dictionary when I was six years old? I liked language. I thought it was fun knowing stuff. I think, too, that to the child I was, a dictionary embodied the idea that life is safe, not chaotic. A dictionary means that a word has a meaning, or meanings, that are predictably the same.

 

EN:  You have published four books for young readers on diverse themes including The Vietnam War Memorial and the Hoover Dam. What inspired you to tackle these projects and what did you learn from writing books targeted to 8-10 year olds?

Patra:  The reason I wrote the children’s books that I did was because there was an opportunity.  Those books needed to be written to round out a series, and I was willing, and I needed to earn more money. It was a way to accomplish those things. It was fun to learn how to write for a certain age. It forced me to simplify my thoughts and boil them down to their essence. I also like learning facts and the often-surprising histories behind each topic.

 

EN: Your career has taken you from studying Russian in Moscow to editing in Washington, DC, and advocating for literacy in the Midwest. How have these diverse experiences shaped your perspective on resilience and adaptability, especially for women navigating multifaceted careers?

Patra:  Looking back, there seems to be rhyme and reason to it, but at the time, it certainly didn't seem like it. Life is full of twists and turns, and you follow your heart and your intuition. Opportunities popped up in moments I didn't expect them. Things happened, and I had to pay the bills. A door would open and I'd walk through it, and unexpected things would happen on the other side of the door. I suppose I don't see that as being unique to women, or to parents. As a parent, I found, part of you has to pay the bills for your children’s sake, they're depending on you. It's not just you or your spouse, but these little faces looking up at you. Necessity and resilience both played a part.

 

I'm grateful there has been so much good in my life. So many doors did open, and there was a kind of a through line that brought me from being a six-year-old wanting a dictionary to studying Russian in college because I loved the work of Dostoevsky, then from translated Russian manuscripts to mainstream publishing, through publishing to my first husband, and from that to raising money for the library, which in turn brought me to my second husband, himself a book collector.

 

I would say this: keep your eyes open. Look for the next opportunity. I often kept my nose to the grindstone and didn’t look up enough to see what else might be possible. I wish I'd done more of that.

 

L to R: Patra Sevastiades, Catherine McSharry and
Bishop Demetrios C. Kantzavelos

EN: Your role as an editorial director in New York involved growing both the team and the number of books published. Can you share a memorable experience from that time where you helped bring a writer’s vision to life, and how did that shape your perspective on the power of storytelling?   

Patra:   My interest in the power of story and storytelling and shaping it got started when I was working outside of Washington, DC, for Delphic Associates, a “beltway bandit” that secured government contracts seeking information during the Cold War about Soviet science. My boss, Gerry Guensberg, owner and founder, had a vast and growing collection of resumes from Soviet scientists who had immigrated to the United States. The US government might want a paper on Soviet helicopter technology, and Jerry would find a scientist to write it and would submit a proposal. Once the contract was secured, we would commission a paper and then have it translated. 

As a rule, the scientists  are brilliant but usually not great writers. We would have it translated into English and then work with the author to improve it, working by phone and also face to face. We added historical background and political context and made sure the text was clear to the general reader. Then we published it. I discovered that I loved the process, and I loved working with authors.

 

EN:  Can you share a little more about your career as an editor?

Patra: In my experience as an editor, the magical part happens when you help an author see with fresh eyes how their manuscript reads. I remember one particular moment when I had the pleasure of working with Robert Olen Butler, a Pulitzer Prize-winning author. He submitted a short story to our publication, Icarus, a quarterly of international writing, modeled after Granta but for young adults. It was excellent. As was my norm, I wrote a letter complimenting the author on the story and suggested only one small change, to clarify a slightly confusing image of the movement of a fish.

 

Then I called him, as previously agreed, and he was angry at me. He had a point: he was a Pulitzer Prize-winning author. Who was I to suggest a change to his story? I listened to him, and when he was done venting, I said, “I understand what you're saying.” Then I asked, “May I tell you how I understood the sentence as it is written?” 

I read the sentence and told him what had confused me: I couldn’t tell if the fish was in the boat or outside of it. That had made me stop and wonder.

“My concern,” I told him, “is that if a reader stops reading because something is unclear, they might just stop reading and put the book down. I don't want them to put the book down. I want the text to be clear enough that they'll keep reading.”

He listened and perceived that it was in his interest that I made my suggestion, it wasn’t about my ego. “Tell me how you would change it,” he said. I read it to him with my suggested change. “Oh, that's all,” he said. “That's fine.” He was a lovely, gracious person.

That was a great experience. It was and is a pleasure to work with other people and come to a good resolution. It is satisfying to see good ideas get better. 

CONTNUED

Nevada Bob in Nashville: Sharing Experiences from His Storied Life

Nevada Bob with Eric Dahl on set of
Nashville's Rock & Review

Yesterday morning singer/songwriter/rancher/author Nevada Bob Gordon was on Nashville's Rock & Review show to discuss his new book 50 Years with the Wrong Woman. Hosted by Eric Dahl, the program was filmed when Nevada Bob was in Nashville this summer recording his sixth studio album/CD, backed by Charlie McCoy and some of Nashville's finest. 

One aim of a show host is to make guests feel comfortable in front of the camera, and you can tell Nevada Bob is precisely that. He looks right at home.

A second goal of an interviewer is to get the interviewee to talk by asking open-ended questions. No producer likes dead air during a show. 

A third aim is to produce a show that viewers will enjoy and tell their friends about. That's why Eric Dahl enjoyed sharing Nevada Bob Gordon with his Rock & Review viewers.

Nevada Bob loves telling stories and as anyone will attest he has a massive warehouse of stories inside of him. Mr. Dahl was clearly having a good time. (Or else he's an exceptionally talented actor.)

I had to laugh when Bob talked about his age. When this segment was filmed he was nearing 83 but he often hears people say, "I can't believe you're a day over 80." 

I'll add here that Nevada Bob still has the spirit of a youngster and the innocence of a child in some respects. Yes, he's seen a lot of life--both the sunshine and the storms--but he continues to be remarkably curious about new things and has become neither cynical nor jaded. 

For the record, this is just a fragment from a longer interview which is slated to air on Saturday. 

Here's the link to yesterday's interview on YouTube:  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NQHa3CzIjAo

You can follow Eric Dahl on Twitter @ericrocksnash   

You can follow me as well: @ennyman3

Purchase 50 Years with the Wrong Woman HERE

Purchase the Audiobook HERE

Related Links
Nevada Bob Meets the Beatles 

Singer/Songwriter Nevada Bob is a Storyteller Too
Nevada Bob Finishes Album Six in Nashville

Nevada Bob Gordon in Nashville.

Roz Warren Writes for Everyone from the New York Times to the Funny Times

Librarian/author Roz Warren

As I've indicated many times, Medium has been a great place to meet a lot of interesting people. It's a community of writers and readers, with a full spectrum of interests on every facet of life and a range of experience from beginners to lifetime professionals.

In some ways Medium is similar to other social media platforms. For example, you can choose to "follow" people, and they frequently follow back in turn. And since Medium was founded by Ev Williams, who co-created Blogger and later Twitter, it has gives member writers a chance to write self-descriptions that succinctly say who they are. I very much liked Roz Warren's slogan, which got me into reading one of her stories, and then another.

She's got a bright wit, and knows how to tell a story.

EN: Can you briefly describe your path as a writer?

Roz Warren: Like a lot of writers, I began writing as soon as I could hold a pencil and never stopped. I began publishing short fiction in my 20s, in magazines from Beatniks from Space to Seventeen Magazine. These days, I write essays and humor, for everybody from the Funny Times to the New York Times.

And, of course, I write on Medium.

EN: What kind of law did you practice and was there a trigger incident that prompted you to leave that behind to become a librarian?

RW: I was a bankruptcy attorney. Twenty-two years ago, I impulsively took a job at my local public library when I realized that having fun was more important to me than having money. I have no regrets.

EN: Do you have an especially funny library story you can share here?

RW: Here's the first funny story I ever wrote about library work. It's included in Our Bodies, Our Shelves, my collection of library humor.
(EdNote: Go read A Nun Walks Into A Library...)

EN: Were you a class clown? Would it surprise your Detroit classmates to see you getting published in Reader’s Digest and the New York Times?

RW: I was never a class clown. I was not a goofy, attention-grabbing little girl. Instead, I was the kid in glasses with her nose in a book at all times. So I doubt anyone was surprised when I became a writer. But they may not have expected that I'd be a humor writer.

EN: Do you have a philosophy or process about humor writing?

RW: I don't know why, but I've always cared a lot more about funny stuff than other people seemed to. I like to laugh. I read a lot of humor and watch a lot of comedy, and when I write, I "write funny." That's just my voice and it always has been.

EN: What is it that makes written humor effective?

Roz loves libraries and being a grandma.

RW: For written humor to be effective, it has to surprise the reader. In a good way.

EN: In the same vein, have you ever done stand-up? You strike me as outgoing. How is stand-up comedy different from humor writing?

RW: I'm not at all outgoing. I think of myself as a friendly introvert. Library work is perfect for me because I love interacting with people, but one at a time. And in a situation that has some structure.

I've never wanted to do stand-up. Becoming a successful stand-up means hanging out in bars and clubs with other comics till 2 in the morning. It also means hitting the road to hone your act.

I want to write in my home office alone in my pajamas and be in my own bed every night by 10. That, to me, is a perfect life.

I once appeared on the Today Show. My Today Show goal was to not die of fright on live TV in front of 5 million people. I'm happy to say that I met that goal. And while I'm glad I met the challenge of entertaining millions of people on live television, that one taste of fame didn't make me eager to repeat that kind of live, high-pressure tightrope walk.
(EdNote: Here's where you can read Roz's An Introvert on the Today Show.)

EN: Your Leonard Cohen story was a fun read. Did you ever get a chance to see him again?

RW: I'm glad you enjoyed it! It's so great when your heroes turn out to be as wonderful as you'd hoped they'd be.

My editor at the Times required that Cohen sign off on the accuracy of the essay before it was published, which he did, through his manager, so I know that Cohen read it. But I never saw him again after the night I wrote about.

But that's okay. I got one more night with Leonard Cohen than most fans got.

EN: Any tips here on how to get bylines in Reader’s Digest or the NYTimes?

RW: In both cases, I didn't submit work. Instead, editors read my work online and got in touch with me. Reader's Digest asked if they could reprint one of my humor pieces. And an editor at the Times recruited me to write for "Booming," their (at the time) brand new blog for Baby Boomers.

I wrote about that experience here: Why Every Essay You Write Should Be the Best Essay You Can Write.

The takeaway? Make sure that everything you write on Medium is as good as it can possibly be before you publish it. Because you never know if an editor for Reader's Digest or the New York Times (or a Today Show producer) will end up reading it.

EN: Thanks, Roz. Great fun, and useful info for writers as well.

* * * *
Related Links 
OUR BODIES, OUR SHELVES: A COLLECTION OF LIBRARY HUMOR 
JUST ANOTHER DAY AT YOUR LOCAL PUBLIC LIBRARY
You can also read more of her work here: https://muckrack.com/roz-warren
What’s In A Name? A Batch of People With Interesting Medium Profiles
Roz Warren on Medium

A Visit with Optimistic Futurist Joe Tankersley, Author of Reimagining Our Tomorrows

Joe Tankersley

I've always been an amateur futurist it seems. Perhaps it was the 1964-65 World's Fair that set the wheels spinning. The Ford, GM and Disney Pavilions showed us fantastical visions of tomorrow. (Nothing quite so fantastical as Woody Allen's Sleeper, but close.)

In 1964, pictures of the future were all around us. I remember eating Cheerios and reading the back of the box over breakfast in which they showed a car of the future floating on a cushion of air so you could float from land onto lakes. That was supposed to happen the 80's. Back to the Future II showed skateboards that were like hovercraft as well. We apparently love the concept of hovering.

All this to say that I've routinely taken and interest in articles and books about the future. In the 80's I used to take Futurist magazine out of the library and we all read Toffler's Future Shock. Megatrends seemed to have a pretty hefty title and created a measure of buzz. And who among us has not read Brave New World or 1984?

A couple years ago a friend and I outlined a concept for a novel about a positive future, primarily as a response to the seeming multitude of dystopian futures being written about or portrayed in movies today. That exercise, of trying to solve all the world's problems in the 21st century, served as a good appetizer for Joe Tankersley's Reimagining Our Tomorrows which I acquired at the beginning of 2019.

According to his Amazon.com bio, the author is "a futurist, writer and advocate for better tomorrows. He combines his experience as a storyteller with the tools of strategic foresight to help others create compelling visions for our futures." (You read his full bio here.)

EN: What is your background and how did you come to be an optimist about the future?

Joe Tankersley: I’ve always been a storyteller and I’ve always been intrigued by the stories we tell about the future. About twenty years ago those two interests came together. At the time I was working as a writer for Walt Disney Imagineering and was assigned to a project on the life of Walt Disney. It was there that I discovered Walt’s vast body of work dedicated to imagining “Great Big Beautiful Tomorrows.” In fact, the first time I heard the term optimistic futurist was in an interview that Ray Bradbury did talking about the old Disney Tomorrowland episodes. It immediately clicked for me and I knew that this was the perfect way to combine my skills with my desire to contribute to better tomorrows.

EN: Over the course of a lifetime there have been many predictions about the end of life as we know it. The energy crisis, the population bomb and the threat of nuclear war were dark clouds during the past half century and global warming is the most recent iteration of this fearful end-of-the-world future. Is progress being made?

JT: Being an optimistic futurist is not always easy. The threat of climate change is a perfect example of the kind of challenge that can make it difficult to imagine a positive future. Being optimistic means putting end of the world scenarios into perspective. I always tell people, the past was messy, the present is messy and so there is no reason to imagine that the future won’t be messy, too. But, I do believe we have the capacity to nudge our future in positive directions. History supports this idea. Less people live in poverty today than ever before, fewer die from wars, more children and women survive childbirth. The list of our positive accomplishments is long. Humans have a fascinating ability to often wait to the very last minute to address the biggest problems but when we get mobilized we tend to be very good at imagining our way out of these predicaments.

EN: We pretty much know that bad news sells, that wars have been invented to sell newspapers. Is the media at fault for the widespread dystopian views of the future? How will this be fixed?

JT: I believe the media does have a powerful impact on our current lack of optimism about the future. While bad news has always sold there was a time when optimistic visions of the future were popular. There may be many reasons for the shift. One is the overwhelming flood of media outlets. The competition for attention has the effect of driving sensationalism. There is also the Future Shock factor that Alvin Toffler described 50 years ago. We are living in a time when change is happening so fast that our imaginations have a hard time keeping up. The result is that we retreat to darker stories.

This lack of optimistic imagination is, in my mind, the biggest threat to our future. Far greater than killer robots, or surveillance societies or out of control AI. Fixing it will not be easy. I am hopeful because I see a growing thirst from the public for positive stories. There are a handful of media outlets that are starting to try and serve this desire. If they can survive and grow, then we might see a slow shift back toward more optimistic storytelling.

We can support this movement by teaching children the value of critical imagination. Foresight should be taught in schools just like we teach history.

Photo by Drew Beamer on Unsplash

EN: Have there been any new studies (neuroscience or psychology) that show how what we imagine (or tell ourselves) will create what happens?

JT: I’m not aware of any large-scale studies that look at this question at the community or nation level. There has been research done that suggests corporations with a positive vision of their future tend to outperform others. A great deal of research has also been done on the individual level- everything from the power of visualization to help athletes perform to the role of hope in a person’s health, academic achievement, and happiness. Most of those studies find a positive correlation.

EN: Social media was purportedly going to bring people together. Have you been surprised by the polarization and rise of hatred caused by social media?

JT: I’m not sure that I would agree social media has caused these problems. It has certainly been a platform for ugly views that have long been widespread. By bringing these views out of the darkness it certainly has helped to embolden some fringe players and has contributed to specific acts of violence. Long term, though, I actually believe that by exposing these views to a much wider audience we will see a greater effort to silence the hatred being spread. Transparency will turn out to be one of the most powerful weapons for protecting democracy and promoting equality in the future.

EN: What kinds of things have you learned by writing this book?

JT: The hardest thing for me in writing Reimagining Our Tomorrows was figuring out how to create positive future visions that were still filled with some sense of conflict and excitement. It is much easier to write exciting stories about the end of the world than to write stories that reflect a positive outlook without becoming fantasy.

EN: What was the most surprising feedback you’ve received from readers?

JT: I’m surprised by the diversity of readers who have responded favorably to the book. I really imagined that it would appeal to audiences between the ages of 18-35, but I’ve had people of all ages tell me that it changed the way they thought about the future. That is always humbling.

Related Links
Find it here on Amazon:
Reimagining Our Tomorrows
My review of Reimagining Our Tomorrows:
Feeling Blue about the Future? Not All Futurists Are Dystopian