Rocking Waffles with Danny Goodman
By J.E. Reich
Tuesday, February 7th, 2012
What, exactly, does it mean to “rock waffles”? If you ask editor and writer Danny Goodman, it is what good fiction should aspire to. According to the submission guidelines for Goodman’s literary brainchild fwriction : review, the fiction he looks to publish should “melt faces and rock waffles”; the phrase, therefore, seems to speak for itself.
But fwriction : review and its sister blog fwriction are not the only Goodman productions that rock waffles; Danny Goodman himself is an enterprise and entity unto himself. He is also a published writer, and is most notable for his “Ben Stories.” Goodman is currently working on a novel about the relationship between the aforementioned Ben and a character named Roddy, who is featured in his complete novella.
Art Faccia’s J.E. Reich interviewed Goodman. Here is what went down.
J.E. Reich: So, in terms of where you stand in the literary world, you’re in a very interesting position: not only are you a talented, published writer, but you also run a widely-read online magazine and blog. How did you develop both interests? Do you think that they complement each other?
Danny Goodman: (I’m going to ignore the words “talented” and “published,” because otherwise I’ll feel like a liar responding.) I’ve always loved both writing and editing, which I think largely informs the other. As an undergrad, I worked on The Florida Review and the undergraduate lit journal, and during my MFA, I revamped and ran the student lit journal (Ellipsis) and served as a prose reader for Bayou. All the while, writing (primarily fiction, though occasionally nonfiction). I think the two are a wonderful, hateful marriage.
JER: Gay marriage or straight marriage? (Just kidding.)
DG: I think any kind of marriage, if it’s a good one, is both wonderful and hateful.
JER: Wise words. So did your respective experiences at Ellipsis, Bayou, and The Florida Review pique your interest in starting your own publication?
DG: Very much so. I’d wanted to start my own publication as early as undergrad, but there wasn’t much of an online presence for literature then, and I didn’t quite know how to go about it all. Instead, I worked on established journals (and on a fiction anthology for the Gotham Writers’ Workshop). I really decided in 2009 that I wanted to begin an online literary journal, one that published work to rival the great print journals: The Southern Review, The Florida Review, Tin House, American Short Fiction, etc. Before the journal, though, came fwriction, which was always meant as a jumping-off point.
JER: I’ve always wanted to know if there’s a story behind the name/word, “fwriction”. How’d you come up with it?
DG: At the beginning stages of starting the blog, I wanted a name that would be memorable in some way, not involve me or my name or anything of the sort, and speak to what it represented. Also, a confusing or odd name, I was told by Jeanne Leiby, is something people will remember. The blog began as a collection of writing, an aggregate of literary awesomeness, along with my other passions, editing and teaching. Thus, writing + teaching + fiction = fwriction (that was the original “tag” or description).
JER: Was it after you gained a following with the blog that you decided to start fwriction : review?
DG: Indeed it was. The goal was always to branch off from fwriction with a literary journal, but I wanted to test the waters, in a way, with the blog. Meet writers that way, give a sense of my own literary tastes, and then make the move to the journal. Even now, fwriction remains that sort-of sister blog to the journal.
JER: Speaking of literary tastes, what do you think informs the types of stories, non-fiction pieces, and so forth that you select for publication?
DG: I’m a big fan of Ray Carver, Tobias Wolff, Richard Ford, Amy Hempel… I know, they’re a niche, hipster group. First and foremost, I’m looking for writing that I love, that hits me the way those authors do. However, I’ve made an effort to “branch out” from my own particular tastes, to go after writing that breaks my own expectations, that grips me in a new, surprising way. Roxane Gay’s short story is a good example of that, as is Alison Barker’s or our last piece of 2011, Sarah Flynn’s nonfiction essay.
JER: You definitely get that sense when you peruse through fwriction : review’s archives, that sense of versatility. It’s really hard to achieve that “wide-rangedness”.
DG: I’m really glad to know that that fact comes across. There’s no one type of writing I love, and I want fwriction : review to reflect that. Same is true of authors. I dislike journals, particularly the older, stodgier types, that publish only a certain gender or demographic with regularity. There are so many brilliants writers out there, and I want them all, dammit. I care a great deal about every piece we publish, want everyone in the literary world and beyond to read it, and the writer is, of course, an extension of that.
JER: I do have to say that your passion for fwriction : review and fwriction is also very apparent—a definite breath of fresh air. Do you think that the medium you chose (especially for fwriction : review) lends itself to how well it has been received, and its readership in general?
DG: I hope it’s well received. I never really know. Is that weird? Because I love the work so much, and I’m sending it to people any way I can (the journal, blog, Twitter, Facebook, etc.), I wonder if I, as editor, have a misconception about the reach. The journal just celebrated its first birthday, and in that time we never missed an issue, [a] fact I’m very proud of. I think the medium allows for me to, at the very least, attempt the reach that I know each one of these pieces deserves. I also refuse to shy away from digital literature, because ultimately, I want as many eyes on these works as possible, whether it’s on a computer, [an] iPhone, [an] iPad, whatever. My writers deserve readers. Why not grab the literary community by the digital throat and show them just how kickass this writing is?
JER: Those questions seem to be on everyone’s mind these days, what with the whole “death of print” debate going on.
DG: I don’t buy into the severity of the “death”—I think print will be around and continue to push boundaries—but I think it’s foolish, especially for a literary journal, to ignore the readership and reach of digital media.
JER: One of the many things readers find interesting about fwriction : review is, for lack of a better term, the “supplementary perks” — for instance, the fact that you have your contributors hand-pick a song to pair with the piece you publish. In terms of that particular detail, I can’t really come up with any other online journal that does that. Are you always looking for ways to develop and enhance the reading experience for your audience?
DG: Most definitely. I came up with the idea for the Playlist because music is a huge inspiration [for] my writing, and I always imagined it must be the same for other writers. Being able to showcase that supplement makes the journal a bit more unique, I hope, but ultimately it’s a way for the writer to extend their creative reach.
JER: I wanted to ask a bit of how being an editor affects you as a writer. Do you think that the way you operate as a writer with the experience and eye of an editor is impacted, especially regarding the more “promotional/technical” aspects of getting your stuff out there?
DG: It’s incredibly hard for me to turn off the editor when I write. Therefore, I usually spend months writing an individual short story (I think I average about four months per story). I recently completed a novella, which took me nearly a year. The editor in me needs a few glasses of wine sometimes so the writer can just work. As far as the promotional side of writing, I’m a novice. I live to promote the writing of others, but I, frankly, despise talking about my own. It gives me pins and needles, like when a limb has fallen asleep and is desperate to remain in slumber.
JER: [laughs] Modesty is hard to come by in our line of work. I do want to ask you a few questions about your writing though. For instance, your novella: what’s it about?
DG: I see we’ve taken a nasty turn. The novella is titled “Memorial Day”; it follows Roddy a 14/15-year-old boy on vacation for, what else, Memorial Day weekend, with his family in Montauk. His family is falling apart, really, but are trying desperately not to appear so. Roddy believes he has a secret, one that will shatter the family, and struggles to keep silent and strong. (The novel I’ve recently begun is the same character, Roddy, now 17; so, in a way, the novella could be a [p]rologue to the novel.) I’ve just started sending out the novella to publications.
JER: Those publishers better keep an eye out, it sounds like an intriguing read! It’s interesting that you mentioned how you’re using Roddy in both your novella and your novel-in-progress; it seems that you have a tendency to do that, like with your “Ben Stories.”
DG: It’s true. I love the connectivity of characters. In fact, Ben and his friends will also appear in the novel, in large part. Roddy runs away from home on Long Island, goes to the city, where Ben finds him, takes him in. I love the idea of characters existing over a larger canvas, not simply a single story or novel. It also gives me the chance to explore characters from multiple angles (Ben as cocky best friend in “Greenpoint,” later as vulnerable protagonist in “Somehow There Was More Here”). I love having that opportunity as a writer. In the novel, I see Ben largely as Gatsby to Roddy’s Nick (though not as tragic a figure), or even a Holmes to Roddy’s Watson.
JER: As a writer, what kind of subjects, stories, or even moments intrigue you the most?
DG: Infidelity, in whatever form that comes, fascinates me. Trust is such a delicate item, and I really enjoy exploring characters who struggle with it on both ends, the betrayer and the betrayed. The breakdown of the everyday is most gripping for me. Carver once said, “It’s possible, in a poem or a short story, to write about commonplace things and objects using commonplace but precise language, and to endow those things—a chair, a window curtain, a fork, a stone, a woman’s earring—with immense, even startling power.” As subjects go, there’s nothing more interesting to me than the “commonplace,” as Carver puts it. When characters are faced with the deafening reality of waking up, putting one foot in front of the other, and moving forward.
JER: Bonus Question #1: If you could pick a band or a song to represent you as a person, what would it be?
DG: I’m a child of the 80s, so I want to say Def Leppard, but that’s too badass to represent my person. I’d say Simon & Garfunkel. (“Bookends” and “Only Living Boy in New York” feel like choruses of my adolescence and twenties.)
JER: Bonus Question #2: What is the perfect way to rock a waffle?
DG: Piping hot, maybe some fresh whipped cream, a drizzle of dark chocolate or Nutella, and sliced bananas. Or, “So Much Water So Close To Home,” [by Raymond Carver] which is equivalent.
