Kristina Marie Darling, a twenty-five year old, two-time Pushcart nominee and author of Fevers and Clocks, Nigh Songs, and Traffic in Women, discusses her personal writing style and breaks down certain aspects of the publishing world for up-and-coming writers.
-M.K. Barnes
How do you determine what topics to write about, and how does this affect your personal memoir and nonfiction essays individually?
I try to address topics that aren’t usually the subject of essays or memoirs. When I read a nonfiction book, I’m always thrilled if I encounter something I’ve never seen before—particularly experiences, images, or themes that we wouldn’t normally think of as “literary” or “significant” enough to include in a serious work. I definitely emulate writers like Sarah Manguso, Poe Ballantine, and Kathleen Finneran, who see philosophical significance in everyday events.
For an individual work, this often means that I immediately rule out certain subjects. I wouldn’t ever write an essay about a trip to Paris, my cat, or my grandmother because these seem like easy choices. I think it’s good for nonfiction writers to challenge themselves, and try to find beauty and strangeness in the most unexpected places.
Do you know which publications you will attempt to submit your articles and essays to before you begin writing them, and how does this influence your writing?
With book reviews and literary essays, this is almost always the case. And the specifications that a given journal has—such as the word-count and topic they’ve given you—can set the tone for the entire piece before you’ve even started. Some writers don’t like having these sorts of limitations imposed on them, but I kind of enjoy it. I find that having a few constraints in place opens up possibilities that I may not have considered otherwise.
What resources did you find useful in placing your work with publishers and literary magazines, and what sources would you recommend to other writers, especially ones that may be targeted towards MFA and BFA students?
Duotrope’s Digest is my personal favorite, since it allows you to search for literary markets based on response time, percentage of work accepted, and the number of rejections that include personal feedback , as well as the theme and style of work itself. It’s by far the most user-friendly website I’ve encountered for writers. Newpages.com is also a great place to find new calls for submissions, although these often describe residencies, fellowships, and grants in addition to literary magazines.
With that said, I think it’s important to remember that these sorts of resources aren’t the whole picture. There’s certainly no substitute for reading and subscribing to literary journals, since market listings rarely include a selection of the work itself.
How would you compare your process of writing creative nonfiction to your process of writing poetry? Are you able to actively switch between the two, or do you find that you need time to re-adjust to writing one or the other?
They’re completely different processes, and you’re absolutely right—I almost always need time to refocus when switching between the two genres. I think that this is because my nonfiction is so much removed from my poetry. I tend to write comedic essays, whereas my poems are very lyrical. So they represent different mindsets for me, and a completely different relationship between myself and the reader.
What autobiographical elements would you say resurface throughout your collections? Do you believe that using personal experiences in poetry limits your freedom?
In terms of autobiographical material, unrequited love is certainly a recurring theme. But also my experience as a reader. The texts that I’ve encountered—whether it’s nineteenth century literature, contemporary poetry, or Enlightenment philosophy—almost always inform my writing.
With that said, I think that personal experience can be stifling, but this depends on how the writer is thinking about autobiography. I know many poets who are afraid to alter their experience, even in a small way, when writing about it. I prefer to think of my life as a starting point for a creative piece, since the work should eventually take on a life of its own.
Explain your process of writing a poem from a spontaneous idea or image in comparison to your process of writing a poem from a memory or life experience.
For me, they’re actually very similar processes. Even when writing about life experience, I gravitate toward concrete images. I tend to think of the image as the heart of a poem, no matter what my relationship is to the subject matter.
Why do you think that people assume all poetry falls into the category of magical realism? Do you believe that it should be cauterized, and if you do, what would it fall under for you? Do you believe that poetry is actually mysterious or rather straight forward if interpreted right?
People certainly perceive poetry as somehow different from other genres. Most people seem to have this expectation that a poem contains a hidden meaning, one that’s only accessible to the author. I prefer to think of verse in much less mysterious way. For me, certain parts of a poem are almost always straightforward. But in a good piece of writing, there are other qualities—such as alliteration, assonance, parallelism, repetition—that are easy to miss on the first read. These more subtle technical decisions often illuminate and complicate what seems straightforward in a given piece.
How much does personal interpretation come into play with your poetry? When writing do you purposely use certain words or images to create an objective or focused view, which directs the reader?
I’m very much an intuitive writer. I follow my judgment about what images and phrases should be in a piece, and almost never try to create a certain interpretation on the part of a reader. It’s definitely important to be clear, and give the reader direction. But once I’ve sent a poem out into the world, I’m usually surprised by some of the ways it’s interpreted. I think most writers create possibilities within a given text without even realizing it. For me, that’s one of the most exciting aspects of the creative process.
