30 (+1) Questions with Thirty West

Featuring Julian Shendelman

In November of 2023, Thirty West Publishing House embarked on its most ambitious #AntiWriMo project to date: The Ternion. This three-novel series is written by 9 authors, all written in one month. The Ternion is an experiment in creativity, community, adaptability, and stress; and it was successful.

Today, we are proud to take a moment to highlight one of the many people behind the pen involved in this incredible collaboration.

Julian Shendelman lives with his husband and dogs near Philadelphia. His poetry chapbook, Dead Dad Club, was published by Nomadic Press in 2017 and his prose has appeared in Bat City Review, Philadelphia Stories, and Cleaver Magazine. He is currently working on a novel about haunted houses, capitalism, and community. Learn more at www.shendelman.com 

1. How old were you when you first started writing?

I wrote my first piece of autofiction in 5th grade. It was called “The Land of the Lost,” and in it, I discovered a mystical room beneath the couch cushions. The room’s walls were made of laundry lint and every sock I’d ever lost was embedded in the fluff. At the risk of spoiling act 3 of our ANTIWRIMO novel, this elementary school plot was not entirely dissimilar from what we ultimately co-created.

2. What was your favorite personal contribution to the ANTIWRIMO project?

Words, mostly. But also, I helped shape our editing process, which was loosely based on Matt Bell’s 3 draft method. After we finished our first draft, we created a retrospective outline to assess balance and look for plot holes. We’re now working on implementing those changes in a more-cohesive second draft.

3. Do you have a dedicated space to write, or are you a roamer?

I write wherever I can sit (or lay) in silence. In bed, on the couch, at the kitchen table, on trains, on airplanes. I haven’t written on a boat yet, but who knows what 2024 will bring.

4. In your opinion, what is the best piece you’ve ever written?

I hate just about everything I’ve ever written. For self-critical writers like me, it’s best to rely on others’ assessments of our work. Which is to say, I’m a sucker for flattery.

5. What fictional character would your best friend compare you to?

My best friend likes The Lion King too much for me to answer this question.

6. Which writers had the most influence on your style? On your content?

I’m pretty poorly read, so I spent 2023 exploring literary and speculative fiction via Sit & Read, the book club I run. One unexpected side effect was learning to read like a writer—simultaneously absorbing the story and the craft beneath it. In May, I latched on to Jennifer Egan’s prose—it’s funny, straightforward, and totally gutting, all at once. Or at least, that’s how it was in A Visit from the Goon Squad. I’d like my prose to do the same.

7. What is the biggest challenge you've overcome as a writer?

I’ve always struggled to carve out time to write. I have ADHD, which often manifests as an inability to establish lasting habits without some kind of external structure. So, I started a writing group. For the last 4, going on 5, years, I’ve spent nearly every Saturday sitting on Zoom with friends and strangers in complete silence. If I didn’t promise to host these sessions, I don’t think I’d write anything longer than a post-it. I’m also super self-critical, which can interfere with generating new work. I’ll borrow the AA framework here in saying that I have not, and probably will not, overcome my core challenges as a writer. But I am continually trying, and that’s really all anyone can do.

8. What is your third favorite dinosaur?

I don’t believe in ranking lizards.

9. What project should you be working on right now?

Maybe finishing this novel that we were supposed to complete by the end of 2023. We’ll get there.

10. What does your drafting process look like?

With my novel-in-progress, I spent a long time outlining, creating character bios, and world-building before I even began. And I restarted no less than 3 times. But once I got going, I was mostly just plowing forward and slapping myself on the wrist every time I slipped into editing mode. This co-written novel was pretty different though—after we drafted a quick, basic outline, we took turns writing. We’d each write for however much time we had—a paragraph, a page, maybe more—before handing it off to the next person. We didn’t worry about chapter breaks or stylistic cohesion. We frequently consulted each other about forthcoming scenes, debating character motives and world-building elements. It was equal parts challenging and beneficial to have 3 brains involved in drafting. But as we move into editing, it’s mostly just beneficial. The hardest thing about editing a novel you’ve written alone is that you’re the only person who knows how the end result is supposed to look and feel. With three people, we can really put our heads together to solve complex plot and character problems.

11. What did you want to be when you were a kid?

An adult.

12. How do you deal with critics and trolls?

Imagine being well-known enough to have haters!

13. Do you have one word that you always misspell?

I’m a pretty good speller, but “accommodate,” “occasion,” and “vacuum” are inexplicably difficult for me. I actually misspelled all 3 while answering this question. Shout-out to spell check.

14. Are there any major themes that span your work as a whole?

I studied queer, trans, and feminist theory throughout college. My grad school thesis was about the ways trans people’s identities are shaped by internet culture. In other words, my research explored the slippery space between online and “real life.” This theme lives on in my fiction today. I like writing about what happens when internet-oriented people try to apply the dogmatic logic of online discourse to in-person, interpersonal dynamics. Character-wise, I’m most interested in liars, outcasts, and fuckups. There’s nothing I like less than a plucky, affable character—I’m far more curious about people who chronically get in their own way.

15. What media besides books inspire you?

I have spent the last year trying to love reading again. My default setting is definitely TV and film. The best show I watched in recent memory was Station 11, which is based on a book I still haven’t read. It really captured the fear and panic of our most recent pandemic in a way I’ve never seen.

16. What are some of your favorite writing-related resources that you would recommend to aspiring writers?

I haven’t read many craft books, largely because they’re boring and I have a short attention span. On Writing by Stephen King is a rare exception to this. It’s far from perfect but it’s fairly entertaining and covers a lot of the basics. I’ve also really enjoyed excerpts from Spiral, Meander, Explode by Jane Alison, which were assigned to me in a wonderful fiction class taught by Camille Acker. This is also perhaps a good opportunity to plug my own newsletter (collectivelit.substack.com). It’s Philly-centric but includes publishing opportunities and virtual and hybrid events too. Generally speaking, aspiring writers should endeavor to read a lot—craft books, and anything in their genre of choice. You can learn a surprising amount by osmosis. Taking classes doesn’t hurt either. Check out Blue Stoop!

17. What is your least favorite part of being an author?

Rejection. I’m less sensitive to it now than I used to be, but it still sucks.

18. How has your writing changed over time, and what do you attribute that to?

It’s less explicitly autobiographical. In 2017, I wrote Dead Dad Club, a chapbook about my dad’s death and my gender transition. The experience, though worthwhile, really burned me out on super vulnerable writing. I felt, and continue to feel, pretty overexposed by the book. I have no one to blame but myself; nobody demanded that I write a book about some of the most sensitive parts of my life. For context, my first real literary community was The New Sh!t Show in San Francisco, a wonderfully rowdy (and surprisingly intimate) slam-adjacent open mic that invited writers to share fresh, barely edited works on stage. I loved that show, and I got a lot of praise for the type of raw, personal writing that became Dead Dad Club. It took time, therapy, and my husband Zach Ozma’s wisdom to reconfigure my relationship to autobiographical writing. Long story short, I’ve come around to being a bit more withholding. I still insert myself into my work, but as a fiction writer, it happens in subtler, more piecemeal ways—little bits of myself sprinkled across many characters. It feels emotionally safer for me, and no less honest.

19. Is writing your full-time job?

Writing is one of my many jobs. I left my full-time role working in higher ed communications in April 2022. I miss the cheap, high quality health insurance provided by my old employer, but I’m much happier overall. These days, I work part-time for Blue Stoop, part-time for a small soap and skincare company, and I work odd gigs on top of that. I also have a few unpaid jobs: I run Collective Lit, I do some community/political organizing in my Delaware County borough, and I volunteer with Philly-based mutual aid projects. I’m trying to figure out how to narrow down my dance card a little. I like staying busy, but I know I need more time to rest and relax. Maybe one of my paid gigs will eventually turn full-time so I can stop endlessly searching for work. I don’t assume I’ll ever get by on writing alone, but it’s nice to dream about.

20. How does writing intersect with your personal life?

My literary life makes up about 60% of my social time. During the first couple years of the pandemic, that percentage was much higher, easily 75%, with the remaining 25% being my husband and a small handful of friends. I’m a pretty introverted person and a big homebody, so don’t go thinking I’m out at open mics 5 nights a week. I’ve made a bunch of new friends in my neighborhood over the last few months, most of which aren’t writers. They’re cool, but I still rely heavily on contact with other writers for my social needs. I’m weird, you’re weird. It just works.

21. What does your editing process look like?

I honestly love editing. It’s kind of like doing a puzzle, except there’s no single right answer and you’re allowed to completely reshape the pieces at any time. I start by taking space from the piece. It’s impossible to have any perspective on something you’ve been poking at consistently for days, weeks, months, or longer. In Refuse to be Done, Matt Bell says you should put down your first draft until you’ve stopped thinking about it every day. After I’ve stopped ruminating and obsessing constantly, I return to the piece with fresh eyes, reading it with as much detachment as I can muster. I ask myself questions about the story: does the plot make sense? Does the pacing work? Are the important characters well-rounded? Am I relying on cliches or stereotypes? Who knows what and when? Does the world feel believable? What does each scene accomplish? And so on. I often find it helpful to spend some time writing about the writing—trying to answer as many of those questions as I can, and exploring my feelings about the work in general. Then comes the reconstruction. I cut excess, add missing parts, and rearrange anything that’s out of order. I make adjustments to the pacing and characterization. I tighten up dialogue and descriptions. I take this new draft and go through the process again, checking to make sure I’ve answered all my own questions, and doing some preliminary proofreading (grammar, punctuation, and so on). At some point in here, depending on how confident I’m feeling, I’ll read it to my husband, who is very clever and thoughtful and always has good advice. Nothing ever feels totally finished, but typically there’s a moment in all this editing where I feel like I’ve given it my all and that the piece is good enough, or at least no longer embarrassing. This is the part where I pat myself on the back and tell myself how smart and talented I am. Realistically, whatever I’ve written may never get published, laureled, or lauded, which is why I think it’s very important to be your own cheerleader whenever possible.

22. What does “made it” look like to you?

I’d love to sell out! I’m talking Barnes & Noble endcaps, film rights, celebrity book clubs, that kind of thing. But on a smaller, more accessible scale, “making it” could look like selling my novel-in-progress to a mid-sized press or a niche imprint of a big five publishing house, which would give me the literary cachet needed to teach college level writing courses without an MFA. As a new fiction writer, I think this Thirty West project is going to help me get closer to that goal.

23. When do your best ideas come to you?

When I am supposed to be thinking about something else.

24. What would your teenage self say about your writing now?

I think teenage me would be pretty impressed, which is a nice feeling. Don’t ask “future me” though. He’d be mortified.

25. Who is your go to character in Mario Kart?

Kim Kardashian.

26. What was the hardest part of working with multiple authors for the ANTIWRIMO project?

Initially, I struggled to imagine how we’d possibly blend our writing styles. I’m the type to barrel through a scene to get to the fun parts—jokey dialogue, strange characters, obscene scenarios. Maybe I’m overgeneralizing here, but I’d say Danny’s writing is grittier than mine and Jonathan’s is more sensual. Both of them are super poetic and sincere. So you can imagine how ridiculous I felt proposing things like “what if the character encounters his mother having sex with his boss while wearing bird costumes?” Yes, that was a real suggestion. And to their credit, they were down to try it. The idea ultimately didn’t make sense for the story—perhaps unsurprisingly, the tone was all wrong—but Jonathan and Danny were really open to my weirdo shit, which helped build trust between us. Overall, our collaboration taught me to slow down in scenes, and gave me permission to get more poetic. I also got good practice letting go of control; I had to trust my co-authors to make executive decisions, and to embrace their ideas and critiques. The best part by far has been editing. When I edit my solo work, I can only rely on my vague internal sense of what the completed story is supposed to look like. But with three brains fully tapped into a single project, I always have someone to turn to who knows exactly what I’m aiming for. My co-authors helped build this thing, and so they’re the perfect people to help fix it.

27. Have you ever tried NANOWRIMO? Did it work out?

Yeah, no. I’m a much slower writer than that. Even our collaborative novel’s “one month” stretched into four. I have a lot of respect for people who can churn out 50k words in four weeks, but I’m not one of them.

28. What do you usually use as a bookmark? (And don’t you dare say dog-earing)

Dog-earing. Seriously. (Most) books are tools, not sacred objects.

29. Do you have any future projects you're excited about?

I’m still working on my own (solo) novel, but after 7 long years, I’ve finally gotten to the editing stage. With any luck, I’ll have a solid enough draft to start querying by the end of 2024, though that was also my goal last year. The novel is about haunted houses (both the literal kind and the ticketed attraction type), dogmatic queer community politics, the difficult progression from being a chaotic young trans person to a chaotic trans adult, the way capitalism gobbles up and spits out once-radical notions, and how precarious life is for creative communities in cities consumed by big tech. You can see why it’s taken me the better part of a decade to get this story right. I hope I’ll get a chance to share it with the world.

30. Have you ever been in a book club? What was it like?

“Mama, I am a rich man book club.” - Cher

31. How do you keep yourself motivated to write on those especially blocked days?

When I’m blocked, I take breaks. Pushing through rarely yields anything worthwhile. It’s better to do something different for a bit, especially if it’s something that can nourish your writing, whenever you return to it. Reading work by authors you admire, watching something totally engrossing, chatting with a friend about your harebrained ideas, journaling about whatever’s blocking you—all good ways to make use of that “stuck” time.

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Spark Bird, part of The Ternion, is out now. You don’t want to miss this huge moment from Thirty West.