From the April Issue, “Blown,” by Lisa Ahn.
1. How many bodies have you left in the Everglades?
I’m sure I’ve buried at least three or four incarnations of myself – the self-destructive teen, the cloudy drunk, the fear-sodden twenty-something. Of course, they decompose and feed the roots of tenacious mangroves. Nothing’s entirely lost in the end.
2. What do you do to hold off death?
Isn’t that the root of storytelling? I’m convinced that every story is a ghost story at its heart, a whisper in the night, meant to raise or bury something lost. As a writer, I cup that bit of firelight in among the shadows. I hold off death with words.
3. What would it take for you to give up your dreams?
I’m a writer and a mother. Both those roles are woven so thoroughly into my flesh that I’m not sure they could be removed and leave anything behind. My dreams are actions, lived out in the everyday: listening to my daughters, teaching them to be strong and inventive, fostering imagination (mine and theirs), creating stories. The rest is changeable. I’d love to publish a novel or two, travel widely, live in Greece for awhile, but those ideas are streamers on a kite. I could change their colors, their length and texture, and the kite would still be flying.
4. Where did “Blown” come from? How much research did you put into this story?
“Blown†started with the image of a woman in a lighted, uncurtained beach shack, waiting for a man with a gun. I worked backwards from there, discovering who she was and how she got there. Livvy was simply a character who demanded to be written. She pestered me until I got the details right.
I always wonder what people might assume about me if they looked at my google search history when I’m writing a story. For “Blown,†I researched oil rigs and refineries, the plants and wildlife of the Everglades, Key West history, guns, fishing holes, US maps, convenience store robbery videos, and types of beer. I’m sure there’s more that I’ve forgotten.
5. What have you stolen?
When I was a little girl, I chased down boys and stole their kisses. Later, I stole dreams from people who seemed to know where they were headed. Sometimes I steal hope from behind the back of doubt but, overall, I’m better now at pacing, at waiting for or creating the essentials I can’t live without.
6. What is your weapon of choice?
Imagination. It can survive nearly anything and replenishes itself from castoffs. Plus, it packs easily, still works when wet, and is invisible to airport security.