The Lightning Room With Laura Tansley

From the queer issue, Laura Tansley’s “The Wake She Leaves Like A Whirlpool,” bring us ever in circles:

1. Much of “The Wake She Leaves Like A Whirlpool” piece seems to be about proof- the evidence we have that we are who we are, that we’ve done what we’ve done- the ways we demonstrate our hurt to others. What is your favorite scar?

When I was young I remember deliberately kicking a metal climbing frame because someone in my primary school had said that hitting your shin-bone was particularly painful and I wanted to find out for myself. I’m not sure if I should be proud or embarrassed by that kind of bravery mixed with stupidity.

2. A sense of place feels very important in this piece, from the viaduct to CrownGate to Severn Bridge and the park. Can you share something with us about the physical context for this story?

The story is set in a place called Worcester in the UK. It’s near to where I grew up although I’ve been living elsewhere for a number of years now. It was a frustrating place to be a teenager, and I think that frustration has become a useful thing to channel when writing. I’ve become fond of Worcester because of its ability to inspire in this way; it’s appeared in a number of guises in a number of stories. 

3. I love how tactile this piece is; the films, the burning hair, the bruises, the blisters and gnawing. It gives the characters such an immediate, visceral presence, turns emotion into something concrete. If there was one sensation to experience over and over, what would it be?

I feel as if anything I respond with here will come off as slightly Amelie-esque and I’m not that cute. Besides which, the notion of endless repetition frightens me.

4. Among so many others, this phrase is amazing: “The possibility of her, the rumour of her,”- it shows a character who has designed herself to be the center of everything, even when she’s not around, an anticipatory presence. The one who makes all the others stand-ins. What is the cure for this?

I’m not sure I’d want to cure anyone of this. These kinds of people are fascinating to me because I find them so attractive and so repulsive.

5. What’s another good metaphor for the stuff that’s left behind when we leave each other?

I can’t give you a metaphor, but perhaps a simile would do: it’s like a melted sweet in your favourite coat pocket.

6. This may be long past its relevance, but why do you have Vietnamese sand in your shoes? Is it for romantic or nostalgic reasons?

When I submitted the story I was on an extended post-PhD holiday, so I literally had Vietnamese sand in my shoes. I miss it, and it had a nice pumicing effect.