The Lightning Room With Dani Sandal

From our July issue, Dani Sandal’s elaborate, elusive “Maria in Drag.”

1. This story possesses, on the one hand, a magical, fable-like temperament, while at the same time is cut with a harsh grittiness. How did you decide on the tone for this story?

The narrator simply arrived in my brain. And she both loves and feels threatened by Chica. Perhaps she feels threatened, because she loves her. This is an old story, really — as far as young females go. Maybe the “fable-like” you speak of comes from my attempt to capture that?

2. At first, Chica seems to consume that which surrounds her: secrets, pain, innocence. When she becomes Maria, however, it all comes flooding back out. Can you talk about this shift?

Chica carries the burden of secrecy. I think when someone induces candor, especially a young girl with her friends — but remains inaccessible, both closed and open at the same time — she is in danger of reaping the consequence. I am interested in the ways people want to unload, confess, sometimes for narcissistic reasons. And how the power of this exchange resides in the one with knowledge. Who is imparted with this knowledge. I think Chica enjoyed this (manifested) power. I thought of girls telling secrets in this piece. And the rehab – or hospital – where they are most vulnerable, seemed ripe for this exploration. This seems to be a breeding ground for misdirected animosity and vulnerability. And then, there she is. Exposed. Maria.

I guess. Really, I don’t ever think too much about my writing, until it’s “done,” or someone asks me. I’m not a big planner. I just go where the thread/voice takes me, and try to manipulate it if it seems to be driving off a cliff. Into the abyss. 

3. Can you pitch the voice of this story? It’s communal, collective, a little bit frightening in its maturity. How did you settle on this perspective?

Well, it’s a Group Mentality. They are unsettled by her, Chica’s (apparent) solid psyche. Though, they crave it. So, I think the narrator moves from observer to complicit in her involvement. In the End — she is truthful. And vulnerable.

4. Who else lives in this place, and what is their story?

Who knows? But they are wounded. Yes? And so desiring some reprieve. And love. But when it comes from a contemporary, they begin to detest her seemingly upper hand (which they created by “telling”).

5. Tell me about the capital letters in this piece. Tell me about The Good Book, Everything, Group. The Gatekeeper.

Communal. Group=Dangerous.

6. How has this year of sending things into the ether treated you? What have you learned?

This year has been interesting. I have learned that submitting takes research and the response from journals, magazines, is more reflective of the present editor’s aesthetic, than one’s work. Sure, sometimes you just suck — but many times you have to do your homework and see who is actually reading your work. Thus far, in my 10 months of sending, I’ve been picked up by 6 solid journals. I feel pretty good about that . . .I foresee good things. This is how it is: delusion (or willing suspension of disbelief) is a survival tool.