Pigeon Pages Interview
with Melissa Ragsly

 
Photo by David Goddard

Photo by David Goddard

 
 

Tell us about We Know This Will All Disappear. 

We Know This Will All Disappear is my little black and white and yellow collection. It’s most of the stories I’ve written in the past six years, all between two covers. They’re stories that are intimate, intense, a little bit funny and a lot sad. I hope it’s the kind of work that talks to a reader, shares secrets with them like a whisper right in your ear. I don’t want you to think about the book, I want you to feel it. It’s my first book and it makes me want to have another.

Do you have a bird story or favorite feathered friend?

One of the stories in the collection, “Tattoo,” features a cassowary and I like them because they don’t fly. I’m no fan of wings. There’s something about having a limitation on what’s expected of you and still being beyond capable that I like. If you are asked to think of a bird, all the attributes you’d likely come up with do not apply here, but yet, a cassowary is still a bird. A big one too and it might not fly but it’s so strong it can kill a person, if it had to. I also really like the flamingos in the Three’s Company opening credits

What is your most memorable reading experience?

I’m assuming you mean reading as in standing in front of a crowd with a book in hand trying not to nervously stumble through a story? I really loved being part of the Rock and Roll reading at AWP this year, because it was at a dive bar in a strip mall with a bunch of other writers that I really enjoy hearing and being around and reading and when it was all over, we trekked through alleys to find the open-all-night Mexican place where a waitress named Angel served me the best salsa verde I ever had. I was sated. It felt like the perfect combination of people supporting other writers without any pretentiousness, without hierarchy, with cheap drinks and greasy food and all levels of body and soul were fed. Also, considering that when we all got home from the conference, we couldn’t leave our homes and still can’t, it really felt like the last time the world existed. 

What makes you most excited about We Know This Will All Disappear?

It’s silly but I’m excited to hold it in my hands. It’s now become an object and not just an idea.

To tweet or not to tweet?

Always tweet! That being said, Twitter is not your diary. Don’t tell me everything. Don’t reveal every insecurity and frustration and joy and win. Save something for yourselves. And the DMs.  

What books do you have in your bag right now?

You mean the bag I pack to go from my bedroom to my living room to my basement to my deck everyday? Because I do pack a bag for my house! I read a lot of books at once and then I will put a book down for a long time, like a year, and pick it up again so it usually takes a long time to actually finish a book. So right now I have Marina Abramovic’s memoir Walk Through Walls, Barbara Pym’s Excellent Women, Elizabeth Ellen’s Person/a and Megan Gidding’s Lakewood.

Can you tell us your favorite rejection story?

I don’t think I have one! I’ve gotten a few rejections where they said it was close or they enjoyed the piece but it wasn’t quite right, but I couldn’t tell you what they were for or who gave me the rejection. I got one of those personalized New Yorker rejections once, which was exciting at the time because it was pretty early on in my writing life and I cared about the idea of being published in an established place more than I do now. If The New Yorker wanted to publish something of mine, I would not say no, but it’s not something I’m going to pursue, because getting a novel published by Two Dollar Radio would mean more to me at this point. I’ve never read a Two Dollar Radio book and didn't absolutely love it. I can’t say the same about New Yorker stories. 

What literary journals do you love?

My heart loves Hobart and Barrelhouse. They publish surprising and authentic work that’s funny and sad and beautiful. And their “feud” is a story itself. A journal that I love having in my hands and slowly reading over is The Sewanee Review. I’m always surprised and engaged in their pieces and it’s always a mix of established and emerging writers. I picked one up the other day and the opening story, “Candy Cane” by Lea Carpenter, blew me away. A paragraph and flow master. Definitely subscribe if you can. 

What shakes your tail feathers?

I haven’t been able to do it in months, but going to a movie alone during the day. Especially the Angelika Theater in NYC. The theaters are down a flight of stairs, close to the subway so every few minutes you hear the trains muffled and feel the vibration in your chair. It’s not disruptive though, it feels very much a part of the experience. The last movie I saw there was Pedro Almodóvar’s Pain and Glory. His films shake my tail feathers too. Especially All About My Mother. This kind of gift you give yourself, time to be alone and take in someone else’s art, it’s feeding to you. I leave my seat recharged and thinking about my own work.

What advice do you have for fledgling writers?

I think it’s important to not forget yourself when you are first stepping into a writing life. We are put into this workshop factory and you are hearing everyone’s opinions about basically what might be a first or second draft and it can bog you down at first, trying to hear so many unharmonious voices. The more you read and find writers you like and experiment with your own work, the more you can find what element of writing is important to you. And when you go into a workshop, go with an idea of what you want out of it. If you care about writing voice and not plot, then only listen to the readers who seem to be picking up on that. Don’t write or rewrite to please other people. You write to please yourself.

What other eggs do you have in your basket right now?

I have been working on a novel for a few years. I think it’s in good shape and I’ve been able to work on it a little bit during lockdown, but not much. All my eggs seem to be for cooking right now. I’ve never had to prepare so many meals in my life. I would like someone else to make me some eggs.

 
 
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Melissa Ragsly is a writer living in the Hudson Valley. Her collection, We Know This Will All Disappear, is out from Pank Books now. Other work has appeared in Best American Nonrequired Reading, Best Small Fictions, Iowa Review, Hobart, and other journals. She is currently working on a novel. More can be found at melissaragsly.com.