J A Knight Q & A with Eastern Iowa Review
Chila: Your short essay is a gorgeous response to new life. How would you describe it in a line or two?
Jennifer: I was confounded by the mystery of creation, the mystery of the things that come into existence and the things that leave us, and what life is and what memory is. I think, mainly, this is about the desire to hold onto experience and how I can't hold on, how no one can. It's also about the pain of releasing the things we want to hold, how we are forced to give things up -- due to impermanence or failures of memory, failures of ritual, and how this modern, digital age reflects this conundrum in redefining what is real. When so much of what we experience is an abstraction of reality, what do we really have to hold? So this is a celebration of birth, in which the process of creation and the creation are one, and what a gift that is.
Chila: The lyricism is certainly present, and surprising, and beautiful in unique ways. Tell us your process with this text, the forming of it.
Jennifer: Thank you so much. The piece grew directly from a prophetic dream I had of the son I was carrying during my pregnancy. I've kept a dream journal on my nightstand for many years. The dream was just as I depicted it in the piece, so the writing of the dream flowed quite simply because it already lived in me; it was akin to taking dictation. I don't know if I can really speak much on my process. If anything, it's just a matter of allowing things to rise. I do know I was thinking about how to find significance in a life that is comprised of so many abstractions and illusions.
I listen very carefully to the signs that appear in dreams, in books, alongside streams in the forest, signs that point us towards something meaningful. Time is a trickster in that sometimes these signs appear, and in our recognition of them we have the mysterious sensation that they have lived in us since before the creation of time. It's these ideas that I like to play with in my work.
Chila: Is the essay your favorite form, or do you experiment with other forms as well? If so, which ones?
Jennifer: I've written for many years, privately. I've only very recently decided to submit my work. My daily practice is to write at least one hundred words. This usually manifests itself in essays about my work, my marriage, motherhood, and certain striking current events. Much of it is lyrical memoir and poetry. I have written monologues for the theater and short stories. I think in images and allegory, so my work leans naturally into lyricism. In a sense, isn't every experience worth writing about a kind of poem? I believe so.
Chila: What are you writing at the moment that excites you the most?
Jennifer: I've been working with short fiction; I find the flash genre very exciting. I like the challenge of seeing just how much I can pack into a few hundred words. Working with these short forms has improved my writing, as well as my thoughts about writing. It can be a chilling process shaving a story down to its essence.
Chila: If you could tell one budding writer one thing that will likely help them on their journey, what would that be?
Jennifer: Read with delight. Go outside under the trees everyday, if you can; nature is rife with gifts and clues and rhythms that work their way into words. And write daily, even just one line.
Chila: Your short essay is a gorgeous response to new life. How would you describe it in a line or two?
Jennifer: I was confounded by the mystery of creation, the mystery of the things that come into existence and the things that leave us, and what life is and what memory is. I think, mainly, this is about the desire to hold onto experience and how I can't hold on, how no one can. It's also about the pain of releasing the things we want to hold, how we are forced to give things up -- due to impermanence or failures of memory, failures of ritual, and how this modern, digital age reflects this conundrum in redefining what is real. When so much of what we experience is an abstraction of reality, what do we really have to hold? So this is a celebration of birth, in which the process of creation and the creation are one, and what a gift that is.
Chila: The lyricism is certainly present, and surprising, and beautiful in unique ways. Tell us your process with this text, the forming of it.
Jennifer: Thank you so much. The piece grew directly from a prophetic dream I had of the son I was carrying during my pregnancy. I've kept a dream journal on my nightstand for many years. The dream was just as I depicted it in the piece, so the writing of the dream flowed quite simply because it already lived in me; it was akin to taking dictation. I don't know if I can really speak much on my process. If anything, it's just a matter of allowing things to rise. I do know I was thinking about how to find significance in a life that is comprised of so many abstractions and illusions.
I listen very carefully to the signs that appear in dreams, in books, alongside streams in the forest, signs that point us towards something meaningful. Time is a trickster in that sometimes these signs appear, and in our recognition of them we have the mysterious sensation that they have lived in us since before the creation of time. It's these ideas that I like to play with in my work.
Chila: Is the essay your favorite form, or do you experiment with other forms as well? If so, which ones?
Jennifer: I've written for many years, privately. I've only very recently decided to submit my work. My daily practice is to write at least one hundred words. This usually manifests itself in essays about my work, my marriage, motherhood, and certain striking current events. Much of it is lyrical memoir and poetry. I have written monologues for the theater and short stories. I think in images and allegory, so my work leans naturally into lyricism. In a sense, isn't every experience worth writing about a kind of poem? I believe so.
Chila: What are you writing at the moment that excites you the most?
Jennifer: I've been working with short fiction; I find the flash genre very exciting. I like the challenge of seeing just how much I can pack into a few hundred words. Working with these short forms has improved my writing, as well as my thoughts about writing. It can be a chilling process shaving a story down to its essence.
Chila: If you could tell one budding writer one thing that will likely help them on their journey, what would that be?
Jennifer: Read with delight. Go outside under the trees everyday, if you can; nature is rife with gifts and clues and rhythms that work their way into words. And write daily, even just one line.
We're thrilled to have yet another debut author represented in this second issue of the Eastern Iowa Review. Best wishes to Jennifer! ~Chila
J A Knight is a theater actor, director, and emerging writer. Her poems and monologues have been performed at the Kennedy Center for Performing Arts, and at various venues across the country. She is currently working on a collection of illustrated short stories that she hopes will find its way to readers across the world. "Life Code" is her first publication and she could not be more grateful for the grace and guidance of the Eastern Iowa Review. She is a graduate of the National Conservatory of Dramatic Arts. She lives with her husband and her two dogs in Maryland.
Lyric Essay Award Finalist
J A Knight is a theater actor, director, and emerging writer. Her poems and monologues have been performed at the Kennedy Center for Performing Arts, and at various venues across the country. She is currently working on a collection of illustrated short stories that she hopes will find its way to readers across the world. "Life Code" is her first publication and she could not be more grateful for the grace and guidance of the Eastern Iowa Review. She is a graduate of the National Conservatory of Dramatic Arts. She lives with her husband and her two dogs in Maryland.
Lyric Essay Award Finalist
