Toti O'Brien Q & A with Eastern Iowa Review
Q: What possibly is "Vertigo" (Issue 3) about?
A: It’s about a feeling I first experienced when I was 9 years old… a bit older than the girls mentioned in my essay. I remember how uncomfortable the sensation was—hence the title—and how clumsily I tried to describe it to the available adult. My 'vertigo' made me step so tightly into someone else’s shoes, my own identity started to melt away—a kind of too-intense empathy, not so pleasant unless you’d choose to ride with it, as this prose does.
Q: What did you want to achieve as you wrote it?
A: Two goals emerged as I wrote. Personally, I wished to consolidate my female legacy—to explore my connection with my mother and grandmother as deeply as possible. I also hoped to arouse curiosity about the reality behind the characters. I left the context foggy, like a windowpane one could mop in order to see beyond. I hoped the reader would wonder about what marked/traumatized the two girls I described in the piece—first the earthquake, then the occupation and sac of Messina during WWII. Though the town isn’t mentioned, the date of the earthquake identifies it. I realized, while writing, how strongly I felt for the place itself, how important its plight and destiny were to me.
Q: What prompted you to begin writing?
A: Actually, the city of Messina might be responsible—as it represents my first major displacement. No doubt, distance is the fuel nurturing any writing I ever did. As a child, being constantly ferried between my hometown—Rome, Italy, where my parents lived—to Messina, Sicily, where I spent most of the year with my grandparents, set the pattern of deracination I followed for my entire life. As a child, I was always missing someone—or somewhere—very harshly, and writing was the only way I knew to bridge over the gap. Or imagining, remembering. But writing is what 'realizes’ memory and imagination.
Q: Where and when do you write?
A: I write anywhere. In my car, in waiting rooms, on a bench, in a bus. Mostly on my knees, and on scrap paper. I have wondered why the setting has to be so interstitial in order to work, and the reason is simple. To me writing is a place, literally a space I immediately inhabit. It erases all other places. It needs no place besides itself. And of course I write whenever. Interstitially. In fragments. Often during the night—as the night is a kind of non-time.
Q: Hand, keyboard?
A: Hand for the first draft—because of the gesture, which demands some effort and engages the body. There is a link between handwriting and emotion, which is subtle but powerful. The way we grip the pen, the pressure we apply, the changes in speed, intensity, shape, feeds back into the contents. Then, a keyboard allows the distance needed for editing and reviewing. They are two different modes, moments, moods.
Q: What possibly is "Vertigo" (Issue 3) about?
A: It’s about a feeling I first experienced when I was 9 years old… a bit older than the girls mentioned in my essay. I remember how uncomfortable the sensation was—hence the title—and how clumsily I tried to describe it to the available adult. My 'vertigo' made me step so tightly into someone else’s shoes, my own identity started to melt away—a kind of too-intense empathy, not so pleasant unless you’d choose to ride with it, as this prose does.
Q: What did you want to achieve as you wrote it?
A: Two goals emerged as I wrote. Personally, I wished to consolidate my female legacy—to explore my connection with my mother and grandmother as deeply as possible. I also hoped to arouse curiosity about the reality behind the characters. I left the context foggy, like a windowpane one could mop in order to see beyond. I hoped the reader would wonder about what marked/traumatized the two girls I described in the piece—first the earthquake, then the occupation and sac of Messina during WWII. Though the town isn’t mentioned, the date of the earthquake identifies it. I realized, while writing, how strongly I felt for the place itself, how important its plight and destiny were to me.
Q: What prompted you to begin writing?
A: Actually, the city of Messina might be responsible—as it represents my first major displacement. No doubt, distance is the fuel nurturing any writing I ever did. As a child, being constantly ferried between my hometown—Rome, Italy, where my parents lived—to Messina, Sicily, where I spent most of the year with my grandparents, set the pattern of deracination I followed for my entire life. As a child, I was always missing someone—or somewhere—very harshly, and writing was the only way I knew to bridge over the gap. Or imagining, remembering. But writing is what 'realizes’ memory and imagination.
Q: Where and when do you write?
A: I write anywhere. In my car, in waiting rooms, on a bench, in a bus. Mostly on my knees, and on scrap paper. I have wondered why the setting has to be so interstitial in order to work, and the reason is simple. To me writing is a place, literally a space I immediately inhabit. It erases all other places. It needs no place besides itself. And of course I write whenever. Interstitially. In fragments. Often during the night—as the night is a kind of non-time.
Q: Hand, keyboard?
A: Hand for the first draft—because of the gesture, which demands some effort and engages the body. There is a link between handwriting and emotion, which is subtle but powerful. The way we grip the pen, the pressure we apply, the changes in speed, intensity, shape, feeds back into the contents. Then, a keyboard allows the distance needed for editing and reviewing. They are two different modes, moments, moods.
Thank you, Toti! Very interesting! I can sense your European upbringing in some of this, and it fascinates me. - Chila
Toti O'Brien is the Italian Accordionist with the Irish Last Name. She was born in Rome then moved to Los Angeles, where she makes a living as a self-employed artist, performing musician, and professional dancer. Her work has most recently appeared in Zingara Poetry, Bangalore Review, DIN Magazine, and Panoplyzine.
Toti O'Brien is the Italian Accordionist with the Irish Last Name. She was born in Rome then moved to Los Angeles, where she makes a living as a self-employed artist, performing musician, and professional dancer. Her work has most recently appeared in Zingara Poetry, Bangalore Review, DIN Magazine, and Panoplyzine.
