Our guest co-host. Arianna Reiche, is a Bay Area-born writer based in London.
She is the author of the two-story chapbook Warden / Star (Tangerine Press), and At The End Of Every Day (Artia Books/Simon & Schuster).
She was also nominated for the 2020 Bridport Prize and the 2020 PANK Magazine Book Contest. She won first prize in Glimmer Train’s 2017 Fiction Open and Tupelo Quarterly’s 2021 Prose Prize. Her stories have appeared in Ambit Magazine, Joyland, The Mechanics’ Institute Review, Berlin’s SAND Journal, Feels Blind Literary, Lighthouse Press, and Popshot.
Her features have appeared in Art News, The Wall Street Journal, New Scientist, USA Today, The London Fashion Week Daily, Fest Magazine, Vogue International, and Vice. She also researches and lectures in interactive narrative and metafiction at City, University of London.
1. Place has a lot to do with my fiction - I just wrote a whole novel about the grounds of a theme park, and my next book is set in Berlin - but I often struggle with feeling that I've earned the right to write intimately about any given place. I find that I often sidestep writing about towns/cities/countries with real earnestness because of that, and instead adopt a lens of irony or eeriness. Or I just end up writing about the Bay Area, where I grew up, more than I probably truly want to, because no one can challenge me on my connection to it! Have you ever felt that conflict before? And more generally, how do you approach geography in your work
2. What does writing in earnest and with authenticity-one's OWN sense of what is authentic-look like? How do you capture it on the page to honor our own telling or to honor our truth and perspective? And how, if it all, does that challenge and expand the narratives we see present in certain spaces or among certain people?
3. How do you deal with feeling repelled by your own work during the editing process? It's something I've heard almost every writer I know talk about; I describe the feeling of opening the laptop for your third round of manuscript edits as poking a bruise. How do you stay enthusiastic about your own work when you're frankly just sick of looking at it?
