KMWR: I’m always curious about how a story comes to the writer. Can you talk about how "The Channel" first came to you? Do you know certain parts of a story before you sit down to write it?
MH: I tend to cue off images. In this case, there was a deck railing and some water sort of in darkness below. But if I know too much about a story I don’t feel a great need to write it down.
KMWR: Something I don't think we see enough in fiction is writing on/around the working class, and I loved how this story communicates the pride in one's work but sheds light on anxiety around keeping up with the world around us: You write, "He needed time to recover, to sleep in a room without the fear of being kicked out, but there was no one he thought he could call when the ferry docked. He lived an itinerant life. Still, that life was his." Can you speak more to how themes around the value of work come up in this story and perhaps in more of your other work?
MH: The world of labor is grounding in a way that many other professional realms are not. I find this useful for stories, or at least the ones I’m interested in. But I think my own sense of the “value of work” varies a lot, day to day. Sometimes it’s about exploring what your person can handle. Other times, it’s nothing more than dollars earned. Or it can be about using and further developing long-honed skills that not everyone possesses. I think your question is sharp to contrast pride and anxiety without implying it’s either/or. Some folks shout “working class” to win popularity contests, then are just completely vacant when it comes to the details, and the stories they tell are cheap.
KMWR: I loved the color palette that your prose emits in this piece. You write, "Soon they were in the blue evening light that saturates the Alaskan summers, gentle light that can linger across vast distances into the next day. The solarium lamps emitted a soft vermillion glow." I felt like as I read I was drifting through a work-in-progress oil painting. I'm curious if you are also a visual artist, or, perhaps, you can speak more to the importance of "painting" a scene in your craft.
MH: No matter my setting, I want the images of a scene to ring true to someone else who knows that place better than me. Beyond that, I suppose images can force me to reckon with a character’s priorities. When someone wants or feels impelled to do something—whether it’s getting to a sort of shelter, attempting intimacy, or finding the guy with your car keys—bits of the world can shine bright or appear ominous in surprising ways as that something is sought. Image can hone in on that urgency.
KMWR: Of course, I have to talk about that subtly devastating ending. Was this heartbreaking moment there in the very first draft?
MH: Minus some line edits, this was pretty much a one and done—so yes, but it came as a surprise to me when I got to it. Getting to the end of a grueling gig can bring up a lot of big feelings, but just because you have those big feelings doesn’t mean the world will conform to what you want. Still, it may not be so devastating to have a feeling awakened.
KMWR: What's an ideal writing session for you? What do you like to have nearby as you write?
MH:Early morning, quiet, with coffee nearby and friends to see when I’m done.
KMWR: What have you been reading recently that you would recommend?
MH:I just reread Among the Thugs by Bill Buford and was really impressed at how unheroic he allows himself to be. I think this humility lets him go deep into the appeal of mingling with rowdy soccer fans and come out with some very useful insights into group mentalities.
KMWR: And finally, what is in your future for your writing career? Any current projects? I saw somewhere that you've completed your first novel. Is it ready to shop around or still in revision?
MH: I’m shopping around a novel and am about to shop around a story collection as well. Beyond that, I have a number of other projects in the works.
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Michael's work has appeared or is forthcoming in VQR, The Missouri Review, and BULL. He was a Truman Capote Fellow at the University of Montana.