10 Questions with Emily Flouton
- By Franchesca Viaud
Emily Flouton
Al had not been blessed with charm. Or pleasing aspect. Or verve. Or intellect, that I could discern, though she must have had some scrap of it to have gained acceptance in the first instance. She was a lumpen thing, all fuzzy hair, pigeon toes, and befuddled grin, her broad back humping round under that filthy yellow backpack, flouting our lofty ideals with her very existence. This was unforgivable to me.
—from "Invasive Species," Vol. 64, Issue 2 (Summer 2023)
Tell us about one of the first pieces you wrote.
In second grade, I wrote a story about my teacher called “Why Are You So Crazy?” I gave it to my teacher as a gift. In my memory, she thought I was a genius and acknowledged that she was indeed crazy, but my mother disputes this.
What writer(s) or works have influenced the way you write now?
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about Desperate Characters by Paula Fox, The Vegetarian by Han Kang, and The Driver’s Seat by Muriel Spark—all books that challenge me to be bolder and more specific as a writer. Day-to-day, I read mostly contemporary novels (everything new I can get my hands on) and learn something from everyone. If I ever feel like I'm playing it too safe on the page (which happens), I'll read—for a start—B.S. Johnson, Mary Ruefle, Ishmael Reed, Julio Cortazar, Jesse Ball, Joy Williams.
What other professions have you worked in?
I’ve worked as an actor, a theater director, and a playwright. I’ve written video game and film scripts, worked with STEM students on grant proposals, and bartended in pretty much every type of establishment you can think of.
What did you want to be when you were young?
A farmer or a magician. Although nowadays, I can barely keep a jade plant alive and am far too clumsy for sleight-of-hand.
What inspired you to write this piece?
I was thinking about boarding school—the one I attended, specifically, which, in fictionalized form, is also the setting of my novel. I honestly don’t remember where the iguana came from, although looking at the story now, it seems a clear metaphor for being a fish out of water, which is certainly how I felt during my first years at the school.
Is there a city or place, real or imagined, that influences your writing?
Setting is probably the element of story that inspires me the most in conceiving new pieces. I have lived in a number of cities and travel as much as possible, and I draw a lot of inspiration from those experiences. So I suppose there isn’t one particular place that influences me, but a variety of places do influence me enormously. That being said, I feel the most fluency with the rhythms of New York City, where I have lived the longest, and small New England towns like the one where I grew up.
Is there any specific music that aids you through the writing or editing process?
I’m boring in that I prefer quiet to write—unless I’m in a coffeeshop or bar, and then the louder the tapestry of music and chatter in the background, the better.
Do you have any rituals or traditions that you do in order to write?
I’ve actively worked against making my writing sessions particular in any way, so that I can more easily drop into some form of writing from any moment. The one thing I’m fanatical about is pleasant lighting, though—if a place is too glaring, I’ll find somewhere else to work. And if I’m resisting writing for whatever reason—which happens; I can be lazy—I’ll read a bit first, maybe some poetry, and that’ll usually inspire me to attempt to contribute something of my own to the world. If it doesn’t, at least I’m reading.
Who typically gets the first read of your work?
My dear friend Alexander Lumans helps me with notes on pretty much everything I write, no matter how small. We also act as one another’s hype people through the inevitable barrage of rejection that comes with being a writer, and we remind each other to take a moment to celebrate the wins when they do come, which feels equally important.
If you could work in another art form what would it be?
I’d love to create gigantic art installations, the kind that transport you to another world. It's hard for me to think on a very large scale—I'm much more comfortable in miniature—and I admire people who can think that way.
EMILY FLOUTON is a writer from Massachusetts living in Brooklyn. Her fiction and nonfiction have appeared in Tin House, The Atlantic, Subtropics, Quarterly West, Passages North, DIAGRAM, Gay Magazine, The Forge, and other publications. She won the 2020 Kurt Brown Fiction Prize from AWP, holds an MFA from Portland State University, and teaches with Lighthouse Writers Workshop.
