Q&A: English's Brock Clarke Discusses His Book Award

Brockway Clarke, assistant professor of English and fiction editor of “The Cincinnati Review” is the recipient of the 2004 Prairie Schooner Book Series Prize for “Carrying the Torch,” which will be published by the University of Nebraska Press in 2005. In the following interview he talks about the award, his work, and the importance of fiction.

Q:

Were you surprised to be recognized? How are recipients chosen, and what does the prize mean to your career?

A:

The recipients sent in their books, and were chosen by the two judges, and yes, I was surprised and happy that that they chose mine, out of 350 or so others. As for what it means to my career, it’s hard to say. Fame? Fortune? Probably not. But it does give me hope and optimism as I go on and write the next book.

Q:

It must be gratifying to know that others admire your work. Do you have a favorite quote from reviewers?

A:

It is gratifying to know others admire my work, but I try not to think about it too much while I’m writing. It’s not like I put all my positive reviews in an envelope and look at them when I’m feeling down or something (yes, I do). There was a review of my first book, “The Ordinary White Boy,” which called the book “sadly accurate.” I did kind of like that.

Q:

This isn’t your first book then.

A:

That’s right: I published a novel, “The Ordinary White Boy,” and a short story collection, “What We Won’t Do.”

Q:

“Carrying the Torch” is also a collection of stories. Where did some originally appear, and were any rejected before you found publishers?

A:

All of the stories appeared in various magazines and anthologies, including “The Georgia Review,” “The Southern Review,” “New England Review,” “New Stories from the South,” and the “Pushcart Prize Anthology,” among others. Each story was rejected by one magazine or another before I finally found someone foolish enough to publish it.

Q:

In many respects fiction and poetry seem more personal than other kinds of writing. If that’s the case, is it more difficult to accept rejection?

A:

I often hear this, but I don’t think poetry or fiction is necessarily more personal than certain kinds of nonfiction. If you care about the thing you’re writing, if you’re emotionally and intellectually invested in it, then rejection is going to be painful; if you’re not invested, then you shouldn’t be writing the thing in the first place.

Q:

Has anyone ever asked why you write? It takes inordinate time, and the odds against making money or achieving recognition are enormous. So why should a talented young person, for example, set out on such a career?

A:

I am of the belief that being a writer isn’t superior as a vocation to lots of others—that it isn’t nobler than being a plumber or a lawyer or a physical therapist or a tree surgeon or anything, necessarily, except maybe an assassin, or a radio talk show host. What I’m saying, I guess, is that a talented young person shouldn’t want to become a writer because of some grand preconceived notion what a writer is, or can do, but because that young person is convinced that he or she has something important to say, and a unique, compelling way in which to say it. That’s why I write: because I feel—perhaps mistakenly—that I have something to say and my own way of saying it. That, and I’m not remotely good at anything else.

Q:

What does a writer who has just won a prestigious award do next?

A:

Go to Disney World? Or maybe, return to the computer and finish the next book.