Last year, Elizabeth Glixman interviewed Jim Tomlinson, author of the acclaimed short story collection Things Kept, Things Left Behind, for Eclectica magazine.
Here's the beginning of the interview:
EG After reading the opening paragraph of "First Husband, First Wife" from your short story collection Things Kept, Things Left Behind, I suspected I was in for a treat. I was right. The stories are well written and entertaining. You have a great ear for dialogue, a great eye for seeing detail, and an intelligence that recognizes the bottom line of why people act as they do. You tell the stories scenically; they are a joy to read. The characters, for the most part, are working class people with ordinary lives. How do you know about the frustrations of people like Jerry and Cheryl? Have you been to jail or know anyone who has? Have you dabbled in drugs? Have you been married more than once? Personal questions. This inquiring mind wants to know.
JT So that's the kind of interview it's going to be, going straight for the tabloid stuff? Let me order another beer and bum a cigarette from someone, and I'll be ready.
EG Yes, Jim. I want dirt.
JT Okay. My jail time has been limited to two brief stints. In first grade my class toured the local jail. This was in Sycamore, Illinois. The jailer put six of us in a cell. When the door clanked shut, I was completely terrified. Right then I vowed in my six-year-old heart to never do anything that would land me back there which, I suspect, was the intended outcome. My second stay in jail was longer, most of a day touring Blackburn Correctional Facility outside Lexington, Kentucky. I'd joined a Citizens Police Academy program as research for crime novel I was writing. At the end of the tour, I met two inmates, both of whom had been convicted of murder. Each told his story and answered questions, gave his perspective on the justice system, on prison life, on what hopes he held for the future. It was an eye-opening day.
My drug use? It's a matter of public record, the whole gamut from acid (acetylsalicylic) to pseudoephedrine. And there was that brief dependency on Nyquil. That's all ancient history, though. I swear.
Seriously, I know people who've done time in prison and some whose involvement with drugs went way beyond dabbling. I've been married twice, and, while I've never counted noses, I'd guess that's not at all unusual among my acquaintances. But really, your question is how do I know how to write about characters like Jerry and Cheryl, right?
I come from working class background, and that certainly shapes my outlook. My father carried mail for the post office, walking a daily route on the west side of Sycamore. He was a quiet man, but not much happened in town, on the surface or below, that he didn't know about. My mother left school in eighth grade to work in a Sycamore pencil factory. Later, she worked in the town library as assistant to the assistant librarian. She loved books — thick novels set in interesting times and far away places — James Michener's Hawaii, Edna Ferber's Giant, Pearl Buck's The Good Earth. My brother was the first person on either side of the family to graduate college, the University of Illinois. I was the third, two years behind him at Illinois. I've never felt far from where I started out.
As for my characters' frustrations; there are those, yes. My fiction is realistic, so their lives and prospects may seem grim at times. But there are also, I hope, times of amazing endurance, of humanity, and a few moments of great grace. At least that's what I aim for in the writing.