Miscellany is a place for wonderful little things outside of the feature-length storytelling we do up front. It’s an infinite scroll of interviews, images and interesting resources, updated when the mood strikes and the opportunity presents. —The Editors

Escape from New York

March 24, 2020

…or Milan. Or Tehran. Or anywhere in the world, for that matter, to anywhere in the world. It’s still possible through travel writing—the kind that comes not in a buzzy list, or at the behest of a luxury resort; that’s not light on historical perspective or studied candor; that takes immersion and research and dialogue and often quite long periods of simply thinking things over before saying them.

This is the sort of artful, erudite content for which Nowhere has held a torch for more than a decade, and that we’re still passionate about bringing to you just about every week. But sometimes one wants more, for the story not to end just yet, particularly when one doesn’t have a pressing need to push pet or partner from lap and depart loveseat (even if one very much would like to be out in the world rather than reading about it).

Here, we are sharing a quick-hit collection of some of our favorites that represent funny, decadent, wise, inspirational and engaging storytelling from all over the place and several decades. We’ve linked to publisher pages rather than booksellers in a way of recognizing that everyone has access to different resources both financially and physically, especially while sheltering at home during a pandemic. In these trying times—in all times, really—we’d hope you can support local merchants and libraries whenever safe and feasible, but booting up the Kindle in your bathtub is clearly still a viable and envious option.

Be safe, be well, be hopeful and grateful and kind. More to come from the edit desk as the days roll forward. —Kim Stravers, managing editor

The Nowhere Editors’ Reading List

Old River, New River, Merrill Gilfillan
Coming into the Country, John McPhee
Moby-Duck, Donovan Hohn
In Our Time, Ernest Hemingway
The Innocents Abroad, Mark Twain
The Songlines, Bruce Chatwin
Along the Ganges, Ilija Trojanow
As They Were, M. F. K. Fisher
Writings, Captain John Smith
Chasing the Sea, Tom Bissell
The Impossible Country, by Brian Hall

Image: Courtesy Anna Kortschak

Interview: Anna Kortschak

January 27, 2020

Anna Kortschak’s recounting of her time spent bicycle touring through Bosnia, “History Lessons,” won Nowhere’s Spring 2019 Travel Writing Contest (and netted her not just publication, but also a US$1,000 prize). She conversed with us via email recently about the story behind the story, narrative juggling, transactional relationships and the shifting insubstantiality of identity.Compass Rose

Tell us how “History Lessons” came to be. How did this sprout from concept to contest winner?

“History Lessons” grew out of a couple of blog posts I wrote describing two parties I accidentally attended while cycling in Bosnia. I was immediately struck by the distinctive contrasts between the two encounters, but also by the extraordinary spontaneous hospitality that underlay them both.

I was also really intrigued by my own family’s history in the area. Years before the trip, I had interviewed my uncle, who lives in the US, about my family’s past in Central Europe, and he had related various stories of my grandfather’s childhood in Bosnia. I had pretty much forgotten about these stories, but as I rode through the area, they popped back into mind.

In Bosnia, reminders of the conflict and violence that erupted there in the 1990s are still physically and psychically present everywhere. The idea that this violence was caused by immutable ancient “ethnic” conflicts that can be simply explained is not one that bears scrutiny. Borders and the way people identify themselves—and each other—constantly change over time, and yet people are willing to go to war and kill each other on the basis of such insubstantial claims.

I was fascinated by the contradictions and dissonances that were generated both within and between the various exchanges that occurred during the two meetings, and how the issues raised were echoed and amplified by my uncle’s stories of earlier conflicts.

The piece grew in discrete stages. The accounts of the two parties I gate-crashed were written first as standalone pieces. Then the story of my great-grandfather’s sojourn in Bosnia came together as a third piece. It took a lot of juggling to get them to sit together. It was when I finally found the courage to add some of my own, more personal, reflections that it finally gelled.

Have you ever entered a writing contest before? If yes, what’s your experience been like? If no, what made you want to enter Nowhere’s?

I have entered the Nowhere travel writing contest once before, with a different piece, and I submitted a few other pieces to various prizes over the course of 2019.

In December 2019, I was runner-up in the Deborah Cass Prize [for Writing], which is a prize for emerging Australian writers with a migrant background. That was a great experience because it introduced me to a lot of very interesting writers in Australia, and the prize committee, the judges, the prizewinners and the runners-up all form a supportive creative community. Getting recognition twice in quick succession was very gratifying.

I was initially drawn to the Nowhere writing contest because a lot of my writing is about travelling, and so it seemed appropriate.

Tell us a little about yourself as a writer: how and when did you begin, which genres do you typically write under, etc.

I have only recently started to seriously think of myself as a writer. I have often written as a necessary part of work and study, but writing for its own sake was something that I only really started doing regularly when I set off on my first long bicycle trip, in 2009. Something about being in motion brings words forth; it doesn’t matter whether I am on foot, on a bicycle, in a car, on a train or a bus. When I am physically moving, I am moved to write.

I have always been absolutely passionate about words in their written form, and I cannot remember anything at all about existence before I learned to read. In the past, if I had had to choose between reading and writing, I would have easily given up writing in favor of reading, but now I would find it harder to choose!

The borders between different writing genres make about as much sense to me as the borders between countries—which is to say, none at all!

What inspires you to travel and what sorts of trips do you find yourself taking most often?

I do not see myself as a traveler, but more as someone who is simply extremely tenuously attached to place, and so it is not hard for me to end up in motion. I’ve lived in lots of different countries: Australia, Brazil, the UK, Czech Republic, Spain and Panama are all places I’ve lived for periods longer than a year or two.

Most of the travelling I have done over long distances is by bike, with minimal engagement with the tourist industry. I have generally carried a tent and cooked my own food while travelling, so I am quite self-sufficient and always at home, in a sense. What I find so appealing about travelling like this is that it removes the transactional aspect of relationships with the people that I come across.

What’s the best surprising thing that’s happened to you while traveling? The worst?

The amazing kindness and hospitality that has been extended to me in all the places I have travelled through on a bicycle was heartwarming and astonishing. It profoundly changed the way I look at people and the world.

My worst experiences have all involved witnessing the social and cultural destruction wreaked by a global economic order that respects nothing.

What’s the most useless (or downright harmful) piece of writing advice you’ve ever been offered? How about the best?

I’m largely untaught, so I have not received a huge amount of advice or instruction. Any advice that is really prescriptive is of limited value.

I think that reading a lot, reading carefully and reading widely is really important. But the most useful idea about writing that I know of—and one that is only finally starting to really sink in—is very simple: a writer is simply someone who writes—nothing more and nothing less.

What are you most afraid of—as a human and also as a writer? 

The dehumanizing power of a global economic order that respects nothing.

Anything interesting or exciting on the horizon?

I’m working on a book and I hope to spend most of my time on that in 2020.

Image: Courtesy Lara Tupper

Interview: Lara Tupper

January 8, 2020

Lara’s piece “Amphibians” was a finalist in Nowhere‘s Spring 2016 Travel Writing Contest. It inspired the name of, and was included in, her short-story collection of the same name, which won the 2019 Leapfrog Fiction Award and which will be published this year. Her latest work, a novel titled Off Island, was just released on January 6, 2020. We stole a few minutes of her time to talk about short versus long form, avoiding imitation and the joy of alternate endings.Compass Rose

Congratulations on the release of your novel! Tell us how Off Island came to be and what we can expect.

Thank you! Off Island is inspired by the lives of Paul Gauguin and his wife, Mette Gad. I wandered into a Gauguin exhibit at the Met years ago, when I was still living in NYC. I was struck by the explicit letters Gauguin wrote to his wife about the affairs he had with Tahitian girls. I knew Mette had her own story to tell.

Off Island is set in Copenhagen, Denmark, as well as off the coast of Maine. Is either place special to you in some way?

Mette Gauguin was from Denmark; she stayed in Copenhagen with their five children while her husband traveled and painted. I wanted to imagine a different story for her. In Off Island, she isn’t the victim of her husband’s whims; she has her own intentions.

I was born in Boothbay, Maine, so I hold the coast of Maine dear. In the book, I imagine that Paul Gauguin sailed to an island off the coast of Maine called Monhegan, which is a fishing community and an artist colony.

Did you travel to gather research for your novel? If yes, please share a favorite moment or two.

I visited Monhegan Island many times. It’s an incredible place—a ninety-minute boat ride from my hometown. Miles of rugged hiking trails. No cars from the mainland. There was no cell service, until recently. It still feels like another time. If I could live there and write for an entire summer, I would.

The island light is ideal for painters, who line up on the hiking trails and cliff edges with their easels in the warmer months. I’m not a painter, but I’m fascinated by the process. I love to watch visual artists at work. It’s a great mystery to me.

I haven’t made it to Polynesia yet, where Gauguin spent his last years, but that’s on my list. He’s buried in the Marquesas Islands, and I would like to visit his grave someday.

How was the experience of writing this, your second novel, different or similar to that of writing A Thousand and One Nights, your debut novel? 

A Thousand and One Nights is autobiographical fiction, based on my work as a lounge singer overseas. Off Island required research. It’s told in six different points of view. Structuring this book was more of a challenge for me; I didn’t have my personal timeline to rely on. It’s essentially two interlocking stories set a century apart. (A modern couple, living in Maine, parallels the Gauguins’ trajectory.) There were a lot of moving parts! When I figured out how it all fit together, I was euphoric. It took me ten years to write this book. I can’t quite believe it’s out now.

“Amphibians” was a finalist in Nowhere’s Spring 2016 Travel Writing Contest. Had you ever entered a writing contest before? If yes, what’s your experience been like? If no, what made you want to enter Nowhere’s?

I hadn’t entered a contest in quite some time. (I’m a terrible multi-tasker. When I write a manuscript, I have to focus on that and nothing else.) But “Amphibians” came to me during a break from my novel. It’s steeped in my favorite childhood places in Maine. When I saw that Nowhere featured writing about places, I thought it would be a good fit. I always start with setting; it’s at the heart of all my writing. And Nowhere is just so visually stunning. I knew I could trust you to present the story in the best possible manner.

Compare crafting a short story to putting together a novel. Which is more difficult, and why?

I find short-story writing to be more challenging by far. Stories have to be concise and pointed. My natural inclination is to meander and ramble for a while, so I have to clip that instinct in short stories. I have to have the overall destination in mind in every line. With novel writing, I have room to find that end point as I’m writing chapters. I can trust that I’ll get there eventually.

Tell us a little about yourself as a writer: how and when did you begin, which genres do you typically write under, etc.

I started journaling and writing bad poetry from a young age. (I think “Ode to the Rubik’s Cube” was my first poem, age eight.) I was an only child and spent a lot of time alone in my room—excellent training for time alone in my office now. In between I had brilliant teachers at the MFA Program for Writers at Warren Wilson College. They taught me the discipline of writing. They made me feel I wasn’t nuts for spending all that time with words.

I suppose I write literary fiction and creative nonfiction. (I also write articles and book reviews.) But my latest novel draft is a ghost story, set in the future. New for me! I love to read about dystopias. (Severance by Ling Ma is a recent favorite.) I’m fascinated by that premise, which doesn’t always feel so far-fetched. How will humans act and react when it all falls apart?

What’s the most useless (or downright harmful) piece of writing advice you’ve ever been offered? How about the best?

I’ve been lucky to have mostly positive advice. But I think trying to write like another writer can be detrimental. Sometimes this is subconscious. But I think trusting your own voice is key. The best advice I’ve received is to read widely and to pay attention to what moves me in great writing. To write the kind of book or story or article I’d want to read myself, but in my own point of view. I think this takes some practice, to allow yourself to be deeply affected by a writer and not take on their voice. I think journaling, freewriting, allowing for messiness, is a great way to develop voice in a natural way. It’s a great way to begin to trust our own instincts.

What are you most afraid of—as a human and also as a writer? 

I’m afraid of our lack of empathy as humans. I think it’s a hard trait to nurture with the speed of modern life. This is why I like Monhegan Island, as mentioned above. I can slow down and pay attention.

Writing helps us to exercise the empathy muscle. (What would this character think or feel? How would she behave and why?) So I suppose there is overlap there. I want to continue to develop my empathy.

Anything interesting or exciting on the horizon?

I have readings planned for Off Island this year—primarily in the Berkshires of Western Massachusetts and in Maine. (My events are listed on my website, laratupper.com.) I can’t wait to share Off Island. I hope I made Mette Gad Gauguin proud.

Image: Courtesy Kelsey Camacho

Interview: Kelsey Camacho

December 5, 2019

Kelsey won the Nowhere Magazine Fall 2017 Travel Writing Contest with “Gå Fram,” a long-form narrative piece about learning to lead a dog-sled team in remote Svalbard and getting several kinds of lost in the process. We asked her to share the stories behind her story, and she obliged.

Compass Rose

Tell us how “Gå Fram” came to be. How did this sprout from concept to contest winner?

I had the foundation for the story after the overnight trip with the dogs, when the weather was bad and we got lost on our way home. It took half a year before I started writing about it, although I kept returning to the story in my mind.

This happened during my first year of living on Svalbard, so during the same time I was reading a lot about the history of Svalbard. I work as a guide, so I wanted to have the answers. What pulls people to the north? Why did people come up here in the first place? When the polar night came and it was dark for twenty-four hours, I had a lot of free time for reading and researching. The dark season is special in that way: all of a sudden, everything is quiet. There’s more room for reflection. I was able to start writing the dog-sledding story I had been carrying around in my head, while imagining it in the context of Svalbard’s unique history.

I wrote the narrative of the dogs and the storm separately from the historical segments. It was always easier for me to write in smaller sections—maybe because it feels less daunting than writing one big block of text, or maybe because I like bouncing back and forth between different ideas.

I like the editing process. I printed out the story, made edits by hand and then cut up the story until each segment was on its own slip of paper. I knew the narrative with the dogs in the storm would be the foundation, but otherwise I wasn’t sure which order I wanted the segments to be in. I laid them out on a big table and shifted them around until I was happy with how they worked together. I used a color code to help figure out the order: the storm segments were blue, history was green and general descriptions of the landscape/nature were red. When I laid them out on the table, I tried to evenly disperse each color through the story to make it more balanced. This technique might seem strange, but it’s something I learned from a creative-nonfiction professor in college. I love it; sometimes it makes a huge difference in a story to switch around a couple paragraphs, and physically cutting up the story gives you a lot of freedom to move things around and visualize the changes.

All in all, I guess it was a few months of drafting and editing and rewriting before I felt like I had a “final draft.”

Have you ever entered a writing contest before? If yes, what’s your experience been like? If no, what made you want to enter Nowhere’s?

I entered a contest through Proximity Magazine and was lucky enough to be the first runner-up in the 2016 Narrative Journalism prize.

The college I went to had a lot of writing contests judged by visiting writers, and the professors always encouraged us to submit stories. I’m glad they made us send in our writing. I like the anticipation of it.

Tell us a little about yourself as a writer: how and when did you begin, which genres do you typically write under, etc.

I started writing as a child, maybe around seven or eight years old. I transformed my closet into a cozy writing den—brought in a lamp, some books, a lot of paper and colored pencils. I used to write these small poems accompanied by a drawing, and I would sell them to my parents for twenty-five cents! I guess you could say I was an entrepreneur.

I continued using that little writing den throughout my childhood, and when I was a little older I wrote satirical newspapers/celebrity-gossip magazines called The Hollywooder. I think I still have some copies saved at home.

In high school and college, I signed up for creative-writing classes. Poetry was my first love, although in college I turned more to creative nonfiction. I majored in creative writing, and I still believe the writing workshop is one of the most magical things in the world: an entire space dedicated to reading, discussing and sharing ideas. I loved having a community like that.

What inspires you to travel and what sorts of trips do you find yourself taking most often?

I’ve always loved traveling. I like feeling a little bit lost, and I like all the new sensory information I’m faced with in an unknown place. I learned to travel young: my father was a flight mechanic, and we spent a lot of time in airports. I was really lucky to have the benefits of free travel until I was twenty-three (although I was always a standby passenger, which sometimes meant unplanned overnight stays in airports).

Lately, I’ve been traveling to places my friends are from. I live in a place with a very international population—over fifty-two different nationalities live on Svalbard. I’ve met people from many different places, so I like traveling with them to their countries. It’s nice to see where people call home, and I like getting that intimate perspective of a place. I recently spent two weeks visiting my friends’ hometowns in Russia, which was one of my favorite trips I’ve ever taken.

Image: Courtesy Kelsey Camacho

What’s the best surprising thing that’s happened to you while traveling? The worst?

The best surprises I get while traveling are when I meet people I connect with and stay in touch with for years. I met some really good friends through Couchsurfing, for example. Once, I met a woman on a plane to northern Norway who was going home to herd her family’s reindeer. (She was Sámi—an indigenous culture of the north.) The annual reindeer slaughter is a big event for the Sámi people; everyone in the extended family gathers and participates in the process. After talking with this woman for a while on the plane, she invited me to come home to her family and take part in the reindeer slaughter. I went to her family’s place a couple days later. I’ve never seen anything like it, and I had also never felt so cold. (I was severely underdressed.) I ended up writing a story about the experience, which ended up in Proximity Magazine.

The worst surprise was probably when I got a bad stomach flu while traveling alone in Romania. It was hard to move or do anything, but luckily it only lasted a couple days.

What’s the most useless (or downright harmful) piece of writing advice you’ve ever been offered? How about the best?

I think I had to work hard to break out of the traditional essay format that I learned in high school: five paragraphs with a nice conclusion at the end. I had to learn that it’s actually okay for personal essays not to have a conclusion, or an “answer.” Sometimes writing is a way to explore ideas or contemplate things, and there doesn’t always have to be a neat conclusion or moral to the story.

I’ve heard a lot of great advice over the years—from other writers, college professors, friends—so it’s difficult to choose the best advice I’ve gotten. But I read something recently in Lynda Barry’s Syllabus that I really like:

“We know that athletes, musicians, and actors all have to practice, rehearse, repeat things until it gets into the body, the ‘muscle memory,’ but for some reason, writers and visual artists think they have to be INSPIRED before they make something. Not suspecting the physical act of writing or drawing is what brings that inspiration about. Worrying about its worth and value to others before it exists can keep us immobilized forever. Any story we write or picture we make cannot demonstrate its worth until we write it or draw it. The answer can’t come to us any other way.”

What are you most afraid of—as a human and also as a writer?

I think I’m most afraid of time passing—more specifically, the possibility of forgetting, or of leaving behind a moment I’ll never get back. I’ve always been a really nostalgic person. I spend a lot of time remembering, reminiscing, daydreaming about the past. But maybe that’s one of the reasons I write nonfiction?

Anything interesting or exciting on the horizon?

This spring, I’ll be competing in my first long-distance dog-sledding race on Svalbard, so I’m really looking forward to that!

As for writing, I have a story forthcoming in Hidden Compass about an abandoned Soviet town on Svalbard. I’ve also been teaching local writing workshops, and it’s great to have a community of writers and readers again.

On Mile 8 of the NYC Marathon

November 4, 2019

As my yoga teacher Annie Piper put it, there is no better place to get a dose of serotonin than cheering on runners at the New York City Marathon, where more than 50,000 runners from almost 130 countries compete. And there is no better place to do that than Mile 8, the corner of Cumberland and Lafayette in the Fort Greene section of Brooklyn.

It’s early in the race, so the runners are still pumped, and even more so when they come upon the crowd of people dancing to the kicking beats of DJ Big Time John. With people-sized speakers stacked in front of a brownstone, the music is loud, and the fist-pumping favorites include The Village People’s “YMCA,” Sugar Hill Gang’s “Jump On It,” House of Pain’s “Jump Around” and, of course, Bon Jovi’s “Living on a Prayer,” keeping up the energy for runners and spectators alike.

Friends and families cheer for those they know, and everyone cheers for strangers running by them, shouting their names and putting out a hand for an encouraging high-five. They’re especially loud for runners with disabilities, whether accompanied by a guide or making their way on their own.

The boisterous crowd stays until the last runner, and the last garbage truck, goes by, all getting cheers for being part of the race. For a brief moment, people from all over the world find commonality and friendship that transcends the usual stress of the city. Even the police officers, who spent the day asking people to move back to the sidewalk when they wander too far into the road, join the dance line in the middle of the street for the final number: Frank Sinatra and Tony Bennett’s “New York, New York.” —Micah Garen

Micah Garen is an award-winning documentary filmmaker and journalist who has worked in conflict and post-conflict zones for the past fifteen years. Most recently, he has directed five feature-length films for Al Jazeera English, one of which won a Golden Nymph for Best News Documentary at the 2014 Monte Carlo Television Festival. His work has been published by Al Jazeera English, The New York Times, The New York Times Magazine, Vanity Fair, Newsweek and the Financial Times, among others. His recent short film about the refugee crisis, “Light on the Sea,” launched in March on VanityFair.com. His short film from Afghanistan, “Call Me Ehsaan,” was a New York Times Op-Doc editor’s choice and screened at festivals. Garen filmed the Christmas Eve Raid scene in Iraq that was part of Michael Moore’s Fahrenheit 911. In 2004, Garen and his interpreter, Amir, were kidnapped while filming in Nasiriyah. They were held for ten days before being released. Their story is chronicled in the dual memoir with Marie-Hélène Carleton, American Hostage, published by Simon & Schuster in 2005. The memoir received starred reviews on both Kirkus and Publisher’s Weekly. Garen’s work can be found at instagram.com/micahgaren and fourcornersmedia.net. (All photos © Micah Garen)

Compass Rose


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