
Local author interview: Jessica Hendry Nelson
Oprah magazine, Kelly Drive and Renegade Writer's Collective.

Jessica Hendry Nelson’s 2013 memoir is reviewed here.
The relationships you write about in If Only You People Could Follow Directions are deeply personal, consisting mainly of men with addictions and the strong women who care for them. How did it feel to write about these relationships and, in turn, what were the reactions of those you wrote about to how they were portrayed?
One of those men with addictions is my brother, Eric. After Eric got hold of the Oprah Magazine article that blurbed my book, he called me from a bus in Philly. "My sister wrote this book!" I heard him announce to the entire bus. "She's in Oprah and I'm the main character!" I blushed all the way in Vermont. I heard the whole crowd cheering.
So yes, they're a supportive bunch—fearless, funny, honest about their (our) flaws, voracious in their loving. We try not to take ourselves too seriously. It’s a family trait, born of necessity. Comedy and tragedy are but different sides of the same coin.
Regarding your first question, I'm not sure how it felt to write about these relationships. I'm thinking more than feeling when I write. I'd never get anything done otherwise. Writers of memoir are often asked if it is "difficult" to write about fraught, tumultuous, or deeply personal periods in their lives. I suspect "difficult" here implies "emotional" or "sad." Writing about these things is neither emotional nor sad. It's hard work, visceral and physical, but not sad. The work itself employs a different part of the brain, a place removed from the seat of emotion, even while it may draw on emotional memories to craft the story. Writing is more akin to engineering than therapy. Precise and clear-eyed. The writer feels less so the reader may feel more.
What was your favorite and least favorite part of your writing process with this book?
The best part of the process is about two-thirds of the way through any given essay. By then the ideas have started to coalesce. I know where I've been and can see (hopefully) where I'm going. The rhythms are familiar by now. I've found my sea legs and I'm steering a giant ship to shore, but like, whilst naked and drunk and screaming all at the same time. Somebody pulls out some expensive, stinky cheeses and I'm shoving my face. A bird named Jack plays show tunes on a ukulele. It's wild. It also might be a mixed metaphor.
After living and establishing yourself in Vermont, what does Philadelphia mean to you now?
Philadelphia is a mythical place, in the way of childhood worlds. It exists in my imagination mostly. What's truest about the mythical land and the real one is the unshakable sense of belonging. Your childhood home will always be home. Its people will always be your people. Its language will always be your language. Its landscapes are etched in your bones. You can try, but you won't ever get over it.
What are some of your favorite Philadelphia haunts?
I haven't lived in Philly since I was eighteen, so many of the places I haunted back then were friends' cars and the woods. There used to be a drum circle every Friday night teeming with illicit fun and hanging on an embankment somewhere over Kelly Drive. Doubt that's still there. I still love the Mutter Museum for all its gorgeous grotesquerie.
Can you tell me about the Renegade Writers' Collective? How did it come about and where do you see it going?
We are a writing center located in Burlington, Vermont that offers one-on-one coaching and editing services for creative writers. We also hold a quarterly reading series, open-mic readings, a book club, and occasional writing classes. We've evolved a lot since I started this project with my business partner last summer. Right now, we're concentrating our efforts on editing and coaching and just enjoying the hell out of it. We also work with clients from afar, so feel free to email us at renegadewritersvt@gmail.com or visit www.renegadewritersvt.com.
What books are you reading right now, and what books will you be reading forever?
I love this question.
Forever list: Annie Dillard, Teaching a Stone to Talk. Jo Ann Beard, Boys of My Youth. Maggie Nelson, Bluets. Tobias Wolff, This Boy's Life. Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God. Cormac McCarthy, Blood Meridian. Gretel Ehrlich, The Solace of Open Spaces. Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red. That's a good start.
Right-now list: George Saunders, The Braindead Megaphone and Best American Short Stories, 2013. Recently finished and loved Kyle Minor's Praying Drunk for its supple prose and messy, but ambitious, hybridity. Same goes for Sheila Heti's How Should a Person Be? The messier, the better.
Do you have plans for a second book?
Definitely. That doesn't mean those plans will go as planned, though. Right now, I'm working on essays and stories that revolve around the theme of wonder. I'm also taking stabs at a novel that takes place down the Jersey shore during the winter months. Y'all should know how strange and perfect the setting, right?