June 12–19, 1997

20 questions

Scott Heim

Background

Scott Heim burst onto the literary scene two years ago with Mysterious Skin, an eerie novel about a teenage boy who gradually remembers what went on during several blacked-out childhood hours that he'd come to attribute to alien abduction. Heim, like most of the characters in his fiction, grew up in rural Kansas, where, as a gay, new wave teen in the early '80s he felt thoroughly alienated himself. After his book's publication, Heim became a minor celebrity; The New York Times Magazine selected him as one of the "30 Artists Under 30 Most Likely To Change Our Culture in the Next 30 Years."

After swallowing hard and typing away, Heim is back with his follow-up, In Awe (HarperCollins), the story of 16-year-old gay orphan Boris, convenience store worker Sarah, and sexagenarian widow Harriet whose grown son has recently died of AIDS. The odd trio of friends live in Lawrence, KS, and are brutally harassed by a gang of three of Boris' schoolmates until Sarah eventually plans revenge.

After the subtle strangeness of Mysterious Skin, why did you choose such an overtly terrifying tone for In Awe?

The book is partly inspired by horror movies, which I love, but I wanted it to be taken more seriously than something where you just get gleefully scared. I tried to make it more evocative and lasting by going overboard with the language, the description and the atmosphere. The reader, hopefully, will get sucked in and walloped by the "feel" of the prose.

You've written a book in which all of the major characters do some form of writing — Boris' zombie novel, Sarah's journal, Harriet's short stories. What's going on there?

Writing is a way for the three of them to rise above the other characters in the book; they can tell their stories in different, evocative, detailed ways. Because they are outcasts, none of them have really had a chance to tell their stories; they've been silenced, sort of, by their status in town and by their positions in life, so writing is a way for them to give voice to themselves.

Rex, Ellis and Wayne, on the other hand, just write graffiti and it's all fractured, chaotic, misspelled monosyllables. Still, even that writing is very powerful. I wanted the recurring image of Sarah's graffiti-covered car to show the gang's constant presence and power in the main characters' lives.

And there is a scene where they attack Boris in the school library by pulling up his shirt and writing "Queer" and things on his body with magic markers.

That seems to combine elements of your own life. As a frail gay kid in rural Kansas, you were the outsider. But has expressing yourself through writing given you a sense of power?

Well, my life now is certainly 180 degrees different from my life when I was growing up, but that is the time and the energy and the setting I've consistently chosen to write about in my fiction. The success I've had so far is great, but it still doesn't change all the aspects that go along with being a writer — I mean the actual bones and blood of writing for me basically sitting at the computer, alone, at night, immersed in a little fantasy world you've created while all my friends are out partying. I'm not trying to sound whiny — I love the process — but I think any serious writer is going to feel cut-off, an outcast, an awful lot of the time.

Still, you must feel like an insider in other ways. Hasn't the media attention and the success of your first book made a big change in your life?

Ha! Well, I've been lucky in that I was able to quit my part-time job working for a literary agent, but I am in no way anywhere close to being "rich." For the most part, that's impossible for a literary writer.

Financially, somebody with early success as a literary novelist is not in the same realm as someone with early success in films or in music. The publicity just doesn't translate to dollars. I live in a basically crappy neighborhood in the East Village, trying to scrape by on New York's ridiculous rent levels. It's not exactly the glamorous life, but I'm making do and hoping for another big book deal or movie. Who knows?

As an aspiring novelist yourself, how did it feel to work for an agent?

It was sometimes fun to see all the slush that came through, but it was very depressing to know just how many people out there, whether good, almost good or terrible actually want to get published. The supply is so great and the demand is so small. I always wanted to write back to people and say "Stay away! Take up medicine or law or something that needs you and pays the bills!"

Who do you write your books for?

My impression with Mysterious Skin is that most of the readers were gay men. While it was great to have that "avenue," I really wanted it to cross over more. I didn't intend it as a "gay" book. I hope that In Awe is able to retain that "specialty market" or whatever, but that other people — women who can relate to Sarah or Harriet, for instance — will read it, too. While I am doing readings in some gay book stores, like in Philly, I'm doing more at general stores. The publisher is really trying to break me out of the only gay market and I couldn't be happier about it. I hear writers getting all upset when someone in their circle writes something that appeals to a wider audience, which I think is total bullshit and driven by jealousy. I mean, who doesn't want to be read by as many people as possible. A couple years back there was a rumor that Dorothy Allison was following Bastard Out of Carolina with a historical novel that had nothing to do with lesbianism and other gay writers were bitching about that. I was like, "Fuck off!" She's a whole person, she's about much more than lesbianism. If you just write about one aspect of yourself it will amount to a pretty narrow body of work in the long run.

Scott Heim will read on Thursday, June 19, 7:30 p.m. at Giovanni's Room, 345 S. 12th St., 923-2960.