A Q&A with Janice Deal, author of The Blue Door, conducted by Nathaniel Popkin of our Editorial Board, the book's principal editor.
This is a novel about a mother, Flo, grappling with something horrible her daughter Teddy has done. In your process, which character came first?
The Blue Door is about Flo’s journey, but that journey began with Teddy.
The characters originated in two short stories that appear in my linked collection Strange Attractors. I wrote the story “Family of Two” first, with Teddy—and the crime she commits—as the focus. Then I wrote the second story, “Strange Attractor,” to answer questions that arose for me about how Teddy’s actions might affect her mother. “Strange Attractor” follows Flo in the immediate aftermath of Teddy’s crime, but as time passed in the real world, Flo still had a hold on me. I wanted to know where she was at, years after the events of the stories.
When did you realize Flo could be heroic?
I’ve always had a sense of Flo’s heroism. In my work I’m interested in exploring the bravery exhibited by humble, “everyday” people as they face adversity and loss. In the case of Flo, she didn’t commit a crime—her daughter did—but she’s affected by Teddy’s actions. Like all of us, Flo is invited to play the hand she’s been dealt. As Teddy’s mother, Flo must work through whether she bears any responsibility for her daughter’s crime. That kind of self-examination takes courage.
How has the concept for this novel evolved since you first conceived of the characters and the story?
Early on, I knew The Blue Door would be a braided narrative, and I knew the story would revisit the protagonist, Flo, years after Teddy’s crime. I wanted to weave together a contemporary narrative (Flo’s journey) with a fairy tale I planned to write—a story Flo’s own mom had told her. Early drafts of the novel were devoted to figuring out how the fairy tale and Flo’s story could “converse.” Once New Door Books expressed an interest in The Blue Door and began to work with me in editing the book, certain aspects of Flo’s story took on greater depth and resonance. During that process I made discoveries that deepened Flo’s emotional journey and traced a clearer, more dramatic character arc.
What strikes me about your prose is its directness, its ability to tap into something deep but with the fewest words possible. You make it seem effortless. Has this always been your style?
Thank you for saying that the prose seems effortless! Writing (for me) is not an effortless process, but I’m gratified that my sentences don’t reflect all the sweating and wrestling that go into them.
I do think my prose has become much sparer over the years. Part of my revision process involves trimming and sculpting, so that what’s left is as clear and precise as I can make it. I try to pare away all the extraneous, “soft” bits, in hopes that what remains is the pure essence of the story I’m trying to tell. The Blue Door, with its desert setting, seemed to demand stringent prose, but I’d been moving in that direction anyway.
The novel takes place in an oblique Tucson. I guessed this while editing (what made that possible, I wonder?). It seems to me Flo has little agency in making the city her place, make it work for her, imprint herself on it. But in some curious way, as she makes her way on the walk that’s at the center of the book, is she claiming this place for herself?
Yes. Absolutely. She’s claiming this place for herself even as she’s laying claim to who she is—who she’s become.
As an aside, I’m delighted you identified the unnamed city. I wonder if it was the serial killer reference that tipped my hand?
Sunby was a pastor friend of Flo’s. His shadow is long across the novel. Though he is recently deceased, he seems really vivid. What was the challenge of making Sunby matter and making him real? And how did you try to meet that challenge?
Oh, I love this question! Sunby was easy in some ways: he is a force of nature. He was already a moral center in the Strange Attractors collection, and that strong, grounded, and compassionate spirit continued to live in my brain pan after I finished that book. He was so important to Flo in life, and now, in The Blue Door, remains a touchstone for her in death. When creating this dynamic, I thought a lot about people I’ve loved—my parents, for example—who are gone but still influence how I live my life. These beings (human, and animal, too) live on in us; they help shape who we are long after they are gone from this world.
It's always a challenge to bring to life a character who isn’t physically in a scene. But Sunby’s influence on Flo was profound. I tried to capture the sense of solace their friendship brought her—and will continue to bring, though in a different way. It’s like Flo carries, in her very cells, the essence of Sunby and all they shared in life.
What is the best part of the novel-writing experience for you? First notions when the story comes? Or refining? Or something else?
Oh, I love that early period of first notions, as you so eloquently put it! There is an excitement, a quickening that takes place when an idea takes hold. Words can just pour out at this stage, without any thought given to organization or sharpening. I appreciate the exuberance of that flow.
For me, subsequent revisions are more tactical, more thoughtful or considered. There’s a “weighing” that takes place at the revision stage; that’s when the honing starts, and when I start asking questions of the characters. I’ve always preferred those early, exciting moments in writing, that surge of creativity, but I’ve also come to celebrate the pleasures of taking a raw work with potential and refining it into something that (I hope) shines with clarity and spare beauty. The conversations you and I had during the editing process of The Blue Door led to so many exciting discoveries that my appreciation of the revision process has deepened. Thank you for that, and thank you so much for taking time for this conversation.