Meet Nina Schuyler

Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Nina Schuyler. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.

Nina, thank you so much for taking the time to share your lessons learned with us and we’re sure your wisdom will help many. So, one question that comes up often and that we’re hoping you can shed some light on is keeping creativity alive over long stretches – how do you keep your creativity alive?

It’s such a great question. I’m a fanatic lover of sentences. Not just any sentences, but ones that quiver, releasing something fresh, skewing the world in a bright new way. An unexpected word, a made-up word, an interesting metaphor, unusual syntax, all of it wakes me up and lights the flame inside that wants to create something that emanates that same kind of magic. Each morning, before coffee, before the children wake or the dogs need to be let out, I read a poem. Right now, I’m reading Jorie Graham’s book of poems, Runaway. It’s like running my brain through bright stars. The world cracks wide open and before the day fully revs up, I’m writing writing writing.

I love limits. Write for an hour. Ten minutes. Write 500 words. It’s counterintuitive, but limits also stoke the creative flame. A circumscribed amount of time to write will do it: my son is at basketball practice–I have an hour. A ticking clock blares inside, and I know if I don’t do anything, I’ll be grumpy and awful to everyone. The deep pleasure of communing with the imagination makes me the best person. There is also the very real, existential limit that life is finite, and as the years roll by, time has sped up disagreeably. (How did we end up in July?) Use your time wisely—an inner voice whispers to me.

I also teach creative writing, and when the class is working, when we have found our groove and the air is fragrantly scented, it’s like taking a bath in creativity. My students’ work utterly blows me away. Even in early drafts, there is glimmer and shine and brilliance–always. I feel so incredibly lucky. My inner coal of creativity smolders with delight.

Let’s take a small detour – maybe you can share a bit about yourself before we dive back into some of the other questions we had for you?

I’m a writer, though for mental health, I say, I write. It seems like a nit-picky move, but by emphasizing the self in action—the act of writing—I am far less tied to the identity of being a writer and, consequently, less vulnerable. My sixth book, In This Ravishing World, was published on July 2nd and won the Prism Prize for Climate Literature and the W.S. Porter Prize for Short Story Collection. As the climate crisis has become more urgent, I feverishly felt I had to do something, and that became story after story of characters enmeshed with their mad motivations and desires, responding to the climate crisis. An older woman who has devoted her life to saving the planet falls into despair. A young boy is determined to bring the natural world to his bleak urban neighborhood. A ballet dancer tries to inhabit the consciousness of a rat. On and on and then, after one of the many California wildfires, I heard Governor Gavin Newsom say, “Nature is talking.” My imagination leaped and hit hyper-drive: what is Nature saying? What does it want us to hear? So why not–Nature became a character.

It’s a different book for me, and that’s intentional. I have a restless mind, and each book needs to be different to keep me vibrantly engaged and excited. I’ve never written a short story collection or anthropomorphized an other-than-human. My book events have been incredibly moving, with people finally, openly, willingly talking about the climate crisis. The crisis is terrible and terrifying, but if we come together, if the public demands change, we can write a different future.

Looking back, what do you think were the three qualities, skills, or areas of knowledge that were most impactful in your journey? What advice do you have for folks who are early in their journey in terms of how they can best develop or improve on these?

1. The Open-Curious State: This way of being in the world feeds you as a writer. At the granular level, we are all in a constant state of becoming. There’s never an arrival until the mortal end. To ensure I’m acquiring knowledge and wisdom, I’ve kept the windows of my being open and in floats the more glorious things: interesting people, and new ways to see the world. What are the bees saying to each other? (scientists now know they’re talking) How does artificial intelligence work? (that question led to my novel, Afterword, published in May 2023). Letting the words “I don’t know” take up residence has led me to many interesting places, the most fascinating books and classes, and people, all of which ignite my writing.

2. Passion: I keep my finger on passion’s pulse. What intrigues me? What catches my eye? Follow it. Not because someone said you should, or the market is looking for_____(fill in the blank). I keep the line of creativity separate from the line of selling/publishing. I tried that once–wrote something that an editor said would sell, and three years chasing that—nothing. Passion is heat. Passion is in a tight relationship with what matters most to you. Passion, coupled with not knowing how to render that passion, sends you repeatedly to the page.

3. Community: This is a late discovery for me. For so long, I bought the myth of the writer as the solitary soul toiling in a dusty, small, book-lined room. I now belong to two writing organizations, and I find the camaraderie and sharing of ideas and resources and processes deeply meaningful. I am given to, and I give back. It’s beautiful.

We’ve all got limited resources, time, energy, focus etc – so if you had to choose between going all in on your strengths or working on areas where you aren’t as strong, what would you choose?

For a long time, I wrote short story after short story and slowly, years of this until a story was published. I kept going, writing and writing, and then a novel was published, and then two more novels and two craft books, and now a short story collection. I have to say the frame of strengths and weaknesses has never been an organizing principle for me. What propels me like a thirsty wolf to water is reading a book or story and seeing in that writing something I’ve never tried before.
I suppose that thing I haven’t done before might fall into the category of “weakness,” but I see it as an opportunity. It’s an opportunity to grow as a writer—leap, take a risk, and make something out of your perceived reach. And so that’s what I’ve done throughout my writing life. I think it’s the key to the longevity of a writer, at least the type of writer I want to be.

All of this takes rigor: reading voraciously, paying close attention to what’s unfolding on the page, feeling how you react to what’s unfolding, and figuring out what the writer is doing. And then trying it. Failing, most likely, but trying again and again.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.ninaschuyler.com
• Instagram: @ninaschuyler
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100009668954835
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/nina-schuyler-144a9b41/
• Twitter: @Nina_Schuyler

Image Credits

Bryan Hendon