Author Interview

Q:

Covering the suffering of young people is almost a cliché of narrative journalism. What made you decide Ana’s story ought to be in the paper?

A:

Well, as I wrote in the story, I first approached this project with a self-interested point of view. On the one hand, I recognized that in Ana there was instant reader appeal, given that there was so much to be said about facial deformities. Secondly, I approached Ana’s story trying to understand how the idea of difference affects us all. So it wouldn’t just be a story about childhood illness. It would be a story about difference.

Q:

A:

The time frame was defined by the surgeries. Given that she had to recover from each of the surgeries, it was tricky, because it did create these long open periods in the narrative where she was sitting around the house. But it became clear in my mind that the story could divide itself into two. The first part is “Who is Ana and how did she get to be this way? How does a woman who is 25 years old grow up in America with this deformity without getting much medical attention?”

The second part is, “What is going to happen? What are the possibilities?” I’m very much drawn to the story of the doctors and the amazing work that they do in the surgeries. These are guys who don’t think twice about cutting into people’s faces as they go about their work.

Q:

In an earlier Notable Narrative, “Waiting for Death,” you remove yourself from the piece—whereas with “Ana’s Story,” you are clearly present. How do you decide when to become the first-person narrator and when to be invisible?

A:

Due to the nature of her disorder, Ana is a very shy, reserved individual. She’s pretty up front when you get to know her, but when it comes to talking about herself and her disorder, she is quick to say, “Why are you doing this story about me? I’m not different than anyone else.”

As I reported this, I puzzled over her reaction. We look at the pictures, and we say, “How can you go through life like this? What sort of future will you have? Will you have a normal life?” Whenever I asked Ana these questions, she would defer. She would change the subject.

I began to realize this disorder had—and this isn’t quite fair—given her a one-dimensional impression of how it affected her. To be fair to her, for her to acknowledge how different she was is a very painful realization. The only way to cover that dimension of the story was to bring myself in. I sort of allowed myself license to speculate and to wonder, so there are a lot of scenes that required me to become a character and take part in the story.

Q:

The opening scene is interesting—you introduce the doctor and narrate a little from his perspective before you shift to Ana.

A:

When we first talked about this story, my editor was thinking about starting with the photo albums. I felt that I needed to start the story in the present, with the doctor—that classic McPhee “nine” structure, where you start in the present, loop around till you get back to the start of the story again, then move toward an end.

Starting this story with the albums and childhood was too much old news. I wanted to be able to give the sense that something was imminent, and to suggest that [the doctor’s] reaction to her was our reaction to her. And I wanted to give the sense of possibility, to create some sort of sense of suspense in the opening sequences.

Q:

At what point in reporting did you establish the structure for Ana’s story?

A:

It came to me from the very beginning. It was easy to see how this would break apart into two sections. I suppose I’m influenced by the bear attack story. You create the tension, and then you create the resolution. It’s a pretty simple approach.

When we first met her, she had just wanted to go to Vegas. When do you stop reporting? When do you decide you’ve got everything you need? At that point, we’re moving ahead, and we’re realizing that the third surgery is the really big one—where they’re risking brain damage and loss of eyesight.

So we thought we’d have the third surgery, and maybe she’d go to Vegas. Then she tells us, “Yeah, I’m going to cosmetology school.”  You can’t make these things up. It’s a cliché, but it’s wonderful how people continue to surprise you.

Q:

How do you think about storytelling? Do you have an idea of what you want a story to do?

A:

The template that I have is very personal. It’s almost my own form of psychotherapy. I’m 6’-5”, almost 6’-6”. I stopped measuring, because when I would go to the doctor, the tape stopped at 6’-4”. I was always the target of attention growing up. So I’m looking to write stories about my own life and who I am in this world.

With Ana’s story, the question was, “What does growing up different mean for this person? How will that help me understand how I grew up different? How will that help others understand their experience of being different?” With “Waiting for Death,” I had just gotten through how my parents had passed away, and I was interested in finding out what life was like in those final months and years. “What happens when your future is coming to an end?” In Johan’s story, I was wondering, “How do you recover from a huge trauma?”

In all these questions, there’s a sort of universality. We’ve all experienced trauma, we’ve all experienced someone we love dying. These are questions that we all want to know the answers to. In the grand picture, I’m interested in understanding how people live—how people navigate their way through life.