JA: I am excited to be featuring you in this issue of The Pedestal Magazine. Let me start by asking you, What is your educational background? And, what role do you feel your education played in your development as a writer?
GS: I’ve admitted on other occasions that I did poorly in school. I blame no one but myself, though I will say that family life had much to do with my less-than-sparkling school career. It was a chilling scene at home. Why else would I run away when I was seventeen? Why would I have lived on the streets instead of in a home where everyday we were playing out “Silence of the Lambs?” Lucky for me, however, I followed my brother Rick to Fresno City College. This was 1970. It was a good time for me. I made an effort to do well, and I did. I transferred to Fresno State, took two classes from Philip Levine, and then went off for an MFA at Irvine. I’m grateful to everyone who rooted for me when I had nothing but a lean body and a fresh mind. I’m grateful for that wonderful literary bully, Chris Buckley, my classmate at Irvine. Chris cut me no slack.
JA: What are your writing habits? I mean, do you write everyday? Do you have a schedule, set times when you write?
GS: I work in the morning when I’m most alert. I work in such a manner that once I get a novel going, I pound away at it until it’s done, finished, y no hay nada mas. I’m compulsive, crazy, full of worry. Let me give you a recent example in the form of a young-adult novel called The After Life, a sequel to my novel Buried Onions. I started it in March of this year, and I wrote three to four pages a day until it was finished. It took me three months. As far as poetry, I’m like any other poet my age, 50, who waits for something to happen. I’m less inspired to write poetry, but once I start I’m savage.
JA: You are sometimes referred to as a "Chicano" poet. I have always approached poetry (or art in general, for that matter) as, primarily, the expression of a human being. Then again, gender or ethnicity (amongst other things) are elements which help shape the human being into a unique individual with a unique set of experiences, and thereby a unique voice. How integral is "Chicanismo," or the so-called "Chicano" experience to your writing, to your particular voice and/or subject matter?
GS: Chicanismo is a spiritual kinship with others seeking change. Chicanismo has everything to do with a political mind shaped by political experiences. It’s a 1960s feeling. It’s a 1970s and 1980s feeling. It has something to do with feeling a part of a larger movement. I certainly feel connected in my daily life, and there is not a day in my life when I don’t think of the blessings of truly great people, from Cesar Chavez to José Padilla of CRLA (California Rural Legal Assistance) to Dolores Velasco, a twenty-seven year veteran of the UFW (United Farm Workers of America). It’s a part of my conscious life, but not necessarily the life of my poetry. I felt early on that I was troubled by matters centering on home and childhood, my mental illness, my quirky view of Catholicism, lust, good and evil, and even nature. I don’t believe that your basic contemporary writer wakes up and says, well, today I’m going to write about my whiteness. Same for me. I don’t wake up in order to write about Chicanismo.
JA: You have written a lot of children’s books. Could you speak about that for a minute?
GS: I think serious poets can spend their entire writing careers doing excellent work but never receive a fan letter. Or get a sound review. Or a larger critical piece. This certainly described me. However, in 1990 when I published my first children’s book, Baseball in April, I quickly began to get letters saying I’m the greatest writer in the world. Of course, if the kids really knew! But it was exciting, and I have devoted a good portion of my writing life doing something that other people enjoy reading. It also happens that I have the largest readership among Latino youth. That’s exciting as well.
JA: Could you talk about the concept of revision? How integral to your finished work is the revision process?
GS: I’m a quick writer. I know several poets, including my good friend Chris Buckley, who slave over their poems. For me there is worry, but the thought of revision sounds too "workshop-ish." I don’t believe that the giants like Neruda or Hikmet or Vallejo worried about revision. If a poem doesn’t work--and a lot of mine don’t work--I put it away, usually for good.
JA: You (and I'm reading straight from some biographical info here) "serve as the Young People's Ambassador for California Rural Legal Assistance (CRLA) and the United Farm Workers of America (UFW)." What does this entail? What sort of activities are you involved with in this capacity?
GS: Yes, I’m an ambassador for CRLA and the UFW, and my job is to talk to kids about the legacy of Cesar Chavez, by far the most inspiring figure that Latinos, especially Chicanos, can count as their own. He changed everything. His vision was justice for workers, but this vision touched everything--law, politics, education, government policy. He had great courage. So many of his adversaries, including those two anti-union busters, Reagan and Nixon, couldn’t tie his shoes. José Padilla is director of the California Rural Legal Assistance. He directs twenty law offices up and down California defending the poor. Why do we need these lawyers? Because the growers and government often don’t adhere to the law. I recall two years ago a very wealthy grower in the San Joaquin Valley was renting a tree house to some unfortunate migrant laborer. It was bad enough to work, but to sleep in a tree and pay for it! So my role as ambassador is not only to talk briefly about the legacy of Cesar, but also to tell students that there are agencies such as CRLA that defend the poor. All is not lost.
JA: Could you speak about your impressions regarding the world situation right now? I mean, there is so much crisis going on in the Middle East. In addition, there is the looming threat of terrorism here in America (as well as other places). What are your feelings around this? And, do you see "world events" having an influence on your writing?
GS: September 11th was troubling, of course. However, I’m frightened that the military is going to get bigger--and it is--and that other concerns such as the environment, education, health issues will become non-issues. I believe in a military, but can’t we make the missiles a little smaller? Also, all this rah-rah patriotism won’t prevent me from publishing my anti-Republican novel, Amnesia in a Republican County. It’s a novel that features that low-class Chicano poet, Silver Mendez, who finds himself teaching at a Baptist College. It is a kind of truth of what it means to be a poet not connected with any institution except the institution of your own bones. It’s a funny novel, and I had tremendous fun writing it. It’ll be read by only a few, I’m afraid.
JA: What does poetry have to offer today, to the contemporary situation, the world of 2002?
GS: I don’t know if we poets are responding in a large way to the ugly political situation of the day. I know there are some daring writers, such as Martin Espada, but there are too many poet laureates, MacArthur buddy boys and buddy girls, without guts.
JA: Thank you for your time. It's exciting that The Pedestal Magazine is, I believe, the first online journal to publish your work.
GS: Yes, this is the first time I’ve had a poem--or anything--published online. I hope those reading my Gil Mendez piece enjoy its energy.
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