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Smoking With Annie Hartnett
by Barr Bielinski

Photo by Karrah Kobus
Art by Karrah Kobus
I assume the baby's name—that the husband thinks they shouldn't change—is Christopher. At what point did you decide not to say so outright? Why?

I can see how you could think that, but it wasn't my intention. You could be right, though.

I guess I feel that you name something once it belongs to you. Not just the traditional parent-names-child, but people give nicknames to their close friends, pet names to their significant others, and I think most people name their first car (my Honda's called Penelope). I renamed my dog after I adopted him, and I find it satisfying that he doesn't respond to his old name anymore.

So, because I never intended the baby to belong to Lynette, it would have been too heartbreaking to give it a name. I don't think I even gave it a gender.

You are spare with your details, yet each is so well-chosen: Lynette drinking a cherry Big Gulp, the overweight lion's ribs. How do you choose? And will you share a detail or two you chose to leave out and tell us why?

Some of the details are true things. There is an overweight lion at the Franklin Park Zoo in Boston. His name is Christopher. I don't remember if the zoo sells Cherry Big Gulps though.

As for details that I took out, I don't delete a lot when I'm writing. I'm always struggling to make it longer. My first drafts of stories are usually just a beginning and an end, and then I really have to suffer for the middle. I guess that's why I like flash fiction so much: you don't really need a middle. The end can be center-stage.

I'm intrigued that you find endings easier than middles. Will you talk more about your writing process? Which parts of "Christopher" came to you first?

I suppose I get so excited by the end of a story because I feel like it's an opportunity for a bit of weirdness. I always hope for an eerie feeling at the end. When writing the end of "Christopher," I had such a clear idea of what the lion exhibit at the zoo looks like, so that came first. And after writing that description, I thought: well, of course the little boy is licking the glass. There's my weirdness.

Memories and "weirdness" strike me as a pretty good combination for tapping into your subconscious. Where do you see your creativity coming from?

Yeah, my creativity definitely comes from my own memories, and from looking for the weird things in life. I love reading fantastic fiction, and I've tried to write it, but mostly I just want the weird-true things. There's so many weird-true things, but we don't always think about them or notice them.

How does flash fit in with your other work?

I'm writing a linked collection right now that alternates between longer stories and flash fiction.

Does your approach or style change when you write longer stories?

In some ways, but not that much. When I was younger, I wanted to be a cartoonist, and I still think of longer stories as written in panels. I think you can find a lot of mini-endings in my longer stuff, because some of the panels could stand on their own.

Could you see yourself writing a graphic story or novel one day? Would you illustrate it?

I would maybe like to write and illustrate a children's book. I love the Skippyjon Jones books.

Read Christopher.

Karrah Kobus is a conceptual portrait artist and wedding photographer from Minneapolis, MN. Karrah stumbled upon the magic of photography while studying for an anthropology course—she came across a photo created by Rosie Hardy and knew immediately that she was meant to be a photographer also. With her budding career taking her across America and to Mexico and Canada, it has been an adventurous two years for Karrah. She's driven across the country to meet perfect strangers and bathe in waterfalls after covering herself in mud. She's spent countless nights, mornings and afternoons running around aimlessly and just because she had her camera; everything was, and always will be, okay. Sometimes she feels like photographers have uncovered a special secret. A crazy, amazing, and beautiful secret. The key to truly living. And all she wants is to be alive.


Issue Thirty-Eight (December 17, 2012): Call Me Your Unbroken by Chuck Augello «» Slow Dance by Andrea Danowski «» Moms' Advice by Amy Denham «» Crushed Ice by Gary Fincke «» Second Runner-Up by Faith Gardner «» The Fear of Something Happening by Nick Harmon «» Christopher by Annie Hartnett «» Messing with Texas by Anderson Holderness «» Exercise in Translation by Naira Kuzmich «» Boy Cyclops by Helen McClory «» We Were Always Laughing by Mark O'Neil «» The Speed of the Sound by Patty Petelin «» The Earth Drowns Us by Brenda Peynado «» Shit To Do with a Wedding Dress by Angela Readman «» The Invitation by Amy Scharmann «» The Abridged Biography of an American Sniper by Linda Simoni-Wastila «» Dark Times by Matthew Smart «» Parameters of a Kingdom by Laurie Saurborn Young «» Interviews: Chuck Augello «» Andrea Danowski «» Amy Denham «» Gary Fincke «» Faith Gardner «» Nick Harmon «» Annie Hartnett «» Anderson Holderness «» Naira Kuzmich «» Helen McClory «» Mark O'Neil «» Patty Petelin «» Brenda Peynado «» Angela Readman «» Amy Scharmann «» Linda Simoni-Wastila «» Matthew Smart «» Laurie Saurborn Young «» Cover Art by Josh George «» Letter From the Editor
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