Elizabeth Austen

Hugo House: Soon you will debut a brand-new piece at Hugo House; could you tell us a little bit about it?  

Elizabeth Austen: I wanted to use this as a chance to do some new things, and so far have been focusing on different voices and verbal rhythms, which is not typically what leads in the creation of new work for me. I write short, so I’ll read several pieces that are mostly related to how we do or don’t balance the need for connection with the need for solitude. That sounds a lot heavier than I hope it’s going to be.

HH: Most writers we invite to create a new piece of writing on an assigned theme say no. Why did you say yes?  

EA: Some of my favorite readings have been ones I’ve seen as part of the Hugo Literary Series—I’ll never forget hearing Jack Hitt read his hilarious and gut-pummeling piece about his friend’s death—frankly, I was flattered as hell to be invited.  Also, I suspected the pressure of having to come up with a group of new poems (on a very public deadline) would push me in a new direction. Plus, who wouldn’t want to be on the same bill as Matt Smith?

HH: Could you tell us a little bit about your process—how you approach writing something new? 

EA: In this case, I spent a lot of time rolling the idea of “visiting hours” around and free-associating with it. The invitation included a line about “but what of those other visits … an unexpected encounter with an old flame at the 20th high school reunion,” and that gave me an excuse to waste a lot of time Googling old boyfriends. I made a bunch of false starts (some may turn out still to be false…) and then committed to a few pieces that seemed promising and started re-writing. And re-writing. I’ll be re-writing Nov. 20 (hopefully not on stage).

HH: If you had one hour and you could visit anyone, living or dead, who would it be? Why?  

EA: My older brother Michael. Twelve years ago he died suddenly, before I was ready to forgive him for something. Now that lack of forgiveness feels petty and small-hearted, and I wish on a nearly daily basis that I could go back in time and forgive him before he died. Of course, if I could actually talk with him and hear his response, half the fodder for my poems would evaporate, so maybe I ought to talk with someone else if I get that hour.

HH: If you were in prison, what item would you most want snuck in for you hidden in a cake?

EA: My husband, Eric. Big. Delicious. Cake.

Hear Elizabeth read new work commissioned by Hugo House at Visiting Hours on Friday, November 20, 7:30 p.m. Tickets may be purchased at brownpapertickets.com.