Kelly Luce, "Parade for the Dead and Dying"

It’s December 9. Kelly Luce, author of Pull Me Under, can always pull a quick U-turn if she misses the exit.

How would you describe your story?

KELLY LUCE: This is a fun story about death, by which I mean it's a story about falling in love, searching for home, and the endless effort we pour into getting what we need.

When did you write it, and how did the writing process compare to your other work?

KL: The process started around 2010, when I first had the idea for a story about a town that holds an annual parade celebrating death and dying. It was typical in that I wrote a couple pages, then put it away and worked on other things for a couple years, every so often tossing in an idea or observation that seemed like it stuck to the general spirit of the story. And every time I stuck something new on, I'd end up writing another few pages of the plot. The setting came last, which is unusual for me. But once I struck on central Florida, I knew I'd found the story's home.

What kind of research went into this story?

KL: I keep a list of the Google searches that come out of each story I write. Some gems from this one include: "How long can a dead body stay in the sun," "how to sneak into Disney," and "emergency tarp location flatbed truck." I talked to people who'd done community theater in order to get the details of Randall's past as an actor right, and I went back to Hamlet, which I hadn't read since high school. The scene in the church that Randall recalls, where the guy goes around lighting all the prayer candles, then yells at a monk and tries to steal the moneybox, is not fiction—it's something I actually witnessed in San Francisco.

What, to you, makes the short story a special form? What can it do that other kinds of writing can’t?

KL: The more compressed the form, the more opportunities you have as a writer to make leaps. By "leaps" I mean connections between seemingly disparate or unrelated ideas. These connections need not be—should not be—explained; by simply placing two things side by side, the reader will engage and fill in the blanks, make meaning. This kind of active, involved reading is what makes short fiction so pleasurable. When all of those leaps are contained in a package short enough to read in one sitting and therefore storm your mind all at once (as opposed to reading a novel over several days or weeks), the experience is immersive, dizzying, transformative—like falling in love. And like falling in love, it's incredibly fun.

Where should people go to learn more about you and your work?

KL: My website is kellyluce.com. There you'll find links to order my books, as well as interviews, essays, and other short stories you can read online.

What's the best gift you've ever been given?

KL: I met this avant-garde composer at an artist residency years ago who made soundscapes out of found sounds. This person changed how I thought about music-versus-noise and about our role as perceivers and processors of the world, and the creative possibilities therein. A few weeks after I left the residency, a pair of high-end headphones came in the mail, a gift from the composer. They were a caliber of headphone I didn't even know existed, let alone could afford to buy for myself. Like close reading, close listening to music is a creative, rather than passive, activity, and those headphones brought me great pleasure for many years.

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Michael Hingston