Murray Dunlap : An Interview
by Kristen Tsetsi
—Oliver Wendell Holmes
The worst two things that can happen to a writer are losing the hands and losing the mind.
Wait—I take half of that back. Losing the hands wouldn't be such a tragedy, these days. We have voice-recognition software; we don't have mind-recognition software. And we all know this. So we'll ask ourselves every now and then, suddenly craving a drink or a cigarette even if we don't smoke or drink, "Good Jesus, what if something happened to my head that affected my writing? What would I do? What if some idiot slammed into my car, or something, and
Fortunately, it's not always "poof, you're right-brain-dead!" "Poof, you can't write anymore!" Proof of this is found in Murray Dunlap, a two-time Pushcart Prize nominee whose fiction has appeared in Night Train and Fried Chicken and Coffee, as well as in The Bark, Virginia Quarterly Review, Post Road, New Delta Review, Red Mountain Review, and others.
Just a little over two years ago, on 6.7.08, a man who wasn't watching the signals breezed through a red light and slammed into Murray Dunlap's blue Volkswagen Jetta. After a three-month coma, Murray woke up to a severe traumatic brain injury (TBI) and amnesia.
"I have basically no memory before 06-07-08," he says. And of course there are no memories of being in the coma, but he's been told that, while sleeping, he sang along with Ray LaMontagne's "Jolene" when the doctors played it for him in his hospital room.
The accident cost him not only much of his memory (which he's slowly regaining with the help of good friends and a loving family, he says), but also his wife, his dogs, and his job. St. Paul's School—where Murray went to high school—has been holding an English and writing teaching position for him, but it's in Mobile, Alabama. And while he's more than grateful to them for holding the job, he's ready to leave Mobile as soon as he can drive again. He has an occupational therapist helping him with that.
Murray's 36, and before the accident, he was one of those active people who makes regular people getting their three days a week of cardio feel like sloths. He ran marathons (five of them), ran just to run, did some mountain climbing, some drinking, some driving around in his truck with his very much-loved dogs, and a lot of writing.
Those of you who have read Murray's writing in Night Train, Fried Chicken and Coffee, and elsewhere know what kind of writer Murray is. Or, he might say, "was." He's a different kind of writer now, living a different kind of life. But he's still writing, and he's also co-editor with Kevin Watson of What Doesn't Kill You, Press 53's anthology due for release in September 2010. It includes Murray's story "The Times I Nearly Died."
Murray found me when the social website LinkedIn suggested he add me to his network. He sent me a message—"Do I know you?"—via the contact form on my website. He thought maybe we'd met and he couldn't remember. I explained that no, we hadn't met; Linked In was probably just putting "editor" (his What Doesn't Kill You) together with "editor" (my American Fiction). That's how we started e-talking, and we just kept going from there.
My interview with Murray was conducted in a series of almost a hundred back-and-forth emails. His messages arrived in 14-point font. I didn't know why until, in one of his emails to me that had nothing to do with his font size (I didn't ask about it), he wrote, "My vision has been a vicious problem since the wreck."
We can choose to look at Murray as the poor writer who suffered a traumatic brain injury. We can choose to look at him as someone who lost the kind of life it could kill a person to lose. Or we can choose to look at him as a writer who went through some shit and now has another story to tell.
What's a typical day for you?
I don't sleep well since the wreck, so I'm up making coffee at 5 A.M. Then I try to get to a good friend's fitness gym (Personal Edge Fitness) to work out. Then, I'm trying the Kindle, now, so I'll read for a few hours. My vision has been a vicious problem since the wreck. And so the Kindle has the ability to enlarge the font to a point where I can read it. It has been truly wonderful to read again. (And a big thank you goes out to my Grandmother and Aunt Sage who got it for me.) And then I try to be a writer again for the rest of the day.
How has your personality changed since the accident? What did you used to be like versus who you are now?
I think I have the same brain. But I was a bit of a fitness fanatic. Always, always running. Used to be. But like I said, I can't run, now. Not a step. And let me tell you, a three month coma does not do the body good.
You described yourself in one of your emails to me as "a freak with no life." What is your life these days?
I live with my mother and step-father, as apparently people with a severe traumatic brain injury are not advised to live alone. And I can see that my writing life is improving as I'm getting my name out there as a writer more than ever before. One of the ways I'm different now is that I'm much more public with my life. I used to be private as all hell, but after about a hundred doctors asking questions, I just don't care anymore.
And you used to sculpt. Can you tell me about the sculpture of the man in the sombrero titled "What?"
This is a sculpture I did before the wreck, but I have renamed it "WTF" as a nod to my confusion about life.
What do you sculpt now?
Nothing. Too messy, and my left hand cramps up, now. The entire left side of my body has less function. You know, right brain damage affects the left side. Or something like that.
What other artistic outlets do you have?
Painting. I used to paint a lot. But again, too messy for me now. I painted once and enjoyed it. But I've mailed the paintings to a friend in San Francisco, so I no longer have it.
Do you still have urges to paint or sculpt? And is there a way you can translate what you want to paint or sculpt into a story?
Exactly. I try to paint a picture of something every time I write. But that has always been the case for me. It is a better way to look at a scenario, to visualize it. Imagine what everyone's faces look like. Imagine the shadows. Imagine what is in the window behind them. And, of course, imagine what is sitting right in front of them.
How many stories have you written since the accident?
I'm not sure, so many rough starts. But mainly, I've finished two stories: "Times I Nearly Died" and some ridiculous fiction with Oprah in it.
What is it that makes finishing them difficult?
I have trouble having "the feeling" that I've said all I need to say. It is an instinct I used to be very confident in, but now, I just never know anymore. But I feel very good about the way "Times I Nearly Died" ended. I love my two nieces so much that it is a perfectly honest ending.
How many times have you almost died?
A dozen, at least. But you have to take into account the risks I have been willing to take. Like mountain climbing. I honestly have no idea why I thought that was a good idea.
Have you found any unpublished stories you wrote before the accident?
Tons.
Have you submitted them?
All of em.
I just read "Post-War Heat" at Fried Chicken and Coffee. Is that one of the stories you found and submitted?
Yes.
I've told you, probably in a new email each time I read another story of yours I haven't read before, how much I love your writing. Many of those stories were written before the accident. Does it feel like praise is being given to someone else's work when it's directed at the pre-TBI pieces, or do you still feel like it was you enough to be able to connect your hand and your creativity to it?
Both. I'm afraid it does feel a bit like I have plagiarized it. But I write enough stuff that references my real life that I know its mine. Like in "Alabama", the two kids who die were actually friends of mine. So it's weird details like that that prove to me that it is mine.
When you look at the writing you did before the accident, what do you think of your old voice? How is your new voice different?
I'm much more careful about it. I was a better writer before the wreck, but now I am taking more time with things, as I can't go to a job and I have so damn much free time. But I feel like it is coming back. Just like I remember more and more every day.
You said in a June 2008 interview at Smokelong Quarterly (an interview that published eight days after your accident), "Every time I place a story, I run out and eat a massive celebratory cheeseburger." How do you celebrate placing a story today?
Hell, today, I'm just happy to celebrate FINISHING one!
What question has no one ever asked you in all of these interviews about your writing and your accident that you've been dying to be asked?
Tough one. I guess, "What motivates me to do anything anymore?" and my answer is that I truly have no idea except that I refuse to let a man who I have never met win.
Speaking of that man. What's the most unusual reaction you've received from someone who's heard about your accident?
One guy said, "Damn!" and then, "So you get to NOT go to a job now?" I had to laugh. For some, this all seems like good luck, which is unfreakin' believeable for me to hear. I then remind them of NOT being allowed to drive and my time in the wheelchair and no one says anything at that point.
So, someone sees a picture of your car, and it's pretty mangled. You could easily have died. They say, "You got lucky." What do you say to them?
I merely remind them that I was in a wheelchair for over a year, still cannot drive or live on my own, still have joint problems that keep me from being able to run. If the house was on fire, I literally would have to walk and hope for the best. And as a former marathon runner, it is miserable. So, I'd ask, how lucky am I? And then I might strangle them.
You've said you can either laugh about life, about what happened and where you are now, or you can kill yourself. What makes you laugh?
I have to laugh at all of it. It's perfectly ridiculous and SO unpredicted. I can only laugh at it, or I'd cry. So let's stick with laughing, OK?
What are the little things that make you happy?
Chocolate! I used to hate it (no idea why), but since the wreck, I absolutely love it now. And even more than before, I love coffee. It's the little things. But I am sure once I can drive and travel again, I'll have many things to fall in love with all over again.
What do you treasure most about life? By that I mean existence. Time on this planet.
I treasure my friends and family. Money is meaningless. But time spent with good people—especially my mother, thanks Mom!—now that can't be replaced. I'm trying to create new memories, as many as I have lost.
What did money used to mean to you? Were you one of those poor writers just dreaming of the day you'd be rich from your art, writing in a log cabin on the water?
Exactly. I guess having grown up secure about money, I sort of assumed I would always have something—being willing to work hard and being relatively smart. But I realized how hard it is to make any money as a writer, so I felt VERY nervous about it before the wreck. But having survived, I really don't care about it anymore. It really becomes meaningless when your health is on the line.
What do we take most for granted?
I think love and care is something we all take for granted. It's such a part of everyday life that no one notices until it is taken away. Or revealed in a new way.
People often have to find ways to cope after traumatic events. They pick up a vice. Have you picked up any vices to help you cope, or have you managed to escape that?
I've actually dropped some. I am on so much medicine, I don't (can't) drink anymore. I think I'm going to stay non-alcoholic, as my father was a serious alcoholic who drank and smoked himself to death years ago. So I'm going to make this a life choice.
This may seem like an odd question. Many of us will, at one time or another, wish we could wipe out one of our memories. Is there anything a friend or relative has shared with you from your past that you're happy to have forgotten?
Nothing. As a writer, my memories are VERY important. I wish I remembered everything. Except I guess, the trauma of the wreck itself. Now that, I am happy to forget.
What do most people not understand about your particular brain injury?
I think no one really truly understands that I have no balance anymore. I fall all the time. But I also think the doctors don't understand it either. No one does.
You quote the 90s television show Northern Exposure on your website. Chris Stevens (John Corbett), the town philosopher/DJ, says, "We all carry around so much pain in our hearts. Love and pain and beauty. They all seem to go together like one little tidy confusing package. It's a messy business, life. It's hard to figure — full of surprises. Some good. Some bad." What beauty, and what good surprises, have come from all of this?
I believe I have had an opportunity to see how much my friends and family love me that most never get to see. I am in awe of the support I have been given. My dear friends and family, and especially my brother and my buddy Adam, have been very patient with my memory and have helped immensely. And the book Press 53 has let me help put together has given me a job to do when I truly thought I might go insane.
What will we find inside What Doesn't Kill You?
Oh good. A question about writing. It contains stories about people overcoming adversity (real or imagined) and how we all deal with life when it is messy.
About life's messes —you've said the accident has turned your writing upside-down. Upside-down in what way?
It has been turned upside down by memory loss. And I think my sense of WHAT IS IMPORTANT has changed quite a bit. So I think that has changed the way I see the world, not just writing. Everything everyday and mundane seems less worth writing about. I have an odd sense that danger is too important now. And that it causes people to make decisions they would not otherwise make. And I guess that is true, but I'm going to have to work on just letting life be life and not have to create odd scenes of danger.
So what is it you want to communicate now in your writing?
Love and care and that people need to be more responsible about their actions. Like, I'm instantly reminded of the BP Oil spill and how this irresponsible failure is going to ruin our Gulf for years to come.
What did you used to like to write about that simply doesn't interest you anymore?
Alcohol. That's for sure. I used to love scotch and liked to imbibe on the weekend as we all tend to do. But I'm on so many pills now, my neurologist told me that if I drank, it might kill me. So. That and the fact that my father was an alcoholic of epic proportions have led me to the life decision that I don't want to drink anymore, and probably not write about it. But, it's part of life, so I'm sure I'll write about it, but just keep it as an ordinary detail in the background, not the focus.
Did you have to relearn writing—the artistic elements—after the accident, or did it come naturally to you?
Well, I don't know. I think it'll be years before I'm sure of that. But I feel like my story "Times I Nearly Died" is pretty good. So I seem to be moving forward and have retained some of what I have learned.
What are you working on now?
As an exercise from my psychologist, I am working on a story called "A Happy Ending" that entails a good way in my mind for all of this to end. And, of course, I bring Oprah into it and have her give me a new house. On a lake. Ha! Fun to pretend life has a happy ending.
What's your favorite story that you've written since the accident, and why is it your favorite?
"Times I Nearly Died." It's my favorite now because it reminds me of who I am and what my personality is. Of course, I was completely under a fog of medication at the time, so I have no memory of writing it. I guess it proves that no matter what happens, a writer can still be a writer. And it is the story that will be in our anthology, What Doesn't Kill You, which will be the best place I have ever been published. George Singleton is in there, for goodness sake! We are grateful to Michael Knight, too, (writer found inside the anthology, in addition to all the books he has written) for coming up with our title, "What Doesn't Kill You."
What story have you very much wanted to write, but haven't yet written? I'd love to tell a story that makes my crazy life-experience make sense. I don't even understand, so I guess that's unlikely to happen.
When you think about trying to make it make sense in writing, do you find yourself leaning toward fiction or nonfiction to do that?
I lean toward non-fiction and then turn it into fiction to let the story have impact. I understand you have a novel in stories, Bastard Blue. When did you start it?
I guess I've always been pecking away at it. It's been a work-in-progress for years.
What is it about and what inspired it?
It [was once] the short story collection Alabama. So, in an attempt to make it more desirable to editors, I have recently converted it to a novel-in-stories Bastard Blue. All my stories have been about the same thing. It's the way I see things and tend to work them out in my mind. If something doesn't make sense to me, you can bet I'll write a story about it.
When will Bastard Blue be available to us to read?
Well, I don't know. I've entered it in a contest out in California at UC Davis, called the Maurice Prize. But I have no idea if and when someone will take it. Press 53 has it now, also. Who knows?
How do you handle rejections?
As we all do, I get angry. But as we all do, I get over it and move on. There is really no other choice. And as a writer who keeps after it, there are so many rejections, you just throw them on the pile!
Back to Bastard Blue—what made you decide to write a novel in stories rather than a straight novel?
[Murray's former writing instructor] Pam [Houston] inspired me. She loves the short story and I guess we all gleaned that love from her.
What do you want people to come away with after reading Bastard Blue?
I guess to see the world the way I see it and hopefully to tell me in what ways I am right and wrong.
How do you see the world?
I see things very differently now. It all seems as if it was all a matter of random chance. And yet, we're here, so I guess something has worked for us all. I have no idea how I see things working anymore. None.
What's most difficult about writing (if anything) since the accident?
It all is. I'm not as sure as I used to be. I'm not as confident. At all. So I guess that is the main thing. But since "Times I Nearly Died" is getting such a good response, I guess I'm still halfway decent after all. I guess trying to write a non-fiction book about my recovery has been VERY difficult. And amnesia doesn't help.
Where do your characters come from?
From life. I'm always a bit blurry about the line between fiction and non. I usually take a situation from my experience in real life and try to figure it out by seeing it through the different characters' eyes. Like when people are out at a bar and talk about their day. It just helps to get all sides of the story.
What is your favorite part of the technical aspect of writing—imagery, dialogue, characterization?
Good question. I'm not really sure. But I guess any time I write and figure out what in the hell happened to me, I guess that's good to tackle. I'm not sure what I've learned, but it's fun to try. Like the guy who threw a bucket of wet cement at me and got me, therefore, to write "I Crossed My Arms And Shook My Head." Well, that was something to learn and try to get.
What comes more easily to you now when writing, if anything?
Nothing except time. I have gobs of time on my hands now that I can't drive to get to a job.
Do you know when you can expect to drive again?
Oh, driving. I'm supposed to see a guy who does driving rehab for guys like me who have TBIs. This whole process has been like a black room with no windows and a black widow crawling around that bites you about every 5 minutes. It has been hell on earth to be 36 and not allowed to drive. I wish I could tell you when this will all happen.
So, what happened to the guy who ran the red light?
I have no idea. I imagine he still sells insurance. Did I tell you I received an ad in the mail two weeks after the wreck with his face on it? Selling insurance. I still think life is entirely ridiculous.
Random question: What's your favorite word?
I don't have a favorite word. I just wrote a last chapter to my novel-in-stories called "Love." That may be one.
Ben and Heather, they sure have moved around. But always, always do they reconnect. Heather and Ben. Ben and Heather. The real story, the one I've been skirting the edges of, is that Ben and Heather are the sort of soul-mates who go on to the next life together. They are born, live and die, are reborn, and die again, and still they hold hands. They are connected in ways that Ben did not realize this go around, what with all the other women in his life. But that said, it will be pure in the next life. In the next one, they will stay together and not ping pong back and forth through each other's lives. It's love. The thing making a mockery of most all of us. Ben and Heather have the sort of true eternal love that we all strive for. What, if I'm honest, I still haven't found. But with a touch of luck, Ben and Heather, Heather and Ben, well, they will keep pulsing back and forth and end together. Love.
What Doesn't Kill You will be available for preorder in August 2010. For more information about Murray Dunlap, visit his website. See more of Kristen at http://www.kristentsetsi.com.
Kristen Tsetsi is a former reporter whose award-winning fiction has appeared in various print and online journals. She is the author of Homefront, editor of American Fiction, and one of two creators (with R.J. Keller) of the YouTube writers comic relief series "Inside the Writer's Studio."