Interview with Shahnaz Habib
In today’s blog, we are
delighted to feature an interview with Kerala-born, Brooklyn-based writer and
MFA instructor Shahnaz
Habib. In this interview, Shahnaz talks about the practice of “walking and
writing”; about the definition of home and what it means to be a writer who
comes not just from one place, but from many; and about the elusive quality of “balance”
in a writer’s life.
In your
interview with the physician and writer Abraham Verghese, you asked: “Can you
begin by telling us a bit about all the different places that are a part of
you?” As a writer born and educated in India and now living and writing in New
York, how would you answer this same question?
How have these different environments informed your writing? What are
the advantages of having more than one language and culture on which to draw
for your creative work?
So much of my best writing
comes from confusion, and the confusions and contradictions of belonging to
more than one place have been a very profitable source of inspiration for me. I
grew up in Kochi, a small town in southern India. I moved to Delhi and then New
York for grad school, and fell in love with both those big cities, very
different from each other. I also lived for several months in Turkey, and
Istanbul, to me, is simply the best place on earth. All these places have
shaped my writing – I feel perennially an outsider, someone looking in through
a window, someone making sense of all these glimpsed lives. I have become both
obsessed with place and reconciled to the idea of not having one home. Language
is my home.
Something else that happens
when you have left pieces of your heart in different places as I have done in
Kochi, Delhi, New York, Istanbul, is that it is impossible to be indifferent to
the world outside. An earthquake or a bombing somewhere in the world does not
seem to be something that happens far away to another place.
You
have written fiction, essays, and poetry. Can you tell us about your writing
practice? Do you move back and forth between these forms or do you tend to
concentrate on one at time?
I don’t write much poetry
anymore, so it’s mostly between essays and short fiction. I do feel that
fiction takes more time to grow inside me, and I have learned not to rush it.
When a story is ready to be written, it’s always such a pleasure to be
completely immersed in its fictional world. Just in terms of proportions, I
write more nonfiction than fiction. But when I do write fiction, it feels like
a deeper dive.
You
have talked about the relationship between walking and writing: is this a
regular practice for you? Do you “walk and write” daily?
I go through phases. Sometimes
walking is a big part of my life. Part of the year, I work full-time at a very
intense job, and it’s such a pleasure to escape during my lunch break and take
long city walks. But when I am working from home, I often fall prey to the
temptation of working in bed. In pajamas.
In the morning I sometimes drop
my daughter off at her school bus. And then when I turn homewards, there is
always a tug of war. Should I just keep walking? I mean, here I am, all dressed
and presentable enough for the world. Sometimes, the walker wins. Sometimes the
cocooner wins.
Do you
have a dedicated space in which to write?
You mean other than the bed?
No.
What
are you working on now?
Essays. I am very slowly
putting together a collection of essays on not traveling. I am also reading
some books as research for a novel I want to write.
At Bay
Path, you teach two semesters of Creative Nonfiction Writing: Form and Theory.
What do you most enjoy about teaching? What creative possibilities does the
online format offer you as a teacher?
I am amazed by the stories my
students are telling about their lives. I think Bay Path’s program, by virtue
of being online, reaches students who have extremely intense and full lives,
students who don’t have the luxury of taking two years out of their lives for a
typical offline MFA program. Some of them are primary caregivers, some of them
have jobs they can’t afford to leave. And those busy brave lives get reflected
in the essays they are writing and the perspectives they are writing from.
That’s an honor, to be able to read and respond to such important stories.
I also think the online format
and the facelessness it fosters can be a blessing. It gives students the
courage to be vulnerable, to tell stories that perhaps wouldn’t come out in a
more face-to-face setting. Also vice versa, when students read each other’s
work in class, they are responding to the words, not to the personalities.
In
addition to teaching and writing, you are also an editor and a parent. How do you find balance in your life?
I have been thinking about this
a lot, especially in the context of the long resistance that is ahead of us in
the next four years. How will I find the time to make a living, parent,
protest, and write? It takes so much time just to unscramble and understand the
political nightmare that we are living through. Balance, at least for me, is a
myth. Something in your life will always be wanting attention and not getting
it. Right now, since it’s the beginning of the semester, I have been focused
mostly on making sure that my students are supported. The writing has taken a
back seat. But there’s an ebb and flow to these different roles, and soon I’ll
turn to my writing, feeling refreshed by my engagement with my students, and
reinvigorated by all the wonderful mobilizing that is happening in our
communities.
To learn more about Shahnaz and
her work, please visit her website.
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