Putting Ourselves Into Characters and Dialing It Up by Ten: An Interview with Mark Galarrita by Tammy Heejae Lee
“Blue on Red” by Lara Galarrita, January 2020
Our tenth anniversary interview this week is with Split Lip contributor, Mark Galarrita. Mark is the son of a post office worker and a finance clerk from New Jersey. His writing can be found in McSweeney’s, Electric Literature, Split Lip, The Wrath-Bearing Tree, and elsewhere. His play, “Manny Pacquiao Punches the World But the Earth Doesn’t Even Flinch,” was a finalist in the 2020 Arts in the Armed Forces contest judged by David Henry Hwang and the Bay Area Playwrights Festival. He is a graduate of the 2017 Clarion West Writers’ Workshop and the University of Alabama MFA program, where he was the recipient of the Don F. Hendrie, Jr. Short Story Prize in 2018, 2020, and 2021.
I recently came across Mark’s flash fiction story on werewolves, contradictions, and other people’s perceptions, which appeared in our August issue back in 2018. I was particularly struck by the way the piece explores intricacies within certain relationships (or the lack thereof) and wanted to know more about Mark’s thought process behind it. We spoke via email to talk about finding our ways back to the writing grind, the realities behind post-MFA life, monsters who were once heroes, and more.
Tammy Heejae Lee: Where are you writing from right now? Can you tell us something special (or ordinary) about it?
Mark Galarrita: I’m acclimating from the solitary life of a graduate student in Alabama to being an office drone working virtually for a company in New York City and being a digital nomad with my fiancée, director Kimille Howard. Since 2021 we’ve been on the road together whenever we can—flying or driving from one place to another. She works odd hours while I work 9-5 with occasionally extra hours on top of that. While this system may be a paradise for some, it’s absolute chaos for me, and I’ve been out of balance of sorts. So I started reading some astrology, and I learned with the help of some friends that, as a Taurus, I’m going against my own nature, so that’s great. It does make for one good excuse for not writing enough and why it feels painful to even come up with wordplay or thoughtful sentences that can’t be boiled down to a text message or an email. Even answering these questions has been a challenge for me when a few years ago I could answer them in a matter of hours.
I’m griping, but it’s not all bad. I have my partner who I see everyday and I get to make lunch boxes for, I have a full time job with reasonable health insurance, I’m walking again and thinking about picking up the 5x5 workout plan again,* I have a mobile roof over my head, and for the second time in my life, I haven’t had to feel as anxious about money as I’ve felt throughout the course of my childhood and adolescence. I have my basic needs met, and I’m officially middle class based on my salary. That’s crazy to me. But I don’t know. It’s good you reached out to me, because if I hadn’t stopped to re-read this short short story after so many years and see how I used to write back then and how I write now, I wouldn’t be asking myself: where did that flow go? Where’s that fire? Was it put out by the comforts of basic living income and a health-care plan accepted by most doctors?
*nah, not really
THL: Something I find super fascinating about your story, “My Sad Werewolf,” is how the piece explores contradictions: being vegetarian vs. eating bacon on the balcony, preparing for guests vs. never having any come over, trying to impart happiness onto others vs. feeling an unplaceable kind of loneliness. I’d love to know what made you want to write about these unfulfilled expectations, especially for a story that was birthed from a generative workshop.
MG: Thank you for the kind words on that piece. God that was so long ago. When I was writing the piece during the Writers in The Schools program, I wanted to create something that made me laugh, have fun, and deviate from the typical response that may come from the writing prompt. Let my subconscious take the wheel. What it turned into was me writing about the self and what I was experiencing during that time in grad school.
My only mission during that time was to write and explore my craft—whatever that means—as I’m sure it was for many of my colleagues. However, expectation and reality are two different things. I realized that despite my best efforts, I was increasingly anxious over my interactions with others—creating hypothetical situations and wondering if I would say the wrong thing or something dumb. Sort of like Kor Skeete in Nathan Fielder’s recent new show, The Rehearsal. My anxieties spiraled so badly that I had a heart attack while in my master’s program (that, plus genetics, plus bad diet, plus smoking led to this). I thought, wow this is all needless and time consuming. So I put that into a character, dialed it up by ten, and added a lycanthrope into the mix. If I ran into an emotionally distraught werewolf, how could I make it worse? I’d like to think this isn’t so different from the methods of other fiction writers (hopefully), I’m sure there’s a bit of ourselves in every single character; at least, that’s the case for me.
THL: I can definitely relate to the anxiety of replaying my interactions with others, but I’m so sorry to hear about your heart attack. What a terrifying ordeal to go through in addition to everything else you had going on at that time. It sounds like you were able to leave an intimate part of yourself with the narrator of “My Sad Werewolf”—the narrator's racing thoughts really shone throughout the piece.
What was the SLM editing process for “My Sad Werewolf” like for you? What’s something you took away from this publication?
MG: Working with Maureen Langloss and the Split Lip Mag team was a fantastic experience. I edited the piece in a Tuscaloosa Whataburger on some work week night. Perhaps it was a Tuesday? Let’s go with that. Maureen not only provided thoughtful questions and diligent line edits (what’s needed for editorial at all levels) but fair and descriptive feedback. The clearer you can be, the better. Couldn’t ask for a better experience. I also don’t mind prescriptive edits at times (which I don’t think Maureen gave for this one). What I also like about the Split Lip team in general is their commitment to community with their authors and the larger lit mag space. I don’t think any other lit mag has kept in touch with its authors long after publication like Split Lip Mag has. I think my key takeaway from acceptance of this story is to have fun with my work and trust the voice.
THL: I’m so glad to hear that you enjoyed working with us! Speaking of werewolves, what’s a monster you’re fascinated by and why? Can be a legend, or something more metaphorical.
MG: I think the American superhero is a fascinating monster and we’re only starting to have this conversation in the larger cultural zeitgeist. The boom is also quite remarkable. The trajectory of the American superhero from this mostly cult art form in comics and film to pop culture celebrity at the level of literally turning into Disney fairy tales is fascinating. I think back to Michael Chabon’s The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, exploring the origins of superhero’s Golden Age in comics and radio; how creatives needed stories where people with magical powers were the only individuals powerful enough to win the war and literally punch Hitler in the face. Millennials like myself had the Iron Man and Captain America films, literally written and released in the middle of a post 9/11 world, years deep into two American led imperial wars. Fatigue has set in and in pop culture we’re seeing this idea of the superhero being more of a curse upon society than a do-gooder, i.e: a glorified cop. Across storytelling mediums we’re seeing more work that actively questions an unchecked police authority, violence by men to solve our issues, and American imperialism abroad in television like The Boys and Watchmen. The American view of the superhero will be interesting to see in the next few years, even as someone who loves and cares about the genre deeply since the early days of Michael Keaton’s Batman, and the Ultimate Marvel comic series. There’s a whole slew of storytelling possibilities that stem from the superhero mythos, such as questions of authority, celebrities/Gods, empire, etc, and these have been already touched upon by Ross, Busiek, Moore, and others. There’s still so much room for more. I wonder what age this will be.
THL: What are you currently working on, and how’s the project going for you at the moment? Do you have any writing rituals to get into the groove of things, or that help you when you’re stuck?
MG: I’m trying to work on a novel and a commissioned play for young audiences with the Westtown School. It’s tough because I’m lacking time, head space, and literal space to write. I’m having trouble balancing myself, but I’m trying to work through it a bit everyday. I think once December hits, it’ll get my groove back and everything will, hopefully, come up Millhouse.
THL: What writing or life advice would you give to your younger self, knowing what you do now? (Alternatively): What’s a piece of writing or life advice that you’ve received that’s stuck with you to this day?
MG: To what I’d say to my younger self:
Write and finish drafts of more stories and give them more time to sit somewhere and stew. Read more, trust the process, slow down, give back to the greater writing community, and take more time with your writing critiques by coming up with letters/phrases that are shorter and get right to the point. Learn from your friends and peers, trust yourself and your people. There’s plenty of stories out there in the world of arts and letters, so what are you really trying to say? Are you doing it well to your standard? Are you? Are you sure?
Writing advice:
From a Ken Liu craft talk at Clarion West back in 2017—paraphrased here—Think about stories as having three parts of a triangle: Dialogue, plot, and character. It would be great if you have all three but you need at least two of the three for the story to stand. You can’t rest a story on one of these parts alone or it won’t hold.
THL: What’s something you feel like your stories tend to gravitate towards? Perhaps certain settings, themes, types of characters, etc.
MG: I write across genre, age group, and medium; but over the past decade I noticed that I tend to write characters who are first generation Filipino-American characters involved in awkward situations and are forced to make a decision that will upset the self-constructed bubble of their lives, no matter their choice. Characters who tend not to question much of their larger world or are too assimilated into society, and by circumstance are forced to question their past and present, and inevitably make changes that boil down to this: do they want to keep the status quo or make the harder choice and do right by others and themselves.
THL: And finally, in honor of us turning ten this year, I’d love to know ten things that bring you life at the current moment.
MG: In no good particular order that will make sense:
Warm peasant bread
YouTube cooking videos that are sixty seconds or less
Opera/Musical/Theater/Film Director Kimille Howard
Glass containers for food that you can clean either by hand or in the dishwasher
Pop culture philosophy videos on YouTube like from Wisecrack or Princess Weekes, Broeydeschannel, Lessons from the Screenplay
Mount and Blade 2: Bannerlord
Saisons/Belgian beers
Credit Cards with 3% cash back
Seasoned chicken thighs with rice
Off-peak Long Island Rail Road travel prices
Tammy is a Korean American writer from Davis, California. She holds a BA from UC Davis and an MFA in fiction from the University of San Francisco, where she received a post-graduate teaching fellowship. A 2021-2022 Steinbeck Fellow and a Tin House Summer Workshop and Sewanee alum, her writing has appeared in Sundog, The Offing, and PANK, among others. She is currently working on her first novel about hagwon and expat culture in Seoul. Some of her simplest pleasures are found within sidewalk flower shops, fries dipped in sauce two at a time, and life advice conveyed through neon signs.