X.C. Atkins: On Finding Your Audience, Writing About the Service Industry, and Short Story Collection ‘Desperado Days’
I met X. C. Atkins on a foggy evening on the coast of Maine. It smelled like salt water and decomposing fish; the sign by the dock said, “Norton Island: Pass at Your Own Risk”; and I was wondering if, perhaps, I’d make a mistake agreeing to a writer’s residency on an island in the middle of nowhere with no one I’d ever met and no internet. But then a nice guy in a jean jacket helped me with my bag and I hopped on the boat and thought, well, at least it will be a good story. I’m not sure what X. C. was thinking exactly, but he seemed at ease helping people board the swaying boat, handing their bags down as soon as they were steady, and as I got to know him during our time at Norton Island and had the pleasure of also getting to know his work, I suspect he was delighted by the potential adventure we were all embarking on. He was serious about his writing but serious about having fun too—a quality I deeply appreciate. I wouldn’t see him all day, and then, at night, we’d convene around the fire to drink whiskey and talk writing. It was some of the most fun I’ve had with a group of writers.
X. C.’s interest in the unknown, his love of a good time, his discerning and gentle nature which were all so apparent on the island also shine through on every page of his new book Desperado Days. I was excited to read his book and touched when he asked me to interview him. Below are ten questions we worked on during the first weeks of the new year which give insight into his inspirations, interests, and process.
Christine Stroud: You’ve really captured what it’s like to work in a kitchen in Desperado Days so well, from the sweet and silly relationships between longtime coworkers to the belligerent customers, the earnest new hires to the pompous chefs. Is there an author you feel was a good mentor or guide for this for you?
X.C. Atkins: Well, first, thank you. I could accredit a lot to Anthony Bourdain, and I do, but the truth is I didn’t read Kitchen Confidential until I’d been in the service industry for a few years. I went to school to learn how to be a better writer. I was taught to write what you know and that was good because that’s what I wanted to write about anyway. So even if I’m writing about a guy taking an order at a restaurant, reading McCarthy or Denis Johnson or Kim Chinquee, I did want their influence to shine through. But truly, for me, the best storytellers have been the cooks, waitresses, bartenders, and barbacks. I mean, such a big part of the work was the hangout afterward. Big and small. Being invited to go out with your coworkers or the chef after a long hard shift, everybody bitching. It’s so rich. Everybody’s building a story, rehashing the night, the trials and tribulations. All that stuff would stick with me. I’d just go home and write it down.
CS: Some of the stories in Desperado Days, many of them really, feel like odes, like love songs to folks in the kitchen. Did you write these stories in tribute? Did you write them to let outsiders peer in? Did you have an audience in mind?
XCA: Yeah, love songs to the kitchen, love songs to the bar, the whole thing. I love the service industry. Or my embellished idea of it anyway. A lot of days, I can definitely be jaded about it. But I love the romanticism of earning it. I love the opportunity it gives you to meet people from anywhere. The best people I've ever met have worked in kitchens and bars and wiped down tables and have shown me how to iron shirts before service. I say this as a half joke, but a lot of the people I hang out with, they don't really read books like that anymore. They finished school, you know? I mean, maybe cookbooks. A magazine. If they go on vacation or something. And I don't hold it against them. I get it. There’s so much to take up your time in this day and age, things that are probably a lot easier, honestly. I probably watch more movies than I read books these days. Regardless, this is for the people who make your food and get you drunk.
CS: Your work does have a certain cinematic quality; you really let readers live in a scene. Would you say watching movies has influenced your writing? Have any other mediums influenced your work?
XCA: Movies have helped in a number of ways. Dialogue is a big one. Dialogue is really important to me. I like my characters to feel as real as possible. So take a Tarantino flick for instance. Dialogue is usually pure gold. Sometimes maybe even excessive. I’m not against making a short story entirely dialogue. After I write, I like to read it out loud because I want it to sound like a real conversation, not like I’m sitting there writing it. I also feel like I can pull movement from film and make it into words that sound believable. I guess what I’m saying is I like to read stuff that I can visualize. Action. The interaction between people. Body language. Sometimes music helps too. It gives me the flow for the writing. Not always but sometimes. And sometimes it's surprising what the song is. It can be some weird shit sometimes. But if I get in the flow, I’ll just put the song on repeat until I finish.
CS: Interesting, I can for sure see that influence in your stories, which so often feel like they are plucked from real life. A notable exception is the piece “I Love Your Hair.” The turn in that story really surprised and delighted me. As you continue writing, do you think you might incorporate more fantastic elements or plot lines like this?
XCA: I really dig magic realism. I’m a big fantasy fan. I’m a big Final Fantasy fan, ha. Any chance I get to use it and I feel like it works, I’ll do it. I just think it’s fun and it gets to extend the world I’m creating and I think it excites people if you do it right. With “I Love Your Hair,” I remember reading it in a bar in New York City, and I could tell when that part hit, it really got the crowd to lean in. That’s fun. It’s memorable.
CS: Desperado Days has several recurring characters and recurring settings, and I’m curious how you approached writing the book. For instance, did you work on all the New Orleans stories and then the Austin stories? Did you alternate writing Levi stories with Fenton stories? And once the writing was complete, how did you go about organizing the stories?
XCA: The progression was Philly to Austin to New Orleans for sure. Shouldn't be a secret, these were cities I lived in, in that order. And maybe it’s how I measured my growth. It's all fiction, of course. But I did want the stories to show in some way the characters were growing, or moments they had to harden themselves or make a hard choice. Show their worlds were expanding. I wanted the gray area to expand. Because that's becoming an adult. Realizing life isn't so black and white. Exposing hard truths.
CS: I like that, “exposing hard truths.” And I for sure see that in these stories. For instance, the ending of “Worlds Within Worlds” was so impactful and I love the way it explored identity and perception. Can you talk a bit more about this story and how the idea and complexities around identity are important to your work?
XCA: I’m a mixed ethnicity kid. My dad is black and my mom is Dutch and Indonesian. So before any kind of professional work ever got introduced to me, I was already dealing with the concept of multiple worlds through my parents and their families and all of their perspectives and experiences. People see you and they make a judgment out the gate. That’s just normal. Clothes you wear, how you have your hair styled, and of course the color of your skin. For me, those lines have always been blurred. I know that causes people to kind of do a stutter step because they can’t immediately put me in a lane. They have to figure it out a little more. If they care to. That only gets more complicated in the workplace, because you want to be a professional but you also are encouraged to “be yourself” right? Of course, that can be a bit of a trap. So that story explores that. The character wants to be professional, he wants to succeed at work, and that requires him not to exactly be someone else entirely but. . .you know, he’s not going to talk like he does on the street. There are some people who will never know what that’s like. Or maybe they do, and don’t even realize it.
CS: Could you tell us more about your writing process? Were these stories written in real time so to speak? And what does your editing process look like both on your own and with your editor?
XCA: No, I didn’t write them in real time at all. I just never forgot them. I write a lot of notes. And when it came time to write this collection, I just took my pick, and it was all there. Like hanging out with old friends and taking a trip down memory lane. I write the story and then I close my laptop and maybe I come back to it tomorrow, or the next day. Whenever. I read it once. Then I read it again out loud. I have a couple of people I trust that I’ll send my stories to. These are people I imagine “getting it,” because I already know there are things for some people and things that aren’t. You do have to trust people, that they’ll be honest with you. But also, I think a big part of being a writer and sharing your work is knowing there are some people who aren’t going to get you and not letting that deter the integrity of your work. That’s a real lesson to learn and I think it’s probably unique for each writer.
CS: Many of the pieces focus on the relationship between men, between friends, coworkers, family, and there is a great deal of tenderness there. Was this a goal of the book? Do you feel like you come across this in other books you’re reading?
XCA: I wanted to show a wide range with this collection. Different from my first. I wanted to show more characters, more perspectives. I feel like that reflects a good life. A well rounded and thoroughly lived life. My goal was to show people who, no matter how difficult, were trying to be open minded. People attempting to understand and be understood. And no, I don't feel like I see it often in books these days. White, black, whatever gender, immigrant, a lot of it is one dimensional. And maybe that's not their fault. At least that's honest, for them. Their perspectives are limited. I think maybe that’s why I turn to movies more these days. Or more easily. I can watch a movie about all kinds of different lives with easy access. I feel like a lot of stuff that gets published and gets hype all kind of have a set lane. Agents and publishers want to know where to plug you in and if you don’t fit in any of the set categories they’re familiar with, you get the pass. I think this is slowly starting to change. I see a lot of agents saying “Oh we’re looking for this” now, or “we’re looking for diverse voices.” But really only diverse if it still sounds like something they know. I guess I get that, it’s business, right? But I don’t have to like it.
CS: What do you think your next project will be?
XCA: I like to always be working on something. I’d like to get this novel I’ve been working on published. I’d like to start to adapt something to a screenplay. And I’m always writing short stories, so I see another collection coming out as just a matter of time.
CS: What is Desperado Days drinking these days?
XCA:Desperado Days is always a boilermaker. Smooth until you throw the grenade. A shot and a beer is just a classic, no frills attached. A balancing act of the stalwart patron. In fact, I really got into the boilermaker in Philly. Every proper dive bar in Philly has what they call a Special. Their shot and a beer. And it’s what you drink when you get off work especially. The beer can change regionally. If I’m in Texas, it’ll be a Lone Star. If I’m in the Northeast, a Narragansett. Northwest, a can of Rainier. Midwest, a Hamm’s. A group of friends and I ordered that in a bar in Louisville one time and the bartender told us it was “piss in a can.” I think he meant it affectionately though. The shot is usually always well bourbon because you can’t fuck that up. Sometimes I’ll get tequila or mezcal instead of bourbon because someone told me it’s better for you than brown liquor. But that might be racist.
X.C. Atkins is the author of Grace Street Alley and other stories (Makeout Creek Books) and The Desperado Days (Trnsfr Books). His work has appeared in Prairie Schooner, Paper Darts, BULL, Akashic Books Richmond Noir, Tusculum Review, and elsewhere. In 2020, he was nominated for a Pushcart Prize. In 2021, he was selected for the inaugural Persimmons Creek Writers and Artists Residency. An alumnus of Virginia Commonwealth University, he lives in Los Angeles.
Interview by
Christine Stroud is a poet living in Pittsburgh, PA, and is the editor in chief of Autumn House Press. She has published two chapbooks, Sister Suite (Disorder Press, 2017) and The Buried Return (Finishing Line Press, 2014). Stroud’s poems have appeared in Prairie Schooner, Hobart, the Ninth Letter online, The Paterson Literary Review, Cimarron Review, The Laurel Review, and many others as well as several anthologies, including The Queer South: LGBTQ Writers on the American South.