Q&A with Rose Saltman

Rose Saltman delivered us a quick little jab in the heart with the non-fiction story “Indy,” and we loved it! Though a shorter piece, it has no trouble cultivating the rush of honesty and remembrance that can come with grief. Read below for an interview between Saltman and one of our non-fiction editors, Ally Keegan.

The second-person voice is an unusual one but it’s one that I particularly liked for this piece. Is there something in particular that drew you to this voice for this piece and would it be a voice you’ve used often before?

I usually write in the first-person voice so second-person is a new experience for me. This evolved almost without me realising it, and I think it gives the story a kind of intimacy, like when two people are having a private conversation.

Your descriptions of Indy - and Cocoa and Maya - are incredibly vivid. When writing non-fiction and relying on memory, do you find that these details come naturally to you?

Thank you for that feedback. I wrote the story a few months after Indy died, so the final years of her life and relationship with other household members were very fresh. Photos and videos are helpful triggers, but it’s the extraordinary and unforeseen which really stick. Who could forget about a cat that disappeared or one that only Prozac could rescue? I’m also an attention-to-detail person and feel that writing about the seemingly inconsequential – discarded claws, whiskers, fear of a vacuum cleaner and so on – can both enliven and humanise a story.

How would you describe your writing process? Do you write a certain amount of words per day?

I write in fits and starts, depending on how engaged I am with a topic, the energy it gives me and whether a deadline is looming. Days and weeks will pass when I don’t write at all followed by periods where I am completely absorbed. It’s random, but works for me.

Are there any particular themes you find yourself drawn to as a writer at the moment?

I enjoy writing about why we choose to act the way we do and what it tells us about ourselves and our relationships with others. This theme is central to a story I’m working up on my mother, whose alternating candid and secretive behaviour was a source of both frustration and amusement. I’m currently examining the remnants of her life – the furniture, artefacts, books, letters, diaries – and what they might tell me about the person she was. In representing her story, I’m aiming for honesty, tempered with respect and a huge dollop of humour.