"Florida Will Always Be at the Center of my Writing World": An Interview with Seth Brady Tucker
by Dennis Mont'Ros
Seth Brady Tucker is the founder of the annual Seaside Writers Conference in Seaside, Florida. His second poetry collection, We Deserve the Gods We Ask For (2014), won the Gival Press Poetry Award and the Eric Hoffer Book Award. His first book, Mormon Boy, won the 2011 Elixir Press Editor’s Poetry Prize. Tucker has served as the Carol Houck Smith Poetry Scholar at Bread Loaf and the Tennessee Williams Fiction Scholar at Sewanee. Currently, he teaches workshops at the Lighthouse Writers Workshops in Denver and at the Colorado School of Mines, and he is the senior prose editor for the Tupelo Quarterly Review. Tucker served as an Army 82nd Airborne Division paratrooper in the Persian Gulf.
Dennis Mont’Ros: Thanks for spending some time with Saw Palm, Seth. You’ve done a lot of writing in Florida. How has The Sunshine State influenced your work?
Seth Brady Tucker: It is pretty clear, as I go back through my poetry and my fiction, that the PhD program at FSU and professors like David Kirby, Mark Winegardner, Barbara Hamby, Bob Shacochis, and Julianna Baggott have all had a huge impact on how I write and my career. Of course the place itself is also special; there are always pieces that spring forth from memories I have of my time in Florida, and now that it seems like the Seaside Writers Conference is permanent and stable, I can see that Florida will always be at the center of my writing world (as a matter of fact, the current novel I am working on has many of its pages written in Florida while at the conference last year). I am a Wyoming boy, but so much of who I am as a writer can be traced back to my time in Florida.
DM: You’re a straight-to-the-point guy, so let’s go straight to a tough question: Both your fiction and your poetry have won awards. What do you see as the function of poetry and the function of prose?
SBT: Put simply, they both remind us that we are unique, that we are human, and that we are part of a large international community of likewise unique and important humans. I don’t think it is a coincidence that fewer people in the US read literature than ever before and at the same time the rhetoric of our political candidates have gone from, let’s say, problematic to psychotic. It is my belief (and a study by the New School confirms it) that prose and poetry nurture our very souls and make us more empathetic. Prose and poetry are the nutrients of our deepest convictions; they turn hate to empathy and help us see the other side more clearly, so to starve ourselves of either is why we have our current state of affairs, I believe. I’m not trying to be hyperbolic.
From my own creative standpoint, I think poetry and prose work in a couple of different ways, so I will try to explain that divide with the following: First, at the generative stage, they are distinct simply in how I manage them and how I respond to an idea or image in that moment of inspiration. I know from the beginning, for instance, whether something is going to be a poem or short story or essay. This is harder than it sounds. They are different animals, so accidentally treating a poem like a story can make the whole enterprise not only difficult, but the product can be pretty awful. What is interesting about that division between poetry and prose when it comes to other writers and what they read, is that reading habits actually transcend that divide pretty easily; I think most writers understand that they are both absolutely necessary. I don’t find it strange at all that when I speak to novelists and fiction writers, the bulk of them are avid readers of poetry. And I haven’t met a poet yet who reads poetry exclusively. They inform one another, and in my mind, paying attention to one will help with the writing of the other.
DM: Between teaching in several different places and serving as prose editor at a lit journal, you see a lot of emerging writing. What would you like to see newer writers doing more (and less) of?
SBT: To be honest, I’d like to see less homogenized MFA workshop writing. I know that might sting, given whom I am speaking to, but before I am sent some hate mail, let me explain what I mean: This isn’t actually a shot at the programs themselves or the students who commit themselves to this most noble of endeavors, but perhaps at the timeline some MFA students think they are following. I see too many students, freshly graduated from an MFA program, who then immediately begin to submit the workshop pieces from the program. Often, these pieces have been edited and revised (or not) based on the same readers’ responses, over and over. And they just aren’t ready to be submitted yet, in some cases. I think some MFA students need to think of their graduate program as the beginning, and not the end, of their education as professional writers, and that just because something went into their thesis, doesn’t mean it is ready to publish. Be selective and deliberate. Know what is ready and what is not. This is also our fault as editors—sometimes we are so anxious to find the next new thing, we publish pieces from emerging authors that aren’t where they need to be, or could be, given some time and distance from the aesthetic of each program. New writers don’t have to be 26 years old to be “new.” Sometimes writers need more time (as I did—I never got a shot at being a “30 under 30” or a “40 under 40”). This isn’t about talent—it is about being patient so that when the work is ready it won’t just be published, it will be lauded.
What I’d like to see more of from MFA students is a passionate devotion to the market they hope to inhabit—I cannot tell you how often I ask graduate students about their reading habits, and they never bring up what literary magazines or presses they love and seem unaware of how that market might survive. I would ask them: Where do you think you are going to publish once these magazines go out of business and wouldn’t it be nice if someone read them?
DM: Advice well taken. Congratulations on Seaside Writers Conference’s third successful year. The program has great momentum. What did you consider the highlights of this year’s session in the Panhandle? What are you striving to do in the future?
SBT: I think the thing that stood out most for me was the graciousness of all of our visiting authors and agents and faculty, and especially the generosity of Andre Dubus III. Our conference is small, and we build a tight community (most of our attendees have said they will always come back when they can) and want to be known as the place where you vacation as you work. Here’s the thing: If you come to SWC, you are important to us. We wanted to build an experience that is unique and deeply felt, one where you remember the writing, the instruction, and the fun as independent and equal. Our fellowships and scholarships are competitive, but our process is egalitarian and fair, and because of that I think we get some truly terrific student/teachers as well. I know our attendees were really impressed and happy with the help they gained from the younger mentors, and not just from the stellar faculty.
DM: The town of Seaside is famous for being the setting of the film The Truman Show. What is it like hosting a writing retreat in that picture-perfect, beachfront atmosphere?
SBT: You wouldn’t believe the beach and the odd loveliness of the town. We partnered with the Seaside Institute, things began to fall together, and here we are four years later, with a slate of some pretty incredible faculty and headliners (I can’t tell you who yet, but let me just say that there are some NBA’s and Pulitzers in there). In the end, we use that locale to our best ability—we reserve plenty of time for reading and writing on the beach, and our events all move around the area so we all get to see what the locale has to offer. And then there is the time under the umbrellas on the beach, sitting with famous authors, soaking up the sun and their wisdom.
DM: Let’s switch gears and talk military vet to military vet for a minute. The Department of Veteran Affairs counts approximately 1.7 million veterans in Florida alone. Seaside Writers offered a generous scholarship for a writer-veteran. Would you mind sharing some thoughts on military experiences and writing?
SBT: The scholarship is one of those minor accomplishments (on paper) that is actually one I consider to be one of my most major successes; it is a veteran scholarship created by an endowment from a good friend and combat vet herself, Celia Baker, from Georgia. I served with her in the 82nd Airborne many years ago, and we have remained close. We hope to expand that scholarship to a couple more veteran writers this year, but I say this with some pride—the SWC is already a supportive place for veterans. Last year, four of our attendees were veterans, and my long-term goal is to have specific, veteran-only workshops.
We have created hundreds of thousands of veterans over the past decade-plus, and they desperately need organizations like Warrior Writers, the Writers Guild Foundation Veterans Writing Project, and many others (most of these didn’t exist when I came back from my wars, so it is clear the call around the need is being acknowledged) to help them communicate their struggles in words. The importance of the therapy these men and women get from writing down their experiences cannot be expressed loudly and broadly enough, and I’m proud to be even tangentially connected to these programs.
DM: Thanks again, Seth.
For more information on Seth, visit: https://sethbradytucker.wordpress.com/
For more information on Seaside Writers, visit: http://seasidewritersconference.weebly.com/
Dennis Mont’Ros is A Cuban American and military veteran pursuing an MFA in Creative Writing at the University of South Florida, where he also teaches. His writing has appeared in the University of Colorado's Alumni magazine, The Pinnacle, and is forthcoming in The Texas Review and Black Denim Lit. His essay "Jody Calls" was a finalist for The Iowa Review’s 2017 Jeff Sharlet Memorial Award for Veterans. Dennis is nearing completion of a historical novel, The Black Horse of Havana.
Dennis Mont’Ros: Thanks for spending some time with Saw Palm, Seth. You’ve done a lot of writing in Florida. How has The Sunshine State influenced your work?
Seth Brady Tucker: It is pretty clear, as I go back through my poetry and my fiction, that the PhD program at FSU and professors like David Kirby, Mark Winegardner, Barbara Hamby, Bob Shacochis, and Julianna Baggott have all had a huge impact on how I write and my career. Of course the place itself is also special; there are always pieces that spring forth from memories I have of my time in Florida, and now that it seems like the Seaside Writers Conference is permanent and stable, I can see that Florida will always be at the center of my writing world (as a matter of fact, the current novel I am working on has many of its pages written in Florida while at the conference last year). I am a Wyoming boy, but so much of who I am as a writer can be traced back to my time in Florida.
DM: You’re a straight-to-the-point guy, so let’s go straight to a tough question: Both your fiction and your poetry have won awards. What do you see as the function of poetry and the function of prose?
SBT: Put simply, they both remind us that we are unique, that we are human, and that we are part of a large international community of likewise unique and important humans. I don’t think it is a coincidence that fewer people in the US read literature than ever before and at the same time the rhetoric of our political candidates have gone from, let’s say, problematic to psychotic. It is my belief (and a study by the New School confirms it) that prose and poetry nurture our very souls and make us more empathetic. Prose and poetry are the nutrients of our deepest convictions; they turn hate to empathy and help us see the other side more clearly, so to starve ourselves of either is why we have our current state of affairs, I believe. I’m not trying to be hyperbolic.
From my own creative standpoint, I think poetry and prose work in a couple of different ways, so I will try to explain that divide with the following: First, at the generative stage, they are distinct simply in how I manage them and how I respond to an idea or image in that moment of inspiration. I know from the beginning, for instance, whether something is going to be a poem or short story or essay. This is harder than it sounds. They are different animals, so accidentally treating a poem like a story can make the whole enterprise not only difficult, but the product can be pretty awful. What is interesting about that division between poetry and prose when it comes to other writers and what they read, is that reading habits actually transcend that divide pretty easily; I think most writers understand that they are both absolutely necessary. I don’t find it strange at all that when I speak to novelists and fiction writers, the bulk of them are avid readers of poetry. And I haven’t met a poet yet who reads poetry exclusively. They inform one another, and in my mind, paying attention to one will help with the writing of the other.
DM: Between teaching in several different places and serving as prose editor at a lit journal, you see a lot of emerging writing. What would you like to see newer writers doing more (and less) of?
SBT: To be honest, I’d like to see less homogenized MFA workshop writing. I know that might sting, given whom I am speaking to, but before I am sent some hate mail, let me explain what I mean: This isn’t actually a shot at the programs themselves or the students who commit themselves to this most noble of endeavors, but perhaps at the timeline some MFA students think they are following. I see too many students, freshly graduated from an MFA program, who then immediately begin to submit the workshop pieces from the program. Often, these pieces have been edited and revised (or not) based on the same readers’ responses, over and over. And they just aren’t ready to be submitted yet, in some cases. I think some MFA students need to think of their graduate program as the beginning, and not the end, of their education as professional writers, and that just because something went into their thesis, doesn’t mean it is ready to publish. Be selective and deliberate. Know what is ready and what is not. This is also our fault as editors—sometimes we are so anxious to find the next new thing, we publish pieces from emerging authors that aren’t where they need to be, or could be, given some time and distance from the aesthetic of each program. New writers don’t have to be 26 years old to be “new.” Sometimes writers need more time (as I did—I never got a shot at being a “30 under 30” or a “40 under 40”). This isn’t about talent—it is about being patient so that when the work is ready it won’t just be published, it will be lauded.
What I’d like to see more of from MFA students is a passionate devotion to the market they hope to inhabit—I cannot tell you how often I ask graduate students about their reading habits, and they never bring up what literary magazines or presses they love and seem unaware of how that market might survive. I would ask them: Where do you think you are going to publish once these magazines go out of business and wouldn’t it be nice if someone read them?
DM: Advice well taken. Congratulations on Seaside Writers Conference’s third successful year. The program has great momentum. What did you consider the highlights of this year’s session in the Panhandle? What are you striving to do in the future?
SBT: I think the thing that stood out most for me was the graciousness of all of our visiting authors and agents and faculty, and especially the generosity of Andre Dubus III. Our conference is small, and we build a tight community (most of our attendees have said they will always come back when they can) and want to be known as the place where you vacation as you work. Here’s the thing: If you come to SWC, you are important to us. We wanted to build an experience that is unique and deeply felt, one where you remember the writing, the instruction, and the fun as independent and equal. Our fellowships and scholarships are competitive, but our process is egalitarian and fair, and because of that I think we get some truly terrific student/teachers as well. I know our attendees were really impressed and happy with the help they gained from the younger mentors, and not just from the stellar faculty.
DM: The town of Seaside is famous for being the setting of the film The Truman Show. What is it like hosting a writing retreat in that picture-perfect, beachfront atmosphere?
SBT: You wouldn’t believe the beach and the odd loveliness of the town. We partnered with the Seaside Institute, things began to fall together, and here we are four years later, with a slate of some pretty incredible faculty and headliners (I can’t tell you who yet, but let me just say that there are some NBA’s and Pulitzers in there). In the end, we use that locale to our best ability—we reserve plenty of time for reading and writing on the beach, and our events all move around the area so we all get to see what the locale has to offer. And then there is the time under the umbrellas on the beach, sitting with famous authors, soaking up the sun and their wisdom.
DM: Let’s switch gears and talk military vet to military vet for a minute. The Department of Veteran Affairs counts approximately 1.7 million veterans in Florida alone. Seaside Writers offered a generous scholarship for a writer-veteran. Would you mind sharing some thoughts on military experiences and writing?
SBT: The scholarship is one of those minor accomplishments (on paper) that is actually one I consider to be one of my most major successes; it is a veteran scholarship created by an endowment from a good friend and combat vet herself, Celia Baker, from Georgia. I served with her in the 82nd Airborne many years ago, and we have remained close. We hope to expand that scholarship to a couple more veteran writers this year, but I say this with some pride—the SWC is already a supportive place for veterans. Last year, four of our attendees were veterans, and my long-term goal is to have specific, veteran-only workshops.
We have created hundreds of thousands of veterans over the past decade-plus, and they desperately need organizations like Warrior Writers, the Writers Guild Foundation Veterans Writing Project, and many others (most of these didn’t exist when I came back from my wars, so it is clear the call around the need is being acknowledged) to help them communicate their struggles in words. The importance of the therapy these men and women get from writing down their experiences cannot be expressed loudly and broadly enough, and I’m proud to be even tangentially connected to these programs.
DM: Thanks again, Seth.
For more information on Seth, visit: https://sethbradytucker.wordpress.com/
For more information on Seaside Writers, visit: http://seasidewritersconference.weebly.com/
Dennis Mont’Ros is A Cuban American and military veteran pursuing an MFA in Creative Writing at the University of South Florida, where he also teaches. His writing has appeared in the University of Colorado's Alumni magazine, The Pinnacle, and is forthcoming in The Texas Review and Black Denim Lit. His essay "Jody Calls" was a finalist for The Iowa Review’s 2017 Jeff Sharlet Memorial Award for Veterans. Dennis is nearing completion of a historical novel, The Black Horse of Havana.
