A CONVERSATION WITH ELIZABETH FARRIS ON BEDBUGS, COCKROACH CONVENTIONS, AND WRITING FICTION

Rebecca Mennecke: First things first, can we talk about the title of your piece in Issue #3, “Stranded Scientist Discovers Endangered Species”?  It feels very journalistic, and sparks intrigue right away. How did you settle on that title?

Elizabeth Farris: The entire piece is written as a newspaper article where headlines should do the heavy lifting and entice us to read the whole thing. Personally, I pass up those gripping newspaper stories about school board meetings and how the Federal Reserve is frolicking with interest rates. Who doesn’t love to read about bizarre, serendipitous, tabloidesque current events? I can’t get enough of them.

RM: Also, bedbugs. Why bedbugs? How did you brainstorm such a creative and unique story?

EF: Bedbugs are funny, yet they frighten me at the same time. A few years ago, there was an epidemic of bedbug infestations in motel rooms. My first career was as an environmental chemist so I’m a science gal. Dad was a university professor, and I grew up watching PhDs compete and self-promote while harboring secret fantasies of attaching their names to earthshattering research. And some of the best scientific discoveries have occurred by accident.  You find something you aren’t looking for. The same goes for writing ideas. They show up when and where you least expect it.

RM: The tone of the piece is also ultra-scientific.  I really want to believe that there’s this new species of bed bugs (or maybe I don’t) because you insert so much scientific jargon to persuade readers it is true. What are some ways you can encourage readers to believe the unbelievable – for the sake of fiction?

EF: My character speaks academic science lingo, so we tend not to question the validity of her discovery. The names of the two species of parent bedbugs are real, yet the new mutation is bogus. When a fictional element is hidden within facts, people fall for it. It’s a faux beef burger patty wearing a tomato slice, frilly lettuce, pickle chip, and held captive inside a sesame seed bun. It’s familiar so we make assumptions. A dollop of secret sauce also helps. My entomology professor craves credibility, even going so far as insisting the site be eternally sealed to prevent extinction of her new species, but also to prevent legitimate investigation by her peers. Writers aren’t the only ones who bamboozle people into believing something is real. 

RM: There’s also a ton of humor in this story. “The Chicago Cockroach Convention”? If that’s a real thing, I’m somewhat terrified. How did you come up with such humor for this story?

EF: I wanted the convention (to) be in Milwaukee, but I’d dissed Wisconsin enough. The alliteration of the three C’s added a bit of zip. Besides, scientists have never documented a single cockroach in Milwaukee. But Chicago is crawling with them.

RM: Fiction is such a fun thing to write because a writer can be humorous and scientific and serious and weird, but it also can be tough to write!  What sort of challenges do you face when writing fiction?

EF: The first idea that pops into my head is always dull, boring, an overdone subject with stereotypical characters in too-common situations. After I scrap it, the second idea is better, but not by much. It’s usually the third idea that winks at me, hinting it has something worth exploring. You’d think that thinking the third thought first would be the way to go. But I have to take out two buckets of trash first before the sweet smell flows back in through the kitchen window.

RM: Have you been reading any good books lately?  Who are some people who inspire or mentor your writing?

EF: At the age of 61, I earned an MA in Creative Writing and was encouraged to do my own thing in my own way. No rules or restrictions. As in science, experimentation is what creativity is all about. Sometimes things explode on cue, sometimes you get toxic goop.  It’s all good. I always read what I’m currently writing, which right now is short fiction. Because I try and make each of my stories different, I expose myself to all sorts of voices so as not to become a mimic. I go for high quality since that is where artistic techniques are best on display. When you hang out with a talented crowd, their qualities rub off on you.  At least that’s my theory. Ben Marcus, Lorrie Moore, George Saunders, Alice Munro, Karen Russell, and T. C. Boyle have all taught me through their stories. I’d love to buy David Sedaris a Leinie’s but for some reason he doesn’t return my phone calls. 

RM: What advice do you have for people who are interested in submitting fiction to Barstow and Grand?

EF: Trust your gut, mess around with words, color outside the lines.  Rewrite, revise. and polish until it glimmers in the moonlight. But be careful not to edit out the juicy bits. I so admire Barstow and Grand and found the experience of being included in Issue #3 an honor.  The editorial staff was professional and respectful towards the writers.  What a great opportunity to get some of my words out there. 

RM: Is there anything I didn’t ask about with this piece that I really should know about it – whether it’s with regards to the story, your experience, or your writing?

EF: There are two writers with the same name. I am not the Elizabeth Farris crime novelist in Kentucky. I’m the other one: the Elizabeth Farris lucky enough to have lived in Chippewa Falls and have a piece about bedbugs included in Barstow and Grand Issue #3. I immigrated to New Zealand and live there part-time. It was a radical move to sneak out of my comfort zone but every time I pull something off, I get a bit bolder. I’ll try most anything: short stories, plays, essays, bad poetry, screenwriting, a libretto to a musical.  Currently I’m exploring micro and flash fiction. When it works, it’s amazing what can be done with just a handful of words. 

United Press International

by Elizabeth Farris

Last Monday, Professor Carol Ebbrell of Ashcroft University made a groundbreaking discovery in Room 12 at Motel Heddelton in Blue Lake, Wisconsin. “Imagine my joy at waking up to irrefutable evidence that nocturnal feeding activity had taken place all over my body. It was a case of the right entomologist being in the right place at the right time.” She grins and adds, “The radiator in my Mazda exploded on my way to the Chicago Cockroach Convention.”

According to her theory, a Cimex lectularius from Room 11 and a Cimex hemipterus from Room 13 had met between the sheets in Room 12. The two, commonly known as bed bugs, had produced the new subspecies Cimex Ebbrellus, which quickly adapted and thrived in the unique environment.

“I was horrified to see a member of the housekeeping staff in the hallway with a vacuum cleaner. My emergency call to the International Endangered Species Coalition ensured that Room 12 was hermetically sealed before mass extinction could occur.”

Motel owner Joe Miles reports, “We’re excited to be part of this important scientific discovery. I’ve erected huge bed bug-shaped billboards along the freeway and I’ve asked the town council to consider widening McCarthy Road because of an expected increase in traffic due to eco-tourism. We’re conducting educational tours of the hallway and discount tickets are offered to folks with room reservations.”

A charitable trust has been formed to protect the irreplaceable biodiversity of Motel Heddelton and ensure Room 12 remains predator-free for years to come. Donations are tax-deductible.