On Amy Tan

This summer, I had the absolute pleasure of attending the Community of Writers workshop at Lake Tahoe, where for the first time I got to see the one and only Amy Tan, award-winning writer, artist and the brain behind the American masterpiece “The Joy Luck Club.” Amy Tan also happens to have two degrees, as well as an honorary doctorate, from San José State, where I serve as managing editor of SJSU Magazine.

Listening to her read underneath the halo of the unadorned Sierra Nevadas, I knew I had to ask her for an interview. I assumed she would say no, and thus was surprised when she agreed for a zoom chat about a week later. In my nervousness I overprepared, because how else can you show up for a conversation with a legit legend?

Amy was gracious, kind and generous with her responses, sharing how her experiences publishing fiction about Chinese American women and their families provoked dialogue about cultural representation that she hadn’t anticipated. She talked about how, following the election of President Trump in 2016, the world felt so weighty that she turned her attention to the birds in her backyard, inspiring “The Backyard Bird Chronicles.”

I feel so lucky to have gotten the opportunity to talk to her and learn from her, and also to share her story with SJSU audiences. I was also delighted to hear from Andrew Tonkovich, editor of Omnium Gatherum Quarterly, an invitation-only publication of the Community of Writers, requesting permission to reprint the profile in its entirety.

Lake Tahoe magic

This summer, I had the great privilege of attending the Community of Writers workshop in Lake Tahoe, courtesy of the O’Dwyer Scholarship and thanks to the generosity and love of my sweet husband, who held down the fort for eight days.

For years, I’ve written short stories and novel excerpts in the margins of each day. Creative writing will always be my first love. I love the freedom of a new idea, the juiciness of a fun character and the great thrill of putting made up people in peril. Since completing my master’s in creative writing in 2012, I’ve kept these stories alive by attending conferences, workshops and writing courses. Sometimes, even a day or two away is enough to buoy me until the next opportunity to nerd out on books and stories and perspective arises.

Palisades Tahoe

Each day I awoke at Palisades Tahoe (formerly known as Squaw Valley), I reminded myself to be present. Soak it up. Memorize the smell of the trees, the mesmerizing swish of unattended ski lifts against the green mountains, the stillness in the 8,000-foot air. I was lucky enough to room with two wonderful writers, nonfiction writer Randi Barshack and fiction writer Soo J. Hong. The three of us stayed up late talking about the stories that excite us and scare us in equal measure—real and imagined.

Every morning started with a three-hour writing workshop facilitated by a different instructor, though our core group of participants stayed the same. My fellow writers wrote with incredible range and empathy, and they arrived in Tahoe from all over the world. Together we workshopped stories and novel excerpts with writers Robin Romm, Kirsten Chen, Tom Barbash, Louis B. Jones, Jamie Ford and editor Jessica Case. We saw so many wonderful people read—those aforementioned, as well as Amy Tan, Venita Blackburn, Maceo Montoya, Vanessa Hua, Katy Hays, Rickey Fayne, and many more.

Our wonderful writing workshop (I’m hiding in the upper right).

There were craft talks and nature hikes and glorious evening readings under the moonless sky. I felt alive with possibility.

Buoyed by copies of Amy Tan’s rejection letters.

I feel alive with possibility. I am determined to keep the magic in the present tense. Someday, my stories will see the light of day. Until then, I am cultivating a culture of play and creativity and curiosity that will tide me over through these messy weeks and months.

Writers on a hike