This week I bring you an interview with our nonfiction editor, the one and only Silas Hansen. Silas has been manning the nonfiction helm at The Journal for nearly a year now, and I thought it was about time y’all were properly introduced to him. Like myself, he’s a third-year in the MFA program here, though unlike me he hails from western New York. Without further ado, Silas Hansen and yours truly, talking truth:

Mike Larson: So, just to kick things off, let’s hear what you did over the summer? Where were you? What book was on your nightstand?

Silas Hansen: I was here in Columbus. I taught an introduction to creative nonfiction class, so that was pretty cool. And I was working on my thesis, which is a collection of essays. I was reading a lot for The Journal—we had our contest going on, so I was reading entries for that. And I read Eula Biss’ book, Notes from No Man’s Land, Chris Coake’s new novel, You Came Back, and I just started Joe Oestreich’s book, Hitless Wonder.

ML: Was there anything about your teaching experience over the summer that helped you with your own writing, or taught you something new?

SH: I actually experimented with not doing a traditional workshop. I had my students do more generative work.  They turned in a bunch of writing exercises. I was a little worried the exercises were too prescriptive, but it actually turned out nicely because it made them think about things they weren’t thinking about otherwise.

ML: Cool. So what are you reading right now?

SH: Well, like I said I just started Joe Oestreich’s book, Hitless Wonder: A Life in Minor League Rock and Roll. He’s an OSU alumnus, and the book is about going on tour with the rock band that he’s been in since high school.

ML: What are some books that you’re looking forward to before the Holidays? Anything coming out that you’re excited to read?

SH: One of my professors from undergrad has a novel coming out—Butter, by Anne Panning. And also the new Rose Metal Press Field Guide for Writing Flash Nonfiction that Dinty Moore edited and Lee Martin is in. That’s coming out at the end of September, so I’m really looking forward to that.

ML: Sweet. Okay, let’s take things in a slightly different direction. In your mind, what are the major areas of nonfiction?

SH: Like memoir, personal essay, etc.?

ML: Yeah, exactly. What else do you see as the important categories that fall under the creative nonfiction umbrella?

SH: Well memoir, personal essay. I think the lyric essay is also becoming a bigger thing. Literary journalism, travel writing, nature writing, also flash nonfiction.

ML: Let’s take literary journalism. What do you see as the big difference between journalism and literary journalism?

SH: Journalism tends to be more interested in the story: what happened, how it happened, why it happened, when, where, etc. More the basic facts. Literary journalism tends to be more interested in the broader implications, the bigger questions, character, stuff like that—who the people are beyond this story. So there’s this event that the author is writing about, but they’re also writing about who this character is aside from that. They’re interested in complicating the character a little bit more.

ML: Do you have some favorite literary journalists?

SH: Susan Orlean is probably my favorite. I also really like the H.G. Bissinger’s Friday Night Lights, and George Plimpton’s Paper Lion.

ML: Awesome. Let’s move on to a recent headline from the nonfiction world. What did you think of the whole John D’Agata controversy?

SH: Well, I read Ander Monson’s review of Lifespan of a Fact in the Los Angeles Review of Books, and I agreed with him—he said that the people writing about it were kind of missing the point. People kept writing about how John D’Agata lied about this or that, but Monson looked more at the missed opportunities that he created for himself. You know, there were places where D’Agata could have talked about why he wanted to change things, or why he wanted certain events to happen this way instead of some other way. To me those answers are one of the most interesting parts of nonfiction. I don’t care if people lie, as long as I know why they’re lying. I think that tells us something about their character. Why we tell ourselves the stories we tell ourselves.

ML: Or say, why they remembered something one way, but then, when they went back and checked it, they realized it had actually happened a different way.

SH: Yeah, exactly.

ML: So, you said you’re working on your MFA thesis. Can you just tell us what your collection of essays is about and what your plans are form it?

SH: Though I tend to write more narrative work, I’ve been experimenting with form a little bit with this collection. I had read Ander Monson’s Neck Deep and Other Predicaments last winter, and I’ve been writing these kind of weird essays. I have one essay that’s in the form of an OKCupid dating profile. So I wasn’t sure what to do with that—I wasn’t sure if it would fit with the overall collection. But after I read Monson’s book I felt like I had permission to do that. He’s got more narrative essays in there, but then he’s got these other ones—there’s one in the shape of the Harvard outline—and he kind of experiments with form. So I’ve been doing that a little bit and mixing the two.

ML: Very cool. Well, do you want to tell us about the nonfiction you selected for the fall issue?

SH: I’m in love with the nonfiction piece that we picked for the fall issue. “Discovery” is by a writer named Amy Bernhard, who goes to the University of Iowa, and her essay is really beautiful. The essay is about her grandmother and she is just a gorgeous writer. She has a wonderful command of language and this essay is narrative, but it has lyrical elements, which I liked.

ML: Can you say a little bit about what it was that drew you to that piece? What made you want to publish it?

SH: I’m really interested in essays that are able to create a specific tone through language and I think Amy does a really good job with that. Something about the word choice and the way the sentences flow—the voice is what drew me to it.

ML: Are there themes that you’re drawn to in works of nonfiction, whether it be family or loss or anything else?

SH: I think identity might be something that draws me to different essays. Eula Biss is a really good example of that. I was interested in the way she handled questions of identity in Notes from No Man’s Land. It’s a collection of essays that examines being a white woman in predominantly black spaces. She writes about that and about what race means, coming from a place of privilege, but being in a place where you are not of the majority. And I thought that was really interesting because she asks really complicated questions and I think she never answers them simplistically. There are times when she doesn’t answer her own questions, but she will hint toward a conclusion.iBut for the most part I’ll read anything. Tone is definitely something I’m drawn to and I often like pieces that are more meditative. I don’t like things that are really melodramatic or…kind of just downers. I’m okay with things that are sad, but I want them to try to transcend that sadness a little and be about more than just being sad.

ML: That’s reasonable. Okay, last question: what are some other journals that you look to for good nonfiction?

SH: My favorite journals are River Teeth, The Normal School—they’re one of the best magazines out there, last issue they had Ander Monson and Joe Oestreich—and Hayden’s Ferry. I also like Third Coast, Colorado Review, and Missouri Review, which is just a wonderful magazine.

I appreciate Silas’ sitting down with me. Until next week.