Meet Lindsay Tigue, our Non-fiction editor with a love for all genres. She’s one to borrow a book from, if you’re in need.
What book can you not stop talking to people about?
I already reviewed this on this blog over the summer, but The Field Guide to Getting Lost by Rebecca Solnit. I am still talking about it. It’s the kind of book where as soon as I put it down I needed to pick up another by the same author. More Solnit. I love her blend of historical and personal; the balance she achieves seems to me more fluid than a lot of nonfiction I come across.
As far as poetry, I cannot stop talking about Words for Empty and Words for Full by Bob Hicok. Not to sound hyperbolic, but I feel differently about words after reading these poems, particularly the ones about the Virginia Tech shootings. He seems to get away with so much with so little. I love that.
What book compels your writing?
Boys of My Youth by Jo Ann Beard, The Collected Stories by Amy Hempel, At the Drive-In Volcano by Aimee Nezhukumatathil, Among the Missing by Dan Chaon. Depending on what genre I am trying to write, these are the books I need to read and reread. Without fail, they make me want to try again. They all achieve something I really want to do.
What (other than Flyway) literary magazines do you read?
I love Third Coast, Ecotone, Gulf Coast, Ninth Letter, Colorado Review, Black Warrior Review, Indiana Review, Sycamore Review, One Story, and oh so many others.
What writers do you seek out in literary magazines?
I don’t necessarily read literary magazines because I recognize a name. The fun is in the discovery—the heartrending essay, story, or poem by someone whom I’ve perhaps never run across before. That being said, I get excited when I see a literary magazine has a story by L. Annette Binder. I was first introduced to her work through literary magazines and I can’t wait to read her first collection, Rise, which was just published by Sarabande.
What advice do you have for potential-contributors of Flyway?
At Flyway, our aesthetic centers around place and the environment and the essays that stand out to me are ones interpreting a confrontation or interaction with place in a surprising way. I also like essays that feel well-structured, but not contrived. I like essays where characters (including the narrator) emerge, essays where the characters become as important as the idea. There should also be some force driving the momentum of the piece, whether it’s suspense or some overarching desire or motivation that gets me to read on. I also hate to see disparaged “quiet essays,” or “quiet poems,” or “quiet stories,” as if words must to be loud to matter. I love calm human drama. I love tension. The subtle essay that doesn’t shout can often accumulate shocking power. And, really, that’s what I’m looking for; I want to be moved and surprised. Break my heart, contributors!