Sharon Berg Interviews Finnian Burnett

(Off Topic Publishing, 2024)

Finnian Burnett

Sharon Berg:    Thank you, Finnian, for agreeing to do this interview with me in the midst of a busy time as you launch this book. This is not the first time that you have collected a series of flash pieces, assembling them as a unique novella.
 
The collection of stories in The Price of Cookies is written in spare language, each being a sort of vignette, each being linked to the others. Yet together, they provide an immense amount of detail about the characters and their relationships within a community. I imagine, all the same, that finding the correct order to place these tales in was difficult. Can you comment on this?
 
Finnian Burnett:    I arranged and rearranged each of these stories several times. The first story was always first and the last story was the last written, but other than that, I kept fussing with the order. I wanted it to feel linear but also to allow people the understanding that there really isn’t an order—that these things happen to us at various points in our lives. I ultimately went with the idea of making sure certain people, like the clerk and her son, or Lana and Sal and the boys, were grouped, and the rest were sorted by intuition of “rightness.” (Whatever that means in my author brain.)
 
SB:    As I read each story in The Price of Cookies I got the impression that what you wrote was actually wrapped around a central truth that wasn’t written. Still, the stories, short as they are, managed to tell that central truth to me in a way similar to Kelvin keeping silent about Alistair’s situation, simply accepting it for what is. Was your plan to simply hint at a central storyline that ties these vignettes together, that over the span of the novella becomes so obvious though it is unspoken? Or is that something that simply evolved during your writing process?
 
FB:    So much of this work was intuitive. It’s almost as if each story spawned another character and that character’s story and backstory came out only when I started writing. One of the central truths I wanted to explore in this work is the idea that we all just get through life in whatever way makes sense to us. And sometimes, that makes us empathetic or beautiful, but sometimes, it makes us hurtful to other people. I wanted people to walk away with that sense of connection, the understanding that we all deal with trauma or grief or love in different ways and maybe, we can find a way to deal with these things together. So while I had that idea in my head when I started, as I was writing, I was more focused on each individual and what they were going through in their particular lives.
 
SB:    To my mind, the additional stories after your novella simply expand the community. I don’t see a hard division between them. Even the kid who runs away to join the circus once belonged somewhere else. How do you respond to this suggestion that your arrangement includes them despite saying they are extras?
 
FB:    Yes! Thank you so much for getting that. Though the bonus material was meant to be comedic and a bit of a reprieve from some of the heavy topics I touched on in the greater work, I still wrote them from a place of community and either belonging or not belonging. Though they weren’t part of the original cast of characters and didn’t fit, in my opinion, tone-wise with the rest of the work, they still felt germane to the rest of the piece.
 
SB:    Every book takes a stance in the midst of its contemporary social and political concerns. How do you describe the position of The Price of Cookies and its areas of concern in today’s world?
 
FB:    Like nearly everything I write, The Price of Cookies stands with empathy, social justice, and acceptance of historically excluded groups. Even if I try to avoid writing politically, it does seem as if everything I write seems to be a political stance, at least to some people, because I don’t write anything that doesn’t include queer characters. I can’t imagine not writing queer characters because we exist and because there are people who think any mention of LGBTQ+ folks in literature is an abomination. When so many authors are being censored because they have queer characters or because they touch on social issues important to that community, insisting on representation is an imperative. I don’t think the idea of representation for marginalized groups can be overstated. Reading about the lived experiences of people outside of the societally accepted “norm” can make people more empathetic to the existence of those groups.
 
SB:    Titles are often difficult to come up with, though some authors seem to begin there. What was your experience in developing a title for The Price of Cookies?
 
FB:    I have a love-hate relationship with titles. If I come up with an excellent title right off the bat, I’m happy but if I don’t, I labor over the title forever. I started with the title when I was writing the first story in this collection and it felt like a natural title for the collection itself because it’s multi-layered. Yes, cookies in this instance have a financial cost but what is the cost to everyone emotionally? What cost to Kelvin to steal the cookies? What did he have to give up as he walked away from the encounter? The rest of the titles fell into place, but none of them felt as true and encompassing as the first. 
 
SB:    Of the portion(s) of early drafts that were removed, do you think any are the starting-off point for another book? Were they simply developing in a different direction from the rest of the text?

FB:    Yes! I cut a whole story about Lana and Sal and their adjustment to living with the two boys. It didn’t flow with the rest of the stories and it ended up being far too long to fit into the flash fiction format it would have needed to be for this particular work. But I’m intrigued with the idea of taking on burdens you didn’t choose. What would it be like to raise children when you’d decided not to have children? My sisters and I used to talk about this a lot when their kids were younger. What if something happened to them? I’d raise their kids but it would never feel like something I had chosen for myself. How would that affect the family dynamics? I’m kind of half-working on a collection of people in that sort of situation, only it’s not just about taking on other people’s kids, but about any of the ways in which other people’s decisions can affect our life circumstances.

SB:    Books are often turned into television shows, movies, or radio scripts. They are also frequently translated into other languages. What would you say is a key point in The Price of Cookies that shouldn’t be lost if it’s converted to another form or another language?

FB:    Despite how much I love writing about loss and grief and trauma, the main takeaway I’d want to be translated onto the screen is the idea of connection. The characters, at least most of the main ones, end up coming together at the end. They learn they aren’t so unique in their suffering. I joke a lot about how I don’t like to give my readers happy endings—I like people to walk away feeling a little sad when they read one of my stories. But I do want them to have a tiny pinpoint of hope in the sadness, the idea that someone else out there has also survived whatever it is they are dealing with. Isn’t that why internet memes about mental health or dealing with trauma are so wildly popular? Our strength usually lies in finding another person (or people) who have faced what we’re facing.

SB:    Something that often interests readers is knowing how much of a particular work is invented and how much is autobiographical. Would you care to share your approach/thoughts on this aspect of your readers’ curiosity?

FB:    This is a great question because in my previous work, The Clothes Make the Man, so much of that came from my own life experience. The body image issues, the gender identity questions, the struggles with finding clothing to try to let the world see me the way I see myself. Because it was so personal, I often felt as if I was tearing off bandages every time I wrote a word. In The Price of Cookies, though I may have touched on some of my own feelings, I feel the work is more universal. I’ve not experienced all the same events my characters have, but I understand the way they feel. In a way, it made it easier to write because I didn’t have to wade through all of my own trauma. Also, I didn’t have to worry as much what people would think of me if they read about a certain character’s emotional struggle. My best friend tells me all the time that I can’t control people’s perception of my work, that I can’t let the idea that people are going to judge me personally for the way my characters behave or how they feel keep me from writing, but it still lingers in my head. Writing from a place more distant from my own lived experience helps alleviate that worry.

SB:    Many people say that an author is never really finished with their work and would always wish to adjust and tweak their writing. Do you feel that way about The Price of Cookies, wishing you could change something?

FB:    Ah! I feel that about everything I write, all the time. I want to add stories, tweak the ones that already exist. I want to go back and give Alistair more closure, more acceptance of who he is. I want the clerk and Lana to connect in a deeper way over their shared feelings of loss. I want to give the dying sister more of a backstory. I go back sometimes and look at my previous novels, as well, and wish I could change them. In grad school, I spent a lot of time looking at first and second editions of 19th century literature, analyzing how the change of one word or even one piece of punctation—say an ellipse to a semi-colon—can change the meaning of a line. I analyze my own work like that sometimes. Is this sentence true? Is it beautiful? What happens if I change this one word?  I have to turn off the revision mind and understand that I don’t have the option to make changes once the work is released into the public. That said, my first novel, Man Enough, was a romantic comedy about a trans man and though the language I used at the time was accurate, the words around the trans experience have changed so radically since then that I ended up taking that book off the market. I might try to re-release it someday with updated terminology. I suppose if William Wordsworth can revise his published poetry based on his changing politics, I can change my novels to contain more empathetic and inclusive language.

SB:    If The Price of Cookies were to be chosen for the list in a graduate course, what discipline would it fit into (i.e., history, politics, social change, philosophy, other)? Or would it be used to describe a particular taste in writing, a genre, a literary style or ___?

FB:    This piece would fit well in a literature course analyzing character choices, social and political issues, queer theory, or healing trauma through writing. My other novella-in-flash, The Clothes Make the Man, was listed in a university creative writing course where they discussed the value of writing gender identity on both global and personal levels. I feel this collection could also fit into a creative writing course. Beyond that, flash fiction has become ever more popular, and more university creative writing programs are taking notice of it. It would behoove professors to bring a study of flash fiction into their classrooms, as writers hone their skills in character development, conflict, and setting in small pieces that can be easily shared and assessed in a short period of time. An author who learns the art of brevity can take those lessons back to their longer-form works. I also teach the structure of flash fiction to young writers (high school students) and I use one of the stories from this book to walk them through how to write a flash piece sentence by sentence. So, even a core English class, or an undergrad writing class could benefit from studying flash fiction. I’d be thrilled if this book was picked up by any teacher or professor. But even if it isn’t, I’d encourage all university programs to consider adding classes on flash fiction.
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SB:    Thanks, so much, once again, Finnian. I believe the conversation that developed around these questions is important because it brings the work you’re doing in The Price of Cookies into even greater focus for the reader. Your answers are much appreciated.
 
Here’s to hoping that universities will agree to support flash fiction by introducing courses that focus on the genre. And here’s to hoping that everyone learns a broader understanding of what actually connects communities or, potentially, divides them. It’s important to broaden the human understanding of the important connections we make through love in whatever identity, orientation, or gender we share with others.

Finnian Burnett’s work explores the intersections of the human body, mental health, and gender identity. Their novella-in-flash, The Clothes Make the Man, was shortlisted for the Bath novella-in-flash awards and was published by Ad Hoc Fiction. Their most recent collection, The Price of Cookies, is available through Off Topic Publishing. Finnian is a recipient of the Canada Council for the Arts grant, a finalist in the 2023 CBC nonfiction prize, and a 2024 Pushcart nominee. When not writing or teaching, Finnian enjoys walking, Star Trek, and cat memes. Finn can be found at www.finnburnett.com

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​Sharon Berg attended the Banff School of Fine Arts Writing Studio in 1982 and was accepted to Banff’s Leighton Artist Colony in 1987. She is also an alumni of Humber College’s Writing Program. She did her B.A. in Indigenous Studies at Laurentian U, followed by her B.Ed for Primary Education at U of T. Her M.Ed focused on First Nations Education at York U, and her D.Ed focused on Indigenous Education at UBC. She also received a Certificate in Magazine Journalism from Ryerson U. Sharon founded and operated the international literary E-Zine Big Pond Rumours (2006-2019) and its associated press, which released chapbooks of Canadian poets as prizes for the magazine’s contests. She's published five full books and three chapbooks, working in poetry, fiction, and nonfiction. Her work appears in periodicals across Canada, the USA, Mexico, the UK, the Netherlands, India, Germany, Singapore, and Australia. Her 3rd poetry collection Stars in the Junkyard (Cyberwit 2020) was a Finalist in the 2022 International Book Awards, and her narrative history The Name Unspoken: Wandering Spirit Survival School (Big Pond Rumours Press 2019) won a 2020 IPPY Award for Regional Nonfiction. When she retired from teaching, she opened Oceanview Writers Retreat in Charlottetown (Terra Nova National Park) Newfoundland.