Nancy J. Allen is the author of the new story collection A Method of Reaching Extreme Altitudes and Other Stories. She lives in Dallas and in Taos.
Q: Over how long a period did you write the stories in your new collection?
A: I’m embarrassed to tell you. Years.
Q: How was the book’s title--also the title of one of the stories--chosen, and what does it signify for you?
A: “A Method of Reaching Extreme Altitudes” is the title of an essay published on the front page of The New York Times in 1915 in which Robert Goddard, the father of rocket science, declared that someday his rockets would be able to reach the moon.
Goddard was laughed out of the scientific community and fled to the nowhere town of Roswell, New Mexico, where his “rockets could rise or crash, or even explode without wear and tear on neighbors’ nerves.” Fifty-four years later, Commander Neil Armstrong walked on the moon.
The story intertwines the history of rocket development with the trajectory of a man’s life. I grew up in Roswell, although I never heard of Goddard when I lived there.
Q: The author Elisabeth Sharp McKetta said of your work, “Nancy Allen is a gorgeous writer, deft with the use of telling and power-packed poetic verbs and wise in her ability to see deep into the soul of a character and know how a single event can change them.” What do you think of that description?
A: McKetta is one of the “gatekeepers” hired by UNM Press to read and evaluate my work before they accepted it for publication. I’ve never met Elisabeth, but clearly she’s exceptionally perceptive! — I’m joking. McKetta is generous and kind. She wrote that she hopes to teach one of my stories in her graduate writing course at Harvard. I am honored.
Q: How did you choose the order in which the stories would appear in the collection?
A: “A Method of Reaching Extreme Altitudes” was always the first story. I considered it to be the seed from which the rest of the stories blossomed: its cold remote voice comes down from on high to branch into various passionate voices.
But the story is an outlier in terms of form—there are no others like it in the collection—and I always worried about this. After Lesley Bannatyne, the other UNM Press “gatekeeper,” wrote that she was surprised when my stories failed to resemble the first one, I had to confront my knowing-but-not-wanting-to-know there was a problem.
I sat for three days, thinking. Once I allowed myself to change the sequencing, everything fell into place. “A Method” isn’t shocking as the third story, especially when followed by “Impulse,” which also has an unusual structure. I sprinkled the three Georgina stories around—and voila!
Q: What are you working on now?
A: I have 200+ pages of a novel about an older woman—what else?—who has suffered two retinal detachments and fearing she might soon be blind, signs up, against her husband’s wishes, to take an art class in color. The art teacher is young, wild and world-travelled, and seems to offer entrance into an expansive world of creative excitement.
I quit working on this novel about five years ago when I wrote a scene that scared me: I literally did not know what to do with it. Faulkner said, A writer must teach himself that the basest of all things is to be afraid. I think I’m braver now. (Also, I’ve learned that everyone writing a novel has trouble with “the middle.”) I’ve started back: nose-to-grindstone.
Q: Anything else we should know?
A: I’m in the process of being interviewed by David Haynes, Emeritus Professor of English/SMU; author of Martha’s Daughter, A Novella and Stories. During our back-and-forth, I told him about losing a novel 40 years ago in a Wang Word Processor malfunction.
It was traumatic—so traumatic that until our conversation a few days ago, I had totally “forgotten” about this novel. I cannot, in fact, remember the title, but its corpse must be lying around here somewhere…
--Interview with Deborah Kalb









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