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| Photo by Elena Mudd |
Kathy Curto is the editor of the new anthology What Are You Waiting For?. She also has written the book Not for Nothing. She teaches at Sarah Lawrence College/The Writing Institute and Montclair State University, and she lives in the Hudson Valley.
Q: You wrote that this anthology about waiting was inspired by your own grief--can you say more about this?
A: There is no doubt that grief has a hand in this. It has a hand in a lot of what I write, even if that is not spelled out clearly or obvious in whatever I’ve tossed out onto a page in any particular moment.
My mother’s death was sudden. She was in my home when she suffered a massive aneurysm. I found her on the floor, close to the unconscious state she eventually slipped into and never came out of. Her heart stopped nine days later. Mine shattered. It was 1998. I was 31.
Working on this book, contemplating my longing for her, my waiting for her to come back, my guilt and my sometimes-fixation on living with uncertainty, has been a way to explore what to do with that shattering, with those broken pieces.
As well, reflecting on the writing of my first book and what surfaced after it was out in the world for a few years also inspired curiosity around waiting.
Several of the chapters in that book have “waiting” in the title and after sitting with that full body of work once it was published and I was speaking to groups, readers, and students about it, I had a bit of an epiphany. For all sorts of reasons, waiting was a big part of my girlhood. And it permeated my stories.
Two other realities reinforced my interest in this topic, too. Covid—we all waited and waited and waited, right? And, finally, motherhood. I very briefly reference Ocean Vuong’s Time Is a Mother in this anthology, mostly because the title is striking to me and distills some of the complexities that accompany mothering: longing, wanting, waiting. And then letting go.
Q: How did you choose the essays to include in the anthology?
A: This question should yield a straightforward, cut-and-dried reply but…no. I knew what I wanted and had to figure out how to get there.
The shortest answer is this: I chose by inviting people whose work had moved me somewhere along the way. But this was an evolving process because of what I was striving for: a multi-genre collection that offered a wide range of voices, forms, shapes and tones.
My hope is to see the evolving continue so that I can invite more people to the table around this topic. (I am researching how to create a digital presence so the book is the kickoff to a continued conversation about waiting.)
Q: The writer Sari Botton said of the book, “What Are You Waiting For? is my platonic ideal of a literary anthology--a diverse chorus of voices, in a variety of genres, on a most relatable theme. Who among us hasn’t confronted the difficulty of waiting for what we know--or hope--is coming?” What do you think of that assessment?
A: When Sari sent me the blurb I recall thinking, She got it! She noticed the “variety” in the selections and, at the same time, recognized how human and routine this practice of waiting is, no matter who you are.
I admire Sari’s writing and the way she harnesses her talents as an editor as well as a connector of people and ideas. Plus, she has a great sense of humor! Having her in this book’s circle means a lot to me.
Q: What impact did it have on you to edit this anthology, and what do you hope readers take away from it?
A: I am still feeling the impact and will for a long time to come. Working on this, with this particular group of writers and artists, reminds me of what art, expression, and collective wondering can do, the way it can coalesce and lead to something new, something that’s never been before and will never be exactly that again.
I am learning more every day about the precious intimacy between writers and editors. I now think in fresh ways now about how various mediums of art can speak to each other and to the people who are kind enough to take it all in.
Somewhat unexpectedly, this project made me think about my work as a community organizer. (I have an MSW and have worked as a community-based social worker.) On some days, I was doing a lot of that, helping to organize a group with a common goal in mind.
Finally, my pull to letter-writing intensified. Much of the way I communicated with the contributors was through letters (ones attached to emails.) As of this interview, I’ve written 17 to them!
Q: What are you working on now?
A: I am working on figuring out, day by day, the best way to offer this book to others. As we know, these days, there are many ways to publish, many ways to get stories into the world.
I want to share this experience not only with readers but also with the contributors, as well. We have some events lined up for summer and fall (virtual and in-person) that I look forward to. I would love to see this book in classrooms and libraries, so I hope we can find some time to visit those spaces as well.
I also want this “waiting conversation” to continue and I’m educating myself on ways to create a digital space so more writers and artists can be read and heard.
My work as a writing teacher affords me the chance to meet people who have fascinating stories to share, are drawn to writing and deserve to be read and heard. I’d love for this book to be a step in a new direction, a new collective.
Q: Anything else we should know?
A: I was on the phone the other day with one of our contributors who is planning a book event in her community. (A very gracious move on her part, by the way.) We talked a bit about the start of this project.
I told her that at the seed planting stage, I knew I wanted to explore and learn more about waiting—and all the things we wait for as human beings—and I also knew I did not want to do it alone. I was hungry for connection and a wider understanding of this.
I was curious about how this very common, very everyday, and very routine act was understood and experienced by others. And what would happen if they were asked to make something artistic with that answer. It’s been three years and four months since the first letter I sent to them. And now we have a book.
It was so worth the wait.
--Interview with Deborah Kalb





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