Interview
No One Expects Anything, So You Can Do Everything:
An Interview With Chelsea Stickle
BY Qwayonna Josephs, Bethany Randazzo, & BriAnna Sankey
March 2024
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Chelsea Stickle believes in the power of anonymity. It gives her creative freedom because “no one expects anything, so [she] can do everything.” This philosophy guided Stickle through writing her most recent chapbook, Everything’s Changing.
Stickle lives a quiet life in Annapolis, MD with her black rabbit, George, and a forest of houseplants. A flash editor at Funicular Magazine, Assistant Fiction Editor for Pithead Chapel, and Associate Fiction Editor for Pidgeonholes, she is also inspired by her passion for short fiction to co-run the Shorter is Better book club. Her chapbook Everything’s Changing uses surreal elements to highlight the strikingly real struggles of women and girls through thought-provoking, humor-laced stories that address serious systemic issues. In this interview, Chelsea Stickle takes us behind the scenes and details the creative process of this book, including her inspiration, intent, and what’s next. |
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Glassworks Magazine (GM): Nothing is as it seems in your flash fiction collection Everything’s Changing. Your stories portray the struggles of women and girls through a lens of strangeness as you tell these stories using mythological and fantastical elements. What inspired the allusions to mythology? What is your intention behind the use of well-established literary figures and retellings of their stories?
Chelsea Stickle (CS): Each of these stories was written individually to satisfy my creative curiosity. I didn’t write them with the intention of including them in a collection. I grew up reading mythology. The stories that we tell over and over—they have power. When you’re using pre-existing characters or tropes, everyone’s bringing expectations to the table, and that can be fun to dance with. |
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GW: There’s a recurring theme of the surreal or absurd present in your otherwise very real stories. While absurdism tends to be most prevalent in children’s stories, and you are very clearly writing for an adult audience, we couldn't help but wonder: were there any stories and authors you read growing up that inspired or influenced you and your recent work?
CS: From the age of twelve, Diana Wynne Jones was my everything. She wrote such engaging, complicated characters that felt so real. Three-dimensional children, three-dimensional adults. I never knew what was going to happen next. Magic was everywhere, but not necessarily how you’d expect. The violin that got turned into a cat? It might just be one of your nine lives. You can’t work magic? Maybe the spells you’ve been trying are too easy. Strange things happened. Nothing was what it seemed, but everything was eventually explained. She wrote for children and for adults, and no matter my age, I love her work. It’s timeless. One day I hope to be a fraction as good as she was.
GW: In Everything’s Changing, you manage to transcend the realm of possibility while remaining authentic. You’re able to do so much emotionally with so few words, and as chaotic as it gets, it feels raw and personal. To what extent are these stories shaped by something you’ve experienced?
CS: It’s interesting you ask since this is a question that I mostly got with my first collection. I think all good stories—stories that make you feel something—come from a place of resonance. The situation can be completely made up, impossible even, as long as the feelings behind it are real. In AITA, the protagonist literally falls apart because she represses her inconvenient emotions in a place where she’s not allowed to have them. The body remembers; the body keeps score. Have I fallen apart at a dinner party? No. Do I understand how she got there? Yes. And that’s the important part.
GW: Some of the stories in your most recent chapbook were previously published, for example, “I Told You I Would Take Your Hand” was published in 2019 and “I Scream, You Scream, We All Scream” in 2021. When writing some of the newer stories for the books, how were you able to put yourself back in that mindset to continue writing these stories in order to form one body of work? Did the writing happen organically?
CS: I didn’t write any of these stories with the explicit intention of including them in this collection. When I was putting together my first chapbook, Breaking Points, I made the choice not to include my weirder, surreal work because it felt too different. And looking at them both now, I feel like I made the right choice. Blending them would’ve diluted their messages. I tend to write from an intuitive place and trust the unconscious part of myself that’s keeping track of more than my conscious self ever could. Publishing small press books can feel very anonymous. There’s power in being unwatched and just doing your thing. No one expects anything, so you can do everything.
CS: From the age of twelve, Diana Wynne Jones was my everything. She wrote such engaging, complicated characters that felt so real. Three-dimensional children, three-dimensional adults. I never knew what was going to happen next. Magic was everywhere, but not necessarily how you’d expect. The violin that got turned into a cat? It might just be one of your nine lives. You can’t work magic? Maybe the spells you’ve been trying are too easy. Strange things happened. Nothing was what it seemed, but everything was eventually explained. She wrote for children and for adults, and no matter my age, I love her work. It’s timeless. One day I hope to be a fraction as good as she was.
GW: In Everything’s Changing, you manage to transcend the realm of possibility while remaining authentic. You’re able to do so much emotionally with so few words, and as chaotic as it gets, it feels raw and personal. To what extent are these stories shaped by something you’ve experienced?
CS: It’s interesting you ask since this is a question that I mostly got with my first collection. I think all good stories—stories that make you feel something—come from a place of resonance. The situation can be completely made up, impossible even, as long as the feelings behind it are real. In AITA, the protagonist literally falls apart because she represses her inconvenient emotions in a place where she’s not allowed to have them. The body remembers; the body keeps score. Have I fallen apart at a dinner party? No. Do I understand how she got there? Yes. And that’s the important part.
GW: Some of the stories in your most recent chapbook were previously published, for example, “I Told You I Would Take Your Hand” was published in 2019 and “I Scream, You Scream, We All Scream” in 2021. When writing some of the newer stories for the books, how were you able to put yourself back in that mindset to continue writing these stories in order to form one body of work? Did the writing happen organically?
CS: I didn’t write any of these stories with the explicit intention of including them in this collection. When I was putting together my first chapbook, Breaking Points, I made the choice not to include my weirder, surreal work because it felt too different. And looking at them both now, I feel like I made the right choice. Blending them would’ve diluted their messages. I tend to write from an intuitive place and trust the unconscious part of myself that’s keeping track of more than my conscious self ever could. Publishing small press books can feel very anonymous. There’s power in being unwatched and just doing your thing. No one expects anything, so you can do everything.
"I frequently write from a 'this is bullshit' place because strong feelings can make strong stories." |
GW: You beautifully spin everyday instances on their head and show them in a new light. Specifically, in “I Told You I Would Take Your Hand,” we appreciated the line: “their objectified bodies became objectively terrifying.” Here we see the powerless being given back their power. Can you tell us about your method behind using metaphor and magical realism to hold a mirror up to society?
CS: Thank you so much! I fought for that line! “I Told You I Would Take Your Hand” is a sister story to the original “Three Strikes and You Lose a Hand.” I started with the story of one girl (retold in ITYIWTYH), but then I asked myself what would happen if all the girls grew weapons? If we adapted to our circumstances. I’m not a big hugger, and I really hate it when people touch me out of the blue. Would someone be so quick to manhandle me if there were actual consequences? |
I frequently write from a “this is bullshit” place because strong feelings can make strong stories. Individuals can be terrible, but the structures that enable them? They’re worse, and I have no patience or respect for them. Literalizing metaphors have always been one of my favorite things.
GW: In “More Beautiful Than the Moon,” you illustrate a breakdown in communication and expectation with the use of the absurd imagery of a man lassoing the moon—sans pants. Besides the obvious allusion to the classic film It’s A Wonderful Life, what was your inspiration for this particular story and the manner in which you framed it?
CS: I really love that story. My method of writing it was a little different. It started with It’s a Wonderful Life. I wrote the first sentence and stopped there. I was in Robert Vaughan’s Stop Making Sense workshop through Bending Genres, so I knew I was going to go wild with it. Little did I know… this story was very much inspired by Francine Witte’s style of writing flash. She’ll throw out an absurd premise or a common expression that sounds absurd if you take it literally, and see it through in the most rational way possible. She’s a master of the technique. Once I had the first sentence, I wanted to try it. I’d recently converted a moonstone stickpin into a ring. It accidentally found its way into a bunch of my stories from that time. Some Google searches led me to the difference between moonstones and moon stones, which set up tension between the couple, and everything fell into place.
GW: In “More Beautiful Than the Moon,” you illustrate a breakdown in communication and expectation with the use of the absurd imagery of a man lassoing the moon—sans pants. Besides the obvious allusion to the classic film It’s A Wonderful Life, what was your inspiration for this particular story and the manner in which you framed it?
CS: I really love that story. My method of writing it was a little different. It started with It’s a Wonderful Life. I wrote the first sentence and stopped there. I was in Robert Vaughan’s Stop Making Sense workshop through Bending Genres, so I knew I was going to go wild with it. Little did I know… this story was very much inspired by Francine Witte’s style of writing flash. She’ll throw out an absurd premise or a common expression that sounds absurd if you take it literally, and see it through in the most rational way possible. She’s a master of the technique. Once I had the first sentence, I wanted to try it. I’d recently converted a moonstone stickpin into a ring. It accidentally found its way into a bunch of my stories from that time. Some Google searches led me to the difference between moonstones and moon stones, which set up tension between the couple, and everything fell into place.
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GW: In your essay “What The Hell Am I Thinking?,” you mention how you’ve considered giving up publishing and how, for you, that differs from giving up writing. What are some of the difficulties you’ve faced with publishing that would cause you to want to give it up? Did you create Everything’s Changing with the intent of getting it published?
CS: I assembled Everything’s Changing the same way I assembled Breaking Points. I had an idea, and I wanted to see it through. Could I order my surreal work and find a deeper meaning in their collection? |
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Publishing is tricky because it involves other people whose experiences differ from your own. Sometimes well-meaning editors say ignorant things about the various identities and experiences you may have drawn upon. There’s a word in The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows called “exulansis” meaning “the tendency to give up trying to talk about an experience because people are unable to relate to it…” Nothing will make you lonelier than trying to express something essential to you that simply isn’t understood by the listener. In my experience, it’s less lonely to keep it to yourself.
There’s no money in publishing. In fact, you can lose money when you promote your work. We’re doing all this for the sake of art. So why do we publish? I’ve been asking myself that a lot lately.
GW: You mentioned previously that you’re working on new stories, and you feel you’re entering a new era. Your first chapbook, Breaking Points, focuses on more grounded, realistic stories, while Everything’s Changing incorporates metaphor and magical realism. Both chapbooks highlight the experiences of women and girls. Will your newer work focus on the same themes? Can we expect more experimentation with the surreal or something completely different?
CS: If you finish a project and don’t feel like you’re entering a new era, then you probably didn’t finish your project. People ask me why I publish chapbooks when I could combine them and submit them as full-length. Full-lengths can get you representation. They make more money. They’re more prestigious and can win awards, etc. But each of my chapbooks feels like a complete thought. Combining them would muddle the messages. I’m onto my next thought. Until we solve the societal problems that cause my stories to rupture into existence, I’ll keep writing them. Every author has obsessions and focusing on mine has yielded these chapbooks, but there’s no telling what will happen in publishing. Since publishing Everything’s Changing, I finished a concept album chapbook, and a new idea has emerged as my next big project. They both have surreal elements. I’m not done with the surreal. It’s too fun.
There’s no money in publishing. In fact, you can lose money when you promote your work. We’re doing all this for the sake of art. So why do we publish? I’ve been asking myself that a lot lately.
GW: You mentioned previously that you’re working on new stories, and you feel you’re entering a new era. Your first chapbook, Breaking Points, focuses on more grounded, realistic stories, while Everything’s Changing incorporates metaphor and magical realism. Both chapbooks highlight the experiences of women and girls. Will your newer work focus on the same themes? Can we expect more experimentation with the surreal or something completely different?
CS: If you finish a project and don’t feel like you’re entering a new era, then you probably didn’t finish your project. People ask me why I publish chapbooks when I could combine them and submit them as full-length. Full-lengths can get you representation. They make more money. They’re more prestigious and can win awards, etc. But each of my chapbooks feels like a complete thought. Combining them would muddle the messages. I’m onto my next thought. Until we solve the societal problems that cause my stories to rupture into existence, I’ll keep writing them. Every author has obsessions and focusing on mine has yielded these chapbooks, but there’s no telling what will happen in publishing. Since publishing Everything’s Changing, I finished a concept album chapbook, and a new idea has emerged as my next big project. They both have surreal elements. I’m not done with the surreal. It’s too fun.
Read Fiction Editor Qwayonna Joseph's review of Everything's Changing
Follow Chelsea on X: @Chelsea_Stickle
or on Instagram: @Stickle_Chelsea
Follow Chelsea on X: @Chelsea_Stickle
or on Instagram: @Stickle_Chelsea
