On Sharpness and Radical Clarity — Author Interview with Evan Wang
王潇/Evan Wang is a writer, performer, reviewer, and the first Youth Poet Laureate of Montgomery County, Pennsylvania. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in The Kenyon Review, The Journal, RHINO, Frontier Poetry, Rust + Moth, COUNTERCLOCK Journal, and elsewhere, and was nominated for Best of the Net. He is a 2024 National YoungArts Winner in poetry, the 2023 Jacklyn Potter Young Poet, a former Adroit Journal mentee in poetry, an alumnus of the Iowa Young Writers’ Studio and the Kenyon Review Young Writers Workshop, an Anaphora Fellow, semifinalist for the 2023 Adroit Prize for Poetry, finalist for the Sandy Crimmins National Prize for Poetry, runner-up for the 1455 Young Poets Contest, and winner of the 2023 Poetry Society of Virginia's Jenkins Prize, the 2022 Button Poetry Short Form Poetry Contest, and the 2023 Apprentice Writer Award in Poetry, selected by Karla Kelsey. He is the Editor-in-Chief of Hominum Journal and currently working on a chapbook manuscript titled, “Slow Burn.”
Emily Pedroza: What originally drew you to creative writing and poems?
Evan Wang: I think it was around the fall of 2019 when I first began experimenting with words. At that time, my best friend and I were putting together a book we hoped would become a #1 New York Times Bestseller and get us on the Ellen show. In case you didn’t know, that never happened! I was writing quotes, which trod along the lines of “live laugh love,” but I like to think that every writer requires a ground level to build off of, or in this case, write off of. Swiftly, I realized that there was no such thing as a quote book. The marketing of the “manuscript” would prove to be a challenge, so I looked at the words once, twice, then three times, and saw that if I added a few line breaks here and there, it could pass for poetry. Sue me. I figured that if I were to write a poetry collection, I needed to stay up to date with who the “best” poets were. Lo and behold, after a quick Google search, Rupi Kaur popped up next to Mary Oliver, and by some auspicious fate, I completely avoided Mary Oliver and bought “Milk and Honey.” The internet gives Rupi a ton of slack, but it is no lie that she has welcomed a whole new wave of poetry consumers. I was one, and though I no longer read her poetry, she did introduce me to poetry. I also had the chance to see her at her world tour earlier this year! As I read and wrote more, I became obsessed with writing and the lifeforce that brims within it, so much so that I began sharing my work online. For years, I was an Instapoet, aiming for features from large poetry accounts like Bleeding Soul Poetry and Society of Poetry. The project eventually fell apart but it was like training wheels for me. Two years later in 2021, a poem of mine titled “The Blood We Inherit, The Blood We Spill,” written about the rise in Asian hate crimes, became extremely well known in my school district after becoming the face of a cultural event named after the poem. This story ends with me allowing myself to love poetry and encourage it. And that I did. And now I’m here!
EP: What does your writing process look like right now?
EW: Right now, it’s a lot of noticing and observing. Because of the stress and workload of junior year, I haven’t been writing as much as I want to, but I think it’s so much fun to see things through a poet’s eye and wonder, why did I notice that? That, coupled with the inspiration I get from reading other poets, often pushes a poem far along enough so that I can sit and actually finish it. I recently met Marilyn Chin, and her current process involves “radical clarity.” To me, that is calling out to the works of Ada Limon and Maggie Smith. Perhaps that is where my writing process is headed. It’s also something I have been practicing. One of my mentors, Jacques J. Rancourt, said that my poetry was “sharp.” I suppose if the lines are clean, precise, and intentional, they could be “sharp.”
EP: What themes are you drawn to?
EW: I am so deeply and thoroughly a confessionalist poet, and as a result, I always drift towards major themes in my life. Currently, I’m exploring the quietude of Asian and queer love. It is incredibly multi-faceted but rarely has its moment in the spotlight. I want to showcase that though love seems, and often is, impossible, it is also inevitable. Since love is also the foundation of many other relationships, I view everything else that concerns me through that same lens. It is through that perspective that I also write poems about religion, oppression, mythology, and more.
EP: Has it changed from the past, if so, how?
EW: My poems used to form through a line of correlation. By which I mean, I would pick a concept and write the poem around it. If it was about an animal, I would use language that reflects that particular animal. For dogs, perhaps I would employ words such as hound, ravenous, craving, teeth, paw, etc., whereas for poems about the city, I would mention cigarette butts, cracked sidewalks, rainwater puddles, and more. It worked particularly well for me, but it can be limiting. Some poems don’t have a concept. Sometimes that is the concept—to have none. If I restrict myself to a particular vernacular so the road to the poem’s completion is easier to walk, then I will never find my own authentic voice and break into another level of poetry. This is where training your poet’s eye matters, because now my poems are observations turned inside out and blended with feelings and craft to be like a poem smoothie. It is capable of more than what I plan it out to be, and that is the beauty of it.
EP: What sources do your inspiration stem from? How was your process of finding them?
EW: I’ve said this before, but seeing. I often walk home from school if I stay after for something, and seeing the minutiae of life on the way home has always been inspirational. Just a few weeks ago, halloween decorations were starting to be put out, and I saw these ghosts hanging from a tree. The stark contrast between them and the perfectly quiet suburban neighborhood around it made the image all the more jarring, all the more interesting to note. “Ghosts are hanging from trees,” that line is already brimming with potential. Then I saw a snake with its skull crushed in, dead in the middle of the road. People really don’t talk about suburban violence enough. Anyway, those observations can become the genesis of entire poems. When I don’t rely on observation, I’m usually inspired by the work of other poets. “The Past Still Needs Me” by Hua Xi utilizes clever syntax, sentence and line length, as well as white space to create breath and intentional pauses. That inspired me to write a piece communicating the same need for spacing. Growing up, so many writers have told me that reading more is the key to becoming a better writer. That is true, so listen to The Slowdown, subscribe to Poem-a-day, and follow poetry sharing accounts.
EP: Who are your favorite authors or artists and why?
EW: Oh, I have so many favorite poets. My top 5 include the late Louise Glück, Ocean Vuong, Ada Limon, Richard Siken, and Richie Hofmann. The renaissance of my writing began after watching Ocean read “Headfirst” at the Silo City Reading Series on Youtube. It was a phenomenal reading, and the vulnerability of the poem shocked me. I realized that poetry doesn’t need to be obscure or “deep” and can communicate some extraordinary feeling while using words such as “stupid.” It completely transformed my view of poetry and encouraged me to push the envelope. Louise Glück, my girl for real, wrote “At the end of my suffering, there was a door.” Such thought, such humaneness, such simplicity. I adore her work and all of the other poets I mentioned for just about the same reasons. Their works communicate what it means and feels like to be a human, hurting, living, and breathing joy. They take language and turn it into art, and you can tell that their poems are lived experiences. Oh to live and turn your history into poetry. I read their work and am immediately spellbound, lost in the worlds that these poets have created and conquered.
EP: What was your experience like publishing your poems? How was the publishing process for you?
EW: As a young writer in the suburbs, publishing was incredibly difficult, and I had no idea where to start. But as I grew as a writer and met other writers, I found the publications that I wanted my work to appear in. Since then, I would say I have had great success publishing my poems. It is an honor of an honor of an honor to appear in some of the greatest literary magazines in the country. Of course, there is still plenty about the publishing process that I don’t know, but I have been able to help many other young writers in the county publish their work. I count that as a success!
EP: How was the process of attending or leading other youth workshops for you? What are your thoughts on the significance of mentors?
EW: It depends on which writing workshop you are attending, but for me, my first workshop, which was at the Iowa Young Writers’ Studio, taught me everything I know about writing. It was incredibly helpful for my growth as both a person and a writer and offered me my first experience of being in a writing community, a privilege and benefit people tend to underestimate. No workshops after Iowa have been able to influence me as much, but I definitely encourage applying and seeking out a mentor. Many writers, especially young writers, are confused about their own voices, and I think a mentor can provide a second eye and a different perspective on your work, which can unlock a whole new way of seeing your writing style. It’s also just great to have someone guide you through this tumultuous industry.
EP: How do you think the process is different when it comes to writing poetry vs prose?
EW: When writing prose, I am not thinking of individual lines as much as I am thinking about the imagery I am conjuring, the movement I am adding to the story, the narrative I am enforcing, and more. Prose, like its form, is much more concrete to me and demands an airtight quality to it. When I think of Siken’s iconic form, which often dances across the page, prose is the opposite of that. In poetry, I can jump, ponder, make space, take space, etc., but in prose, I am cutting across the ocean in a speed boat. There are nuances, I swear!
EP: What is your biggest writing aspiration?
EW: I would love to put together a chapbook and a collection one day. As an avid music listener, I like to imagine a chapbook as an EP and a collection as an album. It takes a lot of grit, dedication, and a great eye to put together a project like that, and I hope to do so soon! What I said earlier about the quietude of love and suburban violence is the foundation of my chapbook, which I have decided to finally sit down and work on. Hopefully, it will be out next year!
EP: What projects are you currently working on?
EW: I am currently the editor-in-chief of Hominum Journal and the Youth Poet Laureate of Montgomery County, so I have been incredibly busy managing just about everything that’s happening in my little corner of writing. This season has also been an era of publicity. Currently, there are two more interviews I have to do, this being the fourth of this season. But aside from that, I am working on my chapbook project, putting together the fifth issue for Hominum, submitting to upcoming competitions and publications, and my biggest project currently is to start writing again!
EP: What advice would you give to beginning writers?
EW: Stay passionate. I think everyone has the potential to be a poet if they stick with it. If you aren’t getting the publications or winning the awards you want, your passion will take you elsewhere. Don’t be afraid to love it! It’s incredibly difficult to be a writer, and creativity is one of the worst things to ponder over, but as long as you want to write, you will be an influential voice in the new wave of literature. Also, reading loads definitely help!
