Kelsey Clifton
Windfall, Earthborn, and Patterns
I’m Stephanie Rowden, fiction editor for the Progenitor. I’m speaking with Kelsey Clifton about several pieces, a short story “Windfall,” and two poems: “Earthborn” and “Patterns.”
What was the inspiration behind each of these different pieces?
“Earthborn” was honestly meant as a kind of middle finger to the modern concept of beauty, which is so sterile and smoothed over that it’s basically one-dimensional. I’ve always been really into Greek mythology, so the idea of a contemporary goddess going up against something as strong as Gaia was just ridiculous to me. I guess you could say this is the sort of love poem that I would want to receive from a long-term partner. As for “Patterns,” I really got the idea for it from the common misconception that grief is something that’s static and easy to fit into these neat little categories. People quote the stages of grief like they’re some kind of structure that’s supposed to guide you and define you until you feel better, so the narrator expects to be supported, but she ends up trapped instead. And for “Windfall,” the inspiration came from some important women in my life, and from my own tentative life goals. I’ve been saying for years that when I’m in my forties I want land with trail access and a couple of horses, and that’s all I need. Some people laugh, but others know that it’s the truth.
What was the writing process like for each?
My writing process for everything is very organic, so once I’m inspired I’ll typically just write down notes or scenes that come to me, and then work from there. To sum it up: I write ‘til it’s done, I accept that it’s crap, and then I go back and fix it. And then I tweak it until someone takes it away from me.
How do you hope to influence the audience with each piece? What is the take away?
The take away for all three pieces is actually pretty simple. For the poems, I want the audience to know that it’s okay to love yourself, faults and all; and it’s okay to grieve in your own way. You are under no obligation to meet anyone else’s standards, whether it’s about your body or your mourning process. The same goes for “Windfall;” most girls grow up expecting to fall in love and start a family at a pretty young age, but that’s not the path that Emily’s life took. And that’s okay too. She has something really good going on, and it does not involve a man. I know that’s not the typical ending you see in a lot of stories, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a happy one.
What is your favorite thing about each piece?
My favorite part of “Patterns” is that repeated stanza. Every time I read the last line it hits me hard, because I’ve been there. I lost my dad last year, and for the first week or so that’s exactly how I felt when I woke up and remembered. “Earthborn” was just so unexpected and easy, and I think that’s my favorite thing about it. It really flowed out of me, and that’s rare for any work. I think the best part of “Windfall” is Emily’s last line to Owen: “You know the way out.” Seeing him again is hard, and it hurts, but she doesn’t let it destroy her. She comes up swinging and says some things to him that she’s wanted to say for seventeen years, and then she disappears in a cloud of dust.
Which is your favorite genre to write in? Why?
That’s a hard question to answer for a couple of reasons, mostly because I really don’t stick with one particular genre. My first book was pure YA fantasy, but the next two were this sort of genre-defying combination of New Adult fantasy, paranormal, thriller, and horror. By the way, it’s really fun to try to describe those to potential agents! On the complete flip side, my current project is an adult Sci-Fi novel. There’s also a huge discrepancy in themes between my short stories and my novels. So the short answer is that I love writing fantasy stories because they have so much more potential, but a more accurate answer is that I write the story that comes to me, regardless of genre.
Have you ever written creative nonfiction?
Other than one piece in college, no. I do run a travel diary blog, and I’ve toyed with the idea of eventually turning my life abroad into a book, but I’ve got far too many ideas already on my back burners to give it serious consideration for a long time.
What is the connection/symbolism between windfall, Emily, and Owen?
So a windfall is piece of fruit, usually an apple, that gets knocked down from the tree. They’re usually a bit bruised up and unappealing, and that’s how Emily sees herself in a lot of ways. There’s so much symbolism between her and the apple tree: for example, she tells Owen that only the horses want windfalls, and then she talks about how the tree survived a rot that killed everything else. She’s also very grounded, and Owen is more like the wind; he’s a force of nature that blows in and blows out, and sometimes he wrecks things. There’s no point getting mad at him in a way, because he’s not being vindictive or anything. He’s just doing what the wind does.
In “Patterns,” the first stanza is repeated at the end. The stanza is very striking, powerful. Why this particular stanza? Was the poem centered around this stanza or did the decision emerge during the writing process?
Each stanza in “Patterns” is meant to represent one of the classic stages of grief: shock, denial, bargaining, guilt, anger, depression, and acceptance. I wanted the narrator to feel like she was stuck in an endless loop, which is why I chose to repeat the first stanza at the very end. For one thing, it really did add a nice emotional punch that I felt would stay with readers longer than just ending with her acceptance; for another, it drives home that point that grief is an ongoing process. Some days are better than others.