Author Q&A with Brad Snyder

Brad Snyder’s writing has appeared in HuffPost Personal, River Teeth’s Beautiful Things, Sweet Lit, Under the Gum Tree, Hippocampus Magazine, and elsewhere. He holds an MFA in Creative Nonfiction Writing from Bay Path University. Brad lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with his husband, daughter, son, and sometimes-warring cat and dogs. His short creative nonfiction essay, Rearview Mirror, is available in Issue #21.

Tell us about yourself.

I’m a dad, husband, father, nonprofit fundraiser, and writer, with the order of those identities sometimes scrambling from moment to moment. I’m still getting used to not also being a New Yorker, after having grown up on Long Island and lived most of my adult life in New York City until the pandemic, combined with some job hopping for my husband, led us first to Chicago and now to California.

On the upside, it is November as I write this underneath a startling amount of sunshine.

What unique or surprising detail can you tell us about the origin, revision process, and/or final version of your piece appearing in this issue?

This work began with a prompt from the writer Natalie Goldberg that was something along the lines of “I’m thinking about.” For reasons I’ll never be able to explain, the singular image of my husband and me locking eyes in a car’s rearview mirror as we drove to the airport with our newborn daughter came into my head. 

Another image of a rearview mirror, the one I glanced at during a drive from New York City to Michigan after having come out to my parents via letters, also soon popped into my head.

Now, I had two connected images. And then there was this thread with the song “Rearviewmirror” by Pearl Jam given that I had played that song at extreme volume on that coming-out road trip. 

So I just continued writing about the moments in my life involving a rearview mirror. Some lesser moments fell away. And soon I started writing about the song itself. At some point, I realized these two strands would eventually merge. And I just started writing toward that ending.

What did you learn (about yourself or craft, or life in general) through writing and revising it?

At some level, the process of writing this piece reminded me of how much music has been a constant companion through the seasons of my life. It’s pretty extraordinary to realize how music, or really any work of art, can be both a reflection of and a catalyst for new understanding and insight.

From a craft perspective, I was reminded again of the power that comes, paradoxically, from starting with a constraint (the writer Brenda Miller writes and teaches about this). I locked into a frame pretty early—the rearview mirror—and that actually allowed my mind to wander places it never would have otherwise.

What do you hope readers take from the piece?

I hope readers find some connection to the fear and hope that is palpable, often in the same scenes of the piece. That one task of life is to somehow hold both of these things simultaneously and not wish any of it away. Because that interplay winds up being the stuff of meaning.

Oh, and that Pearl Jam is an extraordinary band.

What fuels your desire to write (or engage in other creative outlets)?

Something about the process feels imbued with a kind of meaning that sustains and nourishes me. There’s the process itself and all the quiet, determined reflection that, to me, feels so fundamentally human. And then there is the bonus of an actual, tangible result that might hopefully resonate for another human being. That feels kind of magical.

What has drawn you to writing creative nonfiction, and/or what other genres do you write?

I write creative nonfiction and some humor, exclusively. At one point in my life, I had been an aspiring and then novice journalist. I have always been drawn to the nuance and poignancy of true stories. The art of writing creative nonfiction taps into something essential for me—that quest of understanding how things were or are and what lessons can be drawn from the ordinary, extraordinary task of just living.

What have been the biggest influences in your writing?

Anything written by the late Brian Doyle. Years ago, I read his short essay “Leap” about one of the most horrific aspects of 9/11, and I was just floored by his use of language and the way he could capture humanity on the page. I’ve since read and reread so much of his nonfiction work, and he continues to be a writing mentor whom I’ve never met.

How do you make expression a part of your daily life or how do you find a balance between your writing and other responsibilities?

Most days, I begin my mornings (early, before the two children, two dogs, and sometimes the cat) awake to read and write. It’s a ritual I didn’t realize was a ritual until a friend pointed out that it sounded like a meditation—coffee brew, pour, open book, read, close book, open laptop, write. On the mornings I don’t do this, something feels missing, because it fills some kind of longing to be in companionship with myself and my thoughts. 

Balance? If someone can tell me the secret to that, I’m all ears.

Are there any special projects, favorite pieces, or books you’d like to promote?

If you don’t own Brian Doyle’s essay collection, “One Long River of Song: Notes on Wonder,” please buy it for yourself or someone you love. It’s pure beauty.

My all-time favorite essay is Ryan Van Meter’s “First.“

And, finally, my writing mentor, Mel Allen, the former longtime editor of Yankee Magazine, has an extraordinary collection of essays out now called “Here in New England.” You don’t need to be connected to New England to appreciate all the portraits of people from all walks of life that he chronicles in its pages. And, to me, it’s the best teaching text for how to effectively write movingly about others.

What do you think when you hear, “the good life”?

This may sound hokey (and I’m suddenly feeling very Californian as I write it), but I think it’s about being able to cultivate a habit of recognizing the beauty all around us. When I can approach a day with some gratitude for the gifts hiding in plain sight, I feel like I’m living some version of “the good life.”

Thank you, Brad, for being a part of our growing literary community and for spending extra time with us on this Q&A. We wish you the best with writing and all life’s endeavors!