AUTHOR PROFILE
Carl Tait is a software engineer, classical pianist, and writer. His work has appeared in After Dinner Conversation (Pushcart Prize nominee), Mystery Magazine (cover story), the Eunoia Review, the Literary Hatchet, SPANK the CARP, the Saturday Evening Post, and others. Carl grew up in Atlanta and currently lives in New York City with his wife and twin daughters. For more information, visit carltait.com.
|
Carl's work appeared in Pond 72
|
Why do you write?
My first published writings were research papers in computer science, followed by my Ph.D. thesis. I then wrote several creative nonfiction pieces about piano competitions I had entered, motivated by a desire to make these experiences compelling and meaningful for a general reader. For an example, google “Going Home Again: The Second Cliburn Competition for Amateurs.”
When my twin daughters were five years old, they asked me to tell them stories I made up. To our mutual surprise, my girls loved these spooky yet funny adventures. I ended up writing them down and self-published Tales from Valdemere Castle in 2015. Next was a children’s novella called Lavinia’s Ghosts, which came out in 2017.
In December 2018, I wrote my first short story for adults. My parents had died in the recent past, and their house in Atlanta had been sold. I found myself thinking a lot about my early life in Atlanta, and wrote a number of stories set in Georgia. A dozen of them were accepted for publication in various journals, and my first volume of short stories, Dark Nights in Georgia, was published in September 2021.
When my twin daughters were five years old, they asked me to tell them stories I made up. To our mutual surprise, my girls loved these spooky yet funny adventures. I ended up writing them down and self-published Tales from Valdemere Castle in 2015. Next was a children’s novella called Lavinia’s Ghosts, which came out in 2017.
In December 2018, I wrote my first short story for adults. My parents had died in the recent past, and their house in Atlanta had been sold. I found myself thinking a lot about my early life in Atlanta, and wrote a number of stories set in Georgia. A dozen of them were accepted for publication in various journals, and my first volume of short stories, Dark Nights in Georgia, was published in September 2021.
What other creative activities are you involved in?
I entered college as a music major and planned to pursue a career as a classical pianist. Two years later, I discovered that practicing six hours a day was not the delight I had anticipated. I’d always loved computers and decided to swap my vocation and avocation. I’ve now been a software engineer for almost forty years and enjoy it greatly, finding that it provides much scope for creative thinking in addition to the technical aspects. At the same time, I’ve continued to play the piano for pleasure.
Who is your favorite author and why?
I enjoy clear, powerful writing that mixes a morbid sensibility with a dark sense of humor. Franz Kafka and Samuel Beckett are standouts, along with Paul Auster. In short stories, I love Flannery O’Connor and am very fond of the twisty tales of Roald Dahl. As for genre fiction, Stephen King and the legendary Richard Matheson are among my favorites. I read much less poetry than fiction, but am in awe of T. S. Eliot.
Tell us about the mechanics of how you write.
Most of my story ideas begin with a situation, which often derives from a strong memory. The ice storm that shut down Atlanta in 1973. A nostalgic trip on a train pulled by an old-time steam engine. A piano student struggling with a difficult piece. Next come the characters and the foundation of the story. What happens, and to whom? Last is the specific direction and conclusion of the tale.
As ideas occur to me, I write them down in a file of development notes. The three pillars of a story – situation, characters/events, direction/resolution – often come to me months apart. I never force this. Some authors figure out where they’re going by trying to write the story, but that doesn’t work for me. I need to have a story in my head from beginning to end before I start writing it.
The one aspect I never work out in advance is dialogue. By the time I start writing, I know my characters well. I just let them talk in their own voices and transcribe what they say.
A major exception to all of the above: mysteries. I’ve written only a few of them, but they always originate with the key idea that is revealed at the climax of the story. The rest of the tale is reverse-engineered from that conclusion.
As ideas occur to me, I write them down in a file of development notes. The three pillars of a story – situation, characters/events, direction/resolution – often come to me months apart. I never force this. Some authors figure out where they’re going by trying to write the story, but that doesn’t work for me. I need to have a story in my head from beginning to end before I start writing it.
The one aspect I never work out in advance is dialogue. By the time I start writing, I know my characters well. I just let them talk in their own voices and transcribe what they say.
A major exception to all of the above: mysteries. I’ve written only a few of them, but they always originate with the key idea that is revealed at the climax of the story. The rest of the tale is reverse-engineered from that conclusion.
Finally, what do you think about Carp, the fish, not our website?
My immediate association with carp is the one and only time I caught a fish. My family was visiting Jekyll Island and my dad was determined that I learn how to fish in the warm South Georgia waters. It was profoundly boring at first, other than the cheerful conversation between my dad and a fellow fisherman. Then came the nibble and the tug. “You’ve got one!” my dad cried. I reeled in the line and stared at the flailing silver creature on the hook. The other fisherman was unimpressed. “Too small. I’d throw it back.” My dad shot him a look. I put the fish in a little sack and my mom cooked him for dinner.
What do I remember most about the experience? The tug on the line. Writing, at its best, has something of this magical feel. There’s nothing, nothing at all, then the bright shimmer of an idea flickers at the surface of consciousness. If you can catch it and prepare it well, you’ll have a gratifying meal.
What do I remember most about the experience? The tug on the line. Writing, at its best, has something of this magical feel. There’s nothing, nothing at all, then the bright shimmer of an idea flickers at the surface of consciousness. If you can catch it and prepare it well, you’ll have a gratifying meal.