Managing Editor Lisa Ampleman:
When editors on staff read Karen Maner’s essay “We Fry Reggae,” we were all floored. The piece is a harrowing account of a miscarriage, an exploration of how that experience has parallels in discussions of reproductive rights, and a meditation on teaching English in Korea. We are so glad to be able to share it with readers of Issue 21.1, out very soon. I asked Karen, who lives just north of Cincinnati, if she’d share a little about her work in the nonprofit sector for this series.
The Interview
How would you describe what you do for your day job?
I (very) recently joined the administrative team at a classical music station in Dayton, Ohio, Discover Classical, as the membership services manager.
As I understand it, my job is to help kind listeners from all over the country—and sometimes Canada and Sweden—sustain the art of radio and the legacy of classical music and to make sure they feel appreciated for doing so. I spend a lot of my time database wrangling, telephoning, emailing, and letter writing; some of my time listening to highly intelligent colleagues discuss acoustics; and a little of my time trying not to bump into the towers of warm, buzzing machines that carry music to thousands of people each day. Possibly my favorite task so far has been fulfilling a humble request from a collector of radio-station memorabilia who asked that we fill his self-addressed stamped envelope with stickers to share with his community of broadcast enthusiasts in Canada. Whatever I’m doing on a given day, it unfolds to a supremely soothing soundtrack, though filing to Mendelssohn can be a real rush.
What do you enjoy about that job, and what are some of its detractions?
I love working somewhere that’s dedicated to preserving and sharing stories—told through music—that have existed for sometimes hundreds of years, and the idea that every time we play them, we’re also preserving the memories listeners associate with them. Listeners write and call in all the time to tell us about their grade-school music teachers, soulmates, and loved ones who aren’t with us anymore. Most of our listeners I haven’t met yet and maybe never will, but there’s a sense of companionship and camaraderie there.
When I interviewed for this job, I asked everyone on the team what they liked about working at the station, and one of the hosts, Adam, said that his favorite part was finding a beautiful piece of music, putting it on the schedule, and waiting for the minute when it would air and someone else would hear it, possibly for the first time.
The care the hosts put into what they do is audible and palpable. I enjoy being a small part of supporting their craft, and I enjoy spending time in the company of the sorts of brains that do this work. It does, however, mean that I am never, ever the smartest or coolest person in the room at work, which is a detraction.
How does your day job inform—or relate to—your writing life?
Building off the idea of music as memory: that can be a powerful tool for a writer. When I’m stuck, I’ll often turn to certain pieces of music to help me return to a particular mindset or experience that I need to capture. When I’m really blocked, I sometimes learn to play pieces on piano to help me regain a sense of creative progress.
But on a craft level, this question makes me think of something that our CEO, Shaun, says: “When you go on air, you’re talking to one person.” That’s a powerful lesson to apply to writing too. Lately, I’ve been writing a lot about different forms of trauma, and it can be overwhelming trying to find the “right” approach to convey those experiences. Every reader enters the piece with their own opinions and experiences. So I try to imagine that I’m writing to one person. What do they need to hear, or read? What details might be helpful or harmful for them to read? Which words will be familiar to them, and which ones require definition? Trying to connect with one reader, even if they’re imagined, makes for better writing and a less daunting process.
What creative projects are you working on right now?
My essay “We Fry Reggae,” which you have very kindly published, is about my first miscarriage a couple of summers ago. Unfortunately, I’ve had other losses since, and many of my current works in progress are about recurrent pregnancy loss. I’d always thought that my first book would be about weird animals and poop, but maybe it will be about this instead. I both wish that weren’t the case and hope that it is because I don’t think there is enough writing about miscarriage. When I was going through my first, I certainly didn’t feel like I could find enough. So I’m writing to the next person who feels that way, and I’m trying to turn some of the pain and isolation of my experience into comfort and connection for her.
Karen Maner is a nonfiction writer, a semi-casual gamer, and a proud Daytonian. Her essays have appeared in The Best American Nonrequired Reading, Colorado Review, Ninth Letter, The Rumpus, and Sonora Review and on the notable essays list in The Best American Essays.
