Daniel A. Olivas: Our Stories Are Important
/Daniel A. Olivas is the author of nine books and editor of two anthologies. His latest books are The King of Lighting Fixtures: Stories (University of Arizona Press, 2017) and Crossing the Border: Collected Poems (Pact Press, 2017). Widely anthologized, Olivas has written for many publications, including the New York Times, Los Angeles Times, Los Angeles Review of Books, The Guardian, and BOMB. His writing has appeared in many literary journals, including PANK, Fairy Tale Review, MacGuffin, New Madrid, and The Prairie Schooner Blog. He shares blogging duties at La Bloga, which is dedicated to Chicanx and Latinx literature.
Olivia Samimy speaks with Daniel about his journey as a writer below.
Photograph by Susan L. Formaker
Thank you for sharing “The Chicano in You” with us! It is such a clever and unique story. What inspired you to write it, and what was the most challenging aspect of creating this piece?
For many, the election of Donald Trump in 2016 was devastating. Specifically, with respect to those of us who have roots in Mexico and Latin America, his bigoted campaign for president officially started with a 2015 speech where he said, in part:
“When Mexico sends its people, they’re not sending their best. They’re not sending you. They’re not sending you. They’re sending people that have lots of problems, and they’re bringing those problems with us. They’re bringing drugs. They’re bringing crime. They’re rapists. And some, I assume, are good people.”
So, he proposed building a wall along the southern border to keep all of these criminals and rapists out. My magical realist story that Roanoke Review published is the second of three stories inspired by Trump and his bigotry, especially with respect to his anti-immigrant rhetoric and policies. With the 2020 election results, I hope I will not have to write anymore Trump-inspired stories. I suppose the most challenging part of writing “The Chicano in You” was reliving election night 2016.
Your story is clearly influenced by politics and current events in America. Are these topics you often find yourself writing about?
As a Chicano writer, it is difficult not to be consumed by current events, especially as it pertains to civil rights and the way Latinx communities are too often demonized by certain politicians and supporters of those politicians. But most of my stories and poems are not overtly political. I truly believe that by centering my narratives on people who are like me, my family, and many of my friends, I am giving agency to my people and culture. Writing stories and poems that elevate and explore Latinx lives is a political act in and of itself, because I am fighting against the usual narrative where people like me and my family are not the default center of U.S. literature.
The election of 2016 made it inevitable that my writing would take a more political turn. With respect to Trump’s particular venom for immigrants, his family separation program has been one of the most pernicious and cruel. In 2018, I wrote a New York Times op-ed that explains why I wrote the dystopian short story “The Great Wall” immediately after Trump was elected. I set that story in a near future where Trump has built his wall and instituted a family separation system. In other words, I predicted Trump’s policy of dividing families simply by looking at his anti-immigrant rhetoric. It should not have surprised anyone. And I felt an urgent need to sound the alarm in the form of a short story.
In spring of 2019, I wrote another short story, this one titled “Los Otros Coyotes” which appears in Gabino Iglesias’s anthology of border noir, Both Sides: Stories from the Border (Agora Books). When I saw that call for submissions, I knew I wanted to write a sequel to “The Great Wall” by taking my dystopian tale even further: Not only has Trump built his wall, but he has suspended the 2020 elections—blaming interference from the Chinese government and Democrats—imposed martial law, and microchipped the children of the deported parents to make certain the country keeps track of the young workforce that it so desperately needs. As we watch Trump flail away at the 2020 election results with baseless conspiracy theories—not to mention his preventing an orderly transition to a Biden-Harris administration while the pandemic rages—my dystopian tale feels too possible for comfort.
When I am a guest author at colleges, most of the students I meet with are Latinx and often represent the first generation in their families to go to college. I often say to them that our stories are important. I then ask them: What would happen if we did not write our stories? And they always get it right: If we don’t write our stories, someone else will, and they will get them wrong.
I see that you describe yourself as a “budding playwright.” What got you interested in writing plays? How is writing plays different for you from writing poetry or fiction?
Over the last twenty-plus years of writing fiction and poetry, I’ve had some of my short stories performed by professional actors at various book events. I loved working with the directors and actors as we rehearsed my stories, and I really enjoyed watching audiences react to those performances. I have also loved attending plays and musicals since I was in high school.
In 2019, I made the decision to write a full-length play. And again, the inspiration was the absurd anti-immigrant policies of the Trump administration. What would be the perfect vehicle for my first play? Well, absurdist theater, of course! I immersed myself in perhaps the greatest absurdist play of all time: Waiting for Godot by Samuel Beckett. I watched various versions of it online and read the play many times. I researched playwriting formatting. I then dove in and wrote each evening and every weekend over the course of several weeks.
The result was a two-act play, Waiting for Godínez. In it, Beckett’s Vladimir and Estragon are now embodied in two Mexican characters, Isabel and her longtime friend, Jesús, who is kidnapped each night by immigration officials and thrown into a cage to await deportation. But each time, Jesús escapes and makes his way back to the park to be with Isabel and await the mysterious Godínez. In my play, I explore the meaning—and absurdities—of identity and belonging.
After completing my play, I submitted it to theaters throughout the country, and it was accepted by the Playwrights’ Arena in Los Angeles for its Summer Reading Series 2020. That was an amazing experience! A Zoom reading of the play was directed by Dr. Daphnie Sicre of Loyola Marymount University, and we had an accomplished group of professional actors filling the five roles I created. We are in talks now for further development of my play as we take into account our current pandemic. But I have been bitten by the theater bug, no doubt.
For me, playwriting is such a collaborative experience as compared to writing fiction, poetry, and nonfiction. I derive great energy honing my plays within a community of other playwrights, directors, actors, and dramaturgs.
What advice do you have for up and coming writers?
My advice for up and coming writers is nothing new: read, read, read. And: write, write, write. Also, find your community of writers, make connections, get support, don’t let others tell you that your stories do not matter, or that you need to dilute or inflate your cultural and personal viewpoint. And when you start getting published, help other budding writers. Be grateful, kind, true to yourself, and always work hard at your craft.
Are there any current projects you’re working on that you can tell us about?
More playwriting! I was selected for Circle X Theatre's inaugural Evolving Playwrights Group where I am now adapting my 2011 novel The Book of Want for the stage with a planned reading in 2021. My mentor is the brilliant Donald Jolly, and I am part of a wonderful cohort of early to mid-career playwrights. My play is half written, and the goal is to complete our plays sometime next year. I am having a blast.
On a personal note, my father, Michael Augustine Olivas, passed away on September 23 after a long illness. My parents had retired to Ventura years ago. In the last few months of his life, I took off each Wednesday from my day job as a government lawyer and drove from Los Angeles to their home just to sit and talk. My father was an avid reader and an unpublished writer. When he still worked in a factory before going back to college, he actually wrote a novel and many poems that never got published.
Pop told me a few years ago that he destroyed all of his writing, but he was very proud of my writing life. So, at the end of his life, we talked mostly about writing and literature. My father loved that I was now writing plays, and he was delighted that I was adapting my novel for the stage. He is probably the reason I became a writer. He was a proud Chicano who served his country as a Marine during the Korean Conflict, loved his family, and instilled in his five children a passion for reading. I miss him dearly. My mother—a wonderful and proud Chicana—is healing through the grieving process. They were married 66 years! Mom is still sharing so many of her stories with us, stories about our big Mexican family and all that entails. She, too, is one of the reasons I became a writer.
What are you reading right now?
I am reading The Greek Trilogy of Luis Alfaro: Electricidad; Oedipus El Rey; Mojada (Methuen Drama, 2020). Luis Alfaro is one of our great living playwrights. Luis is also an educator, activist, director, curator, and all-around wonderful person. He is the recipient of a John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation fellowship, popularly known as a “genius grant,” awarded to people who have demonstrated expertise and exceptional creativity in their respective fields. This book of plays is inspiring me as I write my own play.
Thanks for speaking with us. Is there anything else you’d like to add?
As I write this just before Thanksgiving 2020, we (my wife and I) have been teleworking. It’s been such a difficult time for so many people around the world. And Trump has only made it worse for a lot of us with his policies and actions that undercut basic civil rights, the environment, and consumer protection, to name a few areas where he has caused great harm. But I am hopeful. I truly believe that through the arts, we can help heal this world and bring dignity to all people. I am grateful to have a forum such as the Roanoke Review. Keep on fighting the good fight!
Read Olivas’ most recent Roanoke Review publication here.
