BILLSMOOT

How do Bill Smoot’s short stories come about?

I’ve always liked making things.

My grandfather was an Old World tailor. As a small boy visiting his shop, I was mesmerized by the foot-powered sewing machines, the steam pressing machine, heavy bolts of cloth, the giant fabric scissors, pieces of white chalk. I would gather scraps of material from the floor and sew them together. Small pouches were my specialty.

The desire to make never left. I like to cook and bake. I plant a garden. As a photographer I develop my own prints and cut the mats in which to mount them.

I also make stories. My workshop is my imagination, and the raw materials are tiny memories, overheard conversations, make-believe characters who appear uninvited, images that charm or haunt me. With language as a tool, I try to build a world that beckons the reader to come inside and look around, breathe the air, hear the sounds, care about the characters, and drink everything in with interest and awe.

When a reader is asked what a Bill Smoot short story sounds like, I hope they would reply, “It sounds like him.”