Fringe had the opportunity to chat (virtually, at least) with Laura van den Berg about her debut story collection, What the World Will Look Like When All the Water Leaves Us, published by Dzanc Books in October 2009.  The stories, a collection that blends the intricacies of human relationships with the magic of myth, have been generating a good amount of praise, and Laura was featured as part of the Barnes and Noble “Discover Great New Writers” program.

Here are a few of Laura’s answers to our burning questions:

This is your first collection. How was the publication process compared to your expectations? How did having your stories published in journals like One Story, American Short Fiction, and Boston Review prepare you for the experience?

Since it was my first book, I didn’t really know what to expect, but I’ve been really happy with the notice the collection has received. And I feel very lucky too—there are a lot of books out there, so finding an audience or recognition of any kind can be challenging.

In terms of story publications, publishing a book was a very different experience than publishing individual stories for me; the stakes, in a number of ways, felt much higher. But one thing that you do get used to when publishing stories is the unpredictably of how they’ll be received—some are published and then never heard from again, some get second lives in lovely and surprising ways, readers reply positively and negatively. So having work out in the world and taking in the response, or lack thereof, can be good preparation for having a book.

Do you think that having been a literary journal editor (Redivider, Memorious) shaped your writing or reading habits? In what way?

My editorial work has made me a lot more conscious of how little it can take for an editor to stop reading, of how essential every element of the story must be. Also, my own tastes can be quirky, so reviewing submissions always reminds me of what a subjective experience reading can be. I’ve been lucky enough to encounter some really terrific writers from working with journals, so it keeps my “to read” stack even more towering that it would be otherwise.

You’ve done a fair amount of guest blogs and online interviews to promote the book. Do you feel that the blogging and online literary community is beneficial for young writers?

It’s been really important to me. There are a lot fewer print venues for book reviews than there once were and so I think web culture is increasingly important for authors. But even more importantly, it can be a great way to connect with people. I’ve happily connected with quite a few writers via the web, so I think it’s a tremendous resource in terms of community.

How did your experiences in your workshops impact the final collection?

I wrote the majority of my collection while in graduate school, so workshops were instrumental in the revision process. But I also had to learn to filter; you can’t listen to everyone and since the aesthetic of the stories was still a work-in-progress, finding the people—whether they be faculty or peers—who could help me move the stories in the direction I was envisioning was really crucial.

What is your favorite story in the collection and why?

“Where We Must Be” is up there, because it was one of the first stories I wrote that blended the “real” and the fantastic, so it represented a kind of step forward. I’d also wanted to write something that somehow incorporated Bigfoot for ages, so that was a plus as well.

At what point in your writing process did it become clear you had a cohesive collection, and what do you think links these stories into an aesthetic collection?

I had probably drafted three or four stories before I started to wonder if a book was in the works. But I don’t think I ever really felt certain that it was a collection until I’d finished the first full draft and worked on it for a while. In terms of connecting factors, all the stories are narrated by women and landscape plays a fairly significant role. In addition, the stories all, to varying degrees, incorporate some kind of “mythic” element—for example, a failed actress takes a job as a Bigfoot impersonator in “Where We Must Be,” a botanist seeking a rare flower crosses paths with a group of men hunting the Loch Ness Monster in “Inverness,” a missionary in Africa becomes obsessed with a creature rumored to live in the forests of the Congo in “The Rain Season,” and so on. Obsession is a connecting factor too. My characters have a tendency to get really fixated.