An Interview with Stephanie Anderson:
MFA to First Book

Cherri Buijk

Stephanie Anderson’s One Size Fits None (2019) is a passionate call for sustainable, regenerative agriculture in America. It’s a book with deeply personal roots for Anderson, who grew up on her family’s ranch in South Dakota. One Size Fits None won a 2020 Nautilus Award and a 2019 Midwest Book Award, was selected as the featured reading for Miami University’s 2019 Summer Reading Program, and was started as Anderson’s MFA thesis project at Florida Atlantic University (FAU), where she continues to teach and write.

I sat down to talk with Anderson in February of 2020, where she shared her insights on publishing a first book and how to survive the writing life after the MFA.

***

Buijk: How did One Size Fits None start out and take shape?

Anderson: It started with the first year in the MFA. I remember getting about midway through that first year and really wanting to know where I was heading with the thesis. I just felt like I had the opportunity to write a book for the next few years and have people look at it and care about it, and I would probably never have that again. So I thought: I want to get started now.

So I started researching. I remember the whole first week of that spring break just spent reading about agriculture. I didn’t know what kind of form it would take. I knew I needed to do research but I didn’t know if it would necessarily be journalism or if it would be personal essays. So the more I started reading, the more I was just really impressed with the type of book I felt most useful, which was a Michael Pollan book, The Omnivore’s Dilemma in particular. He uses stories and research and his own perspective, at times some of his own experiences with his family and used that to make a case. So it was less academic and more creative, but still very research driven. I was still kind of in that journalism frame of mind. So, it just shaped as I did the interviews.

I interviewed Ryan Roth first and that was even sort of a mistake. I had sought out a local farmer and was directed to Ryan. And so when I went out to his place it was like, This is not a small family farm! But that was how someone had thought of it and that really made me realize, Okay wow, so that’s the definition of a small family farm out here! So, I realized I needed different people, so that shifted the book to finding other interviewees. And I knew the more I learned about regenerative agriculture, the more I thought, Okay, I need people who will really highlight that idea. So it kind of shifted as I did research and found good things, but also I realized the gaps that were happening.

Buijk: Due to the personal nature of the story, I wondered how the book shaped your relationship with your own origins and how that changed your relationship with home?

Anderson: That’s a really great question because it was kind of fraught at times because, after I left South Dakota—I left South Dakota in 2010 and by the time I had started writing the book I had been in Florida for a little over two years, so I was still missing home and it was my first time living out of state. So I still kind of had the picture of home that I’d always had. And as I learned more after leaving, I felt that way after my first year of journalism, but then that really intensified after I left and started realizing, Wow, there’s more of an organic movement. There are other things and we can do things differently. And so yeah, the more I learned, the more I looked at my own family’s operation with a more critical eye and a more questioning eye, and kind of started to see some things for what they were—started seeing that the way that we were doing things, it’s not how I would do things if I was running the show now. And my brother has started to see that, and he’s started to shift things.

Buijk: That feels very brave of you, in hearing that story, because you did have to negotiate that conversation with your family—you were learning new things that were different from their beliefs and practices.

Anderson: And that was one reason I wanted to tell the story through other people and to not make a book about our family, per se. I mean, they’re in the book, definitely, but they’re not the focus and that was intentional. I wanted to focus that story through others, rather than use something like my parents' operation as the kind of conventional model example. I wanted to tell the story through someone else so that I could maybe be more objective about it too.

Buijk: When you said that you were looking at Michael Pollan’s work, how did you want to create your own vision for a book that was inspired by The Omnivore’s Dilemma, but also offer something else?

Anderson: People like Pollan are really important for bridging the gap—or the perceived gap—between urban communities and rural communities and helping those sides talk to each other. But I felt that most people in my community and other rural communities would take a look at a book like that and say, Well he’s an outsider, he’s a big city journalist, and he’s never lived on a farm or worked on a farm. This is all theoretical for him. And so I felt that I had a unique opportunity to utilize my background and the kind of knowledge that comes from that. I mean, I didn’t know about farming systems down here in Florida—that was all brand new information. But I get the farming experiences, the feelings and the struggles and those types of things, so I wanted to make it different that way. I wanted to make it have a different angle, even if a lot of the information, like the call to action, like we need to change, is similar across a lot of these types of books. So that was where I wanted to enter.

Buijk: From a farmer’s perspective, who has a stake in what it means to farm personally.

Anderson: Yes.

Buijk: As someone who’s mostly writing fiction about what it meant to be a little kid with grandma, I really admire the courage that it takes to write a book that you hope will have a larger effect on the world. I was curious to hear more about where you hoped the book would go and how it would affect the world. 

Anderson: One really exciting opportunity was Miami University using it as their freshman read, which I felt was a unique opportunity to reach young people, and so in that case theoretically over 4,000 freshmen read it, and so those are the people—some of those people are from rural backgrounds but definitely not all. So I feel like that would be where I would like it to go—I would like more experiences like that. People who are from rural communities or not would be able to engage with these ideas, and younger people are more receptive to new ideas—about the future, about climate change, things like that. So I found that they were very receptive and excited and engaged and so I’d hope to see it among younger audiences wherever possible.

Buijk: So as far as writing your first book, publishing your first book, what did you hear about what that would be like—and what was the reality actually like?

Anderson: I felt like the only source of information I had about publishing a book was really from the faculty here [at FAU]. And that was great, they provided great information. But I felt most of the time like I didn’t know what was happening or I didn’t know what to expect or what a normal process would be, and maybe because there is no normal process, and that it is so different for everyone, every writer. And of course that depends on genre and all of these things, but I always felt like, Well, what’s a reasonable time for a person to get an agent or to have something, have a manuscript accepted by a publisher—how many rejections should have to go through from publishers, and what should really go in? I mean, even writing the proposal, I was thinking, Is this what they want? Is this right? You know, and those things, even just how communication should work—it was very just trial and error. And I don’t know if I even have enough experience to say how it should go. I had a great experience at University of Nebraska Press, they were really great, and I had no complaints about that or anything. But I kinda felt like I should probably have felt more confident about everything after the writing. So I was asking a lot of questions of everybody [at FAU]—tried not to bother people too much, but!

Buijk: So it does seem like a mysterious process—we’ve talked about that a lot in the program. So trial and error does seem like what I do hear a lot of writers talk about.

Anderson: I don’t know if it's some kind of like, secret society experience. I don’t know! Like that would be a great book for someone to write. Like, what can you expect for an advance? That stuff, I can’t find that anywhere. What’s a good sales number, for a first year? I don’t know!

Buijk: So I guess that is related to my most intensive question right now, which selfishly I’ll ask! That tricky area where you navigate from being a writer who generates work and does the research, to that business, that career of writing. What kind of advice would you give or what were some of the biggest lessons as you made that transition?

Anderson: It seems like there are two schools of thought on this. One, you let your art be your living, and that they’re the same, and you try to do things like workshops, selling your work, getting grants, getting residencies, whatever it is—letting your writing support you financially. And the other school of thought is, don’t put that kind of pressure on your art. Find something else so that you can feed yourself and make ends meet, and then make sure that you’re always writing—until you get to a place where theoretically your writing could pay bills. For someone who’s not in need of financial support, it seems there’s no decision—you just do your art. But everyone else, myself included, needs to make sure that there’s something else there. So how to navigate that, I don’t know. I’m still going back and forth.

It seems that university teaching is one of the best ways to have a marriage between your art and your job as much as possible, and there’s an environment that supports publishing and prioritizes that, and also appreciates it and gives you some flexibility of schedule to ensure that you’re actually doing some writing. So that seems like a path forward. But in a market where universities are shrinking their English Departments and other kinds of arts departments, I don’t know that that’s good advice.  So I guess my advice would be to think about what kind of life you’d want. Maybe you only want to write and that’s what you wanna do and you don’t care whether it makes you money. Or maybe you want to also take gigs to write for money and make yourself hustle like that. Some people really thrive in the freelance environment.

Buijk: That makes me think of another thing I was curious about: the way you saw writing since, let’s say, when you wrote your craft essay [as part of the MFA thesis] to the way you see writing and writing practice now. What has changed and how has your identity as a writer changed? What interests you as a writer now that may have shifted?

Anderson: That’s a good question. I’m trying to be more experimental in what I do because I don’t want to be just one type of writer who gets pigeon-holed or just is always understood in a certain way, so I try to vary up what I do. I mean really I’ve only published a few scholarly, highly-researched things since the book and a lot of things have been memoir or some sort of flash, or maybe some fiction. I’m experimenting with that and being diverse in what I produce, so that’s changed and I want to push myself more. And just keep current and keep reading so that I know what’s been done, don’t let yourself get stagnant, kind of thing. And in terms of how I think about writing and how that’s changed—I guess I put less pressure on myself in terms of production. I used to just write and write and it was like, if I wasn’t doing it, I was sort of not being a good writer. And now I’ve realized that there are certain times of that year that I’m just not going to write. I’m going to write during the summers, I’m going to write during my breaks, I’m going to write here and there in between but I’m not going to be the person who writes a thousand words a day every day—that’s just not who I am. But as long as you can be disciplined to keep producing something, embrace your pace, I guess. 

Buijk: I think that’s helpful for a lot of writers to feel, to take the pressure off of themselves, because there are these myths that you should be writing every day—and they’re not always productive.  

Anderson: I mean, other people have said this so I’m not the first to say this. But really, mostly the only difference between people who are publishing and people who are not, and the people who are still writing and sending out work, is that every week I’m doing writing-related things, like sending work out. Trying to solicit things for my writing or communicate with editors or do your social media or do your website. There’s always something. That’s the thing-—it’s way more than just writing. You have to think about how it’s like a job in a lot more ways than just typing.

Buijk: That’s the part that’s coming on my radar that can feel so overwhelming. So how do you manage that? For instance, do you have a day that’s like, social media day or something?

Anderson: When the book first came out and I was trying to anticipate the launch, I decided that at least once a week, I needed to post something on social media. And I’d cheat and do the same thing on Instagram and on Facebook. I only do two things—I can’t also do Twitter. So I narrowed it down to a manageable amount. I’ve not been posting weekly for the last couple of months, but I’ve had that schedule of posting new content every week, something. I guess there’s really no dedicated day but it’s just, making sure that that box gets checked no matter what. Keeping things up to date. I mean unfortunately you have to put the marketing hat on. It really, I mean at least theoretically, it can make a difference. I feel like it has been for me. You know I’m not afraid to cold email people or cold call people about readings or pitch this, pitch that, you know. Just trying to put yourself out there. As frustrating and daunting as that may be, you know.

Buijk: So I would be curious just to hear more about that. What is it like to be marketing your first book? Like how much are you having to lead your own thing and how much is your publisher doing?

Anderson: So yeah, Nebraska is great and it’s one of the largest university presses, so of the presses, I felt that was good. Still, though, they have limited resources when it comes to marketing and I think that is probably the experience of a lot of writers even if you get the big houses, that you’re always going to get not as much as you want. I always had a marketing person who I could talk to and she helped me and she was great, and when I had an event they would try to talk to local media and try to do things, but they were not setting up events or really doing a ton. I mean, they would market in their own way. They would try to solicit reviews and they got some reviews and that’s good. And you know, trying to do book festivals and putting it in catalogues. I mean they reach out to their educational contacts if it’s appropriate, so they do some behind the scenes marketing (and probably way more that I’m not aware of) but as far as public facing stuff, most of that is on you. Especially if you wanna have a website which you need, everybody needs one, unless you wanna hire someone or have a friend do it. And that’s necessary. And really if you wanna do events you have to line them up yourself. I’ve had invitations to do more thankfully, and that’s good. It finally kind of turned a corner, and after the first six months, things were mostly invitation only, and so I was like, thank god. But for a while you just have to do them yourself.

Buijk: Because so many people who graduate MFA programs do stop writing, you seem like such a big beacon of hope! As far as what it means to both write and make your work live in the world.

Anderson: I mean, what I’ve done is not perfect and I’ve had so much help. The faculty have been so helpful, whether it’s writing letters of recommendation for things or giving that advice, obviously people who helped put the book together and continue to give support and help make connections, and so it really is way more than just writing. It’s like there are many people who are on the team and they’ve been so amazing.

Buijk: So for those of us in our third year of the MFA, what would you say to us with our theses and our possible first books?

Anderson: I mean, I guess, number one would be make sure you have a book, because it may not be a book yet. It may not be ready, so make sure that it’s ready. And if it’s a collection, make sure that you can get those stories or those essays published independently at a few good places before you start pitching that to editors, because they may be amazing stories but if they’ve never seen the light of day or only one of the twelve have seen publication, it probably won’t be very convincing. And once you’ve put that out there to editors there’s no second chance. They’re never going to look at it again, so you don’t wanna waste that one chance. I would say try to build as much platform as you can. So like, do you have a built-in audience? Can you start cultivating that audience, especially on social media and all that jazz? I mean, they look at it. Don’t self publish. People always say, You can always self-publish your work and it’s like, no you can’t...if you can, get an agent. You can’t really get an audience with an editor—nobody’ll look at anything unless you have an agent. If you can get a few high-caliber stories or essays done, you may have a better chance of getting that agent. If your story or essay appears somewhere really great, it might take a while, but it might be worth the wait.

Buijk: So what was that like for you, finding an agent?

Anderson: So I was just working on the query letter and the proposal and sort of did the best I could on those materials and just started pitching agents, pitching agents, keeping a spreadsheet and I pitched at least 60 agents. I pitched dozens and dozens of agents and I finally found one so that was good. It took six months to find one, and so, now my agent is for health reasons stepping down from agenting, so he is no longer my agent, which I just learned last week, so I am now agent-less. ‘Cause he has health issues and so, he’s just kind of done altogether so I’m gonna have to start that process again. So I’m gonna have to practice what I preach.

Buijk: Were there learning experiences in that process that were like, Oh, don’t do that, or do that?

 Anderson: I guess make sure… I didn’t really follow my own advice of “Make sure that the book is ready.” Because the book, when I submitted it, I trimmed it after graduation and that was the manuscript that went out, which is dumb because most non-fiction books like that sell on proposal. So it was kind of weird I think. I mean, obviously I would never do that again, like spend so much time doing that big of a project and not have a publisher guaranteed to take it, because, I mean I know you have to do that with fiction or with literary nonfiction, but for journalism it’s still such that you would sell it first. So I think that scared some editors and some houses ‘cause they were like, Why is this already written? This is weird. So there was that. But also the book just wasn’t quite ready, and that also has to do with the fact that it went through some rejections. When I signed with Nebraska they said, You need to trim it down by like, tens of thousands of words. By like twenty thousand some words I think. It had to get down to about a hundred thousand some words. And as I was cutting it I was like, Why was all this here to begin with? What was I thinking? This is ridiculous. So it wasn’t as strong as it could be. So that was a learning experience to go back to the project again like after a thousand times and being like, it still needs to be thinner. It’s too verbose, it’s not concise enough and it’s going on tangents still, so that was weird. That was a big learning process.

There’s so much revision in writing and maintaining passion and energy for it through those revisions. It takes a lot.

[Editor’s Note: Since this interview was conducted in February 2020, Stephanie has also received the 2020 Richard J. Margolis Award for nonfiction writers of social justice journalism and will continue to work on a new book during a one-month writing residency in 2022.]

After graduating from the MFA at Florida Atlantic University, Cherri Bujik was accepted as a 2020 Lambda Literary Fellow. She is working on my first collection of short stories and has been published in Shirley Magazine, Catamaran Literary Reader, and Foglifter (forthcoming). She lives in Miami where she nurses a small garden of heat-loving plants. 

Stephanie Anderson holds an MFA from Florida Atlantic University, where she also teaches literature, creative writing, and composition. Her work has appeared in The Rumpus, TriQuarterly, Flyway, Hotel Amerika, Terrain.org, The Chronicle Review, Sweet and others. Her debut nonfiction book, titled One Size Fits None: A Farm Girl’s Search for the Promise of Regenerative Agriculture, won a 2020 Nautilus Award and 2019 Midwest Book Award.