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Susan Hubbard
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Susan Hubbard

Susan Hubbard is the author of The Society of S and The Year of Disappearances, as well as two short story collections, Walking on Ice and Blue Money, for which she received the Janet Heidinger Kafka Prize. She teaches at the University of Central... Read full bio

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Q. What is your motto or maxim?
A. Confusion to our enemies!
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Interview with Susan Hubbard
A Conversation with Susan Hubbard, Author of The Season of Risks

How did you first become interested in writing? What made you decide to pursue it as a career?


My first memory is of hearing what I later called “the wall of noise.” I must have been two or three years old, listening to the sounds of my parents’ conversation, trying to decipher meaning. In a way, my desire to write began with those early impressions of the power of words and the importance of decoding them. Later, when my sister introduced me to reading, I became enraptured (there’s really no other word for it) by books. And by the age of seven or eight, I knew I wanted to be a writer more than anything else in the world.

What writing skills do you try to instill in your students? Did any of your personal experiences result in your depiction of Professor Warner?

I teach students the art of close reading—of paying attention to every aspect of a story, from characters, theme, and plot down to images, diction, and punctuation. Language is a form of music that too often we tune out or take for granted. Learning how to hear the nuances is essential to writing, as well as reading.

As for Professor Warner, she’s a composite of some aspects of professors I’ve known over the years, with a smidgeon of me thrown in. Teaching creative writing is a delicate dance of its own.

How do you relate with the characters you create? Are there any aspects of yourself that you put forth in your work?

Ari’s voice first came to me in a dream, and three books later, she’s still talking to me. I see elements of my sensibility in some of my characters, but none of them is essentially me. Some of them share my concerns about the way we live now. Watching my two daughters come of age, and being around students most of the year, helped shape the characters of Ari and Kathleen. Ari has the same sort of curiosity and vulnerability that I had when I was her age, and still have to some degree.

What is your writing regime like? Do you outline first or just go where the story takes you? Has your process evolved with the series?

The first book came as a gift, in that I had a sense of the whole very early on. I wrote a detailed outline based on that sense, but I didn’t follow it as I wrote—I let my characters take the lead. Since then I’ve come to depend on a process that I call retrospective mapping: writing a brief summary of each chapter after it’s written. Each chapter is summarized on a sheet of paper, and I stick the sheets up on a wall. The mapping helps me keep track of time, plot, images, setting, and characters, and the display gives me a visual sense of the book’s dramatic arc, and allows me to rearrange chapters if necessary.

The writing process has grown easier as I’ve come to know my characters better. The secret to enjoying writing is to cre­ate characters with whom you want to spend time.

Was there any aspect of how The Season of Risks developed that surprised you?

Kathleen surprised me. Originally she wasn’t going to be in this book! She turned out to be more manipulative than I once would have imagined. Cameron surprised me, too. I trusted him more in the previous book. By the way, the genesis of his character was a politician I met years ago, when I was a newspaper reporter.

And the plot took on a weird life of its own, ending up in a place I hadn’t anticipated.

Your books underscore social, environmental, and moral issues raised by immortality. What inspired you to include these issues in your fiction? Are there any issues you’d like to flesh out in future books?

The issues you mention are ones we wrestle with every day. I can’t imagine writing without exploring them. Mortals’ actions can have immortal effects, and we need to take responsibility for them. And yes, there are several other issues I want to write about, among them the profound consequences of materialism and greed, and the extent to which humans truly exercise free will. I have already addressed the latter, but not as fully as I might.

You thank several people in the acknowledgments who helped you with your research during the writing process. Were there any fascinating new facts you learned that didn’t make it into the book?

Yes, but I won’t list them because they may turn up in the next book. Nearly every time I talk to a doctor or scientist, I find out something that astonishes me. For instance, I’d never heard of the blood-brain barrier (mentioned in chapter nineteen) until I was describing the plotline of the book to a physician during a routine checkup.

What made you decide to write books about vampires? Did you ever consider a different supernatural breed of characters?

You know, I never planned to write about supernatural characters at all. The Society of S began with a dream that became a preface that led to a chapter, and Ari was simply a precocious girl trying to figure out her family’s true identity, in a somewhat Gothic setting. When she began to wonder about her father being a vampire, I thought, why not?

And from there it was a short leap to: What if some vam­pires were the good guys?

Given the supernatural elements, have you ever had any uncanny personal experiences that enhance these mystical undertones?

I’ve admitted before that I believe I met Evil in the form of the devil, or one of his buddies, in Glastonbury, England. Once, in Saratoga Springs, I was visited by a ghost. Several times, I’ve been in places that strike me as haunted—some benignly, others not. And nearly every time I hike, or explore a new place, I sense the presence of others inherent in the natural world. Oddly enough, I’m less unsettled by those experiences than by most of my scary moments with humans.

If Ari had been your daughter, what would your reaction have been to her decision to take Septimal?

I hope I would have intuited that decision long before it was made and talked in depth with her about the reasons behind it and its possible implications. Ironically, Sara, Ari’s mother, most likely would have done the same thing, if she and Raphael hadn’t agreed to not listen to Ari’s thoughts in order to allow her independence.

The book begins “There are some things I know for certain.” What things do you know for certain?

Benjamin Franklin said that nothing is certain but death and taxes. Wittgenstein said that since we can’t live through death, we don’t experience it. So that leaves taxes. But I prefer to believe, as Poe wrote, that “All that we see or seem / Is but a dream within a dream.” In other words, I know nothing for certain, except uncertainty.

You’ve traveled to Ireland several times now; what about that setting made you choose it as a destination in the novel?

Ireland is magical, mystical, otherworldly, haunted, and haunting. Landscape and legend are irrevocably intertwined. What better place for vampires to settle, and to help boost the economy? My great-grandmother was born in County Tipperary, but even without that connection I suspect I’d feel the same way: going to Ireland is like going home.

Was it any easier to write from the twenty-two-year-old Ari’s perspective than from the teenage Ari’s perspective?

No, in most ways it was harder to write the older perspective. It was a tricky business, writing the second section of the book, because the narrator is essentially a different person.

Did any of the characters resonate with you in a particularly strong way after you were finished writing? Did any resonate with you differently than from previous books in the series?

One of the minor characters, Dr. Godfried Roche, was inspired by a loathsome person I met at a literary festival, whose unabashed narcissism demanded caricature. As much fun as it was to write him, it was even more fun to kill him— but now I miss him, in a way. (To clarify: Miss the character, not the actual person.) I’ve already mentioned being surprised by Kathleen and Cameron. Dashay seemed to mature in this book, and yet some aspects of her remain elusive. I see her so clearly, but from the outside in; she tends to keep her secrets to herself. Sloan came into being rather unexpectedly, and I want to get to know him better, too. Surprisingly, while I was writing the book I came to find Sara a bit annoying at times. Raphael is, well, Raphael—but it was fun to watch him lighten up a bit. And Ari, poor Ari. I feel sorry for her. She deserves an easier life than the one I’ve given her so far.

Cameron tells Ari there are “no happy endings in vampire tales.” Is this something you had in mind when crafting the conclusion?

Not consciously. That’s a perceptive question, though. Maybe my unconscious mind was helping me foreshadow the conclusion.

What are you working on next? Do you have plans for another novel in the series?

I’m already visualizing another Ethical Vampire novel, which opens with Raphael and Sara’s vow-renewing wedding ceremony in Ireland. Imagine such an occasion, intended to be perfect, in which absolutely everything goes wrong. This summer I’m teaching a fiction workshop in Ireland, and I’ll be doing some research then.

And I have ideas for two other books that are very different. One of them involves a fairly ordinary woman living in Buffalo, New York, who happens to be a witch.