Susan Isaacs is the author of 14 books, including essay collections and numerous works of fiction. Her latest novel, Takes One To Know One, meshes together action thrillers and domestic suspense, as a former FBI agent consigned to life in the suburbs begins to suspect one of the regulars at her local cafe is hiding something, and must use all her former counterterrorism skills in order to suss out what’s up in her insular community. Isaacs was kind enough to answer a few questions via email about her latest book and the writing life.
Is there an author whose work influenced you in a way that might surprise people?
No, not Dashiell Hammett, not P.D. James. Actually, not anybody. I admired Agatha Christie’s plots, Edmund Crispin’s wit, John D. MacDonald’s combo of toughness and introspection, and Patricia Highsmith’s delicious creepiness. But I never thought God, I want to write like that! What I loved was each author’s uniqueness. Sue Grafton was matchless and irreplaceable. Michael Connelly can do Michael Connelly; you and I can’t. So when I started writing fiction, I already knew that all I could be was Susan Isaacs.
What’s the question you wish got more?
See below: “If you weren’t a writer…”
Is there a book you wish you had written?
Lots of books, but then I’d have to be transmogrified into Jane Austen to write Emma or, crime-wise, Mark Haddon for The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time. All I am or ever will be is me.
What are you reading right now?
Deep State by James B Stewart. He’s a terrific researcher and a graceful writer. Before I turned to fiction, one of my jobs was freelance political speech writing, and I never totally left the smoke-filled room. When I’m finished with Stewart’s book, I’ll switch to fiction—Kate Atkinson’s Big Sky.
If you weren’t a writer, you’d probably be a…?
Professional disorganizer does not seem to be a career option. But I can imagine being a neuroscientist, special ops planner, homicide detective, political pundit, cosmologist, or makeover guru (the fact that I lack math skills and have the aesthetic sensibility of a herring notwithstanding).
What’s the best piece of writing advice you ever received?
I haven’t a clue whether someone told me this or I thought it up and whispered it to myself: Writing is a job. You have to work regular hours and show up even when you’d rather be doing something else. You may be your own boss, but you’ve got to be a tough one. (If you already have a job, set aside a couple of hours on Saturdays and Sundays, or get up a couple of hours earlier. If you take a train or bus to work, use that time. Writing becomes your second job. No one said it’s not hard, but it’s doable.)
How do you tackle writers block?
My friend, the writer Patricia Volk, suggested going back to what you wrote the previous day and rereading it immediately when you sit down. That way, you get back into the world of your book. (Excellent advice, but you have to be strong. No email, no quick trips to Zappo’s.) Some writers block is healthy: Your nonconscious mind is working on a problem. If the block goes beyond a couple of weeks, it may have less to do with writing and more to do with some sturm or drang in your life.
You’ve written in several mediums; how does the experience of writing essays and screenplays compare to writing novels?
Writing essays, whether op-eds or reviews, is in part about persuading the reader to view the world your way. As a novelist though, I don’t think about any reader but me. Otherwise I’ll wind up trying to please… Who? The editor of the Times Book Review? My cousin Kaylea in Louisville? A reader of the Bulgarian translation? Better to simply write the book I most want to read.
Likewise, in an op-ed, I write to get something off my chest, not to reach out to readers. I lack that urge to grab people by their metaphoric lapels and win them over. That’s why my professional life is mostly spent alone in the room making up stories.
So, writing screenplays, creating a world and its people, is terrific—until I have to start teaming up. Not just with the director, or an actor, but with seven device-stroking studio executives sitting around a table in LA demanding, What will the audience think? I wasn’t born to collaborate. Sure, I have family, friends, a dog. But when it comes to work, I need to check out of this world, take up residence in my characters’ universe where it’s only them and me.
