The 5+1 Not-About-Writing Interview with Author of The Second Season, Emily Adrian
Plus, an ARC giveaway of the novel, about an ambitious woman NBA reporter making her life what she wants it to be
They say nothing good comes from Twitter — do they say that?; sounds like someone should say that —but every so often, I have some kind of interaction with a person on one of their posts (usually of a more personal nature) and that grows into a longer conversation, and it makes you think that maybe Twitter’s not a cesspool and it keeps you coming back to Twitter. Today’s interview wouldn’t exist were I not drawn to that cesspool.
I think Emily Adrian and I began following one another via a basketball tweet (NBA Twitter is actually, mostly, a force for good) and one day she posted something about running a timed mile as fast as she could as a way to ward off pandemic ennui. I tried it myself, loved it (after the 8 or so minutes of pain), and told her so, and the rest went from there.
Via that “there,” I knew I wanted to interview her for the 5+1, especially had the opportunity to read an ARC of her upcoming novel, The Second Season, the release of which this summer should — in my opinion — be accompanied by the same hype as new episodes of The Last Dance garnered in 2020. (You can pre-order the book at the link above.)
The novel has all the pieces of something I’d like – a woman making her way up the ranks in a man’s field, a new rivalry between two superstars who are BFFs and were once a star duo, the fictional continued existence of the Seattle Supersonics (a team I miss) – and with Adrian’s considerable talent, turned out to be something I loved.
I read it in a matter of days, no small feat considering I’ve got two kids doing school at home. Because I’m notoriously terrible at explaining why I love a thing, I’m going to lean on my GoodReads review, which at least comes close: “While reading this, I — a basketball fan — tried to think if there were other novels centered around basketball, and the NBA. None came to mind. But with this book, I think Emily Adrian will inspire a spate of novels that celebrate this beautiful, character-filled sport. However, like the reporters who try to match THE SECOND SEASON'S main character Ruth Devon, it will be hard for other attempts to come close; Adrian's novel is a compact thrill and character study, somehow offering moments that mimic both the nervous gasp of watching a beloved player suffer injury and the hushed, breath-holding excitement of following a buzzer beater to the hoop. A must read.”
(Like last issue with Mary McCoy’s INDESTRUCTIBLE OBJECT ARC Giveway, you’re entered to win an ARC of THE SECOND SEASON just by opening this issue. (Congrats Greg Andree, who won Mary’s book!). For an additional entry, please leave a comment and/ or like this newsletter, tweet or share it. New subscribers will also be entered, so please, tell your friends to sign up! I’ll notify the winner around mid-May.)
Without further ado, but with perhaps more setup-per-question than is ideal, here is the 5+1 with Emily Adrian.
IMP: So, there’s a character in SECOND SEASON who reminds me a bit of Kawhi Leonard. For people who don't know much about him, for me, he's a superstar player who — through his actions and also lack of actions (like not having social media and giving the shortest of answers to reporters) — illuminated for me a sophomore English vocab word, taciturn. But I don't agree with those who joke that he's a robot; I think he's got a lot of interests and is stronger because he’s reserved. What subject do you think Kawhi Leonard would actually hold forth on for a long time?
EA: Oh, I think he’s the kind of guy who always knows a shortcut. Like, no matter where you are or how you’re traveling, he knows a faster way. He has a map of the city in his head. Your GPS is telling you to turn left and he’s like, “No, no, go right.”
IMP: This is loosely connected to your book because so much of it is about basketball fandom, even if it is fandom-turned-career for Ruth Devon. But, I came of age in Chicago in the early ‘90s and a lot of my teenage touchstones have some kind of connection to the Chicago Bulls of that era — like I remember being at a teen juice bar when the Bulls won the finals one year — not sure which of the six, but I was old enough to drive and go to juice bars. I remember driving around with friends just honking like idiots while other people drove around honking like idiots.
But even though I have these recollections of that era, they're more vague than distinct — like having "omg, what did Rodman do?" discussions or taking part in a seemingly permanent annoyance with Jerry Krause. My first distinct basketball memory was when I was younger — I looked it up and it was 1991 so I was 13, and we went to a game at the United Center and Chuck Person of the Pacers kicked a ball into the stands after a technical foul. Like it was in no way historic but it's also seared into my memory and I think that game made me a fan, even if I sort of dipped out for a while and didn't return to it until my son was born and got super into the NBA. Do you have an earliest basketball memory like that, a specific moment you witnessed and can't forget?
EA: My oldest brother is a lifelong NBA fanatic, so his enthusiasm sort of lurked in the background of my childhood, during which I, personally, was hopelessly un-athletic. Growing up I wasn’t really interested in basketball, but I was interested in my brother, seven years older. He used to walk to the Dairy Queen down the street to order whatever frozen treat came with a collectible Portland Trailblazer glass. If he was feeling especially affectionate toward me, he might let me drink juice from his limited-edition Clyde Drexler cup. The reverence that boys had for sports in the 90s felt off-limits to me, like I knew I’d be laughed at if I dared to take anything so seriously. In hindsight, I wish I’d cared a little more about sports. I think an appreciation for athleticism might have changed my relationship with my own body. Or even just nurturing that unselfconscious urge to jump from the couch and shriek wildly at the TV. This feels like a very weird answer to your question! But my honest answer is that I developed a passion for sports late in life, and, looking back, I wish basketball and I had found each other sooner.
IMP: You inspired me to try doing weekly (okay not every week) balls-out one mile runs. And you wrote about them really excellently. I wonder, what kind of thoughts get you through those seven-ish minutes (You are fast, btw!!)? Do you listen to music, do you repeat a mantra, do you just curse internally like I do? Do you abandon thought altogether?
EA: Oh, it’s just a ceaseless inner monologue of thoughts ranging from self-berating to self-hype to meditations on all of life’s suffering. Something I think about a lot when I’m running—and I mentioned this in that essay—is childbirth. I was in labor with my son for 36 hours, without pain relief, and if at any point someone had said, “Hey, guess what? This whole thing will be over in less than 8 minutes,” I would have wept with relief!
IMP: If you had to put five objects in a time capsule from 2020-21 and you couldn't include photographs, what would they be and why?
EA: The plush Clifford that my son carried around for most of the year. One of the face masks issued by Yale, where my husband works, dweebily branded with a little Y. The pair of New Balance running shoes I wore out between April and August. A radio adapter doodad that allowed us to listen to music in our ancient Mazda, back at the beginning of the pandemic, when we did a lot of aimless driving. (RIP, ancient Mazda.) And a copy of The Knockout Queen by Rufi Thorpe, my favorite book of 2020.
IMP: You made headlines for sharing a picture of yourself during the first months after having a baby — and you also wrote a book during that time, which is astounding. But what parallels can you draw between a year of pandemic life and a year of mothering a newborn? What's harder? (You don't have answer that part.)
EA: That feeling of waking up one day and thinking, “This is my life now? This is the world now?” is very similar, in both cases. Other obvious parallels include isolation, anxiety. The thing about having a newborn, though, is that it’s a private experience. No one else inhabits your particular body, or has to recover from your particular birth, or learn to care for your particular baby. Whereas the pandemic happened to all of us at the same time, and was defined by its universality, its inescapability. That felt crushing to me. There was no concrete evidence that it would end, whereas with early motherhood, you can usually look around and see how many women have survived it.
IMP: I am sure people will be asking you where this idea came from, and it's clear also that you're a basketball fan and have watched a good amount of the league but The Second Season isn't solely about basketball or solely about motherhood or womanhood; there's just so much woven into your story. But Ruth Devon is obviously its center. Did you have the notion for Ruth Devon, NBA reporter first or Ruth Devon, mother first or was it more that you wanted to tell a story set in the NBA?
EA: I had been thinking about writing an NBA story for a long time. Over the years, I had different ideas. I considered writing a YA novel about a player who gets drafted right out of high school, and setting the story in the late ‘90s, before they required kids to play at least a year of college ball. And then I thought about writing a collection of linked stories, each told from the perspective of someone who’s adjacent to the league: a player’s girlfriend; a super-fan; a janitor at the arena. I was kicking these ideas around before I had really leaned hard into my own fandom. I was fascinated by the NBA but I wasn’t into it; my curiosity was sort of dispassionate. One night I looked over at my husband’s laptop screen as he was watching a game. A blond woman was interviewing LeBron. Reflexively I said, “Who is that?” and my husband said “That’s Doris,” so casually, like he knew her. And that was it: one glimpse of Doris Burke and the whole novel unfurled in my mind.
Stuff I’m liking lately:
I read many good things over the last few weeks but then accidentally overwrote a document where I was storing the links. Oops. Here are the ones that must have etched themselves on my memory:
Brandon Taylor on Raymond Carver in his newsletter, sweater weather. Breaking out my books of his to reread.
Mary H.K. Choi’s essay about her mom on Aeon; it’s a from a few years back and I only learned of it recently.
Sometimes You Have to Lie: The Life and Times of Louise Fitzhugh, Renegade Author of Harriet the Spy, by Leslie Brody — I don’t read a lot of biographies and while I’m not sure why, I hope the great experience I had with this one gets me to do it more often. Brody does such a great job not only capturing the fascinating Fitzhugh, but also the people she surrounded herself with and worked with. So good, would watch the Ken Burns miniseries.
Devoured all eight episodes of Made to Love, based on Alissa Nutting’s book by the same name, which I also read and adored. The show is a bit different, naturally, but the vibe and essentials are the same. And, though I profess to avoid craft or writing advice here, there’s a lesson to be learned from excellent weird books, which is to do the weird, uncategorizable thing instead of trying to figure out what will get you an agent/published/table space at Barnes and Noble.
Subscribed to Mason Currey’s Substack, Subtle Maneuvers, on rituals, routine, and the creative habits of writers and other artists. This is partly why I don’t ask questions about process/routine/ritual; others are doing it and do it better. So, I hope the 5+1 allows you to get to know the person behind their work a bit, which in ways both broad and minute, informs their books.
That’s all for now. If you’re enjoying the newsletter, please tell a friend or connect with me about who I can try to interview!