Written Interview: Peter Hedges

Today’s interview is with writer-director Peter Hedges whose credits include What’s Eating Gilbert Grape (1993) (novel “What’s Eating Gilbert Grape?”) (screenplay), A Map of the World (1999) (screenplay), About a Boy (2002) (screenplay), Pieces of April (2003) (written by), Dan in Real Life (2007) (written by), and the upcoming The Heights . 

The first interview is from The Brooklyn Eagle. Some excerpts:

You began writing The Heights in 1998. Has the story undergone dramatic changes over this twelve-year period?

I was weeks away from finishing a first draft when 9/11 occurred. At the time, I was writing a tragedy, but after 9/11, tragedy took on new meaning. So I put the novel away for a while, and when I returned to The Heights, it began to evolve into more of a human comedy.

Also, when I started writing, our economy was flourishing, booming. In the last few years, it’s been more of a bust — and because The Heights is a contemporary novel — the story has changed to reflect the more unstable time in which we’re living.

Finally, the danger in working so long on something is that you might lose interest. Like with anything or anyone you love, the early stages can sometimes be the most exciting. This may be why I have many unfinished projects. But with The Heights I had a different experience. I began writing it when I was 35, and now I’m 47. During that time, life did what life does, and I’ve changed, grown — I hope — and, over the years, as I spent more time with these characters, I came to know them better, more deeply, and that has made for a more honest book.

The Heights also marks your return to the literary world from the film world. What have you found to be the biggest difference between writing for film and writing a novel?

A screenplay is a blueprint for a myriad of people — director, actors, director of photography, film editor — to add their ideas, interpretations, and artistry. A novelist does all those jobs alone. I believe writing screenplays has made me a more efficient and effective writer. Because making a film is such an expensive endeavor, every scene needs to matter. Especially now in this accelerated world in which we live, I feel hesitant about asking for too much time from a reader. So I worked to make this novel lean and for everything in it to be essential.

During the time I’ve been writing The Heights, I’ve also had the privilege of adapting Nick Hornby’s About A Boy, Jane Hamilton’s A Map Of The World, and most recently, Jonathan Tropper’s Everything Changes. I like to think that spending months — years, actually — reading and re-reading their work, trying to distill their wonderful stories into screenplays, has helped make me a better writer.

I often describe making a film as writing a novel with a bunch of people. Each form has its appeal. In terms of which I prefer, I would have to say novels, because they allow for a deeper exploration of character and story. They feel like purer expressions of intent. But each of my novels has taken to years to write. So the opportunity to write and direct films has brought a nice balance.

As a bonus, you can go here for video of a presentation Hedges gave in Iowa. Here is an excerpt from the Q&A part of the evening::

Viars: Peter, I’ve got a transitional question. I’ve have a bunch of them now. This is actually maybe a little bit like what you’ve been talking about. How does your emotion help or hurt in the discipline and structure of writing?

Hedges: That is a great question. Never been asked it before. Well, the emotion can hurt because you can — you can get very discouraged — I can — or have doubt. Moodiness can make for being consistent a little difficult. So, I just try to go to work like anybody. I have an office — studio. I walk to it and clock in at about 9 in the morning and I leave at 5 five days a week. I have lunch at the same place every day. It’s great restaurant. Siggy’s, 76 Henry Street. Come have lunch with me. I’m there. But how does the emotion — it helps because the kinds of stories I write. I think if I was more of a plot-driven writer or more of a genre-specific writer, but because I tell stories about the human condition, the fact that I’m a very emotional person I think has helped me. And so I think it’s ultimately an asset, but I think it sometimes slows me down because I have friends who are much more cutthroat about their work and they seem to publish more frequently.

Viars: There’s a thread here of questions. I don’t think they’re by the same person, but they’re aspiring writer questions.

Hedges: Oh, great. My favorite kind of question.

Viars: This one is describe your life as a writer. What’s a typical day? Now, I don’t think that person meant all of the details other than the writing, but what makes you sit down and make the words come?

Hedges: Well, it’s a great job. I mean — in fact, I don’t even say I’m going to work. I’m going to write. I can’t believe I get to do this for a living, particularly because I did every conceivable job from 21 to 28. I did everything and I did most of the jobs pretty terribly. And I was fortunate that Gilbert Grape happened and some plays began to — and I always lived very poorly for so — I had no money for so long. And I’m glad I did that because I just kept writing. But, you know, it’s this goal to tell a story and hope that that story means something to me in the telling of it but also means something to you in the experiencing of it.

Viars: Do you sit down every morning and sit in front of a keyboard and wait for things to happen?

Hedges: Sometimes. I’m starting — I just finished my new script for my next film, turned it in Sunday. I’ll rewrite that. I worked on it this morning early. I’ll work on it tomorrow morning early a little, and then when I’m done with my tour, I’ll sit down and try to address it. I don’t write every day. I could write every day. I try to read every day. For me a lot of my work now is about taking better care of myself. I began to feel like I didn’t eat well, I didn’t exercise enough, so I put that in my day. But I tend to have an assistant when I’m on a deadline, so I hire somebody. I’ve had three over the last ten years and they come. Basically, I pay them to sit in the room with me and go, like, “Really?” or “Nice!” That’s basically all they say all day. “Really?” “Nice.” And I hope to get more nices than reallies because it helps me to have somebody — I’m a social person so for me to spend a lot of time alone is sometimes lovely, but I need other people.

Viars: What’s your favorite and least favorite part about the writing process?

Hedges: My least favorite part of writing is publishing. I didn’t know that until this book and I kind of like publishing, so it’s not so bad. There’s something that happens when you’re working — let me tell this story. 

I happened to have lunch with Paul McCartney this summer. Now, I’m only telling you this because Paul McCartney doesn’t know me. He doesn’t even know my name. I just happened to be outside at a restaurant near where we are in the summer and he happened to be sitting where you are and talking to a friend of mine and I’d come out with my food. And he was sitting there and I thought, oh, he’s a Beatle. I’m looking at a Beatle and you try to be cool. Oh, hello, Sir Paul. And my friend is talking to him and he’s kind of nervous. He’s blowing it basically and I said — I just asked him a question about not something in his past. I said, “Do you ever start to write a song and just don’t have it?” An hour later… And I thought, you know, Paul and I have something in common. Not the money. No, Paul has got a little more money than me. But what I realized was that for any person who makes something, there’s an elemental quality and it is that moment when you’re encountering the new and you’re going, I don’t know what’s going to happen next. Oh, my gosh, could this be it? And there are these moments that come, and they’re very quiet. Nobody knows about them. You see, I thought when I was young that the big moments would be when you win the award or it comes out or somebody says you’re great. It turns out that’s not true. The great moments come, the quiet. They are moments where you share a moment with somebody or you get a very personal letter from somebody who read something. Not somebody saying it was great, I loved it, but when they write you a letter and the letter is about how, after they saw your movie, “Pieces of April,” they called up a sibling that they hadn’t talked to in fifteen years and they tell you about the conversation. You go, that’s pretty cool. But in that moment when Paul McCartney was talking about the moment, the hour that he talked about his process, not when he was a Beatle but now writing a song, and I realized for him it’s the same as it is for anybody who makes anything. And when my mother was very sick in her last days, she would call or I’d call her to talk about treatments and what we were going to do to prolong her life. She would always say to me, “Peter, okay, enough, enough of the doctors. What are you making? What are you making today?” And the best part of writing, the best part of having a family or teaching when I taught or, you know, having a good party, making lunch for — is when you’re making something. You know that. I mean you’re making plays all the time at that beautiful Des Moines Community Playhouse, you know, the act of making. And, you know, not to invoke 9/11 again, but it really — one of the odd thoughts I had because it was so surreal, you couldn’t even fathom — I couldn’t when I was looking at the buildings and the first one fell, I kept thinking how am I going to get used to one building. That’s so odd. I mean it was so odd. You know, people were dying. It hadn’t sunk in yet. But I remember thinking — one of the thoughts I had when the towers were falling was I knew enough about the history of the building and also — I always thought they were kind of ugly. I thought they were really ugly buildings architecturally but the beauty of the twin towers, of course, were the two. If you had one of those, so what. It was the two. So actually going back to your question, when I thought about 9/11 and I started to think about the twin towers before they even fell is a good marriage. Side by side, equal, the same, you know, and so when one was gone — and then pretty soon after, of course, the second one fell. I thought the hours and the years and the man hours and the people and the money and the time and the energy to build those towers. It’s so hard to make something. And it’s so easy — so easy. It took ten guys hijacking two planes. It was not hard for them to crash in and take the towers. It’s so easy to destroy something. 

So, I really think about how the great part of being a writer is that even though you’re subjected to a lot of criticism and people dismiss you — and the internet has just become a land of just such snarkiness and people not signing — saying these things and not — you know, don’t ever say anything bad and not sign your name. I’m on a mission about this. You can say whatever you want about me or my work, but you sign your name, because I put my name on it and everything you do in your life, put your name on it. And if you’re not putting your name on it, don’t do it. It’s really true.

Here is the ending of a fine movie written and directed by Hedges Pieces of April: