Some say Theodore Jackson is still recovering from the loss of his wife, having sent his children to live with their grandparents in his grief. Others say it was his mind he lost, and the rest of the family simply slipped away in the night. If you ask him, though, he’ll tell you he’s never had a family at all, but he does get confused for the previous owner of the old Victorian often.
Such is the mystery surrounding the town’s enigmatic author, fitting for a writer known for blending the real and surreal in his own work. Mr. Jackson recently published his second novel, Adrift Among Dreams, captivating readers with its just-outside-reality story. With his next project, a foray into poetry, looming like a storm on the horizon, I pulled up to his beautiful Victorian home on Cypress Street, still shrouded in the morning fog, and sat down with Mr. Jackson for a quick interview.
Kingsbury Chronicle: Mr. Jackson, thank you for taking the time to speak with me. I’ve just finished reading Adrift Among Dreams, and I must say the novel feels like a kind of quiet magic. There’s a subtle pull to it, something unseen but undeniable. Could you tell our readers a little about the process that led you to this particular story?
Theodore Jackson: Thank you for saying so, and I’m glad you felt that way. It’s one of my goals as a writer, to create worlds that pull the reader in, worlds you don’t want to–maybe can’t–leave. Regarding what led to the story, I wish I had a long and inspiring answer but it simply started from a dream I had right after moving to town, and I just wrote as fast as I could to capture it.
KC: The setting of Kingsbury plays a big role in the book. It’s a small town, but the way you describe it–the creeping fog, the storm-carved coast–it almost becomes a character in itself. Could you have written this story anywhere else?
TJ: It’s funny, because Kingsbury isn’t exactly where I thought I’d end up in life. I knew I wanted to be a novelist, and with that, I knew I had to live in New York. The big city. Kingsbury is quite the opposite. Sometimes I feel it’s such a small town it might just disappear if the fog gets thick enough. Still, there’s a kind of eerie calmness here that suits me, and one day I was passing through, driving along the coast after a visit to San Francisco, and I guess I just fell in love.
KC: The novel weaves magical elements so seamlessly into everyday life that they never feel out of place. You have peacocks strolling downtown, and goldfish floating around like bubbles. Even time itself seems to bend from chapter to chapter, but somehow the reader never feels lost. How do you navigate the real and unreal? Was it difficult to keep your world grounded?
TJ: It’s a constant negotiation. For me, the trick is letting yourself sink as deeply into the world as possible. If you believe the magic is real, so will your reader. The real Kingsbury has its own kind of magic, too, and we don’t sit around trying to explain it. We simply live it. That’s how I approach a story like this. I try not to over-explain, and just accept the magic as part of the landscape. As weird as it sounds, I want the magic in my stories to feel almost mundane.
KC: For your next project, I understand you’re trying your hand at poetry. Can you tell us about that transition? What drew you to poetry?
TJ: I mentioned starting this story with a dream, and frankly, those dreams just seem to keep coming. It’s a bit overwhelming. Some mornings, I feel like I’m living another life while I sleep, like I have someone else’s memories mixed in with my own. In a way, I guess I’m looking to poetry to help me process some of that. A good poem is like a dream in a way, capturing a moment, a feeling.
KC: I’d love to keep picking your brain all day, but I know our readers will come at me if I’m the one keeping you from your work. Thank you again for taking the time to speak with me, and I know I speak for all of Kingsbury when I say I’m looking forward to seeing how your writing evolves in verse.
TJ: The pleasure was all mine. Kingsbury is a fantastic little town, and I’m happy to be a part of it.
As the morning came to a close, the sunlight crawled across the cluttered desk where Mr. Jackson’s next project surely awaited. It took all my strength not to sneak a peak at those papers. As I left that morning, though, Mr. Jackson was kind enough to share his newest poem with me, and give me permission to share it with you below:
You Wore a God-Given Confidence
by Theodore Jackson
You were already outside when I left the library,
Admiring your reflection in the floor-to-ceiling windows.
I turned, and found our looking-glass lookalikes side by side.I wore ink-stained shorts and a newly-bought navy shirt
With the engineering-style blueprint of a three-act manuscript
Like the one I had been failing to write for exactly three years that day.You wore a God-given confidence I envied,
And and elegant crown of a deep and royal blue
Flowing into a tail of feathers fanned proudly for spring.From their tips stared gold-browed eyes
That judged the beauty of your rivals in relation to your own,
Eyes designed to strike fear into lesser creatures than you and I.Standing there, I thought about my struggle as a novelist,
And held, in the crook of my arm, books I believed far more beautiful
Than any I could write. That’s when you yelled at me, in surprise, maybe, butAs the waves of your voice bounced between the tiled walls
Of the covered entry way, I heard a hint of jealousy,
And I felt beauty within reach.
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