Kevin Myers

Kevin T. Myers is the author of Hidden Falls (Beaufort Books), and his latest, Need Blind Ambition. He proudly hails from Peabody, Massachusetts. He is a former stand-up comic and comedy writer. He has appeared on the Comedy Channel and was featured on 20/20. His jokes have been told at colleges, clubs, on the Tonight Show, and on Broadway. His essay “The Power of Compassion” aired nationally on NPR’s "This I Believe" series. He has worked as a journalist and editor in newsrooms from New Hampshire to Alaska, where he ran the Capital City Weekly. He has worked in higher education as a speechwriter, a spokesperson, and a media, government, and public relations liaison. He is currently the spokesperson for Reed College in Portland, Oregon.

Twitter: @citizenkev

Are there particular films that have influenced your writing?

All of them. I studied film production in college and wrote screenplays before writing novels, but I’ve always preferred more descriptive forms of writing. For my seventh grade English project, I wrote a 15-page Cold War spy thriller in which the Soviet Union and the United States came together to defeat a network of supervillains that I gave the unfortunate name: Federation Against World Nations, or, sigh, F.A.W.N.

Anyway, I’ve always loved movies, they played a special role in my childhood. I have very fond memories of watching the Oscars with my mother. It was amazing to me how much she knew about the actors and some of the behind-the-scenes people. Certain films were like holidays at our house. We would stop whatever we were doing, and bedtime rules went out the window, when Patton, Sound of Music, Lawrence of Arabia, The Ten Commandments, The Wizard of Oz, and King Kong (the 1933 version with Fay Wray) came on the TV. This was before VHS and you could only see these movies once a year. It was an event.

I was introduced to some of my first favorite books through the film adaptations. I watched The Grapes of Wrath, To Kill A Mockingbird, The Old Man and the Sea, and The Great Gatsby long before I ever read them. But as far as inspiration, I often think of Casablanca when I’m writing. I saw that film for the first time around 1976 at a Humphry Bogart double feature with The Caine Mutiny at the Cabot Street Theater, a second run movie house in Beverly, Massachusetts. I was about 9-years old and I was blown away. I loved that film as much then as I do today. It’s timeless. I’ve never grown tired of it.

It begins with a shot of the globe spinning on its axis, and there are clouds in space, but we’ll forgive that… And then comes the newsreel footage and the animated lines on the globe chronicling the mass exodus from Europe to escape NAZI aggression. It explains why Morocco is an important embarkation point. The opening sequence zooms in from space to a closeup of a teletype machine spitting out a police alert about two murdered German couriers and the missing Letters of Transit they were carrying. Within the first two minutes of the film you understand the entire world is being threatened and these stolen Letters of Transit (which weren’t even a real thing) are the keys to the story.

So, you immediately understand the stakes are high and that you’ve been located in the hotbed of the action. Then you get pulled into the plotline of a cynical saloon keeper who ends up in possession of the letters—and the tension never alleviates. The story becomes dependent on unwinding Bogart’s character to understand how he became so broken that he’s willing to risk the fate of humanity by preventing safe passage to the man who can save the world. There are all these subplots being driven by resistance to NAZIs. Every subplot is filled with charming, funny, endearing, characters who all raise the stakes and move the story forward. There is enough reveled about Bogart’s character that by the end of the film you understand why he’s heartbroken and you root for him to do the wrong thing—but you know he can’t. It’s a masterpiece of storytelling.

Favorite non-reading activity?

It’s probably an activity that I’ll need to retire from sooner than later, but I love playing basketball. I started playing organized ball in the fifth grade and continued through high school. I had opportunities to play in college but turned them down to pursue other goals. I love everything about it. I love the comradery and teamwork; the combination of skill and strategy it takes to even achieve mediocrity. When it’s played well, it’s like chess pieces moving around the court. Unfortunately, at my age, I literal look like a wooden chess piece shuffling around as the young guys blow past me. I’m 53 and I often play with people who are more than half my age. Physically, it destroys me. I will play as many as five times a week, and my body always hurts. I have bruises everywhere, my knees hurt, my back hurts, my shoulders hurt, my nose has been broken, I’ve dislocated my shoulder, sprained ankles, but I can’t stop playing.

Eventually, my bruised ego will be the thing that makes me quit. I still can shoot pretty well, but it’s getting harder and harder for me to get my shot off when I play against younger guys. I’ve become too slow. There are just not enough 50-somethings playing pick-up basketball. It’s hard to find games that are competitive, where people know what they’re doing, but they’re not so competitive that they end up hurting each other. I feel really lucky to have found a few ongoing games with a bunch of good people who generally know what they’re doing. They make it really fun.

When I feel like I’ve stopped contributing or when guys don’t want to pass to me, my ego will force me to stop. Those games occasionally happen for me now, but I still have days when I feel like I have a lot to give. I’ll have to quit before I become that guy. I can’t be the guy who makes everybody groan when he shows up at the court.

Is your go to comfort food sweet or savory? Is it something you make yourself? Does food inspire your writing?

My comfort foods are all savory and they absolutely inspire my writing. When I think of my hometown, the first thing that comes to mind is food. Peabody, Massachusetts is Super Sub in the ’70s, it’s steak tips at Brodie’s and Champions, it’s Pop’s Pizza, Gloria’s sandwiches, Roast Beef and onion rings at Bill and Bobs, and pizza rolls and fried shrimp at Land ‘n Sea. Not to give short shrift to my regional favorites, Spinnelli’s eggplant Parm, and Woodman’s Fried Calms.

My maternal grandfather played an outsized role in my life. He was born in the late 1800s and quit school before learning to read or write. He worked on fishing boats out of Gloucester, and Novia Scotia and eventually became a well-known cook among the fishing fleet. I have a lot of wonderful childhood memories of being in the kitchen with him. He was a great cook and a magnificent storyteller who spun rich, colorful yarns about his life at sea. He was a rum runner during prohibition. He had stories of ghosts and ghost ships, of Russian trawlers, German U-boats, and Nor’easters. I still miss him.

I strongly associate food with place, friends, sharing, storytelling, and love. Food finds its way into everything I write.

Have you ever experienced Imposter Syndrome?

I’m experiencing it right now. For me, it’s a product of growing up poor in a family where education wasn’t highly valued. Now, I’m a novelist who works at a fancy college. I’m always waiting for somebody to realize I snuck in through the backdoor and ask me to show my ticket. It’s funny, I was a professional stand-up comic in LA for years and got to meet most of my idols from Richard Pryor to Rodney Dangerfield to Jerry Sienfeld. I never felt starstruck or out of place. I always felt very comfortable in that environment. Comics, even legends, exist near the outskirts of mainstream society. We were admired and people liked us, more or less, but we really only fit in with each other.

The worst I ever felt impostor syndrome was when I started working in higher ed. I took over the public affairs office at the University of Alaska Southeast in Juneau. I was working with retired generals, published scholars, and people who ran political parties—the zenith of mainstream acceptability. The first time I was in a room with a bunch of PhDs, I felt like the cowardly lion from the Wizard of Oz disguised as a Castle Guard. I was like, how did they screwup so badly that they let me in—It must be obvious to everyone that I’m a lion dressed up like a guard. Right? I have a tail and a mane! How do people not see this? The hat doesn’t even fit on my head!  

Now that I’m in my 50s, I’m much more comfortable in my own skin. I look at life a lot like I look at writing or stand-up. It’s all about finding your voice.

What brings you great joy?

My children and grandchild are my greatest sources of joy. My book, Hidden Falls, is dedicated to them. Becoming a father changed me in profound ways. It made me a better person. It happened the moment I saw my first born. The idea that life was about me and my needs and desires evaporated. Before the birth of my daughter, love had always been this balm I sought to sooth my soul. Love was an object I desired, but having children made me change my view. I now see love as selfless; it’s without an object. This change of perspective changed my life.

What brings me joy that is that my children exist. That I get to spend time with them and watch them grow into the wonderful, caring, beautiful people they are. And my granddaughter is joy personified. She is 21-months old, and to imagine life though her eyes is to see all the magic and wonder in the world. We go on walks every day, and she waves to every passing car, and to the big trees, and the birds, and she is fascinated by wildflowers and the feeling of moss growing on bark. All she wants is my presence, and my iPhone. She also always wants to play with my iPhone…