Dusty to Polished: Ber
What sparks your urge to write, is it always the same?
Recently, I have learned that, whether I was aware of it or not, writing has always been a plural process for me: words, sounds, textures, sculptures. It can’t be one thing. The only part that I don’t think will ever change about my writing is that it is vital. My writing feels like a life practice. Although the relevance of sharing my writing tends to shift, it’s hard to imagine a life without writing. My urge comes from a commitment to survival. While social relations and present iterations of capital suggest that it would be easier for my person and my culture to disappear, writing for me is the pact that keeps me present for myself —the thing that grounds the fantasy of singularity and my willingness for communality.
Do you follow a specific process or set of steps when editing?
Truly, I am not too keen on sharing secrets, but I also don’t take property very seriously, so I will say that reading out loud is probably the thing I have found to be most helpful when editing. I believe in the mouth-ear axis. If I can’t read it or hear it, why would anybody else? I should also mention that I believe in outlines and explicit goals. Editing implies some kind of affiliation to an outline and the disposition to change it as the text requires.
In general, my writing process at times is something like:
- I write until I can’t continue.
- I read what I wrote out loud and begin to change things that don’t sound good.
- Repeat 1, 2.
- Accept the given material as a speculative section to be momentarily put to rest.
- Move to a new section.
- 1 2 3 4 again.
- 5
How do you know when a piece is truly “done” and ready for publication?
Artworks are never complete, but they can become unsustainable and in some cases even a threat to life — that is where I draw the line. Editing and / or rewriting might have to be stopped eventually, and I guess one of the most valuable compasses for gauging when is intuition. You just have to know. Sharing my writing is wonderful. Still, I hear a call to reimagine what I envision as publication because something about it at times feels outdated. Lucrative publication (if it exists) is, unfortunately, as of current, desirable, for various reasons, some of them more interesting than others, of course. One of the good things about it seems to be that it can serve as a motivation to stop writing —to choose.
How would you describe your writing process with an image?
What do you think makes the writing community at The New School unique?
I will just say that it is a combination of incredible teachers and outstanding colleagues. Every time I attend a writing course, I am reminded that I am surrounded by people who write sincerely and passionately, even if it means something completely different person to person. I may not always agree with my peers’ ideas or enjoy reading what they have to say, but I still feel fortunate that we’re in this together because we somehow chose to be vulnerable at the same time. Every time I walk out of 66 W, I feel that I learned something. Teachers like Siddhartha Deb, McKenzie Wark, John Reed and Laura Cronk are exceptional in their contribution to the writing community at The New School.
Bio:
Ber N. Magda is a Mexican borderlands creator drawn to storytelling through writing and visual art. Their work explores fiction at the intersection of culture, desire, and capitalism. Ber has collaborated with artists and communities to question and expand traditional notions of authorship. Their projects have appeared in venues across Mexico, France, Germany, and the United States. Ber is currently pursuing an MFA in Fiction and Arts Writing at The New School.
IG: cenzontleamapola
Substack: https://substack.com/@berberberber
This interview series is produced by Hijab Ahmed