Eli Cranor
Ozark Dogs
DOSSIER: You didn’t expect DON’T KNOW TOUGH to win the Edgar Award for Best First Novel. You didn’t even prepare a speech. How does that style of thinking affect your approach to other things like helping out around the house? Do you throw a perfect spiral of dirty clothes into the hamper and think, MVP?
CRANOR: I’m crazy superstitious. My mom is partly to blame for that. I grew up with her always making me throw salt over my shoulder and say “Rabbit, Rabbit,” at the start of each month. I didn’t write a speech because I was afraid I’d jinx myself, or something. As far as helping out around the house goes—I can’t afford not to be prepared. I’ve got two kids under the age of six. If I don’t have a game plan, they’ll eat me alive.
DOSSIER: After you and your editor ended up cutting 40,000 words from OZARK DOGS, did you write BROILER by the seat of your pants and just let the story flow? (Now everyone is dying for those missing 40k words!)
CRANOR: For whatever reason, I just keep writing books by the seat of my pants. I really enjoy the actual process of writing. Planning, not so much. I always end up paying for this in revisions, though. When I finish a first draft, the heart of the book is there, the verve, but the plot is mostly a mess. Which is why you don’t want to see the scrapped 40k words of OZARK DOGS. Promise.
DOSSIER: When and where do you write, and what kind of environment do you prefer? (Music/silence/side of a railroad track/bed of a rusty pick-up truck?)
CRANOR: I write in my basement office real early in the mornings before my kids get up. Usually, that golden window of creative silence lasts about two hours. I listen to Miles Davis’s album “Kind of Blue” on repeat (I’ve been doing this for going on seven years now). I drink one cup of black coffee. Our house overlooks a lake, and if time permits, I’ll go for a swim when I’m done. That’s my way of washing the words and the make-believe world away.
DOSSIER: When you lived in Sweden playing professional football … yes, the question is valid for those who aren’t familiar with your wild past, did you expect to win a national championship? I mean, all athletes say they expect to win, but if we transfer that to writing, nobody expects to win an Edgar Award. Which is better? The national championship or the Edgar you won for DON’T KNOW TOUGH?
CRANOR: I didn’t have any expectations when I went to Sweden. I didn’t know they had American football over there. I didn’t even know where it was on a map. I had a blast, though. Too much fun, probably. Drank a lot of Elk Brew. Scored some touchdowns, and in a round-about way, met my wife (she’s not Swedish). Although both the Swedish championship ring and the Edgar Award are both on my desk, that little Ed statue takes the cake.
DOSSIER: Some people live near powerlines; you have a nuclear cooling tower not far from your backyard. Is there a correlation there with the length of your epic beard? (Check your inbox for a shot from one of my tours in Afghanistan. It’s not a contest, but who wins? Come on, it’s always a contest!)
CRANOR: The nuke plant probably has more to do with my bald head than my beard. If I had to guess, I’d say the daily swims in the murky lake are the secret to my burly beard. Nothing grows facial hair faster than fish poop and cyanobacteria.
Website: elicranor.com
Jeff Circle 