Meet the Writer: Alex Behr

I’d like to welcome to Grab the Lapels the author Alex Behr. She writes and publishes interviews, essays, book reviews, and fiction. To read more from Behr, check out her website. I read through some of her work, and many of her published essays are about the process of adopting her son. You can also find Behr on Twitter.

GTL: What was the hardest part of writing your book, Planet Grim, which will be released October 12 by 7.13 Books?

AB: Since it’s a story collection, I wanted the stories to have reverberations with each other, although they were written, in some cases, decades apart. I come from a particular late 1980s–’90s music scene from San Francisco/East Bay that could be sardonic and nihilistic, but we also did covers of, say, song-poems sincerely (and tongue-in-cheek). You can have both. You don’t have to be didactic and humorless. Honoring the noble fail. (Is it a fail?).

book cover planet grim

With my stories, the hardest part was judging whether they were “working” or not. A lot of workshops pile on the same requirements: did the characters “serve” the story; was the ending “earned”? Is it full of “received” language? You can see the layer of puritanical, corporate slatherings on flattened letters on a page. Over and over with thousands of stories throughout workshops in the U.S. this is happening. When I teach as a visiting writer, the main teacher uses state-derived standards to apply the same rules. Kids are taught formulas, and many who can so brilliantly tell oral stories never enjoy putting them in writing.

I added stories that were from free-writing, diary entries, found letters, and quotes from friends to blow through the pressure of what a story or book experience should be. If I had the money or means I would do even more (art, scratch-and-sniff, videos, music, etc.). I’m going to record a story soon with an actor/writing friend, and I’m going to perform a reading at Adobe Books in San Francisco with a friend’s sound effects in October.

I’m used to being in bands where, as a bass player or keyboard player, I could be in the background, and this process of putting a book out, including sending copies of advanced readers to a few friends and reviewers, has caused a lot of anxiety, even at the level of I don’t want my mom and dad to read the drug or sex scenes. Ick.

GTL: What did you want to be when you grew up, and does this choice influence your writing today?

AB: I shouldn’t feel ashamed as a feminist, but my earliest memory from kindergarten is wanting to be a teacher and a mom; hey, it was 1970. I then wanted to be a rock star. I had fantasies of living with Jeff Beck in his castle. It took a long time to realize that no matter how much I felt I was Jim Morrison’s spiritual partner he was, in fact, a spirit. Not even visiting his grave in Paris dispelled that fantasy. I now am a mom; my former husband and I adopted our son from China in 2005. My son’s about to go into 8th grade. My band, the Double U, broke up. My marriage broke up. And I’ve written a lot about those events. Most recently here and here. Some of my fiction stories in the collection are mutations from my life: “Courtship of Eddie’s Father” (I was at an adoption meeting as the one in that story); “A Reasonable Person” (I was a jury member in a “domestic” murder trial — a perversion of the word domestic).

Behr with aspirations to be a teacher or mom

I teach fiction and creative nonfiction in Portland public high schools occasionally through Writers in the Schools, but most of my income these days is through copyediting (I used to write educational material until the recession). It’s not the glamorous life I’d hoped for, but one of my favorite lessons when I teach is called “Soundtrack of My Life.” So it all flows together. I still play classical piano and we talk about bringing stories to pieces. Then I bring those musical ideas to writing.

GTL: Are there aspects of your writing that readers might find challenging to them?

AB: Yeah, I would say some people might not like my sense of humor, which can be crass. Others might find the experimental pieces troubling (does the word experimental remind you of a nine-hour movie of fingernails glued on a rock?) or won’t take the time to slow down. But “Angel Dust,” for instance, was freeing and fun to write (I took a flash fiction class last winter at The Attic). I took a hybrid workshop recently with Shayla Lawson, and realized I have written a hybrid book! We read aloud and discussed hybrid examples from Dao Strom, Samiya Bashir, Claudia Rankine, and Maggie Nelson through these lenses: classification, insertion, annotations, and speed. I would welcome any reader who finds something I wrote challenging to look at it from just one of those lenses. John Waters once said (I lazily paraphrase) that even in a movie he hates, he can always find something to like: the wallpaper; a fringed lamp.

GTL: I see you have taught creative writing in high schools. In what ways do being a creative writing teach affect your own writing process?

AB: I feel humble. Lots of kids have so many more struggles than I ever had or will have. They can express them so directly. And they surprise me. One student from Mexico chose a Nina Simone song, “Blackbird,” as her inspiration while writing about escaping her dad, who had beaten her mom, and how she withdrew emotionally from everyone. I can’t quote directly from it, due to her privacy, but her story and many others stay with me. Some kids hate writing and treat the classes as a joke. But I try to find at least one thing that they like. I don’t know if it’s affected my writing process, but I’ve learned from other teachers, too, especially how they approach lesson plans and welcome all students into writing at whatever level. Some kids enter high school classes knowing little English or have psychological struggles that make classrooms painful to be in. But sometimes, simply having students complete sentences such as “In this place I never feel ……” can be powerful.

I left Cleveland HS on Election Day feeling completely optimistic. I sobbed when Trump won. The next time I went back to teach I saw posters throughout that said all people were welcome, all handmade, in many languages. That was the first time I felt somewhat better. I feel teaching is a social justice action I can take to show kids that their stories do matter. If I felt helpless, I would not write.

poster up at Cleveland HS the week after Election Day

GTL: In what ways did academia shape your own writing when you were a student?

AB: I didn’t study writing as an undergrad. I had the feeling that I needed an entire story or novel in my brain before I started (Maybe that’s the case for some!). I took my first UC-Berkeley Extension class in my early 30s, and went to grad school at 42. I was naïve about what an MFA could do for my career (basically nothing). Academia shaped my writing in two contradictory ways: 1) reading even more all the time, all different styles, worldviews, writing, thinking about writing, research, heavy brain use, new friends, loving their writing, loving them, but also debt until death; 2) classes in which fellow students and sometimes teachers could be cruel. Even while writing my book, long past grad school, I took one section to a novel writing class, and a student said he felt suffocated, couldn’t wait to walk away, etc. He hated my writing (and he was writing a zombie story set among homeless people with whimsical names). I almost took the story out of my collection because I didn’t want to suffocate anyone! But then I calmed down and quit the class instead.

It’s hard to take in praise; it’s easier to take on criticism. What I learned from academia: find people who make you feel good. Try to make others feel good. Sew them presents. Make them jam. Be generous. Be grateful that someone wants to put out your book in a world full of books. Be generous to yourself (as a single mom for the past year — my son’s dad has been in China — I’ve taken more classes just to force myself to have fun writing). In fact, I’m taking a poetry class this fall with a chapbook focus. 1) Poetry scares the fuck out of me; 2) What else is there in life besides seeing what scares you?



  1. Great interview! Planet Grim sounds interesting. I loved this: “What I learned from academia: find people who make you feel good. Try to make others feel good. Sew them presents. Make them jam. Be generous.”


  2. Thank you for hosting another fascinating interview, Melanie! I know I’ve said this probably a billion times, but I love the questions you ask. It’s so obvious that you took time to get to know your interviewee ahead of time and want to give them an opportunity to shine. What was your experience with Behr’s work prior to this interview?

    Alex Behr: Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts with us! I found the answers to Melanie’s questions quite captivating. I appreciate that you are willing to go your own way and stand-up for happiness. You’re right– it’s definitely easier to take criticism and critique than accepting compliments and happiness. I wish more people thought like you when it came to sharing your happiness! I also love that you’re stretching what it means to have the written word. As a musician, I find that I write very differently depending on the music I’m listening to. I’ve gotten into the habit to listen to the same playlist every time I write a book review so I keep my perspective aligned. How have you found that the music you create and listen to changes how you write?


    • Wow, what music do you listen to when you write reviews, Jackie? I have a hard time focusing when I listen to music because I’m so into the music. I’ve tried listening to instrumental songs, especially Midori’s work, but then I get all mad that I wasn’t focusing on the song!

      I hadn’t heard of Alex Behr before this interview. I was approached by another blogger about hosting Behr for the Meet the Writer series as part of her book blog tour.

      Liked by 1 person

      • When I’m writing book reviews, I always listen to “Video Game Music for Studying Vol. ##” — there are something like 25 of these YouTube videos which all play soothing and subtle music. I find that since it’s repetitive video game music it’s easy for me to let it cycle in the background without noticing it, but it also helps me focus my thoughts in the same way white noise would. White noise makes me really agitated, so I avoid those sorts of sounds. Instead, repetitive calming music does the trick. I’ve listened to them often enough that I know all the transitions and such, too, so I don’t even get distracted by that. But when I write poems, short stories, emails, do work, etc. I will listen to other music. Different things inspire different reactions from my brain!

        I’m glad you hosted this interview, Melanie! I found it really fascinating.


    • Listening: I tend to be an obsessive listener to my personal playlists on iTunes, so to break out of that I listen to a lot — so much so that I should send them $5/month! (I have a bad music setup in that all my CDs and LPs are downstairs, but laptop is upstairs, so I’m locked into whatever’s up here.) I worked on a memoir for about five years, until my lengthy breakup/divorce, and a lot of the chapters were linked directly to song titles / moods that were sometimes literal and sometimes obscured or private jokes. In Planet Grim, I named some newer stuff after songs, sometimes taking on the persona of the musician or aspects of rock musicians I’ve known — so that’s direct — or the feeling of being at a punk show. And sometimes the song titles are more ironic, like naming an “interview” with my son when he was little about what he thought sex was after a Flipper song (Flipper is very abrasive — contrasts w/ innocence of son and his strange thoughts). Not sure that answers your question? I’m not sure how music changes how I write, per se, except that I’ve accepted for now that the fragmentation in parts of the book comes from a fragmented personal state, and that musicians I admire from classical times to now have experimented. I love the storytelling that comes out of piano lessons and that makes me feel endorphins = helps with WANTING to write. I desperately miss being in a band. Not sure how that will happen in future. xo

      Liked by 2 people

      • Thank you for such a thorough and thoughtful response! Yes, this does answer my question– it seems like the music you’re ingesting, whether in the moment you write or in your memory, certainly seeps concretely into your writing. I wonder how many of your musical references are blatant to your reader and how many which seem blatant to you are more often missed? We might never know, but that’s fun to think about.
        There is so much storytelling hidden in music. I completely understand how it inspires you to keep writing. Keep dreaming. You’ll play in a band again someday. 😀


    • It’s always helpful when I have a writing residency at a high school if the teacher lets kids play music. One teacher claimed music doesn’t help writing — but she was the boss of that classroom! I am so happy my son’s (finally) reading on his own — well, for school — he reads on his phone now and listens to music. Last year it was audiobooks. Before that, his dad mostly read to him.


      • I have a new love affair with audio books. Because they’re a different medium, I can listen to an audio book and do a paperback book at the same time. Well, not the EXACT same time, but overlapping timelines. 🙂


        • I’m really happy when my son listens to audiobooks, but I think in 8th grade it’s crucial he can read for long periods of time for pleasure / not obligation (but I hope he listens to more audiobooks, too). Luckily, the Mult Co library system in Portland has an excellent audiobook library. My to-do list is signing up for magazine downloads (my splurge = too many unread magazines).


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