Arts Laureate Emily Perkins is a writer of novels, short stories and plays. She has also taught at Te Herenga Waka Victoria University of Wellington’s International Institute of Modern Letters (IIML). Perkins’ latest novel, Lioness, is her first since The Forrests.
Q: How did your parents’ personalities shape your own character?
A: My mum just turned 80, and one of her biggest influences would be the value she placed on reading. As I got older, I was amazed to meet people who’d been told off for reading, because their parents felt they should be outside doing something, or being useful in some way. So I’m very lucky I was encouraged to read.
Q: And your father?
A: Dad died when he was 57, when I was 28, so it’s harder to talk about him, as I hadn’t really known him as an adult. I’d also been living overseas for four years before he died. I came home when he was dying, and had those last three weeks with him, but he was really unwell. Dad was lovely and I do know he loved being in nature, and so do I. He was very appreciative of the outdoors, a gin and tonic and a cigarette. Ideally, all those things at the same time.
Q: You were 16 when you played Fran in television series Open House in 1986. Then you studied acting at Toi Whakaari: NZ Drama School. Why did you turn your back on acting?
A: I tried to be an actor until I was about 23. But I reached a point where acting wasn’t working out for me. I wasn’t getting the work, and I concluded I wasn’t good enough at it. There could be other reasons. Like not being ready as a person. Or I wanted my energy to go into something else. I didn’t like that feeling of disempowerment, either; of just waiting. Then I got into the undergraduate writing course at Victoria University, when it was taught by Bill Manhire, and off I went.
Q: It’s rather brave, for your back-up career after acting, to pick something similarly unstable.
A: At drama school, they were always wanting us to take risks – to be vulnerable or let things go. At 18 and 19, I found that really difficult. Back then, I didn’t want to risk anything. I was just trying to keep myself together. By the time I got to the writing course – there’s a big difference between 19 and 23 – I didn’t feel I had as much to lose, so I was able to throw myself into it. It was such a great environment, too, a brilliant mixture of structure and freedom.
Q: What shape did your OE take?
A: I went to London with no idea of what I’d do or how long I’d be away. I didn’t have much money, either, but Fergus Barrowman – he published Sport and is now publisher at THWUP [Te Herenga Waka University Press] – introduced me to Peter Straus from Picador in London. Peter read one of my short stories and told me to send him some more. So, I’d type these little stories out and send them to him one at a time, either by post or fax. After I’d sent him about five or six, he invited me in for a chat.
Q: Pretty soon, you’d published anthologies and novels. Then, in 2013, you returned to Wellington to teach at IIML. How did you change gears from writing to teaching?
A: I’d done some teaching in the UK and at Auckland University, so I’d been working out who I was as a teacher. Because teaching is very personal, it has to come from who you are. I also drew on my drama school experience and tried to get the students to take the sorts of risks encouraged there. I also felt really sincere in my teaching. I believe in the processes, in those ways of communicating with other people, how you approach the world and your own self. Those things are all incredibly life-enhancing.
Q: Having two artists in one household [Perkins is married to artist Karl Maughan], is there any crossover, or conflict? Did either of you contemplate a more stable career to support your family?
A: Neither of us had that sort of practical mindset, but Karl’s got a really good discipline with his art practice – although his processes are different to mine. But if I’m ever stuck, it’s certainly great to talk to him about what I’m working on, to unhook myself. Not that he says “do this” or “do that”, but he is very encouraging. He also knows I’m most happy when I’m writing, so he’s all about facilitating an environment where I can write. He’s a massive enabler.
Q: What was behind your stopping teaching at the end of 2020, and how did the next chapter unfold? Did you feel rudderless for a spell?
A: I needed to return to writing full time. I had a play [The Made] and a novel to complete. I was part way through both and I needed to dive into them. But I missed teaching when I left. I missed my colleagues and being part of a team, I loved the different students every year, too. So I now work to find a balance between solo writing and writing that involves other people. Which is one of the reasons I’m drawn to writing drama. But teaching full time, I didn’t have enough imaginative space. When you’re working alongside your students, drawing them out, it’s very rewarding and satisfying, but there’s no time for your own stuff. Even though it was a difficult decision, as it was a dream job, that was the catalyst for me leaving.
Q: How did your latest novel percolate?
A: Lioness was brewing for a long time. There were so many drafts, but I’m glad it took as long as it did, because my thinking kept developing whenever I had space from it, which makes it a richer book for the time it took. My early ideas were centred around what happens to people who are experiencing a kind of public crisis, a semi-scandal with societal disapprobation. What does that feel like? I was also interested in a female character coming to a point where she realises that what she had lived by and what she’d bought into, maybe those things weren’t serving her any more – that the things she’d been aspiring to, they’re now the things she needs to get over or give up.
Q: The humanities have been taking a hammering of late; arts degrees are falling out of favour. What do you make of all that?
A: I can’t believe I’m actually saying this because it seems so obvious, but it’s urgent for the humanities to receive better support and the arts to be better funded. This isn’t a new idea, but we’ve got stuck in this vocational way of thinking – that people must train for specific jobs and then perform as good little economic units for decades to come. That’s such a narrow way to see the world.
Q: Your children are 18, 21 and 23. Do they still read?
A: They all still read. Really interesting things, too. And that is the thing that makes me most happy, and most proud.
Lioness, by Emily Perkins (Bloomsbury, $32.99) is available from July 4.
