SK: If a detective looked at your browser tabs right now, would they arrest you, call an exorcist, or buy you a weighted blanket?
JN: Listen. A Wikipedia Hole is like a K-Hole for people who aren’t cool enough to do drugs. Plus, you’re not human unless ChatGPT has actively made you cry at least once, ok?
So, Weighted Blanket. Obviously. But I already have two. Is Execution by Weighted Blanket possible? Keep piling them on and we’ll find out.
What’s a word you’ve used in a draft that you definitely don’t know how to pronounce?
Teetotaller.
When you’re stuck on a scene, grappling for a metaphorical weapon, do you precision-strike like a sniper, or spray and pray like Trump?
Spray and pray like Trump.
Are your characters named after ancient deities and celestial bodies, or did you just glance at a spice rack and decide ‘Cumin’ sounded heroic?
I’ll have you know that “Caliente Taco Blend” is an excellent redeemed villain.
If you could magically delete one trope from existence, which one are you throwing under the bus with zero regrets?
That when people go away, they eventually come back. Back to life, back to the lover they dropped, back for the half-eaten tuna sandwich. No.
That hamster is dead, man. No amount of prayer, grief, or lightning magic is going to make his little creepy clawpaws shoot back to life and get his little wheel squeaking again. Just throw him in a shoebox and bury him next to the swing set already.
Let’s ditch the trope and give the world what it really needs: an anxious attachment disorder.
If your WIP characters were ghosts, would they help you find your keys or rearrange your furniture to match the mess in your head?
They’d probably be the ones hiding my keys. And rearranging my furniture so I stub my toes while searching.
What font do you write in and why is it superior to everyone else’s?
Jeepers. No further comment.
Plotter or Pantser?
Even more unprepared than a pantser, I’m a Pantserpent. I slither through the plot without the legs that even make pants possible. Pants are leg jail anyway.
What’s your writing ritual and why is it a cursed superstition?
Sit down and write. It’s cursed because it doesn’t work.
What non-existent job do you wish existed?
Staring-off-into-Space General Supreme
What cartoon character best represents your ride or die? (Alternatively explain why ‘ride or die’ makes you go feral)
Wile E. Coyote. Say what you will about his half-flambéd schemes, but that prairie wolf is COMMITTED and CREATIVE and LOVES THE OUTDOORS. That’s really all anyone wants in a partner.
Which creature adds more joy to your world: butterflies or geckos?
Butterflies. It’s wild they house carrion just as much as vultures, but don’t get the bad rap of being disgusting creeps. That’s pretty privilege for you.
What’s the last thing you researched that has probably put you on a government watchlist?
How many onions can you sneak into a cheesecake before someone notices?
Your author’s bio as a clickbait headline?
The Worst Comedy Hack We’ve Ever Seen
Describe your latest WIP using three emojis and no context.
⚰️🌊🧠
‘Chaos Desk’ or ‘Aesthetic Nook’?
Blank white wall, framed sketch (self-drawn) of William Henry Harrison playing Ultimate Frisbee with Simone Weil.
Would you prefer a 1-star review that says ‘This changed my life for the worse’ or a 3-star review that says ‘It was fine’?
I got review for my activity book that said “My friend had to stop doing your book because it made him too depressed. Five stars.” That was a good one.
Are you an Ellipsis… (trailing off into mystery) or an Exclamation Point! (perpetually caffeinated and/or yelling)?
I’m an interrobang. Unconventional, overexcited, and plum confusing to the uninitiated.
Would you rather commit bookish blasphemy by dog-earring the pages of a rare first edition or reading the ending of every book before you start chapter one?
Existence is entropy. Fold the page.
In a post-apocalyptic world, is your primary contribution navigating by the stars or knowing which snacks stay edible the longest?
I’m really hoping I can skate by on just keeping morale high with my dazzling personality. That, and gracefully taking my turn at swatting away the zombies when they buzz too close to the porch light.
Who is your ultimate nemesis: the person who types ‘K’ as a full response or the person who leaves 1 second left on the microwave?
Blessed are those who leave one-second one the microwave display, for they shall protect us from pestiferous beeping.
If you had to turn into an animal for an hour every day, are you a Majestic Hawk (great view, very cold) or a Fat Housecat (great nap, very judged)?
Housecat. Someone will definitely call me Mr. Butter-Tub-Tubsters while jostling my rolls. Still, I will withstand the misgendering and body shaming to force my desperate need for cuddling on someone too feeble to move, like a senior citizen or really stoned college guy named Sean R.
Is ‘breakfast for dinner’ a symbol of freedom or a sign that society has failed?
Breakfast food in general is a sign of human weakness. Oh, you need to snort powdered sugar and cinnamon first thing in the morning to feel happy?? Pathetic. Eat savory foods at 8 AM like an actually resilient person, asshole.
What’s the most useless talent you possess that you humblebrag about?
I can cross just one eye at a time. And make every romantic prospect flee within three dates.
JEN NAFZIGER – YOU HAVE PASSED THE WRITER’S GAUNTLET!
THANK YOU FOR YOUR WIT AND WRITERLY WISDOM!
I’m a Midwestern U.S. farmgirl transplanted to Portugal who performs comedy in Lisbon’s best basements. My writing revels in the joyful absurdity of existence and the cosmic kaleidoscope of ways we’re sent to endure each other.
@JenTheStoryteller on IG.
