Creating a Container to Tell a Story
Author Bonnie Tsui on casting a wide net and weaving in the personal
“You have to be true to what you want to say.” —Bonnie Tsui, author of On Muscle
Preview: Emerging Form Episode 142 with Bonnie Tsui
When we asked bestselling science writer Bonnie Tsui what most surprised her about her newest book, On Muscle: The Stuff that Moves Us and Why It Matters, she laughed as she said, “It turned out!” Then she explained, “When you start writing a book of nonfiction, not just one person or one event, it ranges widely over time and across geography and culture and people, how do you create a container to hold that in a way that makes sense.” In this episode, we speak with Tsui about how to write a specific story that is also “an open door,” why poetry is a part of her research, how (and why) to pull in multiple disciplines in her storytelling, and how and why to weave the personal in with the science.
Bonnie Tsui is a longtime contributor to The New York Times and the author of the new book On Muscle: The Stuff That Moves Us and Why It Matters—a vivid, thought-provoking celebration of musculature and one of the most anticipated books of the year; it is currently being translated into six languages. Her bestselling books include Why We Swim, a New York Times Book Review Editors’ Choice and a Time magazine and NPR Best Book of the Year, and American Chinatown, which won the Asian/Pacific American Award for Literature. Her work has been recognized and supported by Harvard University, the National Press Foundation, the Mesa Refuge, and the Best American Essays series. She lives, swims, and surfs in the San Francisco Bay Area.
What We’re Reading and Listening to:
Rosemerry:
Perhaps, like me, you have a complicated relationship with rest. Meaning you don’t do it much. But what is at stake when we don’t? And why might rest be one of the most essential parts of our lives? I love the book The Sabbath Way: Making Room in Your Life for Rest, Connection and Delight by Travis West. With warmth, intimacy and compassion, Travis reframes Sabbath into a vital, joy-blooming, life-changing practice in service to delight and whole-being-ness. Nothing puritanical here. I found this book a refreshing, compelling invitation. Though it has a through thread of theology, it never feels preachy—it’s also filled with poetry, music, sociology, and psychology. And invites a lot of reflection.
Here’s something I’m not listening to this yet—but I am looking forward to. If you’re into trail running—or even if you’re not, but you are longing to listen to non-mainstream narratives—check out Earth Movers, a new podcast hosted by Alison Mariella Désir, Stefanie Flippin and Verna NezBegay Volker. They have years of trail, outdoor, and running experience, and they are established leaders in equity advocacy in the trail, outdoor, and running space. As they say on their site, “They’ve become friends, and they have a shared passion for making the trail scene inviting and welcoming to people of color and others who are underserved in this space.” Emerging Form’s amazing sound engineer, Cherie Turner, is also working on this project. The first 11-episode season begins August 14. You can find out more about Earth Movers at their kickstarter campaign.
Michael Simms, the founder and editor of Vox Populi, is also a talented poet, and I love the quiet spell he weaves in this poem—a memory of being with his grandfather that seems to have something to teach him, and me, now.
Christie: Is on vacation!
Hypertrophy
Perhaps it is like lifting weights,
the way we learn to carry grief.
At first we cannot lift it at all,
crushed as we are beneath it.
But then, because to live
we must move, we move
just the smallest measure.
With our lungs, it so happens.
And breath by breath, we lift grief
the tiniest increment.
That’s how it begins.
Oh the muscle of stubbornness.
How life longs to live through us,
even when we would rather give up.
How strange that the only way
to rebuild our strength
is first by breaking down.
The ache is great. Everything tires.
But eventually, the body repairs
what is damaged, relearns
how to carry what at first seemed impossible,
until we are familiar with the weight,
conversing with the weight, even smiling,
even laughing, even playing with the weight.
It’s like the way a mother’s arms
strengthen the longer she carries
her child. It’s like the way I once
could barely lift the barbell,
and then it was not that the weight
became lighter, but that I developed
until I could work with it better.
Does the weight ever lessen?
I don’t know. But I do know it’s easier now
to carry it. And sometimes
I need to change the way I hold it
in order to go on moving.
And sometimes I am simply
so humbled by grief I must
put the weight down and all I can do
is breathe.
And so I do. So I do.
—Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
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This week, we talk with Bonnie about what to do with all the darlings you cut from your manuscript, how she handles fear, and the art of recording your own audiobook. If you are not yet a paid subscriber, you can go now to our website, EmergingForm.substack.com, or by clicking the button below. Thank you!
Two Questions:
(share your answers with us here on Substack or in our FB group)
Why write a book?
How do you handle it when a person you wish would read your work doesn’t?
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Rosemerry, That poem is just exquisitely beautiful. I cried reading it. I am glad you are here, glad you are breathing. And I am sending you hugs.