#293 Inside the Emotion of Fiction: the short story “Time Travel” from the short story collection LIGHT SKIN GONE TO WASTE by Toni Ann Johnson

LEFT: Toni Ann Johnson in her L.A. home office. March 2022.

What is the date you began writing this piece of fiction and the date when you completely finished the piece of fiction? It was so long ago, I don’t actually remember the exact date. I wrote the piece back in late 2012 or early 2013. It was published in February 2013 and as I recall it came out shortly after I’d written it. I remember that the writing of it came together fairly quickly, within a week to ten days. I don’t normally write that fast, but I’d been thinking about it for a number of years. I’d written an earlier version that I threw out back in 2008 while I was in graduate school.

When I finished this version, I sent the story out and it was accepted almost immediately, meaning within a couple of days. This is not an experience that’s ever happened again. It was the first short story I’d ever written and submitted and it was the first to be published.

Where did you do most of your writing for this fiction work? And please describe in detail. I was in my old office, in my house. This office used to have a green faux suede chair. The textured walls were yellow and there was green trim on the windowpanes and doors and the curtains were green. My wooden desk was a rust color with a panel of green in the front. Behind me was a window faced the backyard. Sometimes my desk faced the window. Sometimes I turned it the other way.

Toni Ann Johnson in her office where she wrote the short story “Time Travel” from her forthcoming short story collection LIGHT SKIN GONE TO WASTE.

What were your writing habits while writing this work- did you drink something as you wrote, listen to music, write in pen and paper, directly on laptop; specific time of day? It was too long ago to remember exactly what I drank, probably decaf coffee and herbal tea, though. I don’t think I listened to music while I worked on this particular story. I have used music on other pieces, but on this piece it wasn’t something I wanted to do. I wrote it in a notebook at first and then transferred it to a laptop Mac. I wrote this at multiple times of the day.

Please include just one excerpt and include page numbers as reference. This one excerpt can be as short or as long as you prefer.

Twenty-one years later I’ll run into you outside the Path Station in Hoboken in front of the wide green awning that leads down to the trains. Sounds of rumbling below and the din of chatter swirling, you’ll yell my name above the noise, saying it like a question, as if you could actually be unsure that it’s me.

I’ll turn and totter on the top step. Just in time. Seconds later and I’d be swept into the stream of bodies flowing to the tracks.

It’ll be shortly after 5pm on a late September weekday, humid and sunny, with air that smells of commuters caught in unexpected high heat. Perspiration will roll down my back and leak between the butt cheeks you used to make fun of.

I’ll squint against the sun and stare at you. You’ll smile with closed lips and brown eyes that’ll be gentler than I’ll remember. Several seconds will pass before you’ll say, “Wow. First time I’ve ever seen you away from home. Where’re you living these days?”

“Manhattan,” I’ll say.

“Oh. The big city,” you’ll say, like it’s a truly good thing.

I’ll nod. I won’t ask you anything. I’ll look at you and wait.

Suits of blue, black, gray, and tan will dodge and whoosh past us in both directions. Heels clicking on concrete, huffs and impatient scoffs; we’ll be in the way.

I’ll shield my eyes with one hand and be silent for so long it’ll feel impolite. You’ll hold a cheap gray suit jacket over one shoulder, your white collared shirt bearing sweat marks under the arms. You’ll smell of Obsession For Men, alluring and more sophisticated than the Old Spice I used to notice at the bus stop during high school, when you rarely spoke to me. Your chest will be broad and you’ll be slim, like me, which will mean something, because twenty-one years earlier we were chubby six-year-olds foraging together for Ding Dongs and Oreos my mother hid deep in the pantry so we wouldn’t overeat. We’d find them, and eat them all, and that thrill was a bond we shared.

But being connoisseurs of Nabisco Cookies and Hostess Snack Cakes, and being buddies from the time we could crawl, never made our bond as strong as the one you shared with every kid in the neighborhood but me.

This is page one and a bit of page 2

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Why is this excerpt so emotional for you as a writer to write? This story is based on a relationship I had with a childhood friend with whom I’d been close when we were babies but who stopped being a friend when he became aware that I wasn’t white. It was something that hurt me and stuck with me throughout my life.

And can you describe your own emotional experience of writing this specific excerpt? I was grieving my childhood as I wrote this and trying to find a new way of feeling about it. I intentionally wanted to write into the healing of this broken relationship.

Were there any deletions from this excerpt that you can share with us? There weren’t any deletions that I recall but there were some minor revisions in the last section of this excerpt. I had used “neither” and “nor” in that section, and during a writing workshop where I received notes about that, I changed it.