Please welcome author Emmanuella Hristova to the Reading Nook as we talk about their latest release of poetry, The day my kisses tasted like disorder.
How did you start writing poetry?
I
started writing poetry when I was in graduate school, when I fell in love for
the very first time. It was my first adult relationship and navigating all my
feelings while student-teaching grew too overwhelming for my heart. So, my
emotions spilled onto the page in order to empty my mind of the weight. At the
same time, after the relationship ended, I found out my sister was dying. This
was the most painful experience of my life—and I documented each changing
feeling, each nuance, in my notebook and then tucked it away for some time.
Nine months later, I had a book about love, loss, pain, grief, and overcoming.
Plotter
or pantster?
I
am both a plotter and a pantser. In my mind, I know how the book will begin and
how it will end, but I am a pantser in developing the middle and some of the
characters. I let my feelings and real-life experiences inspire the middle, and
I’m often pleasantly surprised by the results!
What
are three things you have on your writing desk?
My
writing desks have changed so much in the past year. I’ve traveled to five
countries, and currently find myself in Paris, France! Right now, my writing
desk is a tiny table in my one-room studio right next to the Eiffel Tower and
the Champ de Mars. It doubles as a makeup desk. But I would say I always have
my laptop, current manuscript I’m working on, electronic drawing pad and pen,
pens and pencils, drawing supplies, and a Moleskin notebook.
Tell
us a little about your new release. What character in the book really spoke to
you?
My
newest release is my short poetry collection The Day My Kisses Tasted Like
Disorder, which explores a tumultuous year of love, heartbreak, and all
kinds of unimaginable loss. This is my debut poetry book and it documents the
birth and death of a relationship, and the death of my sister. Each poem is an
emotional time-stamp that plunges the reader into the depths of my feelings as
they burgeon and wane. The book reads like a diary, because it used to be my
diary. But most importantly, it chronicles the boundaries of the things that we
all feel: passion, heartache, and pain that gives way to hope.
Finish
this sentence: I write because ____...
I
write because I live, because I feel, because I love.
What
is your favorite type of character to write about?
So
far, I’ve mainly written about myself, but in general I like to write
characters that have complex philosophical ideas about the world, politics,
ethics, and spirituality.
What
is the sexiest scene you ever wrote?
The
sexiest scene I’ve written is from the novel I’m currently working on. The main
character meets this sexy guy in Paris, and he tries to seduce her. Although
there’s no sex scene, there are all the thoughts and feelings that lead up to
one. Although she doesn’t sleep with him, her desire is definitely aroused and
then later she comes back for him.
What
is next on your writerly horizon?
I’m
currently editing my first novel, all these things i never said. It’s a
story about a religious girl who loses her faith in God and in her country
after her sister passes away. As a young adult, Emmy looks back on her
life—that of being a gifted daughter born to Bulgarian immigrants in the United
States. From a young age, she has the ability to see the future—but not even
that could prevent all the deaths in her family. Meanwhile in another realm, a
golden statue of another young girl wakes up. Once Zoe realizes who she is and
why she’s there, she has to embark on a perilous mission to save Emmy out of
the labyrinth-like castle she’s created in her mind. In the real world, Emmy
deals with the psychological trauma of losing loved ones too soon, and her
inability to make the American Dream materialize. She turns inward—to the
fantastical world she’s built for herself to hide from her grief. She’s guided
by fantastical sidekicks who help her out of this prison she’s lost in. The
world in her dreams, and in-between dreams, and she doesn’t know if she’ll make
it out alive.
Book genre: poetry
published by Emmanuella Hristova
Book blurb:
The Day My Kisses Tasted Like Disorder is a short collection of poems that explores a tumultuous year of love, heartbreak and unimaginable loss. It documents the birth and death of a relationship, and the death of my sister. Each poem is an emotional time-stamp that plunges the reader into the depths of my feelings as they burgeon and wane. The book reads like a diary and chronicles the boundaries of the things that we all feel: passion, heartache, and pain that gives way to hope.
Buy links:
The
preface.
When
the end was the beginning, and
the
beginning was the end.
For
Dora; I wish you were here.
June
23rd
In
the depth of
winter,
the flowers do not
bloom,
no fruits
appear,
the leaves
fall
off, and the tree looks
dead,
but deep in the
darkness
underneath,
the
roots grow
and
grow
and
grow.
The
beginning.
I
guess I should thank you,
because
you turned me into a poet.
upon
identifying the day
I
knew I loved you
the
moment I saw you
the
second time I came to
visit
you in The City and you
were
wearing a cerulean button-down
that
matched your eyes and you
had
just shaved your beard and
I
wanted to kiss you, but
not
like a nervous first kiss or
a
slobbery wet one; but rather,
the
kind of peck lovers give to one another
after
being together for years and
what
they’re passing between their lips
is
time.
September
21st
upon
telling you
The
air is cold on the rooftop,
running
across my bare shoulders
as
I tell you how I feel about you.
My
arm presses against yours;
yours
doesn’t move. I use it
for
support. Our bodies pressed
against
the cool, gritty concrete
of
the wall that keeps us from falling to
our
deaths down below.
Your
eyes wax, deep and
limpid
like
pools
of ocean water
that
I see into, staring back at me,
as
if you’re
seeing
me for the first time.
I
see the fear in your face,
breath
clutched
between
your lips like a
piece
of ice
stuck
in your throat.
You’re
afraid to exhale. Oh shit, oh shit,
oh
shit, say your eyes.
No
shit.
upon
telling me
I
am sitting in a middle school
classroom
at lunchtime when you
tell
me you want to kiss me. My
breath
stops in my throat. Instantly,
my
heart beats faster and faster
like
an unhinged train racing down
its
tracks. I was hungry before,
I’m
not hungry anymore. A heat
rises
from the depths of my soul,
steaming
the surface of my cheeks,
pouring
out over the tops of my breasts,
and
spilling out in between my thighs.
I
flush. My flesh heats up, unable
to
contain the fireworks exploding on
the
inside of my heart.
He
wants to kiss me.
And
these explosions
going
off inside me I imagine will be
bolder,
brighter, and more beautiful
when
you finally do.
September
22nd
I
remember the first time you tell me
I’m
pretty. We are in the kitchen; I’m
running
my hands under the cool water
of
the sink—water washing me before
I
begin my day. The mascara is
heavy
on my lashes, my lips pink,
smelling
like plastic pigments, the kinds
you
haven’t tasted on me yet. My
hair
spills down my neck because
I
go to sleep with it wet and in the
morning
wake up with crinkles.
My
arms cloaked in magenta chiffon,
soft
like strawberries on my skin,
framing
the cream a-line dress
that
blossoms on my body.
It
hugs my breasts, cinches my waist, and
falls
at the equator of my thighs.
You
appear at my side, mouth perpendicular to
my
ear, your pants billowing above
the
ground, puffing like pastries, popping like
popcorn
as your heels
bounce
up and down,
the
gaze of
your
ice-blue eyes
reaching
the ceiling.
You
look really pretty, you nod
and
tell me before you
bounce
away, back to where you
came
from,
and
I wonder
why
it’s taken you
so
many months to tell me.
Author Bio
Emmanuella Hristova was born in Oakland, California and grew up in the Bay Area. She is the third daughter to Bulgarian parents who immigrated to California shortly before she was born. She began drawing at the ripe age of four, and studied the fine arts for five years in high school. There, she received many art accolades including a Congressional award for her piece Boy in Red in 2009. In 2015, she received her Bachelor of Arts in Linguistics from the University of California, Berkeley. She began writing poetry at age twenty-four when she was in graduate school. She earned her Master's in Education from the same alma mater in 2017. Emmanuella spent two years as an English teacher in Richmond, California. During that time, she self-published her first poetry collection: The Day My Kisses Tasted Like Disorder. Currently, she is writing her first novel. She speaks English, Bulgarian, Spanish and is now learning French. You can find her on Instagram: @emmy_speaks, her website, Goodreads, and Amazon.
