Q. Why do you write? And what are some of your motivations?

I started working labor-type jobs when I was fourteen. I continued with such jobs (carpenter's apprentice, warehouseman, lineman's assistant, truck driver, etc.) in order to support myself and cover my college tuition. Took me a long time to get through school, sometimes working two jobs while still attending classes. At this time I read a lot of Erskine Caldwell, Steinbeck and others that seemed to have an affinity with the working world. I encountered lots of characters and witnessed many amusing, interesting, absurd situations that were in stark contrast to life at the university. I began to take notes and thought of putting some stories together to try and portray all this. That was my original motivation.

Now, non-fiction-wise, I just want to continue addressing my specific social concern, which is Alaska Native education. My other writing is an attempt to create scenes, feelings, instances, or ideas that capture a certain essence of a place, people, or an incident, be it in Southeast Asia or Alaska. I¹'m not delusional about my writing: some people like to go bowling, others collect stamps, and some are into archery. I fiddle with writing and appreciate it when something is published. It's like catching a fish.

Q. What is your writing process like? Do have any quirky writing habits?

With computers coming on the scene, of course, my writing process changed greatly. Now I write on the computer and get the piece as close to being finished as I can. Then I start printing it off and working on the hard copy. I make changes on the hard copy and then correct the computer draft. I usually wait a while before printing it off and then doing the same thing again and again. Depending upon the length and complexity of the work, I can end up doing this a ridiculous number of times, resulting in using lots of paper and printer ink. There comes a time when I believe I'm done with this process, and I tell myself I'm finished. Seems, though, there is always an error that I don't discover until it's off to be published. The amended printed drafts are tossed under my desk in a big pile. When the snow goes away in May, I take them out and get a big blaze going in my burn barrel.

Q. You have been involved with Alaska Native education for 35 years. Despite the extreme temperature differences, do you see any similarities between rural Alaskan village culture and rural village culture around Southeast Asia?

Villages in Northeast Thailand and Western Alaskan, from my experience, share many similarities that I suspect may be present in villages anywhere. Elders are respected. There is a strong sense of community. Extended families and neighbors support each other, watch out for everyone else, and keep traditions alive and strong. Aunties, uncles, and cousins are everywhere, tending and caring for any child no matter whose it is. Rituals and ceremonies maintain the ties between the people as they work together to subsist and battle any adversities. Everyone in such places shares tragedies. And, of course, the power structure can sometimes be quite mysterious; it may not be evident to any outsider where the authority truly lies.

The main difference that separates the remote villages in rural Alaska from many other small communities is, due to the remoteness, extremes in weather, and the few economic incentives present there, the indigenous, aboriginal people remained isolated for a very long time. Western influences have come relatively recently. Many villages went from the Stone Age to the Space Age in a very short time period: just in a person's lifetime. Subsistence was a full-time activity and the people faced extreme hardships. With the onslaught of outsiders arriving, diseases ensued as well as the difficulties that arose handling such drastic changes so quickly. The outsiders, the non-natives, were there "to help and do what was best" for the people; be they missionaries, schoolteachers, medical personnel, or the law. So the Native people took on a very subservient relationship with their visitors. This possibly has happened to some extent in various other places, but it occurred to the extreme here.

Q. You seem to have published everything from plays to academic journal articles. What do you find appealing about writing short fiction?

I was always greatly impressed by Hemingway's short fiction because it is more than just the evident narrative. There is something else, a substance, which you can't identify, put your finger on, or grab a-hold of. I believe he called it the fourth dimension. It is a very difficult thing to do. I don't try to write like him, but I am interested in trying to create a successful, accurate portrayal of events. And, of course, they are almost always based on true occurrences. Short fiction provides the opportunity to focus on an instant in life and present it without having to provide all kinds of exposition. It is satisfying to avoid, as much as possible, explaining this and explaining that.

Q. What is your most memorable experience about having lived or traveled in Southeast Asia?

One memorable experience is a part of "The Bear, the Coconut Shell, and the Buddhist Doctor." I was fortunate to actually witness this amazing doctor's healing of a severely asthmatic young girl.

Other than that, all my time in Northeast Thailand I treasure. The most unforgettable, but the saddest experience of all, was the funeral for my wife at a temple outside Khon Kaen. She was from that region.

I was also fortunate to have lived in Hong Kong for about four months. There I experienced a fascinating, mini-James Bond kind of life. That was certainly memorable.