Ruthie Marlenée

Ruthie Marlenée is the Mexican-American author of Agave Blues, Isabela's Island and Curse of the Ninth and is currently working on the sequel, And Still Her Voice. A Pushcart nominee, Marlenée's work can be found in several literary publications. She was born and raised in Orange County, California, and lives in Los Angeles and the desert in the Coachella Valley with her husband.

Instagram: @ruthiemarlenee

Twitter: @MarleneeRuthie

What’s the oddest thing a reader has ever asked you?

I had a reader once ask whether I’d really killed someone like my protagonist did in my fiction novel. Because what I’d written was so believable and based on certain real events, she couldn’t believe I hadn’t been involved in some sort of murder. I’d like to think that was a testament to good writing.

Is there a work of art that you love? Why? Have you ever visited it in person?

I suppose I’d always noticed Vincent Van Gogh’s works of art, but then after reading Irving Stone’s “Lust for Life,” I gained a new appreciation for Vincent. It’s easy to understand why he might be a universal favorite. But for me, the Why? goes to the idea of Imposter Syndrome. I worry about calling myself a writer amongst so many talented writers, including those I try to surround myself with. Vincent admired certain of his contemporaries, the impressionists Paul Gauguin, Camille Pissarro, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec and Monet. After a favorable review full of praise in a leading art magazine, Van Gogh even wrote that only one artist, Paul Gauguin, was deserving of such praise. I traveled to London, England where I visited his “Sunflowers.” From there I flew to Paris, France and straight to room 71 in the Musée d'Orsay to visit a “Self-Portrait.” “Starry Night” was of course another favorite and I visited the original in New York. I visited the “Bulb Fields” while in D.C. I visited the Norton Simon when they had Van Gogh’s “Bedroom” on loan. And, of course, I visited his “Irises” more than once at the Getty while living in Los Angeles. Before the virus hit, I had a trip planned to visit the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam. Someday. Now that things are a little calmer, I look forward to experiencing the “Immersive Van Gogh” when I return to Los Angeles next month.

Do you have another artistic outlet in addition to your writing? Do you sew? Paint? Draw? Knit? Dance?

I’ve tried and liked them all, but it was piano that took me away. After 8 years of lessons, unfortunately, I was only able to memorize the “Baby Elephant Walk” which my piano teacher said I played too fast. I remember during a piano recital, I’d also played Chopin’s “Prelude in C Minor” too fast. I was always in a rush to escape to the outdoors. When no one was around, I pretended I was Bugs Bunny playing Hungarian Rhapsody (as I’m writing this, I’m cracking up at the Tom & Jerry version of it on YouTube!) We always had a piano at home but when my daughter went off to college, I sold the baby grand. I’d scaled back and there was no room, besides I needed the money. I’d love to have a piano again to play like no one’s listening.

What do you worry about?

So much. Like, how can the world keep going on like this? It’s a question I’m sure we’ve been asking for centuries. And yet, here we still are. I worry about my children, my grandchildren, and my husband. I worry about Writer Imposter Syndrome. Not that I want to project, but I worry that this 3rd novel of mine is doomed to fail. And yet, I know everything will be okay. It’s not like it’s the end of the world. I’ve survived the heartbreak of my other two novels. The first was when my publisher drowned on the eve of publication. Her death was truly unexpected and then her publishing company went bankrupt. And then on the launch of my second novel, Covid-19 struck, and there went any buzz and the book tour that I’d worked so hard to create. Perhaps, like Vincent Van Gogh, my work will be appreciated posthumously. (So I suppose I also worry about not being appreciated;).

Do you speak a second language? Do you think differently in that language? Does it influence your writing?

I grew up speaking English, Spanish, and Spanglish -- now Spanish, only in a pinch. I used to dream in Spanish, even wrote poetry in Spanish. But how can you speak Spanish anymore, if there’s no one left to speak the language? How can you play piano, if you have no piano?