Scott Heim: The New Gay Interview

We Disappear is the long-awaited new novel from acclaimed gay author Scott Heim. Heim burst on the scene with his powerful debut, Mysterious Skin, a disturbing look at childhood sexual abuse and sexual identity. The book went on to become a critically acclaimed film. The follow-up novel, In Awe, was, in my mind, underrated. Mostly remembered for its eye-catching cover (a photo of a test-tube of urine), it’s a tense thriller about misfits, bullying and unhealthy obsessions written in beautiful, stylish prose. In We Disappear, Heim continues to mine dark territory, as the novel mixes autobiography (Scott and his late mother are both characters in the book), forensic and crime fiction. Heim graciously agreed to be interviewed for TNG.


The New Gay: What inspired you to write "We Disappear"?

Scott Heim: I've always been fascinated, obsessed even, with books and TV shows about unsolved murders, cold cases, forensic science, mysteries, and so on. I probably got this from my mother-- she was interested in these things when I was growing up, and she also worked at a prison and had lots of friends in law enforcement.

Many times when I get inspiration for my work, it's from something in one of these books or TV shows, or perhaps some newspaper article about a specific case. But my inspiration for We Disappear came from another place, too. I was very affected by my mother's illness and death, and the intensity of experiencing her death with her made me want to somehow weave those emotions into a narrative about the things that she and I had always been fascinated with. The book is a merging of autobiographical elements--pieces from my experience with her--and fictions I created, mysteries behind the "real" characters in the book that propel the story forward.

TNG: It's a mixture of autobiography and fiction. How did the unique narrative structure evolve?

SH: I hadn't planned for it to be that way originally. In its early stages, the book was about a Kansas farm family who gets involved in young girl's accidental death, but then, because of their own family secrets, has to cover up the death; therefore, the mother in the family becomes obsessed with other missing children. But as I wrote the book, and approached the ending, the story just wasn't working for me. I wasn't sure how I wanted to end it, at least in a way that would satisfy both me and the reader. I kept abandoning the novel, rethinking it. And then reality took over. In 2003 I went back to Kansas to take care of my mom when she was dying. And in the middle of all that confusion and grief, I started realizing a new way to write the story, a way that would incorporate myself and my mother as characters. I knew that this new format could prove emotionally difficult for me but would also be challenging and exciting.

TNG: You're a big horror movie fan, and your fiction deals with dark subjects. Who are your favorite filmmakers? Do you see a correlation between your writing and those films?

SH: I'm a big fan of vintage Dario Argento films, but unfortunately I don't really care for anything he's done since "Opera." I can't say there's much of a correlation between his storytelling (or lack of it!) and mine, although I do admire his maximalism and his aesthetic of creating beauty out of horror and violence. My favorite horror films are probably the ones that make the viewer think, that cause lingering nightmares, that work their magic not during the immediate viewing but long afterward. A lot of these aren't considered out-and-out "horror." But Michael Haneke's films, for example. Most of David Lynch. Hitchcock, of course. Let's see... Eyes Without a Face. In a Glass Cage. Dawn of the Dead. The Tenant. The Exorcist. Todd Haynes's Safe, which I consider a horror film above any other genre, really.

TNG: Do you have any anecdotes of the "Mysterious Skin" movie-making process? Did you like the process of converting your story to another medium?

SH: Mine was a great experience. I feel very, very lucky-- most writers I know, if they have a story about book-into-film at all, only have negative things to report. But not me. It took a long time: one company optioned the book, and I wrote a screenplay, and it seemed as though it would be made, but then at the last minute it fell through, nothing happened, and there was a long period of silence. I thought, well, I'll know not to get too overconfident next time. But I'd become pals with Gregg Araki; he'd read Mysterious Skin and liked it a lot, and we discovered we had identical tastes in music. And he was so convinced that an eventual movie should and could be filmed. He adapted his own script, figuring out ways to make the more difficult parts of the book filmable, and then in 2002 or so, the producers got behind it and everything started picking up steam. I have such fond memories of all of it. Because the movie was so low-budget, it was a labor of love on pretty much everyone's part-- no one made any money, but all of us became friends. I got to tag along to the film festivals with Gregg and Mary Jane (the main producer) and the main cast, and for a couple of months it was like we were this happy little family. We were all really proud of what we'd done, and it was terrific when the reviews were so positive and the film seemed to affect people like it did.

TNG: Did you meet Robin Guthrie and Harold Budd, who did the soundtrack?

SH: Yes. I met Harold first, right after Gregg finished a rough cut of the film-- I went out to LA and Gregg had a special screening for cast and crew. I remember I'd just had surgery on my face (don't ask-- it's a long story) and my lip was swollen to the size of a lime, so Harold didn't really get to see me at my most attractive. But I was so supremely honored and thrilled that he did the soundtrack. Seriously, Harold was and still is one of my musical heroes. And Robin-- god, I can't even begin. I've worshiped the Cocteau Twins since I was fifteen. I connected with him at a couple of the festivals, and then he actually stayed at my house in Boston once when he did a solo show there. Falling asleep in my house, knowing that Robin Guthrie is sleeping in the room downstairs-- surreal, to say the least.

TNG: You live with another writer (historical fiction author Michael Lowenthal). Do you help/influence each other?

SH: It would be great if I could say "yes," but I think the answer is probably closer to "no." We really admire and respect each other's work. I'm constantly floored by his talent and his discipline. And obviously he's the person I love most in the entire world. But we have pretty different writing styles, and likes and dislikes, and the world of publishing is such a difficult, brutal business, that we've decided NOT to act as each other's critic or helper along the way. For instance, I didn't read his last novel until it was in galley form. I know he's recently finished something new, but I've waited to ask him about it until he's ready to discuss it.

TNG: Who are you reading now?

SH: I've recently been through a huge William Maxwell kick, and I want to devour everything he wrote. I must admit that I tend to go back and re-read the authors I worship the most; there's very little I see in the bookstores that truly excites me and makes me say "I wish I'd written that." But that's the beauty in a lot of the writers I admire most-- there's always something new to learn from, every time the reader goes back to those books.

TNG: Finally, The New Gay loves music. Who are you listening to these days?

SH: The new Grouper album has been the soundtrack of the end of my summer. It's so otherworldly and moody and great. Let's see, what else... Lindstrom. Lights Out Asia. Pivot. The new Mogwai. My friend Anna-Lynne Williams, who sings with Trespassers William, just released an album under the name Lotte Kestner, and that's really quiet and beautiful. I've also been obsessed with listening to 70s sappy ballads, things that I heard on AM radio when I was a kid. I've been downloading a ton of one-hit wonder type balladeer bands and burning sappy mix CDs for friends.