Gina Nutt: The narrator in “Island” plant-sits for a character named Tabitha, who has taken off for a tryst with a topiarist. We get halfway into the story before we get a direct glimpse of the narrator—who it turns out is persona non grata at parties, limps, and has a mysterious link to a dermatologist. There’s also this moment when the narrator recalls Tabitha saying, “I just don’t trust Jennifers” and we never find out why. I love this. Could you share a bit about how you navigate the line between mystery and reveal in your fiction?
Claire Hopple: I try to reveal as little as possible while still making the story cohesive, understandable, and easily readable. It's tough to have that perspective, so sometimes I lean on first readers to ensure I'm not just typing total nonsense. But that mystery lets people interpret things; they can fill in the details to make the story more relatable to them. I think that's what all art should do, at least to some degree.

GN: What begins as a story about the narrator taking on a favor evolves to navigate tension between longing and disappointment. Following the not-search party, which has failed to attract Tabitha’s attention, the narrator says: “It’s my firm belief that after each and every party an ambulance should arrive and an EMT should lovingly place a blanket over your shoulders. But we can’t get what we want.” What do think motivates the narrator more—desire or disappointment?
CH: This is an incredibly insightful question. I'd love to hear your thoughts because it seems like you have an equally insightful answer. I think desire motivates her more, and that's why disappointment plays such a big role in her responses. When her desires are unfulfilled, it's especially crushing to her.

GN: The language and syntax in this story are spry, at times playful in their repetitions and phrasing. How do you see sentential effects informing the story’s atmosphere?
CH: Those effects inform everything. Personally, I care more about sentences than I do about plot. What really moves me to write is a playful experimentation with words. There's so much and so little control in what comes out, and it's striking how writing can be both at the same time.

GN: What’s in your creative mosaic? Books, music, restaurants, films, visual art, fashion, ephemera, architecture, anything that energizes your writing.
CH: Oh, I love this term. Definitely all of the ones you mention here, but especially books and films. Also travel, whether it's down the street or across the planet. Plus honesty—with yourself, others, your environment. That's the formula.