Interview with Author Matthew McAlister

Matthew McAlister's piece "The House Next Door" delivered the editors a quiet level of intriguing angst and a social commentary on humanity that raises more questions than it answers, which is something we love (when done well, of course). We let this story sink in throughout the reading period, as we often do with works with distinct styles or voice. If you haven't read it already, please do, and then come back here to learn more about the author as you let his craftfully written piece sink in.

What makes you keep writing, even when it's hard?

It makes me feel less lonely. It gives me a purpose. It gives me something to look forward to and dream about when otherwise things in the world are quite bad. It provides a convenient illusion: that if I do this thing well maybe somebody else will feel less lonely and maybe my life will have an additional sprinkle of meaning. It helps me better understand myself and the people around me, and work through difficult feelings. Also, it’s not always hard. Sometimes it is, but not always. Looking forward to the fun parts helps you get through the hard parts. 

Advice on creating that you’ve learned by trial and error.

The voice is the thing. All of my favorite stories by other writers have a specific and lived-in voice: works by Amie Barrodale, Denis Johnson, Kelly Link, Mary Gaitskill. Leaning into that or choosing specifically not to lean into that was an upgrade to my work. My most successful stories start with voice and find their plots in the end.

What's your favorite underappreciated novel or short story (a work you never hear anyone else talking about)?

The Butcher Boy by Patrick McCabe. I discovered it somewhat recently and it has had a tremendous influence on my writing. Very voicey, scary, one of a kind. There’s this narrow lineage of fun and nasty books about violent and troubled boys, the most famous of them is The Lord of the Flies, but this one is the best I’ve read.

What other lit journals are you into right now (and what do you like about them)?

I like XRAY, Booth, and The Drift. I think all three are phenomenal at curating new and interesting voices in fiction. I love that. Of course I also love reading stories by famous writers who are often famous for very good reasons, but it’s a special feeling to read something that punches you in the stomach and then you realize it’s somebody’s debut publication. 

One sentence soapbox: 

Stop complaining to your friends about the minutiae of your life because you’re making the people closest to you feel worse and try to be more grateful every day for your greatest blessing: having a person who listens to you. (I try to remember to tell myself this every day.)

What is your writing strategy? Do you write every day with a rigid schedule, or are you more flexible with your practice?

My goal is to hit 1,000 words six days a week, which I mostly do. I usually take off Sundays to rot around and play video games. I’m not always feeling inspired, so I’ll shift the exact time of day to account for that but ultimately I do it whether I’m feeling it or not. Recently I traveled to Mexico City and I fell into a rhythm of waking up and working then going for a run and coming back to the work later in the day which was very productive. It’s important for me to write every day or I’ll get hyperfixated on something else, like Resident Evil or building Gundams. 

When did you realize you were weird?

I don’t really remember. When and where I grew up, it was weird to read books. I always felt a bit like an outsider. In elementary school I remember I went over to this kid’s house, his name was Kyle. He was always mean to me but for some reason he asked me to come over. He had this small backyard, maybe a couple hundred square feet and his dad let him ride his dirt bike back there. It was this huge and smoking machine. He could only do donuts on it because the yard was so small. The yard was all torn up from this activity. Dirt and mud kicked up everywhere, and I stood on the porch watching him go around in circles and thinking about what to do with my hands. His dad asked me did I want a turn and I said no because I was afraid. Now that I’m in my thirties if he invited me over again I’d probably try to ride it. 

Do you think about your reader?

Yes, in a way. At first I write in a naturalistic mode, not thinking about any of that. Two strange things will come together in my head that make a story and I’ll be inspired to write it down. After that first draft, I do modulate it somewhat thinking about whether I’m giving the reader enough information, or what the emotional payoff might feel like. But I try really hard to keep the spirit of whatever I made. Nobody but my closest friends will ever read 99% of what I write and this is an inspiring piece of math.

Are you good at taking tests?

Not really. As I’ve gotten older I’ve developed a kind of situational anxiety so that I’m not even sure I could finish a whole test anymore. 

Tell us a secret. 

Three people can keep a secret if two of them are dead.

What was the best money you spent on something writing-related?

For Christmas I bought myself a shell white Keychron Q1 with banana switches. I was walking around in Best Buy and saw a display. I guess I’d been asleep when they did all these innovations with keyboards. I couldn’t believe how it felt to type on it. I came home and read everything I could about keyboards and ordered it with expedited shipping. It’s the color of the keyboards from the 80s, white and tan, and pressing a key feels like snapping down a domino onto a strip of velvet. Just thinking about it makes me want to write more. 

What is your favorite museum or gallery?

The MoMA. I know, I know. It feels like cheating to say that, but it’s the greatest museum in the world. I live in Brooklyn so I try to go a few times a year at least. I always find something that inspires me, even if it’s just the other people walking around. 

What is weird?

Something striking and unfamiliar: an image, a person, a habit, a way of thinking about things. The more emotionally familiar the weirdness the weirder the weirdness is. Weirdness with no emotional resonance isn’t weird at all. Weird is adjacent to dangerous, centered between dangerous and normal. The emotional weirdness is the landmine beneath the weirdness that makes it detonate. When it detonates, that's when it means something, and that meaning could change your life.  

What was the inspiration for your story?

Something bad happened to me and I stayed in bed for almost 48 hours processing it all. When I finally got up I sat down at the computer and wrote this story. After I wrote it, I felt a lot better.

What do you hope readers experience from your work?

A feeling behind their left eye, just a slight pressure in that warm jelly. It stays with them for a while until it suddenly disappears. Maybe they didn’t realize they felt it until it left. Now that it’s gone, everything feels a little empty and a little too quiet, doesn’t it?

How do you combat loneliness?

This is a great struggle for me. I have many incredible friends, but there’s a loneliness that was attached to me from birth like a second person. It was just part of the deal I made with whomever, wherever I came from. I think the main way is through hyperfixation—getting obsessed with things and avoiding the feeling. That’s not a very healthy way to do it and I don’t recommend it. The other is to motivate myself to do something with the people I love, so I’m often the one reaching out and making plans. 

Thoughts about artichokes?

Very underrated. I wish them well.

What’s the point of all this, really?

There is none. That’s life’s greatest tragedy and greatest gift.

Matthew McAlister is a writer and photographer living in Brooklyn. He received his MFA from NYU and was born and raised in Lexington, Kentucky. A 2026 KHN Center for the Arts resident in fiction, his work was shortlisted for the 2025 Indiana Review Fiction Prize. You can find him on Instagram at @crosbyfishingpond.