BEHIND THE WORDS LITERARY CONVERSATION
with
Beverly Gandara
When reflecting on your body of work, what common thread connects all your stories, even across different genres?
Human behavior. Whether I am writing historical fiction such as Concrete Wings, suspense like Soaring in Silence, or interview collections including Women, Work and Triumph and When Did You Know and Who Did You Tell?, I am always exploring how people respond to love, loss, betrayal, ambition, and injustice.
I could set a story in 1500s Europe or in some imagined future — the setting may change, but the human condition does not. Someone wants something. Obstacles arise. Choices are made. And by the end, the character is changed — for better or worse.
That transformation is what binds my work together. It reflects the journey we all take, regardless of age, culture, ethnicity, or geography.
Have you ever experienced a moment when a subject you were writing about changed you more than you expected?
Absolutely! While researching and interviewing 26 women for Women, Work and Triumph, I encountered resilience in many forms. These were women working in professions traditionally dominated by men, navigating bias, expectation, and responsibility with determination and strength.
A Rabbi, the first second-career female Rabbi, described her ministry to incarcerated women, many of whom had broken the law at the urging of men they loved. I believe firmly in accountability and justice; actions have consequences. Years earlier, while volunteering at a police department, I witnessed how vulnerability and misplaced loyalty could alter the life of an innocent young woman in love. A young female volunteer erased minor offenses from a boyfriend’s record at his request. He later exploited her position for profit. She was caught, tried, and sent to prison. He moved on without consequence.
I always cared deeply about her loss and the gravity of her mistake. The Rabbi’s insight reminded me that there are many such women whose stories are layered with love, manipulation, poor judgment, and consequences. Perhaps their stories, told with clarity and compassion, deserve to be heard as well.
When interviewing someone about deeply personal experiences, what do you listen for that isn’t spoken aloud?
As I ask my interview questions, I listen for the emotions beneath the narrative — pain, regret, fear, and anxiety. Then we continue the conversation, allowing space for reflection and clarity.
I am honored that people have trusted me with their stories in both Women, Work and Triumph and When Did You Know and Who Did You Tell? I never publish without explicit permission. Each participant is given time to reflect and review their interview to ensure they are ready to share their journey.
It is important to me that I give their story the dignity it deserves without harming them or anyone in their environment.
What usually sparks a new project? Do you start with character, conflict, or a lingering question?
The lingering question “Why?” is usually where I begin.
Why did this happen?
Why did someone make that choice?
Why did they stay — or leave?
Once I understand the why, I ask, “What if?” That is where conflict begins and the story starts to take shape.
What if a different choice had been made?
What if circumstances shifted? What if fear or courage tipped the balance?
I listen carefully to how people describe their experiences. If I am not conducting an interview, I may develop a fictional narrative inspired by what I observe. From there, I build the character facing that situation and let the conflict grow organically from their decisions and the environment.
For me, “Why?” uncovers truth. “What if?” creates possibility.
What responsibility do you think writers have when portraying trauma or representing marginalized voices?
I do not speak for other writers, but I believe that all people deserve acceptance and respect, and that all voices have a right to be heard.
It is my hope that the stories I write foster understanding, perhaps educate, and ideally inspire and support those who have suffered.
For me, preserving dignity in the process of healing is an important obligation.
When history becomes fiction in your hands, where does your loyalty ultimately lie — to fact, to emotion, or to impact?
When I wrote Concrete Wings, inspired by historical events, my loyalty began with fact. The political climate, the realities of migration, and the atmosphere of that time mattered deeply to me.
However, I chose to fictionalize certain characters and behaviors — in part to protect individuals whose lives informed the story, and to tell the story in a way that would allow readers to connect more fully with the human experience.
My belief remains rooted in historical truth. But storytelling provides room to explore what those circumstances may have felt like for those living through them.
For me, loyalty lies in honoring reality while presenting it in a way that resonates with readers.
What inspires your creativity or provides you with perspective when you’re not writing?
People. I observe their behaviors in everyday situations, their speaking patterns, habits, and, more importantly, their treatment of children, pets, and what you referred to as marginalized voices.
Is there a story you’ve always wanted to write but haven’t written yet?
Perhaps my own.