SPONSORED POST: Q&A with Tess Lynch, Brought to You by Art She Said
by Awl Staff
Tess Lynch is a writer in Los Angeles. Unlike most writers of fiction and nonfiction, she also sometimes falls into acting-reasonable, given her location. This is obviously a weird and alien situation to most writers. So we wanted to talk to her about the cross-pollination of those two creative fields. For performers, is writing different? And is acting just like writing, but with more immediate shame?
The Awl: Some people get nervous when they see that people have official-sounding things like “actress” in their bios! Why is that, and also, what does “actress” mean?
Tess Lynch: I’ll have to defer to my stage presence, Cathy Tarmack. CATHY: Well, you know, I got “the bug” when I was around 14, while I was in the accelerated program in my hometown gifted children’s program, RACE. From there, I got my first role as the youngest female senator in the Lifetime movie, “What Cost Political Fame?”
The Awl: Oh, indeed.
Tess Lynch: Ha. Okay. Well, I act commercially and mostly do shorts. It actually started because I’ve always had pretty bad stage fright, and I wanted to try to kind of overcome that.
The Awl: So it was an assertiveness program, really.
Tess Lynch: It was part of my Russell Simmons “DO YOU” renaissance.
The Awl: Fantastic motivation.
Tess Lynch: I’ve always wanted to be a writer but I’m a very invested audience member, and I love to play around. I wouldn’t say that I ever thought, “Hey, I’d love to be an Oscar-winning actress.” It was more, “I would love to challenge myself to not be a wuss who stutters and gets flop-sweat.” I got a Crest commercial this year and it actually allowed me to spend more time writing and doing shorts, so it kind of became something that I felt I could try to master, as much as I think I’m capable of mastering it. Which is not to a very great extent.
The Awl: Ha! For some reason writer is often considered the opposite of actor. Mostly we file that under sexism though, yes?
Tess Lynch: There’s definitely some of that. It’s also an exercise in objectivism/subjectivism. When you’re auditioning, and you’re nailing it, you’re completely “present” and there’s no internal narrative. You’re just existing. When you’re writing, and even when you’re doing something you think you might write about later, you’re dictating.
The Awl: Oof. Can’t imagine.
Tess Lynch: “Tess walks into the room and slates her name. She turns to show her profiles, and when that happens she never books the job because her nose is crooked. She grabs a box of maxi-pads and thinks about it.” It doesn’t work too great, in the room. I’m trying to master the switch, to be able to turn it off and on.
The Awl: Very sorry about your nose.
Tess Lynch: Me too, kid. But you know, that’s the thing: I think it’s kind of nice to be able to try to sell the nose, and when nosebody’s buying, I can at least think about my nose and maybe write something about the nose of every man.
The Awl: So your careers crosspollinate! You have a tendency to write funny fictions. I don’t like funny things because I don’t find them funny but I like reading yours.
Tess Lynch: Thank you! I hate to laugh, but I just did! I am very surprised that people enjoy the fictional conversations I write. I am also the only person in Los Angeles who doesn’t have a spec script. And Willem Dafoe never got back to me about staging my Fake Dinner Parties.
The Awl: What a jerk.
Tess Lynch: The muscle that dare not speak its name.
The Awl: Thanks, I’d forgotten about that.
Tess Lynch: His parts are the least private, and the most.
The Awl: The way that editorial and creative are the least important, and the most, ©DON DRAPER. So I really only have one question, and that is: what is the ideal outcome for you? By which I mean: your dream of adulthood.
Tess Lynch: Well, that’s a good question. When I was a kid I dreamed of writing a book, so I could go into a Barnes and Noble and stare at it. When I graduated from college and found that everyone was like, “Really too bad you missed the time when print was thriving! How about PR?” I felt kind of discouraged.
The Awl: I can see that.
Tess Lynch: But now I guess I’d say that my dream of adulthood is to be part of an interesting new culture of writers who are resourceful enough to figure out how to have a voice in a medium that’s changing so drastically, one that we’re struggling to form. It’s exciting and scary to think that we don’t know what a writer’s career will look like: it could be wonderful, you know? Or horrible. I’d like to think that there will be a community that will take everything good about writing for the internet and incorporate some of the things we miss from traditional print media.
The Awl: That’s crazy. You’re such a freak.
Tess Lynch: I know, I’m so slimy with optimism. It’s gross.
The Awl: And yet I find your optimism charming and healthy!
Tess Lynch: That’s what I’d like, though, to be a part of that group of people. I mean, it’s kind of a weird time to be a young adult, but it’s also interesting to think that the people whose blogs I read might be the ones who build a new art form. In sum: I would like those people to offer me money to write silly fictional conversations, and with that money I would like to buy a house made of cashmere.
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“The Smartest Thing She Ever Said” is a Tumblr based digital storytelling art project featuring four teams of two-one artist and one story editor-between now and the end of the year. For three weeks each, the teams were asked to interpret the phrase, “The Smartest Thing She’s Ever Said.” The current team features photographer Laura Taylor and writer Tess Lynch with support from project curator Alexis Hyde. ArtSheSaid.com and its artists are entirely supported by Ann Taylor in collaboration with Flavorpill.
See the story unfold HERE.