CY: Congrats you hath now become a Golden Yakker. We bestow this on you, what sayeth you?

Mike stretched out, cracked his knuckles and said "Thanks, I suppose."

"Thanketh yous," Daynah said, chiming in.

CY: I know this may seem weird, but if you were a form of pudding, what type of pudding would you be?

"Tapioca," Mike said, unflinching.

"Daynah, what about you?"

"I’d say Butterscotch, because, according to my experience, it’s the least popular, which says nothing of my popularity and more of my fierce survival instincts: I’d prefer to be the last one eaten."

CY: Can you tell us a little bit about the material you read? Where did it come from, the creative process it went through?

Mike cleared his throat, MGD in hand and stopped staring at the fire, and began:

"It came mainly from circumstance. I had the unique opportunity to have basically a front row seat to watch the world’s greatest city rediscover who they were. The events that happened in 2001 were so big and affected so many people that New Yorkers were a bit tokenized, and misrepresented as these strong folks with FDNY on their hats. That was part of it, of course, but not the part I saw. The New Yorkers I saw were frustrated, confused, and a little lost, and I wanted to write about what it was like to watch them get over all of that."

"Interesting stuff. Well it was quite powerful, and speaking of powerful, Daynah your work really moved everyone there that night - I think when you finished you could hear a pin drop."

"Initially, I didn’t want to read this piece at the Yak given the intensely personal content, but it was the thing that was done and ready when it came time for me to read. The piece started with an grossly immature premise: I wanted to write an essay where I was having graphic sex in every scene. I just started writing the scenes, and the narrative thread involving my parents’ divorce and the assault emerged on its own. Generally, I’m not a writer who thrives on shock value, and it felt a little seamy to punctuate my mostly harmless promiscuity with a rape scene. But it’s not a cautionary tale; it’s just what happened."

CY: Any thoughts on Bill Cosby’s stint as promoting those pudding pops?

"Nope," Mike said.

"Daynah?"

"Gimme the chocolate cake?"

CY: What was the last book you read and did you dig it? I just read Tortilla Curtain and I was really excited for the first 150 pages and then the air got let out. What about you two?

"I’m reading The Emperor of Scent by Chandler Burr. Its about someone who may have cracked the mystery of human smell. I’m only a few chapters in, but it’s hilarious and fascinating at the same time. People should go pick that up."

"And you D, do you, uhh, mind that I call you D?"

"Actually, I just re-read In Cold Blood after (finally) seeing Capote. I can’t imagine saying anything about this book that hasn’t been said before, including ‘read it immediately if you haven’t yet.’"

CY: What do you think you learned by reading your work in front of a crowd?

"Daynah, what about you first this time around? Mike, you don't mind to you?"

"No problem"

"Daynah, go ahead."

"I learned that I still hate reading aloud. Perhaps, I need one of those creepy ventriloquist dummies? Honestly, it’s the part of this writer job that I enjoy least, although it’s an incredibly efficient and rewarding way to share my hard work with many people at once."

"And Mike, what are your thoughts."

"Usually when I read I’m nervous, and jitter through the whole thing, but I wasn’t when I read this. It felt good, and I think that’s because of the crowd. The people who attend the Yak are just kind of there for a good time and share their best work, and it’s a loose, no pressure environment that I really didn’t expect. I wasn’t nervous at all, which is rare for me. So I learned that Yak audiences are the best audiences."

CY: If the Candid Yak were a form of meat, what type of meat would it be? Pay careful attention here, a yak can be eaten in certain countries.

"Sorry we don't have anymore Poo Poo Platter, that's funny right, hilarious name for a meal? I mean, it basically you get it- poo poo. Don't you think that's funny?" Mike and Daynah stare at the interviewer. The only sound in the room is the crackling of the fire. "Uhh... anyhoot, so back to the question, Mike?"

"A venison type of thing."

Daynah squished her face up and said, "A bit too gamy for my taste, I’d say."

CY: What is your revision process like and how much has these piece(s) changed before and how much have they changed since you read?

"Who wants to go first?" Both hands shot up and a bit of Daynah's martini splashed on the fire causing a flame to shoot up. "Uhh, Mike, go ahead."

"I usually throw everything and the kitchen sink into the first draft, then move it around until I find a helpful framework to work within, then I strip away what becomes unnecessary to the central story."

"Sorry, to interrupt, but not literally the kitchen sink, right?" Mike blankly stared at the interviewer, took a sip of the beer, exhaled and then continued.

"[anyway]It depends on the nature of the project. Different pieces require different revision techniques. The tree watching experience was something that had been with me for a while, so it came a bit more easily than other things I’ve written. What I read at the Yak was pretty close to the finish product. Not long after I tweaked it a little bit and shipped it out to journals. Only two rejections so far. . ."

"Well, and sorry about the kitchen thing, it's been a long day and all. So, go ahead Daynah."

"Basically, the thing I read, “She’s Going to Kill Me” has been kicked around workshops a few times, to mixed reviews. Some readers love the fiction-esque aspects of it – the first person present tense, the unreliable narrator – others felt it was too heavy-handed and experimental. My revisions focused on finding a balance between those two reactions, while still capturing the lost innocence, the plucky and (demonstrably) dangerous sexual experiences I initiated, the connection between this teenager’s own sexuality and her mother’s, all of which culminates with a devastating sexual assault. It’s not a glamorous, O.C.ish look at a teenager’s sex life, but I think it’s an honest one."

CY: What are your plans for the summer? Where you going, what you doing? Do you plan on taking a road trip and if you took a road trip would you consider taking a picture of yourself ordering/eating/ingesting/digesting desert, and sending it to us?

"D, what about you first?"

"Please don't call me D, I told you before."

"You did?"

"Yeah, I did."

"Uhh, I'm sorry, this isn't really going so well, is it?" The two writers turned towards the fire and said in unison:

"The fire is neat though." The interviewer blushed and turned towards Daynah.

"This summer I’m training with Special Ninja Ops and perfecting the homemade creamsicle."

"Nice. Ninjas. And Mike?"

"I’m still trying to put my summer plans together. I’m freelancing a bit, tutoring a bit, taking a class, going to weddings. I’m trying my best to avoid going broke."

CY: What did you do before you came to George Mason’s MFA program?

"Mike, since part of your story is about what you did before here, why don't you start?"

"I worked as an editor for an educational publisher in New York."

"Daynah?"

"A more efficient question would be what didn’t I do before I came to George Mason’s MFA program."

CY: Are you hungry right now? And if you are: If you could eat anything -anything at all- what would you eat? If you’re not hungry, why aren’t you hungry?

"Mike?"

"Cheerios."

"I just love Cheerios. Good. Natural. Reminds me of the life I had as a child, before the Candid Yak and all of that stuff that came with it. Daynah, anything?

"Not hungry. A buffet was involved."

"A buffet of the poo poo!"

Again, the crackle and pop of the fireplace was the only response. The two writers grumbled to each other and the interviewer swore he heard them whisper to one another, "when is this thing over?"

CY: Okay, last question, anyone special you’d like to thank?

"Yeah, you guys. And my wife, Loren. Always. And everyone in my nonfiction program, just for being there—great folks doing tremendous work. Thanks everyone."

"Thanks Mike. Daynah?"

"I’d like to thank the buffet."

"Ha, poo poo!!"