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Bronx-born, Miami-based Andrew Boryga was working on his debut novel…but something wasn’t working. He knew his main characters like the back of his hand, but he was still struggling to find the plot of the novel. Rather than continue to look within, he looked around to society—and realized a lot of what he saw didn’t jive with him. This dichotomy between his own experience and the narrative being given by others to his own experiences is what gave him the fire he needed to write this inventive satirical novel that will undoubtedly make a lot of people laugh, and a lot of people mad.
It was so great to catch up with my old MFA pal and talk about boundary pushing influences, the rewriting process, and how parenthood changes you as a writer.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
Christina Drill
When did you decide that the conceit of the book needed to change? And what was the process of rewriting, and getting to that stage?
Andrew Boryga
[During MFA], you read a lot of different versions of it. I landed on this premise in 2020. I was working as a journalist at that point, COVID had happened, George Floyd [had just been murdered], and the pitch of the media was just so loud. Followed by the election… [and] I was kind of in the center of all that as a reporter. And I felt like the coverage was getting so extreme, on both sides. I think you probably noticed like the previous versions of the book, Javi was more of a do-gooder. I finally realized that I could make Javi a much more active character—If I leaned into his darker aspects that were always kind of there, but that I’d always suppressed because I didn’t want him to come off bad. I just always assume people are going to think that I’m Javi. And then something happened—I guess having my kids or whatever—I stopped giving a shit. So I was like, they’re going to think that anyway. So I turned the volume up on Javi a lot. And now he plays off Gio better too. It was a lot of fun to finally understand that premise and conceit. When it clicked, I was like oh, this is it. Then it felt fun to write it at that point. It was not fun for so long. Oh my God. Like, it felt like I was spinning my wheels for forever.
Christina Drill
So did you rewrite the draft from scratch? Were there sections that you like totally rewrote?
Andrew Boryga
I rewrote a lot. By [the time COVID hit] I had already been messing with these characters for like seven, eight years. I knew them really well. I knew who they were. But I was still discovering things about Javi, I still knew [I wanted to keep] his family background and Gio’s family background. I knew that Gio was going to go to jail, and that they were going to reunite in some way. Those aspects were always there, So I did have to rewrite, but it didn’t feel crazy difficult, because I already knew who they were. Once I figured out the vehicle, I put him in it and let it go. I finished the draft I sold in like a year and a half. While working full time, with two kids at home. Yeah, it was a lot (laughs).
Christina Drill
Was there anything in particular that happened to you or you saw happen that inspired your satire?
Andrew Boryga
There were a few. I started freelance writing in 2014 which is like when [identity politics and personal essays] were really starting to take off. BuzzFeed was huge… basically all these online outlets were looking for first-person, trauma-focused personal essays by POC. Suddenly there was such a demand for writers of color, it was en vogue—which was great for me. At first, I was like, “Oh, finally, this is awesome, we’re gonna get our chance!” you know?
At first it was cool to be sought out. But sometimes I’d get engaged by an editor or a publication was interested in me writing something, but it was like they had a specific kind of story that they wanted from me, which was [always an iteration of] “Oh, tell me about your poor Bronx upbringing” or “your poor family in Puerto Rico” or “Write about these photographs about really poor destitute people.” I wrote what I was assigned. But when I wanted to pivot to pitching ideas that were a little more complex, a little bit more nuanced, [editors] were always like “Hm, good idea, but I don’t know, what about your family in Puerto Rico? They survived the hurricane, how are they doing?” And I was just like… okay? You know? I finally reached a point where I was like, do you really want diversity, or you just want the trendy version of it?
I think a lot of writers of color have started to pick up on this in the last few years. And now it’s been this really interesting shift, where even white people have realized that diversity is great, but diversity doesn’t mean only publishing stories that make [white people] feel comfortable, or like an outsider looking in, or oh, poor POCs, if only they could help themselves, if only we could do more for them. I was just tired of the poverty porn. [The reality is that] I grew up in a family that has gone through pretty serious traumatic pains and have experienced [actual trauma]. I know how they deal with it, and how they actually see themselves—they would hate for you to look at them as these poor, helpless victims.
Christina Drill
Do you have an example of something that you tried to pitch that an editor passed on?
Andrew Boryga
I tried to write about the term Latinx back in like 2017, when the term was new. But no editor wanted it. I was like, why wouldn’t they want my perspective on this? I thought it was an interesting story and that I had an interesting perspective, [being] Puerto Rican but also Polish. Nope, nobody wanted it. Editors were like “Well, I don’t know if you have the chops to write this yet,” and I was just like, really? But you’ve published me before…
I also tried to pitch on Bad Bunny. I was onto him in like 2015 when he was still just a gangster rapper. The same thing kind of happened, so I just got fed up and stopped pitching. Then I [left to get] my MFA. [After graduating] I went to work for the South Florida Sun Sentinel, which was great because they didn’t care about my background, and I was able to pitch [whatever I wanted].
Christina Drill
While reading Victim I was thinking a lot about Junot Diaz, who also writes about Latino characters from the tri-state area who find themselves entering white spaces and feeling out of place. I was wondering how you saw Victim in conversation with Diaz’s work. I’m also interested in your broader influences as well.
Andrew Boryga
Junot is a huge influence of mine. I was always a reader growing up, but I didn’t really ever consider writing fiction until I read [Diaz’s debut collection] Drown. when I was in college. So good. Drown was just like my gateway drug. I was just like, oh shit, like I could write fiction. Because it was the first time I saw myself in it. At the time I liked Kerouac, I liked 1984, you know, stuff I’d been introduced to in [English class], but I didn’t realize I could write in the specific language of where I’m from. At school I would use [Bronx] slang and even [friends from NYC] were like “What the fuck are you talking about?” They won’t even know what you were saying. So Junot was a first influence.
Paul Beatty is another huge one, especially in terms of satire. I loved White Boy Shuffle and The Sellout obviously is amazing. I remember going to the Brooklyn Book Festival event where he was at. I just came up to him afterwards and I fanboyed out and talked to him for way too long. And he was super cool and gave me notes [on the manuscript] early on. Mat Johnson is another influence of mine. I see him as sort of the child of Diaz and Beatty—he’s [a satirical writer], but also writes about identity like I’m interested in, and has his own style. I studied with him at Tin House. And Patricia Engel—I mean, studying with her was incredible. Her attention to detail that she has on the sentence level… super inspiring. I really like Justin Torres too. We the Animals I read early on, and I remember tearing through it. He’s so good at these short, succinct chapters, and I also wanted to write a book that people would not be able to put down.
Christina Drill
Do you consider yourself a satirist? Do you think that your next book will also poke fun at society in a similar way?
Andrew Boryga
That’s a great question. I don’t know if I necessarily do. Victim is poking fun at this particular [status quo]. So I guess in that sense it was satire. With this book, it was easy to lean into that, but [in general] I just like to have humor in my fiction, I always have enjoyed keeping people off balance. That’s always been a goal of mine. And I’ll probably continue to do that. I’m trying to work on something new right now about parenthood and fatherhood, and there’s a lot of comedy in that every day. Like, [parenthood] is just insanity, and that’s going to make it to the page. With this new thing I’m writing, I’m not necessarily trying to poke fun at fatherhood, but I’m trying to find an interesting, funny way of telling a story around it or something, you know? It’s so early on. I don’t really know what the hell it is yet, to be honest.
Christina Drill
Now I’m curious about this new parenthood project you’re working on! What are you looking forward to exploring in it, thematically or formally?
Andrew Boryga
I mean, [parenting] has basically been my life since my first kid was born. My life is mostly theirs—[now I] have a way smaller version of my life that is separate from [my kids]. Parenthood is something I’ve thought a lot about. I didn’t grow up with my father, so being a father without a father role model has been this really interesting challenge, but also an opportunity because I feel like the bar is super low for me, (laughs). You know? So I feel like I cleared one bar, but there’s always this feeling like… what’s next? It’s an interesting time right now too, where even the concept of having kids is so politicized. I just read something about how it’s selfish to have more than two kids and I’m like… is it selfish? I feel like having kids is the least selfish thing you could do in your life. But this is part of who we are as human beings. I had this person [come up to me] randomly on the street like a year ago, talking to me about how I was selfish for having kids because of the climate. I was like what the fuck? How do you say that to somebody with a straight face? As if one person having kids is really going to push us over the edge. Like [my kid] is gonna end civilization as we know it. I totally respect people who don’t want kids—like more power to them. But it seems like such a personal choice.
Christina Drill
I look forward to reading that one! In the same way you saw yourself in Diaz’s novels, what do you hope younger kids who may see themselves Javi take away from this book?
Andrew Boryga
I hope that they can feel that they can be like who they are, that their identity doesn’t necessarily have to define them if they don’t want it to. That identity shouldn’t limit what you should or shouldn’t be interested in. That wherever you come from shouldn’t dictate where your interests take you, or what story you want to tell about yourself either. Whether or not you want to lean into the story of adversity, which is cool too, because a lot of people do have real adversities and they want to talk about it. They want to help others. And I think that’s totally valid. But I want them to know they shouldn’t feel this pressure that to succeed higher, you have to, like, milk your trauma. I think a lot of [editors, MFA directors, or people in positions of power] think that something that doesn’t fit into the stereotype or the confinement of an X type of book, that the audience isn’t going to like it, or buy it, or read it. I think they think more about the other end of the transaction, like, oh, Latinx readers or black readers won’t enjoy a piece of work because of x y z. And it’s like, no, we’re probably gonna like it more because it’s outside the box. You know what I mean?
I love that American Fiction is an Oscar nominated movie. That’s a clear rebuff to the types of films and scripts that Hollywood would feel more comfortable with. Get Out is another example. There’s a great show called This Fool on Hulu, have you ever watched it? It’s about Mexican kids in LA. They’re cholos, but like, being cholos is the least interesting thing about them. I’m happy that shows like that exist. More diversity, yes, more representation, but let people tell the story, their own individual story, which isn’t going to look the same as someone else’s.
FICTION
Victim
By Andrew Boryga
Doubleday Books
March 12, 2024
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