Dagmara Dominczyk

“I write in the mornings. Pre-breakfast, post-sending kids off to school. Just me and my computer on the porch, a cup of instant coffee and sad to say, the odd cigarette. I’m very particular about the mug I choose for my coffee—it seems to forecast the writing mood I’m in that day. Some favorites are my ‘Write Like a Motherfucker [2],’ ordered from the Rumpus [3], or the mustard yellow one with ‘Dagmara’ painted on it, which I bought in Poland, or a ceramic one I made for my husband when we first started dating.

"No music. No people. Just me and my mug. 

"Most other inspiration lies in my past, and, like most first-time novelists, I write what I know. Or what I remember. And when I’m stuck, when my own memory fails to ignite anything worthy, I mine old photographs. Black-and-white family photos. My grandmother leaning on a telephone pole next to a dapper gentleman who I know was not my grandfather, her wavy hair falling lazily over one eye. Cobblestones in the background. That kind of thing. Each photo becomes a mystery to unravel, a launching pad, a kernel of an idea. Sometimes I look at photos of myself as a kid, buckteeth and shy smile, the unfortunate zigzag set of my bangs across my forehead. I imagine that girl as someone other than myself, and sometimes if I’m lucky, a story unfolds.”
—Dagmara Dominczyk, author of The Lullaby of Polish Girls (Spiegel & Grau, 2013)