Ryan Shoemaker, a creative writing professor, describes himself as an honest, curious and emotional writer. In 2013, he taught for a semester at BYU-Hawaii, and has always jokingly “vowed to return” and continue teaching students the power of words.
In his writing, Shoemaker chooses to express his belief in humanity with honesty, hoping to inspire others to do the same. “About half of what I write is about Mormonism,” Shoemaker says. “My Mormon characters struggle with or are hamstrung by some aspect of their religious culture. Many of them are so blinded by orthodoxy that they don’t see the humanity in others. They become automatons who scrupulously follow rules and perceived higher laws, oblivious to the two great commandments: that we are to love God and our neighbors.”
To those who might chafe against his candid portrayal of Mormons, Shoemaker says, “I’ve met a number of people who are critical of these honest representations of Mormons in literature. From what I gather, these representations don’t gel with a squeaky clean, unblemished image they have of Mormons. I hope to show them how an honest exploration of the Mormon experience, with its moments of weakness, bad decisions, and all the struggles of faith and existence, humanizes us and ultimately leads us toward refinement.”
Shoemaker describes the act of writing as “an exercise in isolation,” but finds the isolation worth it when his work connects with readers. Musing on why he writes, Shoemaker says: “I write to leave behind an emotional record of my life, my preoccupations, what it was like to live in this particular social and cultural moment, what I thought about, what I didn’t understand, and what I wanted to understand.”
According to Shoemaker, the type of experience he wants to provide his readers is one that is both entertaining and illuminating. “In my writing,” he says, “I want to offer a unique perspective on life and a compelling journey that poignantly sheds light on the complexities of existence and how we can live a good life, even if my characters might seem unlikable and, at times, not reflect my core beliefs.”
Dr. Joe Plicka, an English professor at BYU-Hawaii, notes how Shoemaker’s “work is funny and wise. It’s entertaining, but maybe a little irreverent. It’s not always sweet and sentimental, which is what some people expect in stories. The writer’s job is to observe and to report, and sometimes to question and prod. Ryan does these things well, which makes him a valuable writer in our Mormon tradition. As much as it might bother some people, we need a variety of voices to describe and project our experiences as human beings and as Latter-day Saints. Good stories sometimes affirm our beliefs and feelings, but sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they are sad. Sometimes they punch us in the gut.”
Inspired as a youth by his father’s wit and love of humor, Shoemaker recognized early in life the power of words to elicit strong emotions. “When I was younger, I wanted to make people laugh,” Shoemaker says of his early writing. “But as I became a more adept, mature writer, I saw how I could help my readers feel all kinds of emotions and maybe understand life a little better. I realized that writing could make meaning and sense of life.”
Shoemaker spent his formative years in the rural Northwest “in the great age of Grunge.” “That’s the place to which I feel most connected,” Shoemaker says. “There’s something about the gloomy skies, incessant rain, and impenetrable forests that are both haunting and captivating. It’s a corner of the world I often return to in my writing.”
“My wife might tell you that I’m too emotional,” Shoemaker jokes. “I think most writers are in awe of life. They recognize the beauty and profoundness of our existence, and the glorious complexity of the journey. They want to explore and understand life and all its mysteries.”
To discover, explore, and write about these mysteries, Shoemaker said he believes “writers need to feel deeply about things, limiting their distractions and connecting with the natural and the human worlds.”
Cameron Thomas, Shoemaker’s good friend, shared a memory of Shoemaker as a creative storyteller. He said: “I will never forget when Ryan was called to be a Youth Sunday School teacher in Burbank, California. He generally started each class with a scary story to grab the class’s attention. A student’s parent later complained to the Bishop after an anecdote was deemed too grim. The Bishop asked Ryan to tone down his routine.”
Shoemaker counts Raymond Carver, Tobias Wolff, T.C. Boyle, Flannery O’Conner, and Chekhov as the writers he loves. Influenced by two great mentors, Doug Thayer and T.C. Boyle, he says, “I always try to be worthy of the time they gave me.”
Considering other influences shaping his writing, Shoemaker says, “Perhaps my greatest influence has been my wife, Jen. She’s always inspired me to be more than I thought I could be. She pushed me to step out of my comfort zone and rise above the status quo. Without her, I don’t think I would have pursued a Ph.D. or continued to write.”
Another invaluable influence Shoemaker cites is his friendship of twenty years with Plicka. “We sat next to each other on a plane on our way to study at the BYU Jerusalem Center,” Plicka remembers, “and have hitched our wagon to the same star. Having a compatriot, a comrade, on this writing journey is invaluable. I think sometimes in our society, we discourage men from cultivating close friendships. We have this idea they’re destined to be out there alone and toiling away like lone hunters, but it doesn’t have to be that way. Ryan’s the friend who will be speaking at my funeral, or vice versa.” Shoemaker described Plicka as his “fellow traveler in the writing life” and a huge influence for him.
Inspired by his LDS mission experience in Italy, Shoemaker wrote a short story called “Light Departure.” Here is an excerpt:
"The train lurched from the station and picked up speed, Ravenna receding into the green and gold countryside. I stared down at the cement ties of the adjoining track ticking hypnotically past. The train cut through a vast, rolling wheat field. I squinted. The wheat was a blinding, silvery white, shimmering and rippling in the breeze. For a moment, I experienced a dull guilt that radiated from my guts and washed up over my chest and shoulders. But when I touched the suitcase under my seat, the feeling subsided. Soon, I thought, one life would end and a new one—my life after the mission—would begin."
Writer: Vic Zhong