Matthew Burnside thrives in a world where raccoons shoot flower laser beams and coffee mugs chant gnome secrets: that is to say Matthew thrives in the fantastical and experimental. Marching through campus with a staff, potentially of wizard origin, Matthew creates an environment of whimsy allowing for reality and illusion to play together. Whether perusing the grounds for a hearty leaf or sitting in the hallways of Swannanoa, Matthew’s passion lies in the hearts of his students. He is a valued, fearlessly opened-minded mentor who encourages his students to explore beyond the boundaries of writing.
Matthew has two forthcoming books: Centrifugal and Skull Kingdoms: An Imaginary Omnibus. These books revolve around comforting readers through both dark-realms of absurdism that we humans created ourselves and through cotton wisp twisted worlds spun from our lost child cognition wanting to breathe again. Matthew manages to beautifully balance accessible writing with wildly complex realms of cognition.
Did you always have an inkling towards writing? How did your academic experience change you viewpoint?
I wrote often when I was young, mostly sad tragic stories. The first story I ever wrote was about a man made of glass. One day a cuckoo clock startled him, he jumped and shattered. His parents, looking for him, cut their foot on his sharp remains.
Like any lonely child, I built worlds in my head. I was obsessed with breaking things apart and piecing them back together, like with LEGOs. I enjoy doing that now too with my writing: bending and breaking language.
It took a while to find my footing in writing. My undergrad was spent drifting through majors that didn’t feel right. I think that’s true to life though, we can’t just pick one thing and stick with it forever. I eventually settled on being a storyteller, knowing it would be a hard path. I started out teaching high school and started to doubt my decision. Then, once I taught college, I realized I found a place to thrive.
My MFA experience at Iowa University was challenging; I was an experimental writer in a traditional setting. However, with my wonderful mentors and peers, I learned to go against the grain to find what style of writing spoke to me. I know MFA programs have a reputation for stamping our creativity out, but I think they ultimately provide an invaluable bubble to explore and create, which is something I appreciate looking back on it.
Regarding your forthcoming book Skull Kingdoms: An Imaginary Omnibus, why did games become a source for experimental inspiration, specifically with your hybrid piece “Salutis in Solitude”?
I’ve always been a fan of RPG games. Although I didn’t often play them, I collected all the books for them and meticulously read through them. The mechanics of these games fascinated me. Williams Carlos’s quote, “Poems are little machines made of words” energizes my writing. I like breaking apart and putting together pieces to create my work, similar to constructing a game. My work usually features loneliness, and the loneliness of youth and youthfulness of games go hand-in-hand to create the phantasmagorical.
You mentioned your fascination with resilience against the horrors of our world. What does resilience look like to you, both within your writing and in your teaching?
Resilience looks like a mushroom! It grows and thrives in places it shouldn’t and where it is least expected or perhaps wanted. I resist donning a cloak of expertise. I am a beginner in all things, and I strive to create an environment where everyone is valid in writing. We are all beginners, and we shouldn’t grow out of that but rather grow our beginnerness. Mastery won’t help your writing, so don’t let it keep you bogged down. I strive to always be a sponge soaking in new knowledge from my peers, students, the physical world around me.
Centrifugal reads in conversation with Skull Kingdoms: An Imaginary Omnibus, did you intend for these to be read together? Where Centrifugal flames the reader’s imagination in order to dive deep into the paranoia, Skull Kingdoms wills readers to embrace the madness within.
I didn’t intend for these two to be companion pieces. Actually, I plan for another book to be a companion for Centrifugal, which is currently in progress. Various pieces were Frankenstein’d together to create these collections, and I wrote some of these pieces around the same part of my life, during COVID lock-down especially. It would make sense for some of these pieces to read in conversation: COVID was a lonely time and reminded me a lot of what it was like to be a kid again. These collections parse through two ways of processing mortality. Centrifugal spirals the reader away from this existential dread center, where Skull Kingdoms dives into the ego of a reader.
You are also working on a new time travel novel. What was your inspiration for that? Did you know that was a project you wanted to pursue for a while or was it spur of the moment inspiration?
I’ve been wanting to write this novel for a while now, but knew I needed to wait till I felt craft-wise prepared to tackle it. I knew it would be a mess to write, especially since I write in fragments. I’m fascinated by the concept of time travel, but for different reasons. Rather than exploring traditional causality or paradox, I’m interested in investigating the type of character that feels the need to go to a different timeline, why they seek this out, and what they want to gain? I imagine a type of character that would desire to go off the grid, but through time travel. I’m intrigued by the idea of time travel being the vessel through which a character looks inward.
If you had to prepare a meal for MFA writers during finals, what would that be and why?
I would want to make something that uses a lot of hand on preparation: a recipe that requires much love. Growing up, I didn’t care for cakes or pies, so my mother made me fruit pizza: crust, strawberries, grapes, kiwi, cream cheese and frosting. It’s filling, nourishing, and a nice little sugar high. I think that would be the best type of meal for MFA students during finals, something that tastes as cherished as their hard work and writing.
Written by Gillian Lionberger (MFA ’26).
This interview has been condensed and edited for grammar and clarity.
Hollins MFA 