On Writing Pole Dancers at the Red Barn by Susan L. Katz

Many people have asked me why I’d write a collection of stories about pole dancers. Was I ever a pole dancer? The answer is no. I’ve never danced on a pole, yet my first story about a pole dancer simply came to me. I then had to ask myself, “Why?” 

I thought back to my adolescence in the 1960s, when I compared myself to the model Twiggy, whose face and body had become an ideal of young womanhood. It was challenging to measure myself against an ideal that seemed impossible to attain. Reflecting on that time in my life, I became interested in people who embrace their bodies with sensuality and glamour. Beyond modeling, I became curious about how they might use their bodies to earn a living. I envisioned something like Cirque du Soleil performers, and that led me to pole dancers. 

I was also drawn to what I think of as outsider experiences—those times when people don’t feel they truly belong to any group, even if they act as though they do in order to get by. Pole dancers, for example, are often misunderstood and stereotyped as strippers or sex workers, and their work is sometimes viewed simply in terms of how they use their bodies to support themselves.

I wanted to look beyond those assumptions and discover the people themselves. My imagination led me to depict characters who have experienced trauma and had to confront families and societal labels that have caused them harm in some way.

My first story about a pole dancer organically developed to include her relationship with her mother. The dancer grappled with childhood ordeals and used dance to work through the damage, eventually becoming more in tune with who she was. Then I began thinking about other pole dancers and the influences that shaped their lives. 

As a psychotherapist, I was interested in how a person’s upbringing shapes their worldview and sense of self, particularly how a mother’s experiences can influence her child. That became central to the structure of the book: each section pairs a mother’s story with the story of her adult child, allowing readers to see how experiences and emotional legacies move across generations.

The Red Barn, the pole-dancing venue, became a character in the story, with a life of its own. I wanted to know more about the Barn, how it came to be, and what made this venue so special.

I modeled it partly on the old sitcom Cheers, where everybody knows your name. The Red Barn became a place where people who might feel like outsiders elsewhere could find connection, acceptance, and community. 

I have lived with these characters for so long that the vibrant world of the Red Barn and the rich, complex lives of those who inhabit these pages feel deeply real to me. I’ve rejoiced in their successes and celebrated their growth.

Folks have also asked me about my writing process, which is more structured than the way my stories naturally progress. My creative process follows a spiral flow, whereas my stories move more linearly toward resolution.

I like to have two to three hours during the day to write, revise, and correspond. If I’m deeply involved in a story, I may go right to the computer when I awake. Sometimes I’ll continue thinking about a story throughout the day and return to it at night, after watching some TV—my time to relax and let things settle.

I usually print out my story, read it, revise it, and then return to the computer. I may print out a story several times during the writing and revision process.

I also work with a writing partner. We meet every two weeks, exchanging our manuscripts the week before so that we have time to read and prepare for our session, which usually lasts two hours. It’s not only instructive but also fun, and over time we’ve become friends.

—

Susan L Katz is an alumna of the Writers’ Institute at the City University of New York and the New Directions Writing Program in Washington, DC. She holds an MS in Counseling, an MSW in Social Work, and an MFA in Photography. Her stories have been published in the New Directions Journal of Fiction and Poetry. Susan is also a photographer; her photo essays are housed in the Museum of the City of New York, the Bronx Museum of Art, and the library of the National Museum of Women in the Arts in Washington, DC. For forty years, she worked as a psychotherapist and published articles on human development, addiction, and group therapy techniques. Susan lives in Rhinebeck, New York.

Pole Dancers at the Red Barn: Stories

Chronicling the struggles and successes of five pole dancers, the club owner they work for, and their mothers, this debut novel-in-stories delves into the profound impact of intergenerational trauma on families striving to create meaningful lives.

The Red Barn, a pole dancing venue on the outskirts of Easton, Pennsylvania, is co-owned by Eddie and Victoria. Like the other dancers—GB, who is courageous and nonbinary; Marie, who struggles with depression; Violet, who is manifesting her dream; and Celeste, who grapples with religion and body image—Eddie and Victoria have been shaped by their mothers’ secrets and fears. These mothers suffered from domestic abuse, mental illness, and addiction, yet their only concern was to create a safe, stable home life for their children.

Spanning the 1940s through the 1980s, these fourteen interconnected stories about these mothers and their children explore how intergenerational conflicts are confronted and resolved. Each story features the emotional and embodied journey of one character, and together they form a larger narrative about how individual identity and community intersect in the aftermath of trauma and betrayal.

Ultimately, the Red Barn family realizes that risk-taking is not only possible but necessary, and that obstacles, no matter how heavy, don’t have to bury us. Struggle is part of life, but it doesn’t define us. What matters is trusting our own organic process of becoming who we truly are, at any age.

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