Today is the day to stop making so many plans.

If you live in Chicago and you love the funny short films of Steve Delahoyde (you know, the ones that bring down the house at the Funny Ha-Ha readings), come to the Lincoln Lodge tonight to drink huge beers, meet nice waitresses, hear great standup and of course, see old and new films by Steve

Today I interview the author of the beloved book Population 485, a book about returning to his tiny childhood town in Wisconsin and working as a volunteer EMT (well, there is more to it than that but as Reading Rainbow said, don't take it from me.) He contributes to numerous magazines and radio shows and has done a lot more cool things than you have.

The Michael Perry Interview: Slightly Less Than Twenty Questions.

Would you say that you have a Midwestern personality? What exactly does that entail?
I don't want to talk about my feelings, and you can't make me.

How are cowboys different now than they might have been fifty years ago? Do they use GPS tracking systems or anything?
Well, according to this song I heard on Moose Country 106.7 the other day, the Indians are dressing up like cowboys and the cowboys are putting leather and turquoise on, and the music is all sold by lawyers. 'Course that song was from the Urban Cowboy soundtrack, released in 1980. I can tell you that I was in Wyoming recently, where horses are being replaced by ATVs and flocks of weekending filmmakers. But by gum, a good cowboy still knows how to stare off in the distance and squint.

Is watching a cow give birth really that wonderful or is that just played up a lot?
Well, the blood and slime quotient runs pretty high. Sometimes there is bellowing. But anytime something gunky slides out on the green grass, takes a breath, and is up and tottering in under five minutes, well, postmodern irony just flops over deader than a nail. I once watched my mom give a stillborn calf mouth-to-mouth, and when that calf started chugging along on its own, it struck me that this was the sort of thing you might quite legitimately "play up." Although I kinda questioned the idea of any more good-night kisses Mom-wise.

Do you have any good stories about hitchhiking through Europe? Not so much the Europe part but the hitchhiking part.
In Norway I was hitchhiking with a male friend and we were picked up by two kind gentlemen who shortly stopped at a park, took off all their clothes, and said it was time "for the bathing." They pronounced "bathing" as "baaahhhhthing", which gave us further pause. We demurred, and they contented themselves with their own baaaahhhthing while my friend and I stared off in the distance and squinted. Afterwards they put their clothes on and served us a shore lunch of homemade crepes and wild strawberry jam. Then they drove some 90 miles out of their way to drop us safely at our destination. I cherish their kindness and miss them still.

Do people in New Auburn treat you differently now that you're Mr. Successful Writer What was their reaction to your book?
My most regular contact with my fellow citizens is as a member of the local volunteer fire department, where ego deflation is the number one sport. They could give a rip, and I like it that way. They also look at my house, with its peeling paint, rusted screens, and a used Chevy in the weedy drive (last week while I was mowing the driveway the wheel fell off my mower) and figure Mr. Successful Writer better get it together and sell some movie rights. If I am to be serious for a moment, they did put a facsimile of the book cover on the population sign just outside of town, which was just plain nice of them. I love this rough-edged little village, always will. No matter where I wind up, I'm always from "Nobbern". When you float your head around in the writing world, it is always good to have that fire pager on your hip…it goes off, and suddenly I am in a trailer house with an old lady scared because she is having chest pain, and I am reminded, this is how it ends, and one day it will be you, so off your high horse.

What large American towns seem to have the most small-town personalities?
I'm no expert, but I love New York City. The life, the hugeness, the power of that place. I get to go there maybe once a year or so for a few days. And as much as the farm boy in me loves to walk and gawk Manhattan, I have also spent a lot of time in the outlying areas, and it seems to me that what you have is just one small town after another. I once spent time in Bushwick, and after three days, I knew the local baker, I was nodding to the same characters in the same doorways, and I was thinking as I saw the three churches and two bodegas on one block that a place like that has as much or more small town personality as some Midwestern small town in which Main Street has been replaced with chain convenience stores and fast food places. I believe I have mangled this question, but perhaps you get my point.

What about your book do you think resonated with so many people? A lot of the reviews on Amazon have readers saying that it "reminded me of home," which you think would be difficult when you describe such a unique place.
I don't know what to say beyond the fact that I have done readings in towns of 10,000 in Mississippi, or in a California suburb, and had someone come up and say, "Your town is just like our town," which leads me to believe they are focusing less on size and geography than some idea of contented centeredness or generalized familiarity. Put another way, it seems to be less about the number on the sign than the feel of a place. Also, I think (this is a guess on my part, I could be way off) many folks appreciated the fact that while I obviously love it here, I didn't paint small town life as some sort of nonstop apple-cheeked square dance. What with the guns and death and meth and all.

Do you feel your fans from larger cities or other parts of the country viewed the book differently than those from small towns/the Midwest, or it was pretty universally regarded?
The small town folks definitely write about the similarities they see in their current situation. The readers that caught me by surprise were that first group - the ones in larger cities or other parts of the country - and they are usually saying the book reminds them of where they grew up, or of the aunt and uncle they used to visit in the country. I had never considered the vast amount of people who are only one or two generations removed from rural life.

Why would one need to perform an Eskimo roll in a kayak? For what is this training used?
Well, mainly to show off to other kayak geeks. I find it is also useful if you're looking for a quick and easy way to clog your sinuses for two weeks straight. And for the record, half an Eskimo roll ain't no roll at all. You can still find the fingernail marks on my gunnels. If I am allowed to say such a thing.

You worked at a suicide hotline (I'm having trouble coming up with a question that doesn't make me sound morbid.) Here: Did you receive many prank calls? What did you do with those?
I had a couple I figured were crank calls, but I was always too scared to call them on it. At least once I kept someone on the line while using all those TV drama hand signals to get the attention of my coworkers so that they could send the police. You definitely got your lonely folks who just wanted to talk. Truth is, I was a well-fed 21-year-old nursing student whose idea of angst was best expressed by Glass Tiger's "Don't Forget Me (When I'm Gone)", meaning above all I had no business answering a suicide hotline.

What kind of music does your band The Long Beds play? What do you contribute to the band?
Roughneck folk, I suppose. Pretty simple stuff. A lot of open D chords. I write all the songs and do the singing. The other members do the nuanced playing, as I play guitar with all the subtlety of a man cutting brush.

Whenever I hear Al Roker say "Here's what's happening in your neck of the woods," I imagine a beautiful little wood where my family rides horsedrawn sleighs to Christmas dinner. What exactly does one really do with a neck of the woods?
Forgive me if this is too obvious, but around this neck of the woods, we like to neck in the neck of the woods. Beware poison ivy and Al Roker, because the man gets around.

What is the difference between reading and being a guest speaker? What do you speak about when you do guest speak?
Well, you've blasted the façade to bits. When I am hired to guest speak, I stick to material that has some relevance to the group in question. When I do a reading, I do pretty much whatever material I like. But I don't just read. I do a lot of behind the scenes and tangent stuff, stuff that's not in the book. I've always been a little leery of just reading out of the book and then taking questions. I try to entertain some, provide some value-added material, as the economists (or is it the marketing department) say. I often talk about peeing out kidney stones. You can hear about that here. In general, I abase myself for chuckles.

Have you inspired others from your home town to try writing?
Well, I get letters…

Do you ever worry about running out of material?
I worry about running out of time.

What are you working on now?
I just finished a piece for Outside magazine (about having poison ivy on my butt), one for Backpacker, and one for Men's Health. That's the freelance way. And I'm in the final stages of my next book, about a truck that wouldn't run, a garden that wouldn't grow, and a woman who never existed. People ask me where I get my inspiration and I tell them my muse is a bald-headed man named Jim. He sits in a swivel chair at the Sterling Bank nine miles up the road from my house, and he holds my mortgage. Whenever the words won't come, I have a vision of Jim spinning in his chair, flinging sheaves of my mortgage to assorted rabid bill collectors, and I get to typing. The truth is, I never had writerly aspirations until I was out of college. I feel like a guy who got on the wrong bus, but jeepers, what a cool bus. I am grateful every day that I have one more chance to write. I love the keyboard. I am fortunate, fortunate, fortunate. The men and women with whom I serve on the local fire department drive truck, pour concrete, work in the logging industry, work in the oil filter factory or the turkey factory, or they farm…I never make the mistake of trying to convince them that the writing life is difficult. I'm lucky to be in here hacking.

What is it like reading your book for an audio tape? Did you read it as it felt natural to you, or were you instructed to read it a bit differently than you had in your head?
It was fun. Three days in a little padded cubicle. I felt all cozy and purr-y like when I was a kid and built forts from the couch cushions. I had a director, the poor woman had to listen to every word. Sometimes I pronounced a term two different ways and she would catch it. I'd have to go back and make it consistent. In short, her job was to prevent me from coming off as a gob-mouthed idiot. But as far as rhythm and feel, she really just let me go. It felt great. Especially since she was originally from New York, and much of what I read has that blue-collar Midwestern feel. Or so they tell me. Just between you and me, I've never had the guts to go back and listen to it.

How does it feel to be the 132nd person interviewed for Zulkey.com?
Well, he said, ducking his head and toeing the dirt in shame, as long as it has taken me, I think it feels like being the 187th person interviewed for Zulkey.com. Which takes us back to question number one as it pertains to Scandinavian Protestant guilt issues concerning work ethic, tardiness, and any sort of loose behavior including but not limited to smoking ditchweed rolled in lefse.

More interviews here.