DAVID SEDARIS

The bestselling author on keeping a diary, bossy souvenirs and the upside of down-market hotels.

YOU ADDRESS SERIOUS TOPICS IN YOUR NEW BOOK CALYPSO , LIKE YOUR MOTHER’S DRINKING. HOW COME?

I’ve wanted to write about drinking for a while – about loving somebody and struggling to be loyal – but I had to get a certain distance from it first. I can’t tell you how much mail I got from people with similar experiences when that essay first came out in The New Yorker. I never think of my writing helping people, but it struck a chord.

YOU’VE KEPT A DAILY DIARY SINCE 1977. WHY IS THIS PROCESS IMPORTANT FOR YOU?

I think it’s a compulsion, but most days, what I write in my diary is not of any interest to me or anybody. I know it will come in handy later though. When my sister Tiffany died, I typed her name into my digitized diary and all the highlights about her popped up.

Some of my siblings had forgotten the memories

I’d documented.

ANY SOUVENIRS OF NOTE FROM RECENT TRIPS?

In Tokyo, I bought myself a pair of black sequin culottes and a pink sequin shirt that cost $500. The washing instructions are: “NO.” You simply cannot wash it.

HOW DO YOU FIND INSPIRATION ON THE ROAD?

When I’m in a crummy hotel, I often leave with a story. One night, I came back to my hotel late from a book-signing and there was a guy in the hallway, naked except for a T-shirt. Did he lock himself out of his room? Was he kicked out? I think about him all the time.

WHAT’S THE FIRST THING YOU DO WHEN YOU GET TO YOUR HOTEL?

Flush the toilet. You do not want to find out too late that the toilet doesn’t flush. I learned that years ago.