Trisia Eddy
Woods is the author of A Road Map for Finding Wild Horses (Turnstone Press, 2024.) A former editor for Red Nettle Press,
Trisia’s writing has appeared in a variety of literary journals and chapbooks
across North America including Contemporary Verse 2, The Garneau
Review, and New American Writing. Her artwork has been exhibited
both close to home and internationally, and is held in the special collection
of the Herron Art Library. Currently she lives in Edmonton /
amiskwaciywâskahikan with her family, which includes an array of four-legged
companions. Her photography, including wild horses, can be found online at
prairiedarkroom.com or IG: @prairiedarkroom
1 - How did
your first book or chapbook change your life? How does your most recent work
compare to your previous? How does it feel different?
My first chapbook was a long form poem published with dancing girl press, over ten years ago now. I really loved it,
it felt special and the poem still holds a lot of meaning for me. Although the
setting is quite different, this current book is similar in the sense that I am
exploring different layers of connection. However, I definitely see and feel where
I have grown as a writer, and I feel more confident in my voice. This being my
first full-length collection, I’m incredibly excited to see it out in the
world.
2 - How did
you come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?
I was encouraged
when I was still in junior high school by my English teacher, Mrs. Leppard. I
remember her putting together a compilation of pieces written by students, and
when one of my poems was chosen I felt incredibly proud. I continued writing
poetry throughout university, and after my kids were born. It wasn’t very
accomplished or well edited, but poetry was a way for me to write in the brief
spells of time I had in between working and mothering. As they have grown I
have been able to spend more focused time, be more thoughtful and consistent. I’d
definitely like to write essays or fiction; perhaps that is on the horizon.
3 - How
long does it take to start any particular writing project? Does your writing
initially come quickly, or is it a slow process? Do first drafts appear looking
close to their final shape, or does your work come out of copious notes?
I am
constantly writing things that come to mind, and collect them in notebooks or
on my phone if I don’t have a pen and paper. I also often make voice memos to
myself, and transcribe them every couple
of months. This particular project was done over several years, so I had a lot
of disorganized pieces to go through and make sense of!
Lately as I
have been dealing with the effects of long covid I find myself coming across
snippets of writing, and I cannot remember when they are from, or the context
under which I wrote them. So I am accumulating a collection of verses that are
simply phrases I like the sound of, or evoke certain feelings, which is proving
to be an interesting way to put together a project.
4 - Where
does a poem usually begin for you? Are you an author of short pieces that end
up combining into a larger project, or are you working on a "book"
from the very beginning?
I think
that my ideas grow out of what I happen to be obsessing over at the time. I don’t
purposefully create a book, but I do like to deeply explore concepts and get
lost in research, so that seems to organically take shape as a larger body of
work. Sometimes it feels as though the idea of putting together a collection is
intimidating, as I have a few half-formed manuscripts that were supposed to be ‘books.’
In the last several years, though, I have become more comfortable with taking
things apart and letting them go, whether it is individual poems or a
collection.
5 - Are
public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort
of writer who enjoys doing readings?
Having
helped organized readings in the past, I found them really quite inspiring and
important in terms of hearing the work of others, as well as sharing my own.
Poetry in particular has always seemed to me a kind of art form that enjoys
being read aloud. I love hearing writers interpret their work in their own
voice, I think you hear things that you might miss just reading from the page.
With this book I have had a few opportunities already to read at different
events, and it seems to bring a life to the project that is invigorating on a
different level.
6 - Do you
have any theoretical concerns behind your writing? What kinds of questions are
you trying to answer with your work? What do you even think the current questions
are?
That’s a
difficult one. I don’t know that I have contemplated much in the way of
theoretical concerns, aside from my own emotional processes. In the past I was
often mired in wanting to say something ‘important,’ and I struggled with
feeling reluctant to share my writing. Now I appreciate the fact that all of us
have important experiences and perspectives to share, so perhaps I might say
that one current consideration is to be generous with our reading and writing,
and to make space for embracing a variety of questions and answers, especially
from voices that are not traditionally heard.
7 – What do you see the current role of the
writer being in larger culture? Do they even have one? What do you think the
role of the writer should be?
I work in a
library, so I see first hand the influence of writers in people’s lives. It’s
quite amazing, really, how many books circulate, and how attached people get to
certain authors. How excited they are when their holds arrive, how disappointed
they are when we don’t have something they are looking for on the shelf. How
much they love to talk about a book they really enjoyed, with staff and with
strangers. I think if writers could see the interactions we have with the
public they would feel quite proud of the pivotal role they play in creating
community.
8 - Do you
find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or
both)?
A Road Map for Finding Wild Horses was my first opportunity to
work closely with an editor, and it was a transformative experience. I was very
fortunate to work with Di Brandt, and she asked a lot of questions that helped
me clarify what I was wanting to convey in the manuscript. So in that sense, it
was definitely both; difficult because I was confronted with the potential
weaknesses in my writing, and at the same time essential, because I was able to
dig deep to answer those questions.
9 - What is
the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?
When I was working with Di, at one point
she told me ‘you need to trust your writing more,’ and I was really struck by
that. I think there are a lot of moments (for myself, at least!) where
second-guessing the words on the page becomes a habit, and the idea of giving
ourselves permission to believe in what we write can be very liberating.
10 - How
easy has it been for you to move between genres (poetry to photography)? What
do you see as the appeal?
In many ways I see both my visual art
practice and my writing practice as a conversation—there are times when I don’t
have much to say in writing, and I turn to photography or printmaking to
express what I am processing at the moment. Other days writing takes over, and
I will spend weeks without picking up my camera. There is a certain amount of
comfort in knowing that if the words aren’t at my fingertips, I still have ways
of finding a creative outlet. It also means I am looking at the world in a
multi-faceted way: sometimes I see or experience a moment and words come to
mind, while other times I am struck by the particular way the light is just so,
and feel the need to create a photograph.
11 - What
kind of writing routine do you tend to keep, or do you even have one? How does
a typical day (for you) begin?
It is
really only in the past couple of years that I’ve been able to develop any kind
of writing routine. In the past I always just found bits of time here and
there, late at night when everyone had gone to bed, or perhaps during the odd
retreat away from home. Now I am able to sit and focus more consistently, but
it is definitely a practice I am still working on.
12 - When
your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a
better word) inspiration?
I had to
kind of laugh at this question, because my writing has been a constant sort of
journey of starts and stops. I’ve learned to find inspiration in little things,
as that is often what life is composed of; unfolding moments that make you
pause. Sunsets that take your breath away, music that makes you teary. Really
appreciating small accomplishments, or even the ability to have the time to
rest and breathe in between the bustle.
13 - What
was your last Hallowe'en costume?
A witch, I
think? I still have this fabulous witch hat I used to wear on Hallowe’en when I
did library story times.
14 - David
W. McFadden once said that books come from books, but are there any other forms
that influence your work, whether nature, music, science or visual art?
Yes, all of
it! Especially since much of what I write about is the interconnectedness of
life, how loss of that connection spurs grief, how rediscovery of it can open
us up in so many ways. All of these modes of expression are avenues for
exploring our relationships with one another and the world around us.
15 - What
other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your life
outside of your work?
I have
always been buoyed by friends who are fellow writers. I think it has been that encouragement
and support that kept me on the path, because there were many moments when I
felt discouraged or ready to shove ideas in the drawer. Dear friends like Jenna Butler, Shawna Lemay, Marita Dachsel… reading their writing has been sustaining
in some dark moments because it feels like having a conversation with them.
16 - What
would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
Oh gosh, so
many things. Before I became ill, I was actually booked on a trip to Sable
Island, to photograph the wild horses there. I still plan on doing that. I also
dream of photographing Polar bears in the north; that trip definitely requires
more planning, but the time I have to actually make it there feels pressing as
our climate radically shifts. I also look forward to the day I go to Montreal
to see one of my sons perform; he’s studying jazz at university and will be
doing his final recital soon. That will be a proud day.
17 - If you
could pick any other occupation to attempt, what would it be? Or, alternately,
what do you think you would have ended up doing had you not been a writer?
I often
think I would have liked to have been a teacher; my husband is a teacher and
the stories he brings home have become a part of our family mythology now. I
was always struck by what a difference he made in many of his student’s lives.
But now my oldest son is also becoming a teacher, so I will live vicariously!
18 - What
made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
Writing was
something I often turned to as a child. I had no siblings so spent a lot of
time alone, immersed in creating other worlds, and writing became a sort of
refuge. During the years of raising a family, writing was often the same kind
of respite, but in the sense that I had a place to go and decompress, explore
my thoughts while caught in the tangle of parenting and working and all the
other things life entails.
19 - What
was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?
Most
recently I have been reading and thoroughly enjoying Jasmine Odor’s newest
novel, The Harvesters. We just watched American Fiction which was based on the novel Erasure, it was really well done.
20 - What
are you currently working on?
Lately I
have had to focus on health and recovery, which has meant finding new ways to
incorporate writing and creative expression, as it is difficult to sustain any
kind of activity, mental or physical. I find being in natural spaces is one of
the things that is truly healing, so a lot of what I am writing is based on my
experience with trying to access those spaces while also being limited in my
capacity. I also find myself writing about aging, the mother wound, and climate
anxiety, capitalism and the politics of care, how to embrace beauty and love
and being flawed.
12 or 20 (second series) questions;
