Thursday, June 22, 2017

Queen Mob's Teahouse: Novelists Tom Stern and Adam Novak in Conversation

As my tenure as interviews editor at Queen Mob's Teahouse continues, the twenty-ninth interview is now online: Novelists Adam Novak and Tom Stern [pictured] in conversation. Other interviews from my tenure include: an interview with poet, curator and art critic Gil McElroy, conducted by Ottawa poet Roland Prevostan interview with Toronto poet Jacqueline Valencia, conducted by Lyndsay Kirkhaman interview with Drew Shannon and Nathan Page, also conducted by Lyndsay Kirkhaman interview with Ann Tweedy conducted by Mary Kasimoran interview with Katherine Osborne, conducted by Niina Pollarian interview with Catch Business, conducted by Jon-Michael Franka conversation between Vanesa Pacheco and T.A. Noonan, "On Translation and Erasure," existing as an extension of Jessica Smith's The Women in Visual Poetry: The Bechdel Test, produced via Essay PressFive questions for Sara Uribe and John Pluecker about Antígona González by David Buuck (translated by John Pluecker),"overflow: poetry, performance, technology, ancestry": kaie kellough in correspondence with Eric Schmaltz, and Mary Kasimor's interview with George FarrahBrad Casey interviewed byEmilie LafleurDavid Buuck interviews John Chávez about Angels of the Americlypse: An Anthology of New Latin@ Writing and an interview with Abraham Adams by Ben FamaTender and Tough: Letters as Questions as Letters: Cheena Marie Lo, Tessa Micaela and Brittany Billmeyer-Finn, Kristjana Gunnars’ interview with Thistledown Press author Anne Campbell, Timothy Dyke’s interview with Hawai’i poet Jaimie Gusman, Hailey Higdon's interview with Joanne Kyger, Stephanie Kaylor's interview with Kenyatta JP Garcia, Jaimie Gusman’s interview with Timothy Dyke, Sarah Rockx interviews Gary Barwin, Megan Arden Gallant's interview with Diane Schoemperlen, Andrew Power interviews Lauren B. Davis and Chris Lawrence interviews Jonathan Ball.

Further interviews I've conducted myself over at Queen Mob's Teahouse includeGeoffrey YoungClaire Freeman-Fawcett on Spread LetterStephanie Bolster on Three Bloody WordsClaire Farley on CanthiusDale Smith on Slow Poetry in AmericaAllison GreenMeredith QuartermainAndy WeaverN.W Lea and Rachel Loden.

If you are interested in sending a pitch for an interview my way, check out my "about submissions" write-up at Queen Mob's; you can contact me via rob_mclennan (at)

Wednesday, June 21, 2017

My writing day : Tuesday, June 20, 2017

Given I did one of these a year or so ago, I thought it might be interesting to see what may have changed in the interim. Or remained the same. Might it all be the same? 

8:08am: everyone wakes late. By at least ten or fifteen minutes.

Around 5am, Rose complained for her mother, loudly, so she and I switched places, leaving her in the master bedroom with Christine and Aoife. I slept in Rose’s room, sans clock. I finally woke, wondering the time. Panicked. Woke everyone else.

8:12am: Ablutions. Coffee. Prepare oatmeal for preschooler as baby rouses. Turn on Ane Brun. Set both children down for breakfast. Check email. Christine prepares for work.

8:17am: Prepare lunch for preschooler. Pack towel, extra clothes. Today Rose in a swimsuit, as her preschool has ‘water days’ today (the day prior, also). Sprinkler, water table, etcetera. It meant, at least for yesterday, she returned home in soaking wet sandals covered in sand (but she had fun).

8:20am: collect newspaper from the front porch. Set it aside until tomorrow (there is no time for it this morning). Rose requests a second bowl of oatmeal.

Send out weekly mass email for the “Tuesday poem” series I curate over at the dusie blog [see link here to sign up for such]; this week: Sarah Cook (author of an above/ground press title announced last week). Field three emails from exhibitors for this Saturday’s semi-annual ottawa small press book fair.

8:31am: daily blog post posts. I change and dress the baby. Slip a dress over Rose’s swimsuit.

Christine nurses baby and brushes preschooler’s hair, covers her in sunscreen.

8:45am: leave for preschool with both children (Christine leaves a few minutes after we do). Rose has been at preschool five mornings a week for the full year, with the Tuesday and Thursday mornings extended to full days on February first. Given she begins junior kindergarten this fall, we worried about her being one of the younger kids in the class (she turns four in later November). At least this way, she gets used to full days in a familiar environment, and gets a little bit of French in the afternoons. The teachers keep telling me that she is completely ready for school.

Preschool: which actually ends next Tuesday, making this her last full week. I’ve already a local teenager I’m bringing in as ‘mother’s helper’ two mornings a week to watch both girls so I can sit at my desk, otherwise I would get nothing at all done.

I don’t need much, but I have to get something.

9:10am: land in basement with baby. Already I know she won’t nap at her usual time (9:45 or so). Which is fine, given Rose in a full-day preschool.

Read Aoife some stories. Attempt to answer some outstanding emails as she plays on the floor.

10:13am: random phone call from my father. Apparently an older woman named Carol called him this morning, insisting we were related somewhere along the McLennan genealogy. He had no idea, and seemed not convinced, but passed her name and email along to me so I could check my files. I’m not convinced either, given I’ve never heard the name, and we aren’t really related to anyone (in six or seven generations, we’ve many who didn’t have kids or simply vanished). But I’m curious to see if I can figure out where she connects. I’ve a 350+ page document I’ve been constructing since the early 1990s of McLennan/MacLennan genealogies throughout Stormont and Glengarry Counties with some forty or more unrelated/unconnected (so far) families.

Honestly, given she apparently told my father that her family came from Scotland around 1800, that wouldn’t be us. We were far closer to 1840.

10:30am: begin to attempt baby down for her nap.

10:49am: refresh coffee, and move myself and laptop from basement to desk. Hit “refresh” on the same Tycho album I’ve been listening to for months.

Carol is nowhere to be found in the genealogy file I’ve built, so I send her an email for further information. I’m almost certain she isn’t one of ours, but I’m wondering if I might be able to connect her to one of the other families, at least.

Since Christine returned to work in mid-April, I’ve been focusing my writing time on short poems and reviews, awaiting the fall to return to longer prose. I haven’t worked on short fiction in a few months, and would also like to be able to return to that larger novel I set aside a few years ago, for the sake of completing a possible draft of my short story manuscript, “On Beauty,” as well as my post-mother creative non-fiction title, “The Last Good Year.” Given both those manuscripts are now floating around the ether as submissions, I would really like to return to “Don Quixote” [see my 2010 essay on such posted at Rain Taxi here]. Oh, to be able to finish that, if only to see what might come next...

While I think some of the short poems I’ve been working on lately are quite strong, there is something about fiction that feels like an entirely new set of possibilities for my work. I should be writing more fiction. I’ve had the feeling the past few years that prose is really where I should be focusing my attention, but such is near-impossible while I’ve such small windows of time and attention with which to work. I need something longer, more sustained.

Until then, I’ve nearly one hundred short prose poems in the manuscript “the book of smaller,” begun back in December. I’ll keep adding to the file as new poems complete, perhaps see where it is as a whole later in the fall. Unlike most of my poetry collections, I’m composing with no sense of order or sections, but simply adding finished poems as they complete (I’ve some twenty or thirty pieces in various states of incomplete, most of which might never be). Once the manuscript is “completed,” I’ll worry about removing the weaker pieces, and re-ordering, much in the same way I composed my short story collection, The Uncertainty Principle (Chaudiere Books, 2014). I am deliberately not being in a hurry with such. I write when I can; short, single stanza collages.

I accept poems by Marilyn Irwin and Sean Braune for upcoming issues of Touch the Donkey. I send a first interview question off to Suzanne Wise for same.

I return to a short piece I’ve been working on for Ottawa Magazine, on being a writer home full-time with small children, and how I manage to juggle writing and children (short answer: poorly and breathlessly and constantly). After feedback from the editor yesterday afternoon, I finally manage to return to the piece, tweak it a bit, and send off another draft.

I poke at design for forthcoming above/ground press chapbooks by Sarah Dowling, Stephanie Bolster, Buck Downs and Valerie Coulton. Field a couple of author emails.

Yesterday I poked at a review of the new Gary Barwin poetry title, and managed about a half hour’s worth of flipping through poetry books in the backyard, as the children played, but don’t manage to get anywhere near reviewing today.

11:52am: baby wakes. We lunch. I empty, refill and start dishwasher.

I package up the two loaves of banana bread Rose assisted with yesterday, for eventual distribution. Perhaps I’ll give one to jwcurry at the reading on Friday. Since I can’t support him financially in the way I would like, I can at least offer him some of my homemade banana bread. He seems both enthusiastically appreciative of my baking, and always, just a wee bit, confused that I keep handing him loaves of bread, so, really: it’s win-win.

Pull loaf of brown bread from the downstairs freezer. Clean cat barf discovered in sunroom.

Clean counter. Wonder what the hell dinner is going to be.

Roused by a thumping, I discover a City of Ottawa crew slowly creeping north along Alta Vista; I have no idea why. I see the pile of detritus left at our curb by yesterday’s hedge trimmers has started to blow across our front yard. Nice.

Check the many gendered mothers email account; nothing new. I retweet a few items from the mgm twitter account.

12:27pm: clean and change baby, including her outfit (covered in strawberry stains). Put away clean cloth diapers Christine re-assembled. Head back downstairs with baby, laptop.

We play quietly. Read through a Richard Scarry picture book. She plays the drum.

This morning was last night’s The Daily Show and Late Night with Seth Meyers (his “a closer look” segments really are spectacular), and now we enter last night’s Late Show with Stephen Colbert. The Late Late Show. Conan.

1:23pm: upstairs, Aoife gets a cookie and we collect the mail. Some very cool new books by Katy Lederer (I’m doing a chapbook of hers soon), Daniel Handler (I realized a couple of months ago that he was an above/ground press subscriber circa 2008) and Tom Stern, as well as a couple of copies of her first book that Brynne Rebele-Henry was kind enough to donate to our eventual many gendered mothers fundraiser.

Aoife has been a bit clingier the past few days, sitting up with me more than usual. For a while she was grumpy, and almost seemed tired, but she refuses to settle into a nap (if that’s even what she needs). She cranks, cranks, cranks. She sits up beside me on the couch for most of our time downstairs.

2:36pm: head upstairs again, to use main bathroom (easier to contain baby in such than in downstairs bathroom) and notice all of our hedge-refuse at the curb is gone now. Weird.

Aoife seems pleased with the introduction of two Arrowroot cookies. We start another episode of Colbert, from last week.

2:57pm: Christine emails, asking for the girls’ social insurance numbers for some reason.

I change the baby’s wet diaper and I change my shirts, covered in Aoife’s cookie-goo.

3:17pm: we leave to collect Rose from preschool. I take the ‘running stroller’ for the sake of a quick post-pickup grocery run. We’re caught in the rain, but only briefly. Rose stops to pick some flowers.

4:23pm: land home. Fold and put away the stroller. Downstairs, I settle the children to snack on goldfish and blueberries. I put away groceries.

Sean Braune sends his bio for Touch the Donkey and says yes to an interview. I send him the first question.

Carol responds, but with not enough information for me to find in my document. “Duncan McLennan” sans dates is impossible. My document, on a quick scan, includes sixty examples of “Duncan.” I request further information, such as birth/death dates and wife’s name.

Carol’s mention that she believes we’re related “because she’s read the census” isn’t helpful. I request clarification.

5:05pm: I head upstairs for dinner prep. I empty the dishwasher.

5:18pm: Christine returns home. Dinner.

5:35pm: I quickly shower. I begin children bath preparations and clean dinner dishes and highchair as Christine plays with children in the living room.

5:55pm: Christine bathes children (a task usually mine) while I run out for a quick errand (wine). I’d like to head downtown to pick up the small press fair catalogue to begin folding and stapling, but there isn’t time, given Christine heading out again. Tomorrow.

6:20pm: land home, collect bathed/dressed baby for downstairs, while Christine assists newly-clean Rose with her bedtime snack. We collect downstairs for the sake of their bedtime stories.

6:30pm: Christine leaves for chiropractor appointment.

I somehow managed to convince the children to pick up some of their toys in the basement. Well, not as much as I would have liked, but there you go.

7:00pm: Aoife and I take Rose up for bedtime. Teeth brushing, vitamins, stories. I make the bed in the master bedroom. Aoife is very wiggly and less than (entirely) helpful, but amusing.

7:16pm: Aoife and I return downstairs. Rose’s monitors are on and she is singing. Then complaining.

7:19pm: Aoife and I downstairs again after re-settling Rose. Aoife drifts. I put her in sleep-sack and she floats away.

7:30pm: arrive downstairs from putting sleeping Aoife in her crib. Return upstairs to re-settle complaining Rose.

7:34pm: return to the basement to work on the latest above/ground press mailout – nathan dueck and Sarah Cook chapbooks and Touch the Donkey #14 – for the sake of distribution at this weekend’s small press book fair. Receive first interview answer from Sean Braune and send second question.

I’m tempted to post a couple of “12 or 20 questions” for future blog appearance, but I’m just too damned tired.

I work on the mailout and watch some of my stories. This Hasan Minhaj Homecoming King special is really, really good.

8:50pm: Christine returns home.

9:24pm: we attempt a series on Amazon Prime in which Christina Ricci plays Zelda Fitzgerald (I had added “Zelda” to our wish-list of names, prior to Aoife’s birth; I liked the idea of “Rose and Zel”). We consider the show acceptable, and watch the first three episodes.

10pm: poems rejected by an online journal. Bah.

10:44pm: finally, a response on an interview I wished to post as part of my Queen Mobs Teahouse deal as interviews editor. After months of asking for a bio from the student for their interview, they respond by sending the interview again. Sigh.

11:01pm: We crash, finally.

Monday, June 19, 2017

The Factory Reading Series pre-small press book fair reading, June 23, 2017: Rubacha, MacDonell, Million + Christie,

span-o (the small press action network - ottawa) presents:

The Factory Reading Series
pre-small press book fair reading

featuring readings by:
Elisha May Rubacha (Peterborough)
Sarah MacDonell (Ottawa)
Justin Million (Peterborough)
and Jason Christie (Ottawa)

lovingly hosted by rob mclennan
Friday, June 23, 2017;
doors 7pm; reading 7:30pm
The Carleton Tavern,
223 Armstrong Street (at Parkdale; upstairs)

[And don’t forget the ottawa small press book fair, held the following day at the Jack Purcell Community Centre]

Elisha May Rubacha lives, writes, and gardens in Peterborough, ON. She is the editor and designer of bird, buried press and the co-curator of the Show and Tell Poetry Series. Her work has been published by Bywords, Puddles of Sky Press, The Steel Chisel, and Skirt Quarterly, and she was shortlisted for the PRISM International Creative Non-fiction Contest in 2016.

If you work in the arts, Sarah MacDonell [pictured] would like you to hire her. A 2017 Tree Reading Series Hot Ottawa Voice, AOE Young Artist Mentee, and youth board member of the OAG’s dépArt, Sarah has performed at Slackline Creative Series, Sawdust Reading Series, CSA rout/e, and the ottawater launch. Her first chapbook, The Lithium Body, came out in January with In/Words. You can find her poems online and posted outside of McCarthy Park.

Justin Million is a poet living, working, writing, and curating art happenings in downtown Peterborough, ON. Million has published 19 poetry chapbooks, with presses such as Apt. 9 Press, and bird, buried press, and has been featured in literary magazines such as Word and Colour, Poetry Is Dead, and ottawater. Million is also the curator of the Show and Tell Poetry Series in Peterborough, ON, is the Poetry Editor for bird, buried press, also located in Peterborough, ON, and features every month with his Smith-Corona Electra 110 at KEYBOARDS!, Peterborough’s only live-writing poetry show.

Jason Christie is the author of Canada Post (Snare), i-ROBOT (Edge/Tesseract), Unknown Actor (Insomniac), and a co-editor of Shift & Switch: New Canadian Poetry (Mercury). He has five chapbooks from above/ground press: 8th Ave 15th Street NW (2004), GOVERNMENT (2013), Cursed Objects (2014), The Charm (2015), random_lines = random.choice (2017). He is currently writing poetry about (being) objects, and exaltation.

Sunday, June 18, 2017

Andrew Wessels, A Turkish Dictionary

To begin.

The Turkish Republic began with a speech.

In 1927, Atatürk addressed the new parliament. To say for the first time Türkiye. To say for the first time İstanbullu. To say for the first time a seagull comes to mind.

In 1932 the Türk Dil Kurumu (Turkish Language Institution) is founded to cleanse the Ottoman language, to create an official Turkish language purged of borrowed words, of grammar, of Arabic script, of Ottoman heritage.

Hundreds of words become alien, then cease.

Constructed in three sections—“&language,” “&history” and “&faith”—poet Andrew Wessels’ first trade collection, A Turkish Dictionary (San Diego CA: 1913 Press, 2017), exists as a curious combination of prayer, translation theory, travel guide, love song and philosophical investigation. Composed as both a personal and historical essay via the lyric collage, A Turkish Dictionary is expansive, stunningly beautiful and remarkably dense, reminiscent of other poem-essay works by poets such as Juliana Spahr, Sue Landers and Susan Howe for the disparate threads woven together to create a single, sustained line. “The purpose / of this book,” he writes, “is to explain / the vagaries of a poet.” In an undated interview posted at OmniVerse, conducted by Barbara Claire Freeman, he discusses what might have been the beginnings of this collection:

AW: The past few years I’ve been living part-time in Istanbul, where my wife’s family lives. I’ve been translating the Turkish poet Nurduran Duman. I read a translation of one of her poems a couple years ago on the old Omnidawn blog and was blown away. I got into contact with her and asked her to send me some more poems. I just had to translate them and share her wonderful poetic vision with the English speaking world.

The Turkish language is fascinating, both for its grammatical structure and more generally the sounds it produces. It’s an agglutinative language, so you build these elaborately elongated words, adding morpheme upon morpheme to express what in English is done by adding new words or phrases. I’m also fascinated by an aspect of the language called vowel harmony, whereby the vowels of suffixes are not fixed; rather, they are determined by the preceding vowels in the word. The language, to my ear at least, develops musically, the agglutination building chords and the vowel harmony offering, well, a harmonic element. I’ve used Turkish words in some poems, but I think the effects of my study of the language and translations have bled over into all my writing, even the poems that don’t address the Turkish language or Istanbul directly. The sounds and the rhythms of the language have affected my views on prosody, the structure of the line, and meter.

While it isn’t entirely clear where Wessels’ origins lay, I was curious about the fact of a writer exploring a potentially-foreign country and culture for the sake of poetry. Wessels appears to approach the culture and country as any archivist might, attending a tone similar to Susan Howe in the archive, turning pages and opening boxes for the sake of research. While the book is critical of historical details, the narrator passes no judgements, unfurling the facts of the Turkish language, culture and history. As he writes: “& history & language & let’s make this concrete how can I  understand?”

The bookseller outside the Grand Bazaar brought five versions of Atatürk’s
speech, Nutuk, each edition larger and longer than the last, the last a four-
volume set filled with translations and translations of translations
each more different than
the last. Version piled upon version in which somewhere was an original word.

The first two versions diverged before the fifth word uttered. I asked the
bookseller where the original document was held. One must know the name
of what one seeks.

Oh, Atatürk, where did they put your words?

Part of what appeals about this collection is the blend of lyric ease he manages to contain so much information, moving between the personal to the historical, attending critiques alongside discoveries, and delighting in the details as much as the language. There is an enormous amount to admire in this absolutely stunning debut.

i moved::the road is dry and crusty the rains come in the spring and the birds the leaves let go this hand the burning::a seat five feet from your right next to each other this leaf falls for hours the sound of a cricket once::tall grasses brushed::let go this hand the burning::the funny thing is::a daisy is your favorite they grow here::and let go this hand the burning::the words are ferry water shore button cow and sun::an olive covered with white wine::the space between beef and cow a matter of taste and cigarettes::let go this hand the burning::face the crowd straight a show of grace::in this city there is in this city there is in this city there is::rain on these stones::little red thing when humor collides::an open door

Saturday, June 17, 2017

Lorine Niedecker (a new poem

This poem, blood, the minerals. Road signs, waver. A measure of woodland. Beneath expression. Furthermore. The singularity of rock, of river. Water levels high, and higher. What kind of birds. Parliament Hill, Chaudiere, old E.B. Eddy. Condos, this domesticated trail. Scored path and step. Algonquin footfalls, long before Champlain. The corruption of shoreline. Richmond Landing. Poem, set in stone a concrete pillar shored up set into the bones of highway. In every part of every syllable. Carved cracked and worn and patchwork smooth.

Friday, June 16, 2017

12 or 20 questions with Tara-Michelle Ziniuk

Tara-Michelle Ziniuk is the author of three collections of poetry, most recently Whatever, Iceberg (Mansfield Press). Her work has appeared in make/shift, EOAGH, Joyland, Prism, Matrix, No More Potlucks, The Best Canadian Poetry 2016 and other publications. Her byline has also appeared in Quill & Quire, The Grid, The National Post, Today's Parent, Bitch and Maximum Rocknroll. Born in Montreal, she currently lives in Toronto with her daughter.

1 - How did your first book change your life? How does your most recent work compare to your previous? How does it feel different?
My first book changed my life by letting me write something else. I say this sarcastically, but I definitely fell into the cliche of putting out a first book that was everything I'd ever written to-date. I was quite young when my first book come out, and I think it let me take myself a bit more seriously as a writer. And in turn probably made other people do the same. I think it also really helped me network; at the time there was a lot of small press stuff going on in and outside of Toronto. I'm very thankful to have had that publication picked up.

This is my third book and it feels a bit less indie, even though it is still coming out with a small, independent press. Even the cover is less crafty. Though there are a lot of similarities between it and my previous books, I think the biggest differences are that this one has a bit more of a narrative running through it, and that I tried to do less (more focus, better quality, I hope!) It's taken me a while to drop the idea that I may never publish again and should share every thought I have while I can. I hope I'm not jinxing myself here.

2 - How did you come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?
I always wrote poetry, even as a kid, and it was always miserable. I'd say that for the most part it was also always autobiographical, so in a sense I always wrote non-fiction through poetry (and still do). An example that stands out is that I spent a lot of time grounded as a kid (for no reason; I was a good kid) and wrote this poem that I think still exists somewhere about a lion trapped in a cage. I may even have read this poem on-stage during the talent portion of a beauty pageant as a kid...I didn't win. 

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?
With poetry, I don't think I've ever intentionally started a project. At least not one that I've also finished. I tend to write in spurts, and final poems look at lot like my first drafts, these days with many cuts made. Writing prose is different for me, though. When I do personal journalism-type stuff, there's a lot of brainstorming ideas, not a lot of notes. Trying to write a longer prose thing, though, there are many notes, probably more notes than written pages. Maybe that'll change after I've seen something like this all the way through once.

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?
Definitely the former. I admire people who sit down to write a book, but I've never done it myself. Which is odd, in a way, because in my freelance life I definitely write to publish. Often a poem begins with a very literal experience for me: I burn my finger and the blister is heart-shaped, or something. A firefighter texts me a love note on Christmas Day, because he has the wrong number...Apparently this isn't the type of thing that happens to everyone all the time.

5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
I like reading. I'm told I read too fast, and I'm not sure that'll change. I don't ever think I'm nervous before, but I'm very shaky on stage. A lot of what readings are for me are excessive intros and anecdotes. People have told me that hearing me read has helped them understand that I'm not always taking myself entirely seriously in my work.

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?
I'm interested in intimacy, what it means to admit doing it wrong, how uncool weakness is and claiming it anyway. This book takes up gaslighting some, not a question per se, but thinking on that is a challenge I pose.  I think a lot about being let down by "alternative" communities and chosen family, and I think I bring some of that to my work. With this book there are places I challenged myself to write about love without being funny or self-depricating—that's quite a microcosm as far as theory goes, I realize. 

7 – What do you see the current role of the writer being in larger culture? Does s/he even have one? What do you think the role of the writer should be?
I don't know how there could be one answer to this. I mean, the role of say, a high-profile biographer, and a relatively unknown poet don't seem comparable to me. I don't think writers owe anything to the world at large, or their readers even, but I do think writers need to be accountable to the work they put out. Not just the work, but all of the speaking on the work and public discourse they become a part of as writers.

8 - Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?
Both. I think working as an editor has really helped me appreciate editors and has taught me about being open to edits in a way I probably didn't used to be. I'm sure being embarrassed by things I've published in the past has "helped" too. I really like the editorial process. Which doesn't mean it's easy for me, especially because so often my work is based in reality, if not entirely true.

9 - What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?

Heather O'Neill says something needs to happen on the first page of a novel that the will change the course of events for the protagonist forever. (Or something like that.) Maybe that's something everyone but me already knew. I sat in on a week-long workshop Miriam Toews taught, and I think she really helped me calm down about needing to know if I was writing fiction or non-fiction; that was freeing. In the initial go-around of a weekend intensive with Eileen Myles I said that I wanted to start being a writer who had an idea before writing (poetry specifically) and focussed on that. Eileen had read the pieces I'd submitted to the workshop and pretty immediately told me that's not what kind of writer I am. I actually say this in a poem in the new book. Anyhow, in that moment I was like "Eileen Myles thinks I'm a kind of writer" and I'm sure I've been coasting on that since.

10 - What kind of writing routine do you tend to keep, or do you even have one? How does a typical day (for you) begin?
A typical day begins with my daughter asking me why I put clothes out for her in solid colours because she only wears patterns and I should know that. Then I look at Instagram. I'm sure that if I spent less time on social media I'd write more, but I'm not there right now. I'm pretty sure that ever completing a prose project would require a writing routine, so I should probably push myself to have more of one. It's hard because I freelance and have a young kid. I have a hard time starting books as a reader, and I have that same thing getting back into writing something I've put down for a while. But I rarely regret either.

11 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?
Writing groups have been really helpful for me; some poems from this collection came from prompts for those. I think my writing is most stalled when I am, I have a tendency to retreat from the world. Reading seems like the most obvious answer. I like reading debut poetry collections. I like reading writers I know in real life, I think that helps me understand how peoples' voices translate to their writing.

12 - What fragrance reminds you of home?
Which home? Pine Sol and Camel Lights remind me of my mother. Wood-fired bagels remind me of Montreal. CK One reminds me of my high-school love. I'm not sure any of those are home, per se, but they're what come to mind.

13 - 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?
I'm not sure I have an answer to this. I watch a lot of trashy TV and it definitely adds a juxtaposition to how I see things. The absurdity of the world at large, and of this type of pop culture. It's a weird but always influence on me. Social media is always this innate sociological study; maybe other people get that from being social, but it strikes me as more of a form because of the consumer relationship to it. I garden and I spend a lot of time in medical settings, waiting rooms in particular. Also not forms, but backdrops, context, imagery.

14 - What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?
Ariana Reines' Coeur de Lion is what comes to mind most immediately. I think I really needed permission to write this book, despite kind of (ugh) "branding" myself as someone who doesn't need permission. Coeur de Lion really gave me that. I quote Nelly Arcan's Hysteric in the epigraph of this book; that book did a similar thing. I think Miriam Toews' All My Puny Sorrows is that for my prose project work-in-progress.

15 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
Write and publish a killer personal essay.

16 - 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?
Like many writers, I don't know that writing is my occupation, much as I like to think of it as a career. I wish I'd done school, because I would have loved to do library and archival studies. I have a theatre background and am sometimes surprised I didn't become a playwright (which I realize is still writing). Sometimes I'd like people to pay me to make brunch.

17 - What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
I think I came into writing as an outlet for dealing with the things going on in my life early on, and it stuck. There have been lots of something else-es but writing has been a constant throughout those.

18 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?

Aisha Sasha John's I have to live. And Moonlight.

19 - What are you currently working on?
I'm paused on a novel I've been wanting to write for a long time. I've had bits of it published in Joyland and This Magazine and they've gotten a good response. I'm editing some individual poems. I'm figuring out boundaries around a shorter creative non-fiction piece I want to write. I am slowly trying to wrap my head around archiving many years of radio I either made or was a part of.

12 or 20 (second series) questions;