Showing posts with label Patrick Grace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Patrick Grace. Show all posts

Monday, July 15, 2024

12 or 20 (second series) questions with Patrick Grace

Patrick Grace is an author and teacher from Vancouver, BC. His poems have been published widely in Canadian literary magazines, including Best Canadian Poetry, EVENT, The Fiddlehead, The Malahat Review, and Prairie Fire. He is the author of two chapbooks: a blurred wind swirls back for you (Turret House Press, 2023), and Dastardly (Anstruther Press, 2021). His debut poetry collection, Deviant (University of Alberta Press, 2024), explores intimacy and fear within gay relationships. He moonlights as the managing editor of Plenitude Magazine. Follow him @thepoetpatrick.

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 debut poetry collection Deviant takes pieces from my two previous chapbooks, a blurred wind swirls back for you and Dastardly. I like to think of them as singles released before the full album. The theme of male intimacy—in all its ups and downs—runs through all three.

2 - How did you come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?

I didn’t. I wrote fiction first, long before poetry. Fan fiction as a kid, short stories as an adult. I wrote some cool stories in workshops with Lee Henderson and Lorna Jackson at UVic. I still want to do something with them, someday, rewrite them and send them out. Poetry sort of took over and wouldn’t let me look back.

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 write poem notes on my phone and when there’s a good number, I transfer them to my computer, tidy up the possibles and leave the weak ones. Then I hash out the possibles and create longer pieces, sometimes break them up into two or three poems. Some first drafts feel magical and so I leave them alone; poems like “The Calling” and “soft stalker,” both in Deviant, came out near untouchable in the very first draft. I didn’t have to do much with them. Others have been sitting on my hard drive for years that I still don’t know what to do with.

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?

A poem begins with a memory or a feeling, translated into a single line. I pick out uncommon words that I like using in poems, or motifs that I find myself returning to (fire, light/dark, voices), and write a few more lines. It’s a balance of concrete images and clarity, wisdom. As a manuscript, I always knew Deviant would focus on queer love and intimacy, the fear that often comes with it, but there were a handful of short pieces that didn’t quite fit, so we removed them. I’m very happy with the final product in its cohesiveness.

5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?

It’s important for authors to get out there and showcase their work. Writing is a lonely process, even when you’re sharing ideas by email or chatting on social media. It’s still just you and your phone, you and your computer. With Deviant’s publication, I’ve done a handful of readings, both online and in the real world, and I’m learning to enjoy them more. I’m quite a shy person so having a room full of people staring at you can be nerve wracking, but then I remember they’re all there for me, to hear my stories, my experiences.

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 want to document parts of my life before I’m too old to remember.

8 - Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?

I enjoy it, but I don’t think it’s always necessary. Everyone has a different opinion, style, mood. You’ll never please everyone. It’s a careful game, sharing your poems with another. Editors for publishing houses are a different story—if you want your collection published, that is.

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

The standard: don’t stop writing. Write every day, as much as you can. It’s simple but easy to forget, and sometimes the weeks turn into months and you haven’t written anything! Take it seriously and make time, even if it means passing on your favourite Netflix series after dinner.

12 - What fragrance reminds you of home?

Surprise question! It would have to be red roses, or concord grapes, or blackberries. All of these grew around our house in Vancouver.

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?

Nature does it for me. I go jogging in a nearby park several times a week, and it’s here that words, lines, ideas come to me as I’m covered in sweat and circling the paths.

14 - What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?

My pillars are W.S. Merwin and Anne Carson. I come back to them often. Carson in particular does neat things with dialogue, asking questions in poetry. It grounds me in my own work.

15 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?

Start a chapbook publishing company. Or swim with dolphins.

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?

As a kid I dreamed of being a translator. It was a romanticized career that I didn’t know much about. In my mind, I imagined Gandalf poring over old texts in spooky libraries. The real thing is much more boring, underpaid, and not well recognized.

My other dream career was a marine biologist. Again, swimming with dolphins.

17 - What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?

It wouldn’t leave me alone! Write write write, my mind chants at me. My full-time job is a teacher, and I also work part-time in the literary publishing world. It’s a nice balance so I don’t go nuts feeling guilty for not writing all the time.

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

As for Me and My House by Sinclair Ross will always be one of the greatest books. When it comes to movies, I like them thoughtfully scary—M3GAN was a good one.

19 - What are you currently working on?

Poems about my childhood home. The house itself was big, old, and sometimes scary. We got broken into one night while everyone slept. Most of my writing lately is about that. Since the death of my mother a few months ago, I’ve also been writing about her condition and the dismal state of care homes. And, here and there, queer love poems, always love poems.

12 or 20 (second series) questions;

Friday, June 30, 2023

Ongoing notes: late June, 2023: Scott Cecchin + Patrick Grace,

Odd to think that my mother would have been eighty-three today; my father would have been eighty-two this past Monday. Oh, and don’t forget I have a substack, yes? I think I’m gearing up for another book-length non-fiction project (possibly).

Montreal QC: A resident of Nogojiwanong/Peterborough, poet Scott Cecchin’s second chapbook is HOUSE (Montreal QC: Vallum Magazine/Vallum Chapbook Series No. 35, 2022), following Dusk at Table (O. Underworld! Press, 2020). I’m intrigued by the breaks, breaths and halts, the rhythms of this particular chapbook-length suite, and his poems expand upon their rhythms as the poems progress. What I find most interesting is how and where he holds the small moments and fragments of speech, appearing far more compelling than later on in the collection, as his narratives stretch into more traditional and even conventional plain-speech. But there is something here, and I am intrigued. As the opening title poem, “HOUSE,” reads:

The house flowers
in light. Be-
low that,
dirt. Deeper,

a glacier. And deepest:
fire.
        Inside you, a moon. And
            in the moon, somewhere, is

            you. The sun gets inside every-
            thing; and when the sun’s out
            we are too.

*

            The house, pressed
            into the deep,

            like a seed,
            sinks. Look up:

            air, so
            many ships sinking up

            there. Above that,
            ice—and higher:
            fire.
                      The earth

is shaped by fire and water, while
water enters earth and air. The air,

sometimes, holds fire and water,
and fire gives earth to the air.

Montreal QC: One of the latest titles from James Hawes’ Turret Press is a blurred wind swirls back for you (2023), a second chapbook by Vancouver poet and editor Patrick Grace, following Dastardly (Anstruther Press, 2021). Set in three sections of sequence-fragments—“a brazen thing,” “the sky cottoned” and “a blurred wind swirls back for you”—this is a curious chapbook-length sequence, offering one step and then another, towards a kind of expansion, say, over a particular ending or closure. The first section offers what might be a flirtation, writing as the third page/fragment:

lightning came             lightning          lit the night
it gave us an easy in

                        an ice
                                                to break

What strikes most are the rhythms, the pacing; a very fine patter across a length of tethered fragments, although there are some moments in the language that strike far less. Either way, there is something interesting here, and worth paying attention to, to see where Grace moves next. I say keep an eye on this one.