12 or 20 (second series) questions with Rajinderpal S. Pal

Rajinderpal S. Pal is a critically acclaimed writer and stage performer. He is the author of two collections of award-winning poetry, pappaji wrote poetry in a language i cannot read and pulse. Born in India and raised in Great Britain, Pal has lived in many cities across North America and now resides in Toronto. However Far Away is his first novel. 

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, pappaji wrote poetry in a language i cannot read, was released in 1998 by TSAR. The attention that this poetry collection received completely exceeded my expectations. As well as winning the Writers Guild of Alberta award for Best First Book, the publication received a couple of mentions in the Globe and Mail and allowed me to do readings across the country. I have been working on a New, Unpublished and Selected collection, working title The Lesser Shame. I really wish I knew then, at the time of writing my earlier poems, what I know now about craft and structure. Writing and editing my debut novel, However Far Away, I have gained a discipline and rigour which has previously eluded me. In some ways, I am covering similar ground to what I covered in my two published poetry collections (themes of family and tradition, love and commitment) but the novel feels very different in terms of scope and reach.

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

My father was a published and much-admired poet, and poetry readings were a regular occurrence in my childhood home. He wrote in Punjabi and Urdu, both languages that I do not read or write. My father was only in my life for a short time before he died of a heart attack. I was ten at the time. In my late twenties I was desperate to understand my father: his life as a soldier, a headmaster, a poet, what led him to move our family across continents, why he wrote, and what he wrote. Poetry seemed to be the natural medium to examine this man and try to understand my relationship to him.

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’ll speak to my novel, However Far Away. In June 2005 I was sitting on a bench in Kitsilano Park. It was a beautiful sunny day, the beach, the ocean, the North Shore Mountains in full view. As I sat and surveyed all the activity around me a determined looking South Asian man, approximately my age, ran past me. I immediately began to wonder what this man might be running from or running toward. That afternoon, at the dining table of my basement apartment I wrote seven pages of prose; an opening scene for what I imagined would be a novella. At that time, I was primarily a poet. I was not one for spontaneous writing. For the next twelve years, immersed in my career in healthcare sales and marketing, I wrote very little. Occasionally, I would open the Word file for Settle (the working title for However Far Away) and write a line, a paragraph or a scene but there was no substantial progress. In late 2018 I was retired out of my career and had to admit I had run out of excuses to not tackle this larger project. I completed dozens of drafts before it was even submitted to House of Anansi Press. The finer edits, however, were only completed once they had agreed to publish the book. The final shape only became clear after my editor and I had reduced the manuscript from 130,000 words to 90,000 words.

4 - Where does a poem or work of fiction 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?

For poetry I write individual pieces without a larger project in mind. For fiction I always had a larger project in mind, though just how large the project became is a surprise.

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

Public readings are critical to the creative process for both poetry and fiction. Perhaps that is from growing up in a house where poetry was frequently read out loud. For me, both poetry and fiction have to work on the page and when spoken out loud. 

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 write fiction for the same reasons that I write poetry—as a way to understand, to come to terms with, to uncover a nugget of truth, to seek (or, dare I say, create) beauty and meaning, and perhaps enlighten myself.

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 believe that there will always be a thirst for storytelling and meaning, that the rumours of the death of poetry and fiction are much exaggerated. For sure new technologies like AI will have some impact but we will continue to create and search for meaning through literature, whether through a concrete poem, a ghazal, or a long work of fiction.

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

Essential. I wish I had worked more closely with an editor for my two books of poetry.

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

Before I published my first book, Nicole Markotic said to me, “You need an editor who could tell you to remove your favourite line in a poem in progress and you will consider it.” Those are not Nicole’s exact words, but the sentiment has stayed with me for over twenty-five years. The word “consider” is the most critical word in that advice; you do not have to eliminate that line but you should question what purpose it might be serving in the poem and whether it is necessary. The final decision is always yours.

10 - How easy has it been for you to move between genres (poetry to fiction)? What do you see as the appeal?

If writing a poem is the bull’s eye, then writing a novel is the entire bull, its lineage, its character, and what it ate today. You need to choose the form based on what it is that you are trying to understand, to come to terms with, or uncover.

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?

During the most intense periods of writing However Far Away I had a strict daily schedule; three hours of writing each morning, two hours of writing and one hour of editing each afternoon. Most days I exceeded the scheduled number of hours, but it was okay if there was an occasional day when I failed. I took evenings off since I am a social being and needed the nourishment that good conversation provided. I am looking forward to the time that my next project will require me to get back to a similar routine.

12 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?

There is a list of books, films and music albums that always inspire me to create. That list continues to shift and grow. It’s a long list, but some of the writers that I turn to are Michael Ondaatje, Robert Hass, Jorie Graham, Hanif Kureishi and, more recently, Sally Rooney and Anna Burns. I would occasionally revisit the film The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, especially for the two scenes that I consider to be the most emotionally wrought ever put on film. If nothing else works a bit of travel and long exploratory walks seem to help.

13 - What fragrance reminds you of home?

An Indian spice mix tempering in a pan.

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?

All of the above. I am as influenced and inspired to create art by film, theatre, contemporary dance, and music, as I am by books. If I am writing, I need to be actively engaged in other arts. I will carry a small notebook with me everywhere I go and often write lines that will later make their way into a poem or a work of fiction. These lines might be inspired by anything from a work of art to psithurism to a beautiful horizon to overheard conversation.

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

If a book really strikes me, I will read it multiple times. There were a few books that were constant companions during the most productive periods of writing However Far Away: The Sense of an Ending by Julian Barnes, Milkman by Anna Burns, Intimacy by Hanif Kureishi, All About Love by Bell Hooks.

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

I have an idea to create and produce a performance piece for stage incorporating poetry, music and film; something that could be performed at Fringe festivals as well as at literary festivals.

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 had a thirty-year career in sales and marketing in the healthcare industry. When I was retired out of that career in 2018, I was able to fully focus on completing However Far Away. In the future, I would like to facilitate creative writing workshops—poetry and fiction—but have no desire to be a full-time instructor. Other than that, I just want to create and stay healthy.

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

Standing beside an upstairs banister listening to emotional and powerful recitals floating up from the gathering of poets in the downstairs front-room.

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

Book: Soldiers, Hunters, Not Cowboys by Aaron Tucker. Film: Past Lives written and directed by Celine Song.

20 - What are you currently working on?

As well as the new and selected poetry collection, I am mapping out two possible works of fiction.

12 or 20 (second series) questions;

12 or 20 (second series) questions with Tāriq Malik

Tāriq Malik has worked across poetry, fiction, and art for the past four decades to distill immersive and compelling narratives that are always original. He writes intensely in response to the world in flux around him and from his place in its shadows. His published works, including Rainsongs of Kotli (TSAR Publications, short stories, 2004), Chanting Denied Shores (Bayeux Arts, novel, 2010), and now his poetry in Exit Wounds (Caitlin Press, Poetry, 2022) and Blood of Stone (Caitlin Press, Poetry, 2024), challenge entanglements in the barbed wires of racism and cultural stereotyping in art, the workplace and across societies.

Tāriq Malik is the current Writer-in-Residence at the Polyglot Magazine and a former Writer-in-Residence (July 2023) at the Historic Joy Kogawa House and has offered Poetry Master Classes at various locations.   

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 published book, Rainsongs of Kotli, was a compilation of loosely interwoven short stories set in the backwaters of Pakistani Punjab. It was challenging to describe the work and situate it for potential publishers. I received several very negative responses. Eventually, Rainsongs of Kotli was published by Toronto-based TSAR Publications in 2004, and that gave me confidence in my creative voice.

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

Rainsongs of Kotli, my first published work, began as a long poem that evolved into a historical fiction. However, I retained a few original poetic sections and transformed them into prose. 

My next book was based on the Komagata Maru saga, Chanting Denied Shores. In it, I included a handful of poems to vivify the narrative and serve as an itinerant poet's voice.

I ventured wholly into poetry for my third and fourth books, Exit Wounds and Blood of Stone. By then, I had some confidence in my poetic voice and was now less concerned about how these works would be received. I am glad I was able to make the transition to poetry and find my readers.

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 almost daily, relying on my biphasic sleep patterns, and putting work together to submit is very often slow and laborious. While immersed in this lonely process, I feel empowered and sustained by the writing's drive, passion, and truth. At no point do I consider the reader's response to my narrative my sole concern, as this often gets in the way of the writing. If I do my task well enough, the reader will find my writing accessible and then willingly take the journey with me.

I tend to overwrite, hence there are several drafts, from which I later distill the work to its bare essence before the final submission.

4 - Where does a poem or work of prose 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?

Since my natural state as a poet is ekphrastic, I usually begin with a scene or an image. A piece of dialogue may inspire me to move onto the page and put down my personal take or view of the situation. The writing then dribbles in and is worked into a coherent whole (or incoherent whole, if I am deliberately risking obscurity). For me, the volta is often as compelling a section of the poem as the point of the reader's entry into it, even more so.

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

I enjoy public readings immensely as the writer's voice introduces a nuance that the written word does not always convey. I also find that there is a significant challenge in reading concrete poems where the visual aspect of the phrase is a vital part of the work. However, given the subjective nature of my writing and its narrow focus on unfamiliar themes, I am rarely offered opportunities to read my own 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 try to amplify a personal experience and viewpoint and attempt to vivify these for the reader.

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?

One of the roles of the writer in our culture is to engage with the social areas of concern/friction/intersection that are often outside the readers' sphere and then to elucidate these emotional and intellectual experiences in an engaging, enlightening, and entertaining manner.

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

I have not yet had the fortune to work substantially with any editor for my fiction.

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

Be true to your art even if it does not find fertile soil to land on and flourish.

10 - How easy has it been for you to move between genres (poetry to short stories to the novel)? What do you see as the appeal?

My fiction is heavily laced with my poetics. My poetry is mostly concrete and narrative based.

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?

My writing day begins at around 4am.

12 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?

Look for inspiration in writing I admire, primarily Urdu poet Faiz Ahmad Faiz for his rhythms. Lately, I am returning for inspiration in the poetry of Valzhyna Mort, Andrea Cohen, Laura Ritland, Tolu Oloruntoba, et al.

13 - What fragrance reminds you of home?

Petrichor, in other words, Blood of Stone.

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?

Nature, science, and visual arts are all inspirational for me. I am excited to be working on a poetry chapbook on the wisdom of trees, another inspired by ravens.

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

Robert Macfarlane (any of his multi-faceted writing), Pankaj Mishra's From the Ruins of Empire, Loren Eiseley's The Unexpected Universe, E. L. Doctorow's Ragtime. 

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

Write a play or a screenplay, or collaborate on a creative project in this field.

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 have held scores of jobs before turning to writing: Plant chemist, candy factory worker (mercifully only one day), a nightshift at the pillow factory stuffing down feathers (four months), industrial lab chemist (17 years)

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

I did not find any writings that related to my subjective lived experience.

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

Colum McCann's awesome Apeirogon.

A favorite TV series: The latest incarnation of The Talented Mr. Ripley (titled simply as Ripley).

20 - What are you currently working on?

I am busy with a poetry book tentatively titled STALAG NOW that explores the global consolidation of influence and wealth in the hands of ever fewer individuals and organizations, often in collusion with the military, and the experiences of the precariat societies living under these conditions.

My next novel, Blood Towers, will present an ant's POV of constructing glass pyramids in the desert sands to fulfill the wet dreams of latter-day pharaohs.

I am also working on a sophomore outing for my short story collection of Rainsongs of Kotli.

12 or 20 (second series) questions;

12 or 20 (second series) questions with Sonia Saikaley

Sonia Saikaley was born and raised in Ottawa. She grew up in a traditional Lebanese household and much of her writing is influenced by her rich Middle Eastern heritage. She has taught English in Japan. Her fiction and poetry have appeared in Still Point Arts Quarterly, Things Japanese: A Collection of Short Stories, Maple Tree Literary Supplement, and the anthology Lavandería - A Mixed Load of Women, Wash, and Word. She is a graduate of the Humber School for Writers and the University of Ottawa. Her first book, The Lebanese Dishwasher (Quattro Books, 2012), was co-winner of the 2012 Ken Klonsky Novella Contest. Her poetry collection Turkish Delight, Montreal Winter (TSAR Publications) will be published in the fall 2012.

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 The Lebanese Dishwasher was launched in April and that was an exhilarating time for me. I have been writing for several years and I’ve received my fair amount of rejection letters, so it is quite sweet that my first book was released in the month I turned 40. Perseverance and hard work do pay off…eventually! With this first book publication, I feel that I can be taken seriously as a writer. I am very fortunate to have found a publisher in Quattro Books. They were willing to give a new voice a chance and I am grateful to them and I am also grateful to TSAR Publications who will be publishing my poetry collection Turkish Delight, Montreal Winter in the fall 2012.

My novella is quite a change from my other work. It’s written from a male perspective whereas most of my other pieces are written in a female voice. It wasn’t easy at first to enter the voice and consciousness of my Lebanese dishwasher but somehow I managed to do it. As well, the first draft of the novella was completed in three weeks. I woke up at 4 am to write before heading to my day job and raced back home to continue writing in the evenings. It was an ambitious project and a complete change from my usual work. At times, I thought I was crazy to think I could complete a novella in three weeks. When I had seen Quattro’s call for submissions to their Ken Klonsky Novella Contest, the deadline landed during a time that was impossible for me to meet due to other circumstances in my life. I knew that if I wanted to enter this contest, I would have to complete the manuscript in three weeks. I hadn’t expected to win, only thought of the whole thing as a good writing exercise and voila – here we are talking about my first book! Sometimes life can be unpredictable and there are moments when we can get so discouraged but then something wonderful happens and you realize that you can fulfill your goals and dreams by not giving up and by encountering people who want to help you move forward.

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

My parents were both born and raised in Kfarmishki, a small mountain village in Lebanon. They were children of hardworking farmers but had left Lebanon to pursue other opportunities in the new world. Ironically, my parents had only been introduced to each other when they arrived in Ottawa. Although illiterate, they managed to build a good life for themselves and their family in Canada. Sadly, my parents could never read a book to me and when I would receive a book as a present from neighbours or friends, I treasured it and took good care of it, sounding out each word until I became a better reader. Fortunately, my three older sisters were willing to read to me, or if you ask them, were forced to give into their whiny baby sister. Poetry came to me first because it was shorter and easier for me and I enjoyed writing it as a way to entertain my friends and classmates. I also loved the immediacy of it. My earliest poems were often written about others as a joke or gift to them. Rhyming and all! Fortunately, my style has evolved from the early childhood poems and nowadays my poems are more political than personal and they rarely rhyme!  

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?

Generally, I have to think about a project before I even begin writing it. I take long walks and try to imagine characters and scenes. Sometimes the writing comes quickly (like the novella!) and other times I have to force myself to sit down and write. I rarely make notes. I just plunge right into the writing and write from my heart and ignore the inner editor. Only during the rewriting stage do I allow the inner editor to start chopping and restructuring sentences and scenes. I feel that the initial writing process must be fresh and raw. When I first began writing, I despised the revision process but now I’ve come to find it necessary and enjoyable, well, for the most part!

4 - Where does a poem or prose 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?

Ideas for poems or prose usually come to me on my long walks (there are so many wonderful paths in Ottawa and therefore no shortages of muses!). My mind often travels to foreign countries, too, like Japan where I had the wonderful opportunity through the JET Programme to spend a year in a port city called Shiogama. Lately, I have been travelling to the Middle East (unfortunately, only in my mind for now!) and I find that most of my poems and prose begin with experiences, be it my own, or those of others in the world. I believe Henry James emphasized imaginative experience and I tend to write using this method. Events in the world influence my writing too. I tend to work on a book from the very beginning rather than combining short pieces into a larger project.

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

No, public readings are not part of my creative process but I do enjoy attending them. By nature, I’m shy and I tend to get nervous before a reading but I’m hoping with time, I’ll get used to them. However, I do enjoy chatting with and meeting new people at public readings.

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?

My writing often deals with questions of the role of women in Middle Eastern cultures and the clash between old and new worlds. I also think it’s important to give a voice to those who are sometimes silenced because of their gender or sexuality. We have a certain freedom in North America that, unfortunately, some other countries are not privileged to. I believe, as a writer, it is important to tackle questions and issues that are not always easy to write about or comfortable for readers to read but it’s the responsibility of a writer to explore uncomfortable and difficult topics and to help those who are not so fortunate to be heard. This is my personal philosophy.

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?

The above answer applies here.

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

Absolutely essential. I am fortunate to have worked with wonderful editors who have been both tough and compassionate. Luciano Iacobelli of Quattro Books was one of the best editors I had the honour and privilege of working with. His wonderful suggestions and insight helped me move forward and grow as a writer.

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

A few years ago, as I was preparing to embark on my journey as an assistant language teacher in Japan, I attended a reading and talk by Ann-Marie MacDonald. Something she said stuck in mind - “Do what you think you can’t do”. I was quite nervous about starting fresh in a new country without the language and without the support system of friends and family but when MacDonald said, “Do what you think you can’t do” it provided the encouragement that I needed to head to Japan and her words also applied to my writing. I had doubts about my writing ability and when she shared that inspirational advice, I thought okay, maybe I can’t write a book but I can at least try, I can at least “do what I think I can’t do”. And it worked…

10 - How easy has it been for you to move between genres (poetry to fiction)? What do you see as the appeal?

It’s very easy for me to move between genres. I love trying different things with my writing even if the final result is not always successful! Each genre has a different appeal to me. I love the immediacy of poetry and love the rhythm and metaphors. As for fiction, I like the development of a story and its characters.

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?

I wake up very early, 4 or 5 am. I’ve always been an early bird, showing up at the schoolyard bright and early to play or chat with friends. I like the quiet of the early morning hours. I write every day. I have become more disciplined and stable with age!

12 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?

Even if I don’t feel inspired, I make a point of writing every day. The writing is not always good but I feel it’s important to sit down and write. Taking long walks helps too.

13 - What fragrance reminds you of home?

Lebanese cooking – allspice, cumin, garlic, freshly cut parsley, dried mint leaves, shish kabobs, fried kibbee balls…are you getting hungry yet??

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?

All of the above. The world and its diverse cultures and people are wonderful muses.

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

Naguib Mahfouz’s work is amazing and I like the fact that his writing often deals with the impact of social change on ordinary people. Hanan al-Shaykh is a fascinating writer as well as Alice Walker and SusanSontag. I admire the works of Japanese writers Banana Yoshimoto and Haruki Murakami as well as Canadian writers Barbara Gowdy, MG Vassanji, Alice Munro, Frances Itani, Matthew Firth, Michael Blouin, Ann-Marie MacDonald and many others. Julia Alvarez is one of my favourite writers and her work has been important to me because she often deals with the immigrant experience too. It was so refreshing to read her book How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents. Although I was born and raised in Ottawa, I could relate to these sisters who were struggling to find their place in the United States. Like many first generation Canadians, I often experience a split where I have one foot in my Lebanese heritage and the other in my Canadian culture. I’m surprised I haven’t split my pants yet! Seriously, it is sometimes difficult navigating between both. As a teenager and young adult, it was not always easy finding a balance between the two worlds but as I get older, it’s becoming easier to embrace both.

16 - What would you like to do that you haven’t yet done?

Travel to the Middle East. Although my writing is heavily influenced by my Lebanese heritage, I have never been to Lebanon, believe it or not, well, unless you count the time I was in my mother’s belly and my family went there for a visit! I would also like to wander the cobblestone streets of Paris, volunteer in a third world country, help build a school, teach English again.

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?

If I had not been a writer, I would’ve liked to have been a psychiatrist or psychologist. The human mind intrigues me and I’m interested in knowing what makes people do what they do. I think these doctors make a huge difference in the lives of their patients and what a feeling it would be to know that you truly helped make a difference to someone who is suffering loneliness, depression, anxiety, etc. How rewarding it must feel to witness a positive transformation in another human being. I guess in a way, when I enter a character’s mind, I’m trying to understand their situation and their predicament and want to help them overcome whatever tragedy might be troubling them.

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

Writing is a curious calling and I can’t explain what made me write. I just felt I had to do it. There are moments when I feel discouraged with a story or feel the story isn’t going the way I imagine it should and I want to give up, but I just can’t. I take a deep breath or two or three and start all over. I just keep at it.

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

Secret Daughter by Shilpi Somaya Gowda. Very powerful and moving book.

The Reader – heartbreaking.

20 - What are you currently working on?

I am working on a novel entitled Fishing Season in Gaza. It is about a woman who is disfigured when her family feels she has brought shame to them. A tough story but one that I feel must be told.

Thank you, rob, for your generosity in promoting other writers!

12 or 20 (second series) questions;

12 or 20 questions (second series) with Dawn Promislow

Dawn Promislow was born and raised in South Africa, and has lived in Toronto since 1987. Her first book, Jewels and Other Stories, was published in 2010 by TSAR Publications. She's had stories published in Maple Tree Literary Supplement and in the anthology TOK: Writing the New Toronto. Her story "Billy" was shortlisted for UK-based Wasafiri's New Writing Prize 2009, and she is the recipient of an Ontario Arts Council Works in Progress grant.

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, which has only been out for three months, made me feel very different actually. Now there is a concrete object out there, a piece of me, floating about in the world, sort of like a child, that I have to worry about! I have to worry about its life in the world, how it fares! I also have to do all sorts of things I’ve never done before, to do with promoting and marketing the book. I don’t particularly like all that, but it has to be done, so my time is quite taken up with that right now.

The writing I am doing now feels different as well. There’s more of a self-consciousness to it. This is both a good and bad thing. There is a certain innocence to one’s first book, a sense of its inevitability. It had to be written, and it had to be written that way, and no other. Now I am more aware of my own style and voice. I’m also more aware of the larger things that concern me as a writer, the themes, and what I want to write about. This could make a better second book, perhaps, but it could also make a worse book, if the edge of the voice is smoothed over. Well, I will try not to do that, to smooth over too much that spontaneous, first, fresh voice!

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

Instinctively I gravitate towards fiction, in my reading as well as my writing. I love the flexibility, the capaciousness, of an imaginative world, the great possibilities. The room for exploration, the infinite capacity of it. It allows for whole other dimensions. I love reading poetry as well. It’s the interest in language I think. Fiction (like poetry) lends itself to exploration in this regard – the capacity of language to convey worlds, moods, tones, meaning. The capability of language, and the challenge of it, you know, what can be done with it. Non-fiction doesn’t concern itself as much with this, non-fiction has a more pragmatic relationship with language, a more straightforward one.

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 spend a great deal of time thinking about something before I ever put pen to paper. In fact, putting pen to paper before I have done enough “thinking” about it is usually death to a project. I might actually spend years thinking (and not necessary on a conscious level) about something, about an event, or a person, or some object that for some reason intrigues me. I prefer to manipulate the pieces of a story in my mind long before I write them. I have an idea that a story is almost fully formed in my mind before I set it down on paper. I think it does actually exist in a form in my mind, and then I put it on paper. And I do that very fast, the actual writing. That was  how my first book was written. After that is another long process of winnowing down or polishing what I have written, until it is in its final form. And that process can last a long time and many polishings too!

4 - Where does fiction 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?

Short stories begin almost invariably with a visual image of something in my mind, it can be a very small thing: the colour of something, the expression on a person’s face, or some other sensuous detail like the sound of a silk blouse swishing or something seemingly fleeting like that. But for whatever reason this small thing interests and intrigues me, and I can spend a lot of time thinking about it, visualising it, its surroundings. And other things slowly over time coalesce around it: people, things they say, things they do, a reason for something. And then I consciously start to “follow” this collection of things in my mind, and their pattern reveals itself to me, if I’m lucky! The reason for someone’s expression, something like that. But it really is a very amorphous beginning, and it becomes clearer and clearer over time, until an actual form, or story, is revealed. It’s sort of like a negative of a photograph that slowly develops into a full colour photograph, and then I have to go to my pen and paper and write it down!

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

Readings come long after the story has been created and published, so they have nothing to do with the creative process for me. I don’t particularly enjoy reading aloud, I am a bit shy, but I like sharing the work, the stories, so I am very happy to do readings.

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 don’t start with theoretical concerns. The creative process would be crippled by that I think. I create a story more by following my instinct I would say.  Afterwards, though, when I’m polishing it or even reading it long after publication, I think very much about theoretical things: how this story solved theoretical questions for me. Questions about how to represent a certain reality – a scene, a person, a character, an atmosphere, a feeling – on the page. The complex ways in which reality and writing interact. The different means of effecting this transformation of reality onto a page. And by “reality” I suppose I mean life actually. How life can be transcribed, so to speak, onto the page. How far it is possible to do that, and what limitations are there?

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 think it would be, again, death to the creative process for a writer to take on a role. In many ways I think writing is the antithesis of taking a role. Writing is breaking out of roles and expectations, preconceptions, at its best. It is the freedom to follow an idiosyncratic character, or route, for example, to a place no-one has been before. Paradoxically, though, in doing this, a writer finds his role: that of a discoverer, a witness, a recorder. And so that is his role, I suppose – it is a paradox indeed!

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

I think if you’re lucky enough to find an editor who understands you and your work, then it is wonderfully helpful. She/he then helps you to achieve your vision, to achieve the story in its best possible form. I think it would be quite awful to have to work with an editor who was not on the same page, so to speak, I can’t even imagine that. That would be very destructive to the work.

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

I don’t know who said it, but someone said a writer should use everything he knows, every little thing. This sounds very obvious, but it isn’t! Writing should be the marshalling of every possible resource (every cell) within the writer’s mind: his memory, his knowledge, his imagination. I remind myself of this all the time, and try to do it. And then (I think it was Hemingway who said this), you have to know what to leave out. It’s this tension between what the writer knows and what he actually says that is the door into a story I think, or even the tension between what the writer knows and what he is not sure that he knows, or what he doesn’t know.

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?

I don’t have a writing routine (I think this is a bad answer!). I write whenever I feel ready to write what I have to say. And when I want to write I will write no matter where I am or when it is – I will not sleep for instance, if I am in the middle of something that I want to finish. And in fact I do become quite sleepless if I am in the middle of something that I am anxious to put down on the page.  I think this might have to change if I start a long-term project (such as a novel).

11 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?

I go walking. I think walking mimics the creative process actually, the search for something, when you walk you’re always about to find something new, around the next corner.

12 - What fragrance reminds you of home?

The smell of the sea reminds me of a wind-swept beach in South Africa on the Indian Ocean where I spent childhood holidays. The smell of the sea always makes me think of  how large and beautiful the planet is (and how pure it used to be), and that’s what I used to think of, on that Indian Ocean beach .

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 find visual art particularly close to work that I do. Colours convey moods, lines convey moods, in the way words do. Lines and shapes have rhythm, as words do. I often think that my favourite short stories have a “colour”, and are like paintings actually, existing as a single visual image in my mind. Edgar Allan Poe long ago suggested his definition of a short story as a narrative with a “single effect”, and you might think of this single effect as a visual one, in the same way a painting or a sculpture is, or has, a “single effect”.

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

Many writers, too many to name or even remember in this space! I constantly read and re-read short stories, favourite short stories of mine, more than novels. James Joyce’s Dubliners I return to time and again, without tiring of it. Also Chekhov’s short stories, some of John Cheever’s. A recently discovered short story for me was Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s “A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings”. I feel a natural affinity with American writers of the South - a landscape, both physical and moral, that feels very familiar to me: Flannery O’Connor, Eudora Welty, Carson McCullers. And above all, Faulkner.

15 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
Write a second book!

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?

I’ve attempted, half-heartedly, many other occupations, and was no good at any of them! I have liked jobs that gave me lots of room and space to dream. A lifeguard on a beach would be good, just sitting and thinking all day and watching the sea (as long as I wasn’t actually required to rescue someone!). Or even better, a beachcomber, walking along a beach all day, picking up stuff that came from under the sea or far away. Which, when you think about it, is one of the things a writer does.

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

I love to read, books contain the world, and I love the magic that a writer can do by putting words, and worlds, onto a page. I guess I wanted to do that magical thing.

18 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?
I read Madame Bovary for the second time recently, Lydia Davis’s new translation. I enjoyed very much seeing what a master translator can do, I kept going back to my old translation and comparing – it was interesting. And I re-read in French La Symphonie Pastorale by Gide, a novella that is both perfect and exquisite – or perfectly exquisite!

I saw The King’s Speech, loved it. But the last truly great film I saw was a 16-minute silent black-and-white film called A Trip to the Moon, made by Georges Melies in 1902. They call it the first science fiction film, and it’s 16 minutes of rough, unvarnished brilliance.

19 - What are you currently working on?

I have fragments in my mind that I would like to turn into short stories, and I have a longer work in my mind that becomes a little clearer in my mind every day, or I hope that’s what it’s doing!

12 or 20 (second series) questions;