E Martin Nolan is a
poet, essayist and editor. He edits interviews at The Puritan, where
he’s also published numerous essays, interviews and blog posts. His essays and
poems have appeared in Arc, CNQ and CV2, among
others. His long, illustrated poem about Donald Trump, “Great Again,” can be
found here. His non-fiction writing focuses on literature,
sports and music. His first book of poems, Still Point, was published with Invisible Publishing in
Fall, 2017. Learn more at emartinnolan.com.
1 - How did your first book change your
life? How does your most recent work compare to your previous? How does it feel
different?
Still Point is my first book. I don’t have to write
or edit it anymore. I’m still getting used to it being done. I do have some post-book poems already out
there, though. They feel different because the story told in Still Point is told now, so I’m free of
it. I want to do something fun now.
2 - How did you come to poetry first, as
opposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?
I began by
imitating Bob Dylan and Van Morrison lyrics in high school. But I’ve always
enjoyed writing prose, and non-fiction has always been there for me. I have no
clue about plot, so fiction is out. I’ve always liked the music I can make out
of poetry. I was counting syllables from the beginning (while I should have been counting beats—we get
there).
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?
Projects are
always constantly emerging, morphing or fermenting, until I decide to, and have
the time to, bring them up to the front of my attention and work on them.
Poetry originally comes pretty quickly, and comes when it damn well pleases. A
sequence can be a steady project, and the editing stages are, like prose, about
just putting in the time and hopefully working it out. Poetry can occur in
increments as short as one minute. I do like to research to mine for metaphors
though. This is an impossible question to answer fully, so I’ll stop now.
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 start with
the single unit and that usually gets worked into a larger whole. A poem
usually begins with an experience I want to capture, or with an image. Sometimes
something I read about can attain an experience or image.
5 - Are public readings part of or
counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing
readings?
I enjoy
readings, but generally if I’m reading a poem, then it’s done. I might drop a
word or two, but it’s not a part of the process. Reading aloud to myself, of
course, is.
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 will
assume that by “theoretical concerns” you mean poem-theory stuff like
formalism, experimentalism, yada-yada. “Schools” is another word for it, right?
It’s impossible to not have theoretical concerns behind your writing. I know
poetry through poems and their attendant theories (professed by the writers or
critics later) as they were taught to me and as I sought them out. But I don’t
forefront those concerns. As grist for poetry, they are usually boring. You
have to be Anne Carson or something to pull off a poem about theoretical
concerns.
I want beyond
literature. The state of the world, and of humanity. The question of how we
sustain ourselves through the current and coming global crises overshadows all.
Within that, I’m most concerned with our spiritual state. Do we have it in us
to rise to the occasion? Do we have the collective wisdom and strength to reverse
course? Maybe history will say I’m panicking, but still these concerns make it
hard to care very much about theoretical concerns. I am, however, quite happy
to be proven wrong.
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?
It’s not
about “should be” but “can be” (to quote Matthew
Tierney). A writer can be anything, and writers need the freedom to
be what they become. “Should” is limiting. Most writers are far more important
to the larger culture as people, as citizens, than they are as writers. That
said, I think that given freedom and a decent platform, a lot of writers,
enough writers, will (and should) take on a role of destabilizing received
perceptions and truths, and (this is the crucial, more difficult part) of
forming a moral consciousness and spiritual life that audiences can share in,
and grow by. Maybe it’s romantic, and fine, but art should be a vessel for our
shared humanity. What else is going allow us to share the our terribly gigantic
current humanity? Consumerism?
On that, I
do think to matter at all a writer has to engage the reader like any other
artist. The work needs to be bright, needs to be compelling, or it’s nothing
and it doesn’t exist “in the larger culture.”
8 - Do you find the process of working
with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?
Essential,
if the editor is engaged (not always the case in Canlit). I’m a collaborator by
nature, and the editing process is one of the rare moments when that can happen
in writing.
9 - What is the best piece of advice
you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?
Clarity is
more complicated than obscurity.
10 - How easy has it been for you to
move between genres (poetry to non-fiction)? What do you see as the appeal?
Poetry and
non-fiction are complimentary for me. They balance each other out. Non-fiction
gives me certainty, direction, purpose. Poetry lets me roam more freely.
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 don’t
really have one. I write when I can, and my schedule and workload is
ever-changing. Summers I write more, and can get into an everyday thing. But when
teaching, it’s whenever you can snatch time.
12 - When your writing gets stalled,
where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?
I try to
remember that the world is crushingly terrifying in its immensity and capacity.
That the world is also ending before our eyes. But also that we have pictures
of Jupiter. Like, actual pictures from our technology, close-ups of fucking
Jupiter. Who could be bored or uninspired in this world? What a time to be
alive and privileged.
13 - What fragrance reminds you of home?
Fresh-cut early-summer
grass. Burned-out late-summer grass. Olive oil, butter, onions, garlic.
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?
My own
experience of the world. I think that is the most important form: the self’s
original relationship to the universe. But music, especially in a rhythmic
sense, is also incredibly important to my writing. For a while I’ve been
steadily getting more into the natural world to gather figures to witness my
feelings and theories.
15 - What other writers or writings are
important for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?
I just
quoted Emerson in the answer above, so he’s in there. Dionne Brand was the one
who told me the thing about clarity above. The ghost of James Wright works in
me. But the rappers, for all their flaws, are also super important, especially,
again, for their rhythms. But it’s always gotta be mostly drawn from life
outside of the work.
16 - What would you like to do that you
haven't yet done?
Write a big
fat novel that gets me into Oprah’s Book Club when she’s president.
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 guess my
day job? Teaching. Writing isn’t an occupation for me. Though I’d probably
pursue some career more seriously if writing wasn’t taking up so much time. I’d
dig being a religious scholar.
18 - What made you write, as opposed to
doing something else?
It was the
thing I could do well and was intriguing to do.
19 - What was the last great book you
read? What was the last great film?
The World of Yesterday. The
Shape of Water.
20 - What are you currently working on?
Not totally
sure. Maybe essays on sports or music. A book of poems about the bright lights
at the end of the world. What I want to do is talk some shit in poems. I want
to explore poetry as venting. I also await wonderment, terror and the
grotesque. Maybe.
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