12 or 20 (second series) questions with Leona Theis

Leona Theis is a Canadian author whose first book, Sightlines, linked short stories that form a portrait of a town, won two Saskatchewan Book Awards. Excerpts from her novel The Art of Salvage, a story about messing up and finding hope, were shortlisted for novella awards on both the east and west coasts of Canada. Her personal essays have been published in literary magazines in Canada and the United States, won creative nonfiction awards from the CBC and Prairie Fire Magazine, and been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Her stories have appeared in numerous magazines and anthologies, including The Journey Prize Stories, and American Short Fiction, where her work won the story prize. Her most recent book is the novel-in-stories If Sylvie Had Nine Lives (freehand books, 2020).

1 - How did your first book change your life? How does your most recent work compare to your previous? How does it feel different?

I published my first book at age 45, after spending about eight years learning to write, mostly on my own. It wasn’t until that first book, a collection of linked stories, came out that I began to identify as a writer. So that was a big shift. My most recent work, after publishing a novel and some shorter nonfiction in between, circles around to stories again. These are linked in a much more complicated way than the stories in that first book. Each chapter stands alone as a story, but there are also arcs that are revealed gradually over the course of the book, making it a novel-in-stories. It was a tricky format to pull off, given that it chronicles nine possible lives for one woman, and those lives overlap and branch.

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

I came to writing almost by accident of circumstance during a year when I had free time. I began by writing down memories, twisting them to answer ‘what if?’ and trying to make them into something that could be called a story. I had no idea what that meant, but I was curious to figure it out. The few times I tried to make a poem, it slid quickly into prose. I wasn’t much interested in writing nonfiction until I saw a piece Mark Anthony Jarman published in Prairie Fire in the mid aughts, and I thought, Oh, you can do it that way! Until then, I was too close in time to academic life, and didn’t realize nonfiction could have so much vitality and personality.

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’m very slow. My hard drive is littered with half-baked half-drafts that will never have a chance. Even first drafts take a long time to complete, partly because I circle back as well as writing forward, and partly because I’m always working on more than one project at once.

4 - Where does a 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?

It might begin with the way a particular landscape moves me, or an overheard scrap of dialogue on a summer evening, or a memory of a co-worker’s addiction. Just about anything. Whether it will become a story, a novel, or an essay is part of the exploration as I work on it.

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

I love to read for an in-person audience, and I enjoy the discussion that follows. It’s fun to be surprised by what readers find in the work, and by their questions. Readings take time and energy that could be spent creating, but I also take energy and ideas from the interaction.

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 have no answer for question 1, but I’ll take a stab at 2 and 3: I hope to raise questions rather than answer them; or walk around a question that’s already out there and look at it from some new angle. These days I’m preoccupied with human insatiability and the trouble it causes in our relationships—with ourselves, with each other, and with the planet. Questions related to that are woven through my recent novel, as well as through essays I’m working on now.

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 like to read all sorts of writing, and so I think of many writers filling many different roles rather than a single “current role of the writer”. As far as my own work goes, I want to write a compelling story or account (whether fiction or nonfiction) that will move someone and possibly change them, possibly spur them think in some new way about how we treat each other, and, sometimes, how we treat the Earth. I want to make them laugh somewhere along the way as well.

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

I’ve had wonderful experiences with editors who’ve asked me questions that helped me to deepen the work; who’ve helped me make a line sing; who’ve helped me find my way to clarity. It’s great when an editor can tell me something isn’t working, and I know right away in my gut they’re right. But even when that’s the case, it’s often best to look past their specific diagnosis or suggestion for repair, and find my own.

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

In a recent discussion between Ian Williams and Lauren Carter, they spoke about approaching the work with love. I’m trying to make that a conscious part of my practice. It helps deal with the anxiety associated with writing. I can’t always love the process (though sometimes I do), but I can approach the work with a love for what a particular piece of writing might become if I give it the necessary care.

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

I have no trouble moving among genres. Whether essay, short story, or novel, it’s about making something with words, sentences, ideas, form, rhythm, story. If I hit a wall with one project, I can slide over to another. Sometimes the problem with the first will begin to resolve because I’m not staring straight at it.

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 have no typical day. My routine depends on what stage the project of the moment is passing through. In the early stages I procrastinate, or spend more time on research than I need to. Once a project has its own momentum, I’ll work long days with plenty of energy. Time away from the page or screen accounts for a good quarter, maybe more, of my writing time. It’s mulling time, whether conscious or unconscious, and it’s often how I find the shape of a piece—and that’s essential.

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

I’m working mainly on nonfiction at the moment. I had a day last week when I couldn’t see my way through to anything worthwhile, and I picked up Crossing Open Ground by Barry Lopez. After reading only a few pages, I’d found my way back to my own voice and sense of purpose. I’ll often turn to another writer that way. Or I’ll leave the work for awhile and do something that sets my body in motion, usually outdoors. Activity opens my mind.

13 - What fragrance reminds you of home?

Dark roast coffee, because my best idea of home is my desk in the morning.

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?

The natural world. I keep returning to a piece of nonfiction that happens mostly outdoors. I want the rhythms and shapes of words and paragraphs to mirror the naturescapes where it’s set.

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

I’m reading a lot of news, essays, and opinions about biodiversity, the climate crisis, and politics in a broad sense. I read contemporary literary novels and short stories, to see a familiar world in a new or deeper way, or to be taken to a world that’s unfamiliar to me.

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

An extended walking tour somewhere on the Prairies.

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’ve done considerable work as an editor for academic journals, and I enjoyed solving other people’s writing problems. I found it both satisfying and easier than solving my own writing problems, because I could be objective about it. It’s also handy for learning about, for example, issues in international environmental law.

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

I finished a masters degree in adult education and moved to the other side of the world for a year, which removed me from the job market for a time. I had a toddler to look after, and no paid work. I’d also undergone a number of upheavals in my personal life. I bought a notebook and began to experiment, to fill that empty space that academic work had filled over the previous couple of years.

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

I truly loved reading Kevin Barry’s Night Boat to Tangiers. Antigone, from Québécois writer-director Sophie Deraspe, is a compelling adaptation that doesn’t look away.

20 - What are you currently working on?

I’m rounding off a collection of essays, a sort of memoir, though it reaches beyond the personal. On a good day, I feel I’ll never run out of things to say. The trick is to say them well.

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