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 first chapbook --What the Badger Said (Baseline Press, 2013)-- was a life changer! Karen Schindler makes beautiful books and is a brilliant editor. That she was willing to invest her time in my poems gave me a huge boost in both confidence and stick-to-itness. Her editing was also the crash course in poem-making that I needed.
2 - How did you come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?
I came to prose first. I wrote odds and ends of stuff that didn't really go anywhere. I think, maybe, that those first attempts at stories/non-fiction were actually poems trying to be something else. When I did start writing actual poems the form just felt comfortable, natural--the right fit. At that time (back in grad school) I was reading for comprehensive exams and while I loved reading fiction, it was the poetry (modernist/contemporary) that really sparked something. I'm really attracted to the density/precision/distillation of poetry. Poetry is like a well-made multitool: all that utility, craft, and mechanical dexterity packed into something you can hold in your hand.
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?
The writing comes quickly and the editing takes forever. I'll write a full draft in a sitting and then I'll tinker with it before I take it to my writing group. After its first rodeo, I'll stitch it back together and then take it back to the group. Once I get it to a good place, I'll put it away until it is time to send out. At that point, I'll have another go at it to make sure I'm happy with it.
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've never started a writing project with a book or end point in mind. Even my chapbook with my friend Kerry Manders (Keep Your Distance: https://longconmag.com/collusionbooks/digital/2x4two/keep-your-distance/) began as a poetry exchange that we then crafted into a concept/book. This is what I like about writing poetry -- you can build towards a book in a modular fashion. The book is then shaped after the fact. I know some poets begin with a book/concept and I would like to try that. But so far, it has been a process of one poem at a time.
5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
I love public readings. An audience is a gift. I always feel humbled and grateful that folks are willing to listen and respond. I also like readings because I can add some of the connective fibres/stories that exist alongside the poems but don't make it into the poems themselves. Often, I see the readings as an opportunity to add back in what the editing process took out. That editing process is necessary and it shapes the poem so it can stand on its own in a collection, but a reading allows me an opportunity to add some 'tell' back into the 'show.' I also like how readings give you an opportunity to bring out some of the rhythm and musicality of the poems. You have to be careful not to go overboard on both of the above (over-read or over-talk) but I do love sharing my work in this way.
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?
"Concern" is a good way of putting it. I think art/poetry is innately theoretical in that it asks questions and plays with ideas. My concerns are ecological; I'm interested in relationships among things/people/plants/creatures and relationships to home and place. How we dwell well in our dwellings.
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 think there are as many roles for the writer as there are writers. One important role is to ask and struggle with that very question. Some would say that their role is to have no role -- that they owe themselves to the work and that the rest is of secondary importance. I get that--it is important for art to resist instrumentalism. On the other hand, I do think poetry and the poet can have a role in society/culture/the civic sphere. I was the Poet Laureate for the City of London (2016-2018). It was a great two years. I enjoyed writing and reading for specific occasions--this helped me see how poetry can crystalize a moment, can concentrate into language a shared space and time, can focus and provide a vehicle for shared emotion, can frame civic concerns in new and subversive ways. The existence of the poet laureate comes from an idea that art and artists have a role in shaping civic space and discourse. Every writer does this in one way or another. Near the end of my tenure as PL, I was asked to write one "legacy" piece. Instead of writing a poem, I worked with a group of artists, community members, and institutions to organize a three day summitt centred on the river that flows through this city and the traditional territories of this place. We called it "The River Talks: Gathering at Deshkan Ziibi" -- It was a confluence of people whose work, lives, concerns, cosmologies, histories, art, and activism centre on or are defined by the river. I felt very grateful and honoured to be a part of this event -- it fit with how I understand/imagine my role as a writer.
8 - Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?
Both! They go hand in hand. The difficulty and challenge of outside editing helps forge a much stronger poem.
9 - What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?
Reading is an essential part of writing. Also, don't be a jerk.
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 write in the pockets of time I can find. I do have a monthly poetry workshop--It forces me to, at the very least, write one poem per month.
11 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?
Sometimes the field just needs to lay fallow. Reading is always a good way to get back into writing. Going to poetry readings is another way. Galleries/exhibitions/performances can also get the blood pumping. Probably the best thing to do is not to sweat it and just go for a walk. Staying inside your brain is not good when things are stalled. Get outside and go on an adventure.
12 - What fragrance reminds you of home?
Fresh-cut hay, WD-40, chainsaw oil, roasted chicken, manure, burning leaves.
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, science, and visual art are big influences. Many of the poems in Kill Your Starlings were inspired by gallery visits (The ROM, AGO, National Gallery, Biodiversity Gallery at UWO). Nature is a major preoccupation --both in terms of the living world, but also in terms of how nature is represented in cultural artifacts (in car commercials for example). At UWO, I teach a nature writing course (You're a Strange Animal: Writing Nature, Writing the Self). We spend a large portion of each class outside exploring campus (the river, arboretum, forests, parking lots). We also visit the McIntosh Gallery, go on guided tours with biologists, and speak with Indigenous knowledge holders. We explore UWO's zoology collection, collect and identify benthic macroinvertebrates (stonefly larvae, dragonfly nymph, beetles, etc ) from the river, interview trees, collect garbage--we go on adventures. I encourage my students to research--to learn about the many ways we can approach and understand the living world.
14 - What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?
My editor, Andrew Steeves, at Gaspereau Press recently sent me two beautiful Gaspereau books: Wendell Berry's Notes: Unspecializing Poetry, and Aldo Leopold's Wherefore Wildlife Ecology. Both are terrific. Today I'm diving into Pollution is Colonialism by Max Liboiron. Two books that I read over a year ago but keep bubbling up in my mind are Elizabeth Kolbert's Under a White Sky: The Future of Nature and Kathryn Yusoff's A Billion Black Anthropocenes Or None. I'm always reading fellow London poets and I'm really looking forward to picking up Kathryn Mockler's new book Anecdotes (Book*hug Press). Annie Dillard is the best, and if you really want to blow your mind, read The End of Everything by astrophysicist Katie Mack--I don't really understand a word of it, but it does give me a sense of my complete insignificance--which I find both comforting and terrifying.
15 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
Swim in Lake Superior, win a squash tournament, write the perfect poem, buy a farm with my partner and rescue animals.
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?
In school I wasn't strong in math or science, but I would love to be a biologist. I ran in the 2019 Federal Election for the Green Party, so the job of Prime Minister was also on the table.
17 - What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
I've never thought of writing as in opposition to something else. I do a lot of things in addition to writing (work two different jobs, run a river cleanup organization, serve on boards). I don't know if I could ever be just a writer because my writing comes from the other stuff I do (this doesn't mean that I wouldn't like much more time to write).
18 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?
Sneaking in two books: Shaun Robinson's If you Discover Fire, and Liz Howard's Letter in a Bruised Cosmos. Movie: I Like Movies
19 - What are you currently working on?
I was recently part of a group show at Museum London called GardenShip and State (https://www.gardenship.ca/garden-ship). The collective is planning for a new show in 2024, so I'm trying to figure out what I'm doing for that. I'm hoping to work with Michelle Wilson on an installation that combines text and materials recovered from the river. I'm also currently writing a poem about electrofishing.
12 or 20 (second series) questions;
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