THE DARK
When she was little my
mother wanted to hear
what the river had to
say.
She pressed her ear to
the ice
and it spoke.
A neighbour saw,
guessed where to chop a
hole downstream.
A miracle, they said, our
Lazarus.
Her father gave the man a
cow.
Three weeks in bed and no
one asked
what the lights were like
beneath the ice,
what darkness.
A shame, she thought.
It was beautiful.
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 I have been working on a New, Unpublished and Selected collection, working title The Lesser Shame.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.
Fred Moten lives in New York with his comrade, Laura Harris, and their children, Lorenzo and Julian. He works in the Departments of Performance Studies and Comparative Literature at New York University.
Ken Taylor is the author of three books of poetry, two chapbooks, three plays, and a collaborative work with twelve artists. found poem(s), with Ed Roberson, is forthcoming from Corbett vs. Dempsey—Ken’s photographs and Ed's poems.
1 – When did selva oscura press first start? How have your original goals as a publisher shifted since you started, if at all? And what have you learned through the process?
We want to publish books that we love by writers whom we love. We are especially glad to publish first books and to imagine that these will be platforms that can propel their authors onto a trajectory in which their work will continue to be seen and heard. We also love recovering and making available older texts that have fallen out of print and off the map. And we are committed to seeking out and finding and publishing the work of black authors, authors of color, and queer and trans authors. We have been primarily focused on poetry, but we have been branching out into fiction and non-fiction prose and have some plays forthcoming, as well. We are especially committed to making sure that the authors love the way their books look and so we are especially happy to work with authors who know how they want their books to look.
2 – What first brought you to publishing?
In the Research Triangle of North Carolina, we were part of a great community of writers which included Shirlette Ammons, Joseph Donahue, Nathaniel Mackey, Pete Moore, Kate Pringle, Ken Rumble and Magdalena Zurawski (among many others), all of whom had made it their business to serve the community by providing venues for people to read and publish. We wanted to follow their example. Three Count Pour and selva oscura emerged from that desire.
3 – What do you consider the role and responsibilities, if any, of small publishing?
Get the word and the work out.
4 – What do you see your press doing that no one else is?
There are so many presses serving poetry in so many ways. Not sure we’re a step above or beyond. We lean into collaboration. Listen. Are renewed with new enthusiasms that come our way with new and established work.
5 – What do you see as the most effective way to get new books out into the world?
Lately it’s been Asterism Books. They have been a godsend since SPD shuttered.
6 – How involved an editor are either of you? Do you dig deep into line edits, or do you prefer more of a light touch?
Our touch is very light. We don’t do line edits. We find books and writers that we like and trust them to get it how they want it. We try to help them find that if they want or need us to.
7 – How do your books get distributed? What are your usual print runs?
Runs depend on the author. 200-400. Asterism Books is our new distributor. They do a good job at stuff we’re not much good at. We don’t have a lot of resources for promotions but try and help with at least one launch reading for each author.
8 – How many other people are involved with editing or production? Do you work with other editors, and if so, how effective do you find it? What are the benefits, drawbacks?
We keep it pretty close. Our copyeditor (Miles Champion) and our designer (Margaret Tedesco) do the lion share of the work in terms of grind and production. The benefits are that they are both badassed. No drawbacks yet.
9 – How has being an editor/publisher changed the way you think about your own writing?
We both get to keep our heads in the game. If we’re excited about something to publish, it usually inspires us to write.
10 – How do you approach the idea of publishing your own writing? Some, such as Gary Geddes when he still ran Cormorant, refused such, yet various Coach House Press’ editors had titles during their tenures as editors for the press, including Victor Coleman and bp Nichol. What do you think of the arguments for or against, or do you see the whole question as irrelevant?
We’re not against it. We are principally focused on the work of others. We’ve talked about various projects we’ve done that might work for selva oscura or Three Count Pour, and also discussed supporting that work financially through other presses.
11 – How do you see selva oscura press evolving?
One thing we want to do is get back to doing chapbooks, through our subprint/imprint Three Count Pour. Maybe that’s a little bit more like revolving than evolving. We’d like to do them in small bundles, like the Durham Suite that we published years ago, combining well-known and less well-known writers in one package. And we’d like the chapbooks to be art books. We want the book actually to be necessary, something held in the hand as that which couldn’t have been any other way. This means that the writers will work in co-accompaniment with the book designer as well as with visual artists.
12 – What, as a publisher, are you most proud of accomplishing? What do you think people have overlooked about your publications? What is your biggest frustration?
I don’t think there have been any big frustrations. I think we both hope and intend to do a better and better job of promoting the books and supporting them after publication. The idea is not only to have a palpable and beautiful document of the work the authors do but also to get the books in the hands of sensitive, generous, and enthusiastic readers.
13 – Who were your early publishing models when starting out?
Initially it was chapbooks, and then an art/poetry collaboration, with the aim to add beautiful objects to the history of folks doing this. We’ve haven’t tried to emulate any model specifically.
14 – How does selva oscura press work to engage with your immediate literary community, and community at large? What journals or presses do you see selva oscura press in dialogue with? How important do you see those dialogues, those conversations?
We just want to be working in concert with, and be part of the complementary variety of, the community that is given to the general field of poetry, which we tend to think of, by way of Juliana Spahr, as “this connection of everyone with lungs.” We’re not picky and we’re here militantly to mess with anyone who is so that the conversation can stay infinite and real.
15 – Do you hold regular or occasional readings or launches? How important do you see public readings and other events?
We have had launches and readings for almost all of the books and will do so for all the authors who desire that. The Pandemic but a temporary hold on that but we are now trying to catch up, and we will. It’s important to get the sound of this writing into the world.
16 – How do you utilize the internet, if at all, to further your goals?
We have a web site, and social media handles, send out invites, but not working the internet much beyond that. That’s largely dictated by the time we have available.
17 – Do you take submissions? If so, what aren’t you looking for?
We don’t take unsolicited submissions.
18 – Tell me about three of your most recent titles, and why they’re special.
To Regard a Wave, by Sora Han, weaves physics and translation, translation and weaving, in a beautiful meditation on love and revolution; Arvo Villars’s Violently Dancing Portraits can’t sit still, teaches how to withstand immersion in (im)migrant energy, kinda like Creole’s – aka Kreyól’s – blues as it pulses under Sonny’s (for all you beautiful Baldwin fans); and, in Shekhinah Speaks, Joy Ladin offers a prophetic trans theology that’s radical as every day.
Alison Stone is the author of nine full-length collections, Informed (NYQ Books, 2024), To See What Rises (CW Books, 2023), Zombies at the Disco (Jacar Press, 2020), Caught in the Myth (NYQ Books, 2019), Dazzle (Jacar Press, 2017), Masterplan, a book of collaborative poems with Eric Greinke (Presa Press, 2018), Ordinary Magic (NYQ Books, 2016), Dangerous Enough (Presa Press 2014), and They Sing at Midnight, which won the 2003 Many Mountains Moving Poetry Award; as well as three chapbooks. Her poems have appeared in The Paris Review, Poetry, Ploughshares, Barrow Street, Poet Lore, and many other journals and anthologies. She has been awarded Poetry’s Frederick Bock Prize, New York Quarterly’s Madeline Sadin Award, and The Lyric’s Lyric Poetry Prize. She was Writer in Residence at LitSpace St. Pete. She is also a painter and the creator of The Stone Tarot. A licensed psychotherapist, she has private practices in NYC and Nyack. https://alisonstone.info/ Youtube and TikTok – Alison Stone Poetry.
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?
The first book taught me patience and how to change course. It was a finalist in many national contests, beginning when I was in my early 20’s. I thought I’d publish it and that would help me get a teaching position. But it didn’t end up winning until I was 38. By that point I’d gone back to grad school and become a psychotherapist.
My new book is all formal poems, which is different from all my past collections. Most of them are mainly free verse, except for Dazzle (ghazals and anagram poems) and Zombies at the Disco (all ghazals.)
2 - How did you come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?
I came to fiction first. I wrote a love poem to my beagle when I was 6 (“Your nose is wet and you’re my pet. You’re brown and white, you never bite…”) but I was writing a “novel” (also about a dog) at the same time. I only finished the first two chapters. I was focused on fiction as an undergrad and only took a poetry workshop because I needed to for graduation requirements. But my teacher, Hugo Williams, converted me.
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?
It completely depends on the project. For Ordinary Magic (a book with one poem for each tarot card), I did a lot of research. The same with Caught in the Myth. I was asked by a photographer to write poems to go with photos he’d taken of ancient sculptures. So I needed to learn about these historical figures in order to write. Some of the other poems are from Greek myths, so I’d research those as well.
The speed varies according to different projects as well. Some poems come out almost finished. Others need more substantial revisions.
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?
Again, it depends. Usually I start with poems and then they start to coalesce.
For individual poems, I usually start with a phrase or a line. For ghazals, I start either with a sound I want to explore or else a refrain.
5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
I love doing readings! I’m an introvert, but somehow I find them really enjoyable.
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?
That’s a great question! I’m interested in stories – whose voices haven’t been heard? How would this tale be told from a different point of view? I’m also interested in how traditional forms can work with contemporary subject matter. I’m not sure if there are any “current questions” for all poets. This is such a diverse, exciting time in poetry – so many different voices and perspectives.
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?
Writers help people feel less alone. At least that’s what writing (including song lyrics) did and does for me. It’s a way of helping people open their hearts and minds.
8 - Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?
I’ve never had one, but I’d love to. All my books have been published by small literary presses. Only once did I even get a copy editor. But no one to help me shape or improve the work, like at the big houses.
9 - What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?
Have something else in your life you love as much as writing (Louis Simpson).
10 - How easy has it been for you to move between genres (poetry to painting)? What do you see as the appeal?
They are such different processes. Once I had children, I mostly stopped painting. I work in oil and couldn’t be covered in toxic paint if the baby needed me. Then I hurt my arm/shoulder so I gave over doing the art for my book covers to my kid. But I’m going to do the next one.
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 writing routine, except during POMO, when I write a poem a day.
I get up at 6, do yoga, walk the dog, eat breakfast. During the school year I sometimes do drop off. Then I start seeing clients.
12 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?
Reading poetry makes me want to write it. But I also let myself take breaks. Olga Broumas told me when I was 24 to respect my silences, and I think that’s important. Capitalism is all about production, but art isn’t commerce.
13 - What fragrance reminds you of home?
On rainy days, the smell of dog. Otherwise I’d say cooking smells. Lots of 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?
Music, nature, visual art. Politics, too, though that’s hardly an art form
15 - What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?
Gluck, Plath, Rilke are my top three. Then Patricia Smith, Rita Dove, Diane Seuss.
16 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
Win a major poetry prize. See the Northern Lights. Be a grandmother (But no rush!).
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 a full-time practice as a Gestalt therapist. It counters the self-involvement of being an artist because it’s all about the other person.
18 - What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
I can’t carry a tune. If I’d been able to, I would have wanted to front a band. But I’m too off-key, even for punk.
19 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?
I just finished rereading Middlemarch, and I’m sad to be done. I don’t see a lot of films. This year we watched the Oscar finalists, and I enjoyed them all.
20 - What are you currently working on?
I have 3
manuscripts in progress. I also invented a new poetic form.
12 or 20 (second series) questions;
