Estlin McPhee is a
writer and librarian who lives on the traditional territories of the Musqueam,
Squamish, and Tsleil-Waututh peoples. They hold an MFA in Creative Writing from
the University of British Columbia and are the author of the poetry chapbook Shapeshifters
(Rahila’s Ghost Press, 2018). For many years, they co-organized REVERB, a queer
reading series in Vancouver. In Your Nature, Estlin's debut poetry
collection, is available from Brick Books.
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?
In Your Nature
is my first book of poetry but it grew out of some of the concerns and
interests that emerged from my chapbook Shapeshifters.
Crafting a thematic consistency, a strong binding thread, has felt very
different for a full-length book versus a chapbook. The chapbook and other
publishing credits made me eligible to apply for a Canada Council grant, which
I received in 2019 to work on In Your
Nature – and that definitely changed my life.
2 - How did you come to poetry first, as opposed
to, say, fiction or non-fiction?
I actually came to poetry last – I wrote fiction
and nonfiction before I started writing poetry in a serious way but for
whatever reason, I always had a sense that I wanted to publish in poetry before
another genre. So I suppose now I can finally start working on something else!
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 am incredibly slow, at least at this point in
my life. There are poems in my book that I began writing in 2008. I’ve
experienced the magic of a few poems flashing almost immediately into their
final shape but most of my poetry goes through draft after draft. In some cases
all that remains of the initial composition is an image, a line or two, or even
just the spark of 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?
In Your
Nature is the first poetry book I’ve ever consciously
crafted so it’s hard to say what my usual is. With this project, I found that I
had a certain number of poems that just felt right together and then noticed
gaps and possibilities in the space around them, which prompted me to work on
specific pieces for the book. But without that structure, a poem for me
typically starts with some scrap I can’t get out of my head.
5 - Are public readings part of or counter to
your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
I like doing readings! They’ve become quite
difficult for me since I acquired Long Covid, as I get really bad shortness of
breath in all kinds of circumstances but especially when speaking for longer
than about thirty seconds. I used to organize a reading series many years ago
(with the wonderful Leah Horlick) so I find that kind of creative,
community space rewarding and love connecting with people in that environment.
But I have to be very judicious about when and what kinds of readings I can do
(or even attend) now.
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’m interested in the same big questions I’ve
always been interested in, which are all variations on what makes a life
meaningful – how do we situate ourselves inside (or outside) of time, how do we
live while also in relationship with death, how do we connect to a larger sense
of spirit or story? With In Your Nature,
I was also thinking through the question of the self and how the self retains
or alters its essence in periods of transformation. That sounds very lofty for
a book about transmasculinity, werewolves, witches, and Christianity (etc.). I
am also interested in fun stuff.
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 don’t know that there’s one, single role for
the writer in our larger culture, but perhaps many: to witness, to critique, to
inform, to inspire, to incite, to entertain… Writing and thus writers can be
many different things. I love the medium of writing for how it can act as an
asynchronous yet deeply connective experience – I live in disabled time now and
have to spend a lot of time alone. Sometimes, though not always, during that
time I’m fortunately able to read or listen to an audiobook. So much of the
world is open to me through reading and writing.
8 - Do you find the process of working with an
outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?
Absolutely essential! I was fortunate to work
with River Halen
on my book and I’m immeasurably grateful for River’s guidance. It’s also just
so nice to talk about the tiny things in your work – should I use this word or
that one? Should I cut the line here or there? – with someone else who’s
invested in those things. I think the only difficulty, with a good editor, is
in being seen both in where you’re succeeding and where you’re falling short,
and that’s ultimately a privilege and a benefit to the work, but it is very
vulnerable.
9 - What is the best piece of advice you've heard
(not necessarily given to you directly)?
I remember my high school writing teacher Silvia
sharing some advice on poetry that I still use all the time. It was essentially
about looking for the door (which I remember now as being red, but I may have
added that visual detail myself) in a poem – finding the line or image that
acts like a portal, going through that door, and then letting the actual poem
emerge from there, while also letting whatever scaffolding was holding up that
door fall away. I think most writers know that feeling intuitively – the place
where a poem is beckoning. But I know for myself I cling to the initial
scaffolding of how a piece started, so I have to consciously look for those
doors in what I’m working on and allow them to open and – maybe the greater
challenge – allow the rest to fall away. Silvia also shared the idea of keeping
a document of all the amazing lines that get trimmed as part of this process,
which makes cutting those lines a little easier. She always credited the
writers whose advice she was sharing but I can’t remember any of the original
sources now. But those are two pieces that have become a major part of my
practice.
10 - How easy has it been for you to move between
genres (poetry to non-fiction)? What do you see as the appeal?
I often write about the same things in different
genres (or perhaps forms), so the appeal for me is in having a different angle
from which to explore the same subject. I think prose nonfiction also can hold
factual information a bit more easily than poetry so I like that form for
certain topics.
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 have much of a routine for writing poetry
but I’ve always tended to write more in the evenings and can vanish into a
vortex when I’m writing and then emerge with the realization that I’ve missed
my bedtime and I’m going to be in trouble for the next day. Maybe that’s my
writing routine – messing up my other routines. I usually listen to some kind
of basic pop music on repeat; if I actually want to listen to the music then I
stop writing to listen, but I like having the background sound. That said, I’m
still trying to figure out what works best for me with the brain I have now, as
too much sensory stimulation can trigger really bad symptoms for me. I do have
pretty good structure around reading still, and generally read some nonfiction
with breakfast, which seems like a good way to start my day.
12 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you
turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?
I’ve been writing long enough that I trust the
ebbs and flows and I don’t worry about the stalls so much anymore. Writing
always returns to me, or I to it, perhaps.
13 - What fragrance reminds you of home?
Warm cedar trees, wet soil, blackberry pie,
lilacs. The smell of granola baking – my mother made granola when I was growing
up and I’ve used a variation of her recipe my whole adult life so home has
always had a honeyed oats smell to me.
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?
Definitely nature, music, history, theology,
spirituality… Everything that I take an interest in influences my work. There’s
a lot of (old) pop culture in my book. I like poetry as a way to be in
conversation with the world both inside and around me.
15 - What other writers or writings are important
for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?
So many! I’m very lucky to be friends and
colleagues with many generous, interesting, and talented writers. The writers
that I’ve spent the most literary time with lately are James Baldwin and
Siegfried Sassoon, neither of whom are friends or colleagues except in my mind.
16 - What would you like to do that you haven't
yet done?
Every year (for the past twenty years…) I make a
resolution to learn to drive… But I think I haven’t done that yet because I
don’t actually want to, though I do need to learn. The main thing I would like
to do with my life is to help sustain the living world for future generations
so perhaps failing to learn to drive is part of that initiative.
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 work as a librarian in a public library, which
is a great fit for me, though it took me a long time to figure out what I could
do to pay my bills in a somewhat sustainable way. It’s been a huge relief to
take the financial pressure off of my writing.
18 - What made you write, as opposed to doing
something else?
Aptitude and encouragement – I always knew I
needed to create and to make art; I was very into visual arts, music, and drama
as a kid, but writing is the medium for which I think I have the most intuitive
talent and – therefore, perhaps – I received the most encouragement for it,
which made me want to continue, to develop my craft, etc. Encouragement can go
a long way.
19 - What was the last great book you read? What
was the last great film?
Poetry:
Consider the Rooster by Oliver Baez Bendorf
and I Don’t Want to Be Understood by Joshua
Jennifer Espinoza. Fiction: I’m
still totally stuck on Bellies by Nicola Dinan, Martyr! by Kaveh Akbar, and The World and All That It Holds by Aleksandar
Hemon, all of which I read last year. Nonfiction:
Histories of the Transgender Child by Jules
Gill-Peterson. Memoir: Something, Not Nothing by Sarah Leavitt. There
are lots more I could talk about. I love reading. Film: I watched the documentary No
Ordinary Man recently and it was profoundly moving and really
interesting. I’m also not over the impact All of Us Strangers had on me and will
probably watch it for a third time soon.
20 - What are you currently working on?
Nothing at the moment, to be honest. Now that I
have to manage chronic illness, and particularly an energy-limiting condition,
I’m always over capacity in my life and desperately trying to find places and
activities I can cut back. Between work, childcare responsibilities, managing
my illness, and having this book emerge into the world, I have neither the time
nor the creative ability to envision something new. But I feel confident that
will change with time and I’m really looking forward to returning to the quiet,
private realm of writing. I wonder what’s waiting for me there.
12 or 20 (second series) questions;
