Iryn Tushabe [photo credit: Robin Schlaht] is a Ugandan-Canadian writer and journalist. Her creative nonfiction has appeared in Adda, The Walrus, and in the trace press anthology river in an ocean: essays on translation. Her short fiction has twice been included in The Journey Prize Stories: The best of Canada’s New Writers. She was a finalist for the Caine Prize for African Writing in 2021, and a 2023 winner of the Writers’ Trust McClelland & Stewart Journey Prize. She won City of Regina writing Award in 2020 and 2024. Everything is Fine Here (House of Anansi, 2025) is her debut 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?
Everything is Fine Here has been out in the world for a month now. I’m still getting used to the spectrum of emotions when someone tells me they’ve read it. Previously I’d had short stories and creative nonfiction published in literary magazines and anthologies. What I’m learning so far is that once it’s out in the world, the novel/story is no longer yours alone. Now it belongs to you and everyone else. Readers bring their own experiences of the world to the story and interpret it in ways I didn’t anticipate. It’s a joy to hear these impressions and to participate in the dialogue sparked by the novel.
2 - How did you come to fiction first, as opposed to, say, poetry or non-fiction?
Growing up in rural Uganda, my family didn’t have a lot of books and there wasn’t a public library in my village. But we had no shortage of stories, folk tales mostly, that my many siblings and I told and retold each other. These emigane, as they are called in Western Uganda, are origin stories or even moralising tales attempting to respond to some of life’s biggest questions, such as where did death come from? And yet the stories themselves can be lighthearted, often featuring trickster characters and deities. They lend themselves well to embellishment so each teller can apply their own narrative voice and flourishes while keeping to the original plot. I often think about emigane when I’m crafting fiction, so perhaps that’s where my storytelling began.
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?
A compelling idea will hit me and demand my full attention. But lately I’ve learned to let even those ideas percolate for a week or two before I commit anything to the page. I make notes on my phone if something comes to mind. That way I’ve done a lot of problem-solving before the actual writing begins. My first drafts often ramble on for far too long, but I don’t worry too much about that now. I have writer friends who will tell me when I’ve written past the natural ending of the story. I’ve learned to listen to the ones I trust.
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 a situation or incident I have experienced, but that can only be the starting point, something to kickstart the imagination. But sometimes all I have is a strong sense of the mood or tone/atmosphere of the story. I’m usually attempting short fiction or a novella; they are the forms I most adore. I get quite sad when a story I’m writing keeps getting longer because then I can sense that it wants to become a novel. And novels, though I enjoy them, are unwieldy things to manage. Especially if there’s plot involved, changing one detail affects the whole and you have to keep track of everything. It can become exhausting, which is how writers block begins.
5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
I’m a very nervous public speaker, so public readings are tough. Part of it might be that English is my second language. In a relaxed environment I pronounce words clearly, no problem. But in front of an audience, I stumble over words and get into my head about not being understood.
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?
When I consider my very small body of work so far, I see that I’ve concerned myself, for the most part, with ideas of home, faith, and grief. Having been born on the edge of Kibale Forest where I spent a lot of my childhood—it was truly and extension of my backyard—I consider myself its daughter, and so I’m also always writing about the natural world and wildness, always trying to bring the more-than-human into the narrative. I suspect that I will continue to engage with these themes in some way.
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 the job of a writer is to tell stories of all kinds. Hopefully those stories can show us a wide-ranging humanity and maybe even unsettle us, thereby sparking dialogue.
8 - Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?
Both, for sure, but absolutely essential. I didn’t always feel this way, especially as a beginner writer, but now I can’t imagine publishing anything without the (sometimes annoying) nitpicking of a sharp-eyed editor.
9 - What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?
To approach revision as an act of love. Re-writing and editing can be long hard work, but there’s beauty in attending to a story, or parts of it anyway. In coming back to it again and again until it is doing what you mean for it to do. Opacity is important in fiction, but too much of it will and you risk disorienting the reader. How to strike the right balance? Well, for me revision has proven most useful and fulfilling. It is nice to be able to trust the process, to believe that if something is confounding me today, I can bring myself back to it later and try again.
10 - How easy has it been for you to move between genres (short fiction to creative non-fiction to the novel)? What do you see as the appeal?
What I love about short stories is language and precision. Every sentence or image in a short story has to earn its place on the page; there’s no space for anything extraneous. But a novel is less restricting, and that’s part of its appeal. You have freedom to excavate far and away from the central idea and then come back. Both genres have their strengths. I suppose part of the job for the writer is to be intuitive and curious, and to pay attention to whatever form will best serve a particular story.
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 like to write in the morning after my kids are off to school and my partner goes to work. I like the silence, just me and my steaming huge mug of black coffee. I’m always so grateful for that time to write. Sometimes I can easily pick up from where I left off however many days ago, sometimes it is harder. Usually I can read something—a poem, a play—and get the wheels rolling again.
12 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?
There’s something about listening to an audio book or a short story while walking or jogging that has proven effective lately. Often I’ll listen to books I’ve previously read so that I’m not really too invested in the listening, and this allows my mind to wander. (Did you know that Toni Morrison narrated all her audio books?)
13 - What fragrance reminds you of home?
Lemongrass. And passionfruit fresh off the vine.
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 certainly, and visual art.
15 - What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?
I often say I left Uganda Omukiga woman and arrived in Canada a Black woman. The shock was significant. I’ve been learning ever since what it means to be a Black person or “a person of colour” making art on these stolen lands. Earlier when I was still in university, the women’s studies classes I took introduced me to Bell Hooks and Audre Lorde, women whose writing came rushing back to me years later when I was reading Alice Walker, Toni Morrison, Dionne Brand. They and other black thinkers continue to inspire me and to provide me a kind of road map of the possibilities of language and how to tell stories with responsibly and care.
16 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
I went to film school at the University of Regina, but graduated in time for Saskatchewan to axe the film tax credit that had made filmmaking possible in this province. I’d like to write a screenplay some day, something to justify all that money I spent in tuition.
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 suppose I’d still be doing journalism full time. I love journalism and I’m always consuming news, but for me the job was stressful. Journalism requires a level of confidence and assertiveness that I unfortunately lack. I’m a shy person; I’m not comfortable asking tough questions and confronting people. Fictional characters I can probe and hold to account, but most actual people make me anxious.
18 - What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
I started writing fiction during a brief period in 2015 when my postgraduation work permit expired before my application for permanent residency came through. Suddenly it was illegal for me to work in Canada, so my employer let me go. An immigration officer said I could stay in the country if I wanted while I waited for a decision to be made my application for permanent residency. I started writing as a way to distract myself. I was also trying to make sense of this strange in-between place in which I found myself. What would happen if my application was denied? But writing fiction and creative nonfiction quickly became a refuge for me. By the time I receive my permanent residency status, I’d decided that I would practice journalism as a freelancer and devote the rest of the time to trying to become an author.
19 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?
I’ve just finished reading Jessica J. Lee’s Two Trees Make a Forest and I’m in awe of how the author, by exploring the geological history of her ancestral homeland of Taiwan, and through careful attention to the lives of her grandparents, reaches a greater understanding of herself and her place in the world. It’s a truly marvellous book.
The greatest film I recently watched is Sinners. It’s this genre defying piece of art that’s soulful and daring and deeply affecting. The cinematography is gorgeous as is the sound track. I’m going to try and see it once more on the big screen before it leaves theatres.
20 - What are you currently working on?
I’m working on a memoir-in-essays, but one of those essays keeps getting
longer and longer so that I don’t know if it’s really still an essay or
something else. But I’m not too worried about the architecture of things and
this stage. I’ll keep writing and see where I end up.
12 or 20 (second series) questions;
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