Sunday, November 23, 2025

12 or 20 (second series) questions with Marc Vincenz

Marc Vincenz [image credit: Jake Quatt] is a poet, fiction writer, translator, editor, musician, and artist. He has published over 50 books of poetry, fiction, and translation. His recent poetry collections include The Pearl Diver of Irunmani, A Splash of Cave Paint, The King of Prussia is Drunk on Stars, Spells for the Wicked, All the Tricks of Language, and, just out, IRØNCLAD.  An album of post-classical music and spoken word, No More Animal Songs, is also forthcoming. His translation of award-winning Swiss poet and novelist Klaus Merz’ selected poems, An Audible Blue, won the 2023 Massachusetts Book Prize for Translated Literature. His most recent translation is In the House, Still Light, also by Klaus Merz. Marc’s own work has also been translated into many languages. His work has appeared in The Nation, Ploughshares, Raritan, Colorado Review, Evergreen Review, Washington Square Review, interim, Plume, Fourteen Hills, Willow Springs, Solstice, World Literature Today, The Notre Dame Review, The Golden Handcuffs Review, The Los Angeles Review of Books and many other journals, periodicals, and anthologies. Marc is publisher and editor of MadHat Press, and with Paul Hoover, co-publisher of the essential New American Writing. Vincenz lives on a farm in Western Massachusetts where there are more spiny-nosed voles, tufted grey-buckle hares and Amoeba scintilla than bipedal hominids.

1 - How did your first book change your life?

My very first published book was an illustrated chapbook entitled Benny and the Scottish Blues. Only around 100 copies were printed, and they ended up with friends and family. The book was a mostly biographical, narrative poetry based on a trip through Scotland—the Hebrides islands by motorbike. Benny and the Scottish Blues was published in 1989 or 1990. I can’t recall exactly, as I no longer have a copy of it. I remember at the time—I had only recently graduated from college—I had such a great feeling of accomplishment seeing my words in book form. By that time, I’d had a few poems accepted in journals and literary magazines, and, as you know there is always great elation even when just a single poem gets accepted for publication; but a book, well that’s another kettle of fish.  From that moment on, no matter what else consumed me in my life (and there were many distractions), I was always writing—both fiction and poetry with the intention of publishing these as books.

How does your most recent work compare to your previous?

Well my most recent work, IRØNCLAD, an illustrated hybrid collection, is coming out mid October with Spuyten Duyvil. I always try and approach a new work from a fresh angle, and IRØNCLAD is my first book that was not written on a typewriter or in word-processing software, but directly into the layout program, InDesign. The reasoning was to try and take advantage of the actual typography of the poem or prose piece. The book is set in the fictional world of The Iron Plier Society, who themselves are trying to make sense of their own archeological record. Fragments uncovered in the geological strata inform the book and the narrative. As you move deeper into the book, you discover, fragment by fragment, artifact by artifact, what appears to be the evolution of a civilization—yet, you can never quite be sure that what you have discovered in the damp earth faithfully represents your progenitors intentions (every interpretation comes with its own set of biases also). And, it is easy to misinterpret those too!

My previous collection, which came out with Unlikely Books in May this year, is the poetry collection Spells for the Wicked, which certainly informs IRØNCLAD. In fact, you might say that IRØNCLAD is the culmination of many years of addressing the subject of mythology and how it informs the later narrative and structure of a given society or culture.

How does it feel different?

Although they are two entirely different books, narratively, linguistically, typographically even, they do address some of the same principles in their own fashion. I consider myself a writer of books rather that a writer of individual poems or pieces of fiction. Much of my more recent work crosses the boundaries between fiction and poetry. In my earlier work, I may have been more concerned with presenting a given poetic form. These days I allow the book to inform me, rather than lying down rules in advance. Essentially though, I always try to approach each book project with a slightly different angle: be it the method for writing it (i.e. handwritten, typewriter, direct to computer), the environment I am writing in, or in some cases with a collaborator, the collaborative process itself. All of these things can significantly influence the outcome and inform the work, sometimes in surprising ways.

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

Actually, I have dabbled in both poetry and fiction since the early days. Probably the first thing I actively wrote was a series of collaborative comic strips with my Aussie friend, Brett Cameron, when I was around 10 or 11 years old. I have been an avid reader of all genres since I cracked open my first book. I was writing song lyrics for my high school bands when I was in my teens; and then I took a class on contemporary American poetry in my junior year of high school. Here I discovered ee cummings, William Carlos Williams, Robert Frost, Sylvia Plath, Emily Dickinson, Langston Hughes, Marianne Moore, Robinson Jeffers, Wallace Stevens, and you might say, I was hooked.

3 - How long does it take to start any particular writing project?

That has varied significantly over the years. Fifteen years ago, I spent much time taking notes, familiarizing myself with the world that I was about to immerse myself in—sometimes more than a year—before placing pen to paper. In recent years I am more likely to take notes and do research as I write; and I generally work on several projects at the same time.

Does your writing initially come quickly, or is it a slow process?

That varies significantly too. Generally, once I hit upon the first fundamental line or image, the rest comes relatively quickly. The process of refinement is a far longer process for me than the original ‘take’.

Do first drafts appear looking close to their final shape, or does your work come out of copious notes?

Both. Depends on the piece / book.

4 - Where does a poem or work of prose usually begin for you?

Often with a title, sometimes with a single line, frequently with a visual image of the world I am about to step into.

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?

Book, from the very beginning. I occasionally write a standalone poem, but very seldom these days.

5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process?

I should say yes, part of—but more so than public readings, listening to audio recordings of my own works. This provides essential sonic information: tone, dynamic, the musicality of the language, which also often informs the written word in return.

Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?

Yes, absolutely. I have hosted several readings out here in the Berkshires, Boston, and New York City, but I have also read throughout the US and UK at many venues, and will continue to do so. As you also know, together with Australian prose poet, Cassandra Atherton, and New York poet and puppeteer, Jeff Wright, I also run the live streaming literary reading series, Lit Balm. Since 2020, we have held nearly 250 readings, and have featured over 1000 poets and fiction writers across the globe.

6 - Do you have any theoretical concerns behind your writing?

Yes, many: among others, the environment and industry, extinction and habitat loss, autocracy and suppression of ideas, language and protolanguage, rear view reductionism and the emergence of meaningfulness, mythology and ritual, fallacy and superstition, the nature of consciousness and expression, the human understanding of time and a linear narrative …

What kinds of questions are you trying to answer with your work?

I’m not sure I would call it answering questions, but more posing questions and / or presenting narratives in allegorical form that question given tropes.

What do you even think the current questions are?

Too many to list here, but if I were to boil it down to one phrase it might be:

What is the nature of reality?

7 – What do you see the current role of the writer being in larger culture?

This is somewhat of a loaded question.

As a writer, as an artist, I like to believe that all of us have something to contribute to our understanding of reality, be it in the micro or the macro, or both. Among other things, I believe it should be every artist’s goal to spread and encourage creativity, and a wide-angled view of the world. Every heartfelt contribution large or small should be seen as a net positive agglomeration for future thinking.

Do they even have one?

I can’t speak for others. Of course, we all know there are always those who seek fame and glory, form above substance. Certainly for me it is the journey rather than any specific end goal. Deeply wrought, well-crafted, and heartfelt work that informs as well as sings has always been my personal preference. Just as in all the arts, there are many authors out there breaking boundaries and helping to shape future thinking. So yes, I believe most authors and artists have their own personal credo and their place in society. Many things including trends, tastes and other ongoing polemics predicate how these resonate within a specific community, how they inspire and resonate with, and influence a culture at large. (Which is another conversation worth having.)

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

I have worked with many editors over the years—both with my own work, and at MadHat Press and New American Writing. Editors are essential in teasing works to their greatest potential. Have I worked with difficult editors? Most certainly. Did the processes bear fruit? In some form, always.

At the press, I’ve also had many writers who are difficult to work with, and even those who have scorned editorial advice. Even if it is difficult, my suggestion is to listen intently and deeply consider every adjustment or amendment that your editor proposes. That doesn’t mean you have to agree, but every suggestion is worthy of consideration.

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

Read voraciously, live vicariously, write voluptuously.

10 - How easy has it been for you to move between genres (poetry to fiction to translation to musical composition)?

There is a natural flow between each of the forms, and as I get older, even more so. I have a short attention span, so it is great for me to have multiple projects in several forms of art going at the same time. I’ll settle in somewhere for a while, but if I feel I’m getting stagnant, I’ll move to another project and return later—sometimes much later.  Also, working in multiple different mediums tends to give you a broader perspective. Each of the various forms inform each other, and help to refine each other.

There is much crossover, in particular with my music and poetry—many of my songs incorporate poems or were inspired by my own poems, and sometimes visa versa.

What do you see as the appeal?

Appeal? I’m not sure that’s really relevant. It’s just the way the creative process works for me personally.

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 write on and off throughout the day as and when inspiration arises, however, I also assign 3-4 hours of my afternoon to writing / composing / translating. During that period I allow myself to be completely immersed in the creative process. Typically, I’ll work on MadHat Press affairs in the morning and early afternoon, take my dogs out on an extensive walk after lunch, then hunker in and focus on my own work later in the afternoon.

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

I move to whichever project seems the most inspiring in the moment—whether that be poetry, fiction, translation, music, or something unexpected.

13 - What fragrance reminds you of home?

What fragrance reminds me of where I come from? Probably sea air.

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?

Everything I have read, seen, experienced, tasted, or touched influences my work. All of the above.

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

Many. From the dawn of written record—early literature: the Epic of Gilgamesh, the Odyssey and the Iliad, the Egyptian Book of the Dead, the Analects, the Bible, the Vedas, the Tibetan Book of the Dead, the Icelandic Eddas; to the Renaissance and beyond: Dante, Shakespeare, Goethe … pretty much all religious texts from the canonical to the lesser known. And then, closer to the current age, many poets and fiction authors, including, W.B. Yeats, Wordsworth, William Blake, George Orwell, H.G. Wells, Jules Verne, Edgar Allen Poe, Ray Bradbury, Kurt Vonnegut, Italo Calvino, Kafka, Nabokov, Borges, Burgess, Coetzee, Atwood … the list is immense.

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

Glide gently over a shallow and verdant valley like a bird.

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?

Well, for quite a long period in my adult life, I ran an industrial design company in Switzerland and Shanghai—all the while writing at the same time. It was during my 10 years in Shanghai that I wrote my first novel. I would wake up early around 5 am, work on my novel for a couple of hours, have breakfast, then head to the day job. During those Shanghai years, I would work 80-hour weeks. Weekends were not sacred, but sacrosanct for profit-making ventures. Pure capitalism. It wasn’t until I was in my forties that I finally managed to break free and focus on my arts.

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

As I’ve said, I’ve done many other things, but the impetus to write / communicate was always there, and has been from the day I may have first been conscious. Somehow I realized early in my life that I needed a language and a medium to impart / present my whims and whimsies, to bring across my unique or alternate manner of experiencing the world. Words seemed to be the best solution.  As you know, I am also lucky to be blessed with art in other forms too. Anyone of those might have been my primary medium, but language always seemed the most direct.

19 - What was the last great book you read?

I read great books every week, but what I’m currently reading is Theodore Roethke’s Straw for the Fire, which I highly recommend.

What was the last great film?

Good question. I recently find myself increasingly re-watching classics from the earliest eras of cinema, such as Fritz Lang’s Metropolis; George Méliès’ A Trip to the Moon, Charlie Chaplin’s The Great Dictator, or Orson Welles’ Citizen Kane. Recently I also dig a deep dive in animated movies and was incredibly moved by the 2016 film, La Tortue Rouge (The Red Turtle) which has absolutely no dialogue. I am increasingly bored with the current Hollywood mainstream: superhero movies, CGI science fiction and fantasy offerings, and the thousand and one reworkings of classic tales in a modern context.

20 - What are you currently working on?

Well currently I am working on my newest poetry collection, Mythodology; a novel, The Age of Occasions; and a spoken-word and music album to accompany my collection forthcoming with White Pine Press, No More Animal Poems. My translation of In the House, Still Light, Swiss poet Klaus Merz’ most recent collection, is coming out in November with White Pine Press. Several other translation projects are also in the works.

12 or 20 (second series) questions;

No comments: