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?
Even though the books were published three years apart, From the Shoreline and Notes from the Ward share similar themes — mental illness, family, kinship with earth and its creatures. Both are also driven by a roving eye. Lots of looking around and writing down what I found.
Notes from the Ward differs in the sense that many of the scenes there are set in a psychiatric hospital. I was also told by my editor, Shane Neilson, that my new book contains more sketches of people in community.
2 - How did you come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?
When I was young, I was certain about my attraction towards children’s novels and essays. I remember being blown away by Charlie in the Chocolate Factory and The Giver. Every Patricia Evangelista essay in the Philippine Inquirer held a force I felt in my body.
Poetry came when I was at a Canadian Lit class (ENGL 474 with Dr. Deena Rhyms) in my mid-20’s and we read Marilyn Dumont’s “Memories of a Really Good Brown Girl.” It cracked me open then I hurried to the library scouring for more.
I grew an appreciation for poetry last but it changed my life, and sometimes, even became almost all of my life. Oh the follies of youth. But I’m learning to actively resist this because my health matters more now. In a very gentle and forgiving way, poetry showed me that what was happening inside me mattered just as much as all the exterior markers of life.
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?
Fast in marking the images or phrases that come to me. Slow in making it somewhere close to a poem.
I can think of only two poems out of many years of crumpled drafts that came out really fast.
Jonina Kirton calls them “given poems.”
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?
Something I see, both outside and inside.
Really short! Notes, lists, images, series of questions…
But when I applied for a grant for the first time, I had to imagine a full-length book project. I had to state its overarching themes, possible significance, sources and inspiration etc. The book which received a grant (Notes from The Ward) ended up way different from what I said it would be but applying for funding taught me to look at book-making as another skill in and of itself. Before that process, it was very much poem to poem.
5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
I don’t always enjoy it because I feel so much and so deeply to begin with but I know it’s really important, humbling, and beautiful. While I’m reading, I get to see how my poems work out there, hear what lands, and what doesn’t. Aside from this editorial function, I also get to be in a circle of people telling stories to one another. That’s very moving to me.
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?
Hmm.. right this moment, I think I am asking what a poem as a small piece of technology can offer its reader.
In both my books, there’s a page that lays out a series of questions. I housed it there in case the reader would like to reflect on the images, lines, or themes they found in the poems. To constellate and draw connections. To pause and have them “reply” to the text.
Two questions I remember are “What if we wrote about the violets if we can’t yet about the violence?” in From the Shoreline and “Do you have money?” from Notes from the Ward.
7 – What do you see the current role of the writer being in larger culture? Does s/he even have one? What do you think the role of the writer should be?
For now, I think it has something to do with witnessing and listening. Something to do with memory and imagination and being human.
8 - Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?
Essential! They widen my purview, warn me of my cliches. They encourage me to work on being a thoughtful and rigorous writer. I’m a recipient of their generous work.
9 - What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?
Listen with a giant ear. Don’t scrimp on sleep.
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?
Something I observed is I always find something to write about when I’m in transit. Car, bus, train, plane, I have my moments there. One of my wild dreams is to be a poet for TTC or be granted an artist residency by Amtrak.
Other than that, no routine unfortunately.
11 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?
I go for a walk! Last week, I saw people huddled around a food cart at a busy intersection. They each had a small orange bowl to the their chest, slurping noodles, shoulders touching. I was struck by the glow of the bowls against the violet sky. Their hands. Separate but also together. Another night, I saw two kids sharing a pair of rollerblades. One wore it on their right foot. The other wore it on their left. The wheels rushed in opposite directions.
12 - What fragrance reminds you of home?
Sampaguita. Rain on warm soil. Onions and garlic in a scalding hot pan or gisa in Tagalog.
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?
Yes, totally. For me, it’s music, movies, sports, memes. Notes from the Ward mentions The Bee Gees. From the Shoreline, Muhammad Ali.
14 - What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?
Aracelis Girmay, her work is like the sea to me. Rick Barot, his poems that span a world, his faith in the particular. For making a book that ends with “I was wrong.” Raoul Fernandes, for who and what his poems see. Oliver de la Paz, for The Boy in the Labyrinth and Diaspora Sonnets.
15 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
A poem that makes you cry and laugh at the same time. Something for my brothers.
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?
I dreamed of being a doctor or stand-up comedian. I still do!
17 - What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
I feel embarrassed to say this but I suppose I really love it. It’s like a life partner.
18 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?
The Private Life of Trees by Alejandro Zambra translated by Megan McDowell is a short, mesmerizing read. Makes you giggle. Stays in your bones. Sinners by Ryan Coogler is a movie of immense and affectionate imagination. Deeply relational.
19 - What are you currently working on?
Poems on childhood. My manuscript’s working title is Uyayi. It means "lullaby" in Tagalog.
12 or 20 (second series) questions;
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