12 or 20 (second series) questions with Jide Salawu

Jide Salawu is a Canadian-Nigerian writer. He is the author of Preface for Leaving Homeland, published under the African Poetry Book Fund, and the co-editor of African Urban Echoes, published by Griots Lounge Canada, and Contraband Bodies, published by NeWest Press and Narrative Landscape. He is currently a Black postdoctoral scholar in the Department of English at Toronto Metropolitan University, Toronto, Ontario. 

1 - How did your first book change your life? How does your most recent work compare to your previous? How does it feel different?

Thank you, rob. My first book, Preface for Leaving Homeland, was published in 2019. I had received an invitation from the African Poetry Book Fund for their chapbook series, headed by Kwame Dawes and Chris Abani. The series has become a new cultural venue and has already produced new-generation African literary stars such as Gbenga Adesina, Gbenga Adeoba, Afua Ansong, Adedayo Agarau, Nour Kamel, Leila Chatti, Rasaq Malik Gbolahan, Momtaza Mehri, among others. So, as I was saying, I was nominated to submit to the boxset series. Before then, I had written individual poems addressing a variety of subjects. But my first sustained work that explores the precarity of mobility in Africa and beyond would be the chapbook. The overwhelming experiences of African migrants moving through trans-Saharan and Mediterranean routes become daunting archives that will inform most of the poems. In Contraband Bodies, I was thinking about African migrant within Africa as a racialized figure; this includes the xenophobic rage in South Africa now; I was thinking about migration from below and what I mean by that is rural/urban migration; I was thinking about my private memories as a Black African migrant moving across different diasporic spaces, including Canada, the United States, the United Kingdom, and within Africa. But I don’t own these memories alone. I have described Contraband Bodies as a personal record—I think this work imbricates other public experiences of the Black diaspora.

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

It is a personal story that I am always glad to credit to my grandfather, who I would call a Yoruba poet, for his skill of oriki, a genre of oral poetry in Yoruba culture. He introduced me to the gift of literature and the sublimity of the Yoruba language. Yoruba is a highly tonal language, and quite musical. This does not mean all Yoruba people are poets, but the language is the first linguistic resource point for someone interested in literary culture. From that background, we can pick one or two things about my growth as a young writer. As a student, even when I was interested in poetry, and I had read literary greats such as David Rubadiri, Oswald Mtshali, Wole Soyinka, Christopher Okigbo, Kofi Awoonor, Jared Angira, I didn’t know how to begin writing. In 2005, Gabriel Arishe, a teacher in my secondary school in Shao, who had taken it as a duty to mentor me in English grammar, told me I could also write poetry. I thought I needed some celestial power to do so. That day ended with me writing a poem I titled, “Moonlight Days.” I wish I still had that scrap of paper on which I wrote the first poem.

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 don’t know the best answer to this, rob. But my writing process is very chaotic. I am not very organized, and I won’t recommend my model to anyone. My writing is very slow and scrappy at first. Many of my works, including creative non-fiction, don’t make it out and end up in the trash bags. I may have an idea to work on and gestate for a long time; bit by bit, the lines may appear. Maybe one or two of my poems came perfectly shaped. The others are through a series of revisions, and the editorial infrastructure I have built through friendship and mentorship.

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?

A poem can begin in any way from random things: a scene by the roadside, a conversation with a friend, a walk in the bush, your annoyance with a TV show, or an event going on locally or globally. Inspirations can come in different ways, including dreams.  I think when I started writing Contraband Bodies, I just wanted to reimagine out-of-placeness in another way, especially for the African on the move. I wrote a number of poems that Elee Kraljii Gardiner worked on during my Yosef Wosk Fellowship, but it was she also who told me, you have a powerful collection in view. Then I wrote a bit more and went through a series of revisions before I had my first full-length.

5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?

I think from my little understanding, community is everything. It is what poetry, like any other artistic form, thrives on.  Public readings are a great chance to talk more about your work and connect with your audience. I do not think they are counter-creative. I think even in reading, there is a chance to open your work up to a conversation you might not have imagined, prompting you to see its weaknesses and strengths.  I am grateful for all the invitations to read Contraband Bodies since its publication.

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?

Quite a poignant one there, rob. Truly, I just want to write first, but my writings generally are concerned with social change, and raise more questions about the atrocities rather than providing answers; I want to escalate concerns about abuse of human rights, and dehumanization of Black African migrants across micro-macro spaces, including the low mumble of racialization of African migrants within Africa. I want to explore the conditions of Nigeria’s nationhood, and so many things that postcolonial failures in Africa can evoke. I think this is not to say that my work reveals nothing, but I do not want to pre-empt my readers or lovers of my writing. I can only hope that when they embark on the readerly journey of my work, they find moments that are striking, that subvert hegemonic tales, and that absorb them emotionally. I want to meet my readers, and ask, so my poetry does that too. Oh, I never knew!

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?

Arts, as you know, can be perverted. Arts have been in the service of oppression. rob, let me tell you about what is going on in the case of Nigeria. The politicians, after their tenure, are writing hagiographies (life-writings of sorts), and they are getting reviewed by professors who praise them. In the books, they glorify themselves and talk about their good deeds for the masses. That is how terrible it is. Globally, too, you know, there are writers who side with horrendous leadership and even justify their need for the governance. Writings were first used to service colonialism itself; I recall now Achebe’s “The Image of Africa” where he is in dialogue with Joseph Conrad. I think as a writer, I want to reject grand narratives. Speaking against tyranny and oppressive structures has been a whole duty, and this is my pure sentiment given my own background, appearance at the margin, as a person from a country like Nigeria. Tell the counter-story.

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

I think editors need to be acknowledged more for the powerful work they do in the replenishing ritual of the manuscript. It is vital to work with an editor. This is a peer-review process that allows one to see some of the blindspots in one’s work as a writer. I was able to publish Contraband Bodies, for example, because of the wonderful work of Jennifer Bowering at NeWest, and my Nigerian editor, Joy Chime, at Narrative Landscape. Thanks to many friends, too, including Hussain Ahmed, Ifeoluwa Adeniyi, and Jumoke Verissimo, who read the manuscript.

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

Write and wait for the loads of rejection. It is not exactly how Wole Soyinka put it in an interview I watched. But don’t think rejections won’t come. They will, and so many great writers, have those in them inbox. You remember the New Yorker's rejection letter to Gabriel García Márquez on July 15, 1989, for his story “The Trail of Your Blood on the Snow.” This is a common thing in academia, though. We should not just be discouraged by them. For Contraband Bodies, I got many rejections from presses in Canada and beyond. Thank you to NeWest and Narrative Landscape for their faith.

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?

With a bottle of water spiced up with lemon. That will be followed by a cup of coffee. I want it Black too. No writing routine, especially for my literary work. I just write when the impulse grips me to do so. Sometimes it is morning; other times it is in the afternoon. I do writing where it meets me–jot on my phone, scrap of paper, email drafts, inside the bus, and so on. This is not the same for academic writing, which is more methodical and demands some linearity in planning and scheduling.

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

See films/documentaries. Explore Edmonton. Chat and gossip with my partner. Read more. 

12 - What fragrance reminds you of home?

Foods! As a Yoruba man, Amala precisely. I have tried to reenact the memories of home through the diasporic foodways, but you know, it can’t be the same. Have you tried Nigerian jollof, rob? There is a great war going on in West Africa between Nigeria and Ghana now about who cooks the best Jollof. Nigeria, of course.

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, rob. Music, science, visual arts, sculpture, farming, travels, and even reading other people's work influence my writings. Take, for example, my poem “Akiwowo” from Contraband Bodies, which was influenced by the music of Grammy winner Babatunde Olatunji, also titled “Akiwowo.”

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

As a critic, I admire many theorists and scholars. While I can’t say this set is my favorite, a number of writings influence my scholarship/critical writings, Frantz Fanon, Jacques Derrida, Achille Mbembe, Edward Said, Chigbo Anyaduba, Mahmood Mamdani, Akin Adesokan, Evan Mwangi, Carli Coetzee, Rinaldo Walcott, and so on. I have been mentored by many writers, scholars, and theorists whom I haven’t met. See, I can’t exhaust this list. Outside my work, I would say When Air Becomes Breath by Paul Kalanithi. It is a devastating one.

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

I like traveling, and I would like to see many great places I have read about in literature. Although, as you know, writers are always broke. Did you read this recent symposium piece by The Baffler, “The Profession That Does Not Exist”?

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?

Maybe a farmer. I still love farming. Back in the days, in my hometown Shao, I helped my father a lot with weeding guinea corn fields, yam fields, corn fields, and acres of cassava fields. 

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

I think as a literature student, reading writings by writers across cultures and societies makes me fall in love with writing as a creative process. The sublimating power of writing does it for me. There may be other talents I have not explored yet. But let me use this opportunity to recommend our film documentary project, on which I am an associate producer, Ebrohimie Road. It is a film on the African Nobel laureate Wole Soyinka, directed by my friend Kola Tubosun.

18 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?

Salvage: Readings from the Wreck is a wonderful work; Its style is distinct and distilled. I am now reading One Day, Everyone Will Have Always Been Against This by Omar El Akkad. Film, haha, I would say, Mati Diop’s The Atlantique. Mati’s film may be considered a bit old now, but the poetry of the film makes it transcendental as a cinematic masterpiece that explores class and mobility. But there are so many great films out there that I have not been able to watch. People have talked a lot about Sinners, but I have not had time for it. I should do this in the summer! There is also My Father’s Shadow. My list of films is long o.

19 - What are you currently working on?

Now, I am working on an anthology project that explores winter experience and the Afro-Canadian diaspora. This will be published by Wilfried Laurier U Press in 2027. The call is out.

12 or 20 (second series) questions;

12 or 20 (second series) questions with Tom Bentley-Fisher

Tom Bentley-Fisher [photo credit: Miranda Bentley] is an award winning theatre director, teacher and published fiction writer and playwright. He has directed over one hundred productions, taught at numerous universities and theatre schools, and served as the artistic director of five professional theatres, working throughout North America and Europe.
            His fiction has been published in Canadian magazines, including Grain, The Dalhousie Review, and NeWest Review. His collection of short stories, Blind Man’s Drum, was a finalist for Saskatchewan Book Awards, and his short story, "Wars and Rumours of Wars," a finalist for the National Magazine Award for Humour. He has been produced by Canadian Broadcasting Company, written the foreword to sixteen publications of new plays, and penned lyrics for plays produced in Barcelona and Canada. His play Friends was published by Red Deer Press.
            During his twelve year tenure as an artistic director of Twenty-fifth Street Theatre in Saskatoon, Tom gained a strong reputation for developing and producing original Canada plays, and was the founder of the Saskatoon International Fringe.
            In 2008, Tom became the artistic director of Tant per Tant Theatre, developing, directing, and exchanging plays between Canada and Catalonia. His accomplishments include directing a critically acclaimed all-female version of The Iliad for Festival de Teatro Clásico de Mérida and a multi-lingual production of Marie Clements Burning Vision for Barcelona’s International Grec Festival.
            He is now the Artistic Director of The Yat/Bentley Centre for Performance, an international theatre company based out of San Francisco. He divides his time between his work outside Canada and his home in Saskatoon.

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, Blind Man’s Drum, published by Thistledown Press, was a series of Short Stories. At that time, almost twenty years ago, I used the name Tom Bentley. Writing initially was a way of running away from the pressures of being an artistic director of a theatre. When I began to write, spurred on by the great Canadian poet, Anne Szumigalski, I realized I could live in my aloneness. It was an interior world where I didn’t need to be an artistic leader, but was being led. I felt entirely at home.

It was then that I realized I could fully engage with the main thing that always fascinated and drove me - the connection of the inner and outer life.

The Boy Who Was Saved By Jazz is my first novel - It has challenged me in new ways. I only wrote for a few years twenty years ago and then found myself back in the theatre. During those few years my focus was trying to discover what was beneath language. Strange way to get back into language but there we are.

This book feels different in that I am not involved with results. It feels honest and vulnerable. I am not hiding behind humour. I have been in the ‘zone’ and am willing to expose by eccentricities.

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

I love the work of Alan Bennett. I loved how he suggested so much in the turn of a phrase. I am a bit of a sensationalist I think, and I enjoyed exposing the quick and dirty bizarre part of my mind that was challenged in short story writing.

Also - my life’s work has been inspired by the theatre training of my mentor Yat Malmgren, who is known for how he developed one of the most significant approaches to acting. That work has guided me. It has taken me to a roadmap I’ve been developing and now teach internationally called Character Transformation. Yat’s original title for it is ‘The Psychology of Movement’. The premise of the work is that it takes us to the unknown in ourselves, allowing us to view the world through others’ eyes,  which I  believe is essential in these troubled times.

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 first draft is usually a quick process. I let it flow. I don’t care if it’s accurate. I try to find the essence. I feel it emotionally and write emotionally. I love secrets. Then comes the hard part - the rewrites. Trying to say what needs to be said - and trying hard not to fall into the state of being clever, or anticipating what people might think.

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?

I meet the human being before the circumstance in prose. I ask the questions - Who are you? Who are you trying to be? And how are you perceived? And I know that these three questions provide very different answers. Then comes the detective work. And them I fold in given circumstances and relationships that challenge the characters the most. I

5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?

Yes, I love reading and performing. My short stories are longing to be read out loud. I have been an actor - Including being part of BBC’s Radio Four Monday Night dramas when I was an actor in England. I’m a story teller. When I ran a theatre in Canada, the administrative staff wouldn’t start work until I told them a story.

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?

How can get out of the pockets of ourselves?

How can we discover the unknown in ourselves?

How can we communicate beneath borders and language?

How can yield down the resistances and conflicts of our time rather than taking a sledgehammer?

How can we contribute as artists and let go of the ever present ego?

How can we live within our contradictions.

Can we experience the world upside down?

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 I may have responded to this above,  but would add:  

The current conditions of the world demand that the role of the artist is to be the one of the healthiest persons in society - Emotionally psychologically, spiritually, physically. And that our greatest tool is one of empathy. As a writer I do not believe we should judge. We should live within the contradictions.

We can produce a change. We must.

And always, the writer must come from love. That gives us the freedom and license to explore hate.

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

It helps enormously. As a director of theatre I tried hard to match the playwright with the best dramaturge for the project.

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

Listen deeply.

In order to see you must be willing to be seen.

Never look once - Look again and again.

There are no straight lines in creativity.

Be guided by mystery and wonder. What you don’t know is magnificent. 

Live below your personality.

Love the chaos.

10 - How easy has it been for you to move between genres (short stories to the novel to directing to playwriting)? What do you see as the appeal?

I’m a cheap sensationalist. I bounce well. If you are stuck within a single medium, you can get lost in form. Different ways into the artistic questions are important. In fact, the question is often more important for the writer than the answer.

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 am obsessed for several weeks. I wake up thinking - is too early to get up and start writing? Then I leave it entirely. It is when my dreams start guiding me that I’m back. I try to write for  few hours in the morning before anything else.

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

I have a hard time not blaming myself for a stall. I try to allow myself to live in the insecurity fully.

13 - What fragrance reminds you of home?

Gas fumes. My true home - Many years ago.

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?

This book comes from the inner experience of music. Between the notes, within the transitions of chords, there is a world that is entirely awake. It is where I feel comfortable. Obviously my career in the theatre has also influenced my work. What is active? What is really going on?

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

Poetry is very important. Problem is that I’ve always felt unworthy to be a poet myself. I feel like a coward.

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

I want to perform my own work. I want to bring my acting, writing, directing, music, and teaching under one umbrella. I want to turn the corner and meet someone amazing who challenges me - revolutionizes me - And takes me on an artistic voyage I never thought possible. I want to live in my beloved Catalonia. I want to direct Medea. 

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?

Coming to writing is late for me. I do know that if I wasn’t an artist,  and I’ve been employed as an artist from the age of sixteen, I’d be utterly lost. I’ve been a single parent most of my life. That has been my other joy. Maybe a teacher, although all the vocation tests I took at school said I’d be best suited as a forest ranger. Once it came back as a light house keeper

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

It was a time when I didn’t have to take care of anybody - I could enter my own mysteries, and that includes the pain.

19 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film? 

I re-read Crime and Punishment last week. I tend to re-read books - Dostoyevsky, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Shakespeare. I saw The Taste of Things.

20 - What are you currently working on?

The Naked Reveal -  something I’ve been carrying on my shoulders for years. I started it in New York last summer and can’t stop. It is about the creative process, but reads in part like a novel,  memoir, and a new way of looking at acting in the 21st century.

Almost a Therapist - a series I am writing with my daughter about a therapist who needs therapy badly.

Metamorphosis By Chaos - a series of short stories about the eccentricities of loneliness. 

Almost a Hamlet - a collaboration about ‘something’s rotten .…’ 

12 or 20 (second series) questions;

12 or 20 (second series) questions with Kāyla Geitzler

Kayla Geitzler is from Moncton, New Brunswick, which is within Siknikt of the Mi’kma’ki. Named “A Rad Woman of Canadian Poetry”, Kayla was Moncton’s first Anglophone Poet Laureate (2019-2022). Organizer and host of the Attic Owl Reading Series, she is also co-creator of Poésie Moncton Poetry, a video poetry archive of Mi’kmaq and Moncton area poets, and co-editor of Cadence: Voix Feminines Female Voices (Frog Hollow Press, 2020). Her first book That Light Feeling Under Your Feet (NeWest Press, 2018) was a Calgary Bestseller and finalist for two poetry awards.

Kayla has performed her poetry with accomplished NB musicians, the NB Youth Orchestra, and Tutta Music Orchestra. She composed, and performed, three original poems for the Tutta Musica Ovation project. Other notable collaborations include CraftNB's Atlantic Vernacular and Fundy projects, and broadside with Hard Scrabble Press.

Kayla holds an MA in English, Creative Writing (UNB, Fredericton). She has worked as a technical editor on some of Canada’s largest infrastructure projects and designed courseware for Air Traffic Controllers. In 2021, she received a Top 20 Under 40 Award from the Greater Moncton Chamber of Commerce for her dedication to the literary arts. She works as an editor and writing consultant.

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, That Light Feeling Under Your Feet, was actually my MA thesis (University of New Brunswick). It examines the two years I worked on three different cruise ships and the exploitative nature of that industry (racism, misogyny, neoimperialism, flags of convenience). In 2016, it won the WFNB Alfred G. Bailey prize for Best Unpublished Manuscript, and NeWest Press also selected it as an inaugural edition for their Crow Said poetry series which honours poetry in vein of Robert Kroetsch. A year after its publication, Jean-Philippe Raîche and I became Moncton's inaugural Poets Laureate (2019-2022).

As a narrative poetry collection, it took me five years to publish; I had to rewrite it twice. My goal was to pen a collection that could be enjoyed by general readers, but anyone interested in close reading would be able to pick out finer, theoretical points. The poems were more a part of a whole than individual pieces.

My most recent work is still narrative, but I am interested in narrative's relationship with itself as well as the page and performance, so story and form and sound. I like to experiment, and I tell a good story. I feel I have a gift to create an immersive experience.

Perhaps my recent work feels mysterious, freer, yet more condensed. I'm interested in inheritance, incantation, and surrealism. How space and image refocus text. Many readers have told me That Light Feeling feels as though they are absorbed into one long story, told in vignettes, and that it doesn't feel like poetry. A few fellow writers have told me that my recent work has a known yet otherworldly quality, like I am bringing them through a strange yet inherently familiar place.

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

Poetry was my first love. My mother taught me to read when I was two. My father read poetry to me and taught me to recite, so poetry and story have been with me since the beginning. I wrote short fiction for about ten years and perhaps I'll return to it, or finally get around to drafting my first novel. I also enjoy lyrical prose and the personal essay. For a time, I was a writing life advice columnist for the Miramichi Reader.

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?

Good question. I believe I just start the project and usually within the first year, something shifts the original focus, but not the concept. I am not a fast writer; during university I made peace with the fact that I wouldn't be publishing a collection every two years. I'm still working on my second book, so I'll let you know how long that project took me when I'm done ;).

Things usually gestate for a while and then rise to the surface when I'm ready for them (this could be days or years). Sometimes things just come to me, suddenly, and I must write them down.

An old friend of mine says that I "puke down the page", so my first drafts rarely look like the final versions. Depending on my subject I do sometimes write from copious notes, but I try to trim those down, as they can distract from my original concept.

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?

Poems usually begin with an opening and ending line, or a concept that has its own rhythm or language. Typically, I write longer pieces and experiment with line breaks, space and form.

Honestly, I'm not sure as I'm still working on my second book. I can say that overarching themes are important for me, both for structure and inspiration, but my poems are a random bestiary. So, I would say that my concepts, interests, and experiments inevitably build a collection.

5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?

I like to read publicly, and I love to read with writer friends. (I run the Attic Owl Reading Series with my friend Drew Lavigne, Moncton's current Anglophone Poet Laureate.) Readings can be great test runs for works in progress. Audiences are usually responsive to my work, and at a reading I can hear if the poem is working—does it flow, is the rhythm on-point, are my ideas carried through well, is my work connecting with the audience? An audience will generally trust an author, so I have to be sharp in discerning if more clarity is needed, or if something is too heavy, doesn't have the reaction I intended, etc.

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?

My first book looked at simulacra but I'm more interested in theories about "doing things to" language. For example, Jan Zwicky's concept of gestalt and metaphor, exploring and reinterpreting traditional styles and forms, poetry of the female grotesque, where visual art intersects with writing etc.

I would say I am not trying to answer questions so much as find peace, forge meaning, create a narrative around experiences that have indefinable answers. In my work, I don't think there's an answer, just a story, and I have observed that when I forge meaning, it carries a resonance that goes far beyond me. I feel the most valuable thing we can do as writers is to connect with a reader or an audience, to move them.

Perhaps the most current questions, or concerns, are about survival and identity, the individual and the group.

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?

In the larger culture, I would say the writer's role is awareness, and art. The value of both is often in question and undervalued. When I make school visits, I tell students that writing has value, that we, as writers, create culture, report on injustice, and we can change how people think and act.

Some writers feel they have a role and others do not want one.  I feel that question is different for every genre and author. And the idea of a role, I think, goes back to who is seen and heard, and why? Perhaps the role of a writer is wonder. And from wonder, equality, equity and justice. Also art. Many of us write because we love to, and writing, in many ways, heals us, frees us.

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

I am an editor, but I don't have an editor. I prefer to mentor with a more experienced poet, such as Anne Simpson, or take workshops with skilled writers. I do, however, belong to a rather exceptional writing group. Their feedback plays an essential role in my work.

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

Max Ehrmann’s "Desiderata."

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?

My writing routine has never been a disciplined practice; I prefer to sit down and write when the piece comes. When the idea that has been gestating inside me seems to find its words and bubbles up. But what works best for me now is to write in the morning when I am fresh, and edit at night.

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

I usually have to leave the piece alone for about three weeks and then return to it when I've "forgotten" it. Then, it can usually speak clearly to me from the page, without me overthinking it.

12 - What fragrance reminds you of home?

Wild roses and cold Atlantic wind.

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?

For me, poetry distills life, distills a life, and therefore is not a one-dimensional expression either. I love ideas and experimenting, asking "what if..." and "what would that look like or sound like if..." which includes folding imagery and documents into my poetry. I have a busy mind, so many things interest me and can influence my work—language, culture, archiving, nature, sound, science, history, philosophy, theory, music and visual art all have their unique role in whatever piece I'm working on at the moment.

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

Forugh Farrokhzad, Kim Hyesoon, Anne Simpson, Khaled Khalifa, Elena Ferrante, Safia Elhillo, Zeina Hashem Beck, Layli Long Soldier, Sei Shonagon, Ocean Vuong, Jake Skeets, Alden Nowlan, Emily St. John Mandel, Mahmoud Darwish, the Brontës, Tanith Lee. My friends' writing, too, which is at various stages of publication: Shoshanna Wingate, Elizabeth Blanchard, Drew Lavigne, Margo Wheaton, Judy Bowman, Nancy King Schofield, Carol Steel, Rose Després, Jean-Philippe Raîche.

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

Swim (respectfully) with wild creatures. Travel Central Asia. Start an affordable writing retreat. Write a few novels.

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?

Psychology in some form, most likely where it intersects with criminology. Forensic psychology and behavioural analysis fascinate me. Or art conversation/restoration.

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

I was five years old when I told my family I wanted to be a writer. Even then it felt like a vocation. While I have worked various jobs, the past five years of my life working as an editor and writing consultant, and as Moncton's first Anglophone Poet Laureate, have been the most fulfilling of my life. There is a draw in my life that has returned me, again and again, to writing.

18 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?

It's a tie: My Brilliant Friend by Elena Ferrante and In Praise of Hatred by Khaled Khalifa.

Solaris (1972), based on the book by Stanislaw Lem, directed by Andrei Tarkovsky, starring Natalya Bondarchuk and Donatas Banionis.

19 - What are you currently working on?

I'm working on my second poetry collection and two chapbooks.

My second book looks at how families mythologize themselves, what stories they tell, what was "forgotten" and recovered, historical influence, what is inherited (in many forms, such as predisposed illness, mental illness), and how we are, or are not, nurtured.

One chapbook examines female relationships and the deconstruction of dominate European patriarchal narratives (in literature and history) through a queer diasporic protagonist as she travels Europe and Canada.

The last chapbook project, which may be amalgamated into the second poetry collection, examines the sudden death and difficult life of my late mother.

12 or 20 (second series) questions;

12 or 20 (second series) questions with David Martin

David Martin works as a literacy instructor in Calgary and as an organizer for the Single Onion Poetry Series. His first collection, Tar Swan (NeWest Press, 2018), was a finalist for the Raymond Souster Award and the City of Calgary W. O. Mitchell Book Prize. David’s work has been awarded the CBC Poetry Prize, and has been shortlisted for prizes from FreeFall, Vallum, PRISM international, and the Alberta Magazine Awards. As well, he was named a “Writer to Watch” in 2023 by CBC Books. His latest collection, Kink Bands, was published by NeWest Press in September of 2023.

1 - How did your first book change your life? How does your most recent work compare to your previous? How does it feel different?

I don’t think my first book, Tar Swan, changed my life drastically, but it was rewarding to see in print a project that had taken about ten years to complete. It was also very gratifying when readers and reviewers would engage with what I had written and spent so much time working on.

In my most recent work, Kink Bands, I moved away from the book-length narrative style of my first collection, but I still kept things feeling unified with the general theme of geology coursing through the poems. I believe that I was able to explore more experimental aspects of my poetry, while also moving towards a personal, lyrical approach in some of the pieces.

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

I was taking an undergraduate survey course in poetry, and was immersed in studying the famous names of the art, when I happened to meet with a group that called themselves the Drunken Poets Society. They would get together every Monday at the Ship & Anchor Pub and discuss poetry, as well as share their own work. This was quite a revelation for me, to find writers for whom poetry was a living art, and the combination of studying poetry at the university and revelling in the new poetry that I was hearing really got me hooked on the form.

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?

The projects usually develop slowly, with a general sense of what I’m seeking, but this can shift and be refined as I continue to work on them. Often my first drafts, of both individual poems and manuscripts, look very different than the final versions. I’m always aiming to fine tune a piece and see how it can be improved or taken in a new direction.

For some projects, like Tar Swan, I will do a lot of research, both technical and archival, while others have a more direct link to my personal experiences.

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?

For some manuscripts, I have a guiding theme from the outset, and for others it’s more a process of writing to find out what I’m really writing about. In a few cases, an editor who is helping me with my work will discern a theme or narrative that I was not aware of, and then this can be something I uncover and explore more deliberately. It’s interesting to me when an outside perspective can recognize patterns and ideas in the work that I’m not noticing.

5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?

I enjoy sharing my work at readings, but it’s usually when pieces are quite far along in their development.

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 often have a general question or general theme that I’m chasing in my work. For instance, with my first book I was interested in creating an understanding of the history and mythology of the Alberta oil sands that one wouldn’t find in other books about the subject. With the most recent collection, Kink Bands, I was wondering about how to use geology as a means of looking at the world, how to experiment with the theme in ways that perhaps other poets haven’t explored, and how to enact geological processes within the space of a poem.

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 each writer makes their own decision about where their interests lie and where they will focus their attention. Often there is a binary between personal and public-facing poetry, but there are many examples of introspective work that resonates with a group of readers and thus takes on a public aspect. I wouldn’t want to prescribe a strict role for the poet in society (as witness, philosopher, avant-garde experimenter, etc), but instead think that each poet is pulled to the themes that move them the most.

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

I find it incredibly helpful to work with an editor, as long as it is someone who is engaged with the poems and whose advice I trust. Often I get caught up in my own ideas, and it’s necessary for me to find out what someone else will make of what I’ve written. Are they able to come along with me on the poetic journey I’ve laid out (no matter how strange it may be), or have I lost them somewhere along the way? I’ve had positive experiences with editors who are able to discern a cohesive theme from a set of what I felt were miscellaneous poems, and I’ve had great experiences with an editor finding the one word or line that needs to be changed to make everything click into place.

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

The best piece of advice was given to me by a co-worker, almost in passing, and it pertains to raising kids. She told me that when your kids are young they will need help with almost everything, but you, as the parent, will be able to solve pretty much all of their problems. As your children grow up, however, they will need less and less help, but the situations that they do require assistance from you will be harder for you to solve (social interactions, friendships, etc). I always liked that advice, and especially as it was delivered offhand while at work.

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?

I don’t have a strict writing routine, but I do try to carve out a few dedicated slots of time during the week when I can focus on writing.

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

Usually I find reading poetry will get me out of a rut of some kind. I try to read quite widely, in general, and I find that ideas can pop up from reading scientific articles, poems, essays, news articles, pretty much anything.

12 - What fragrance reminds you of home?

The scent of baking coming from the my mother’s kitchen is a strong reminder of home for me.

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?

My work can be influenced by historical events, environmental phenomena, scientific research, listening to music, and many other things.

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

I’m a big fan of the poet Michael Donaghy. He isn’t all that well known in North America, as most of his publishing was done in the U.K., but when I came across his work it was a revelation to me about what could be done in the small space of a single poem. He makes intricately designed works seem like the most natural thing that you happen to be overhearing.

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

I’m working on a libretto for an opera, and during the pandemic I tried my hand at writing a novel. So I’ve been trying to work outside of my normal comfort zone. Maybe one day I’ll try writing short fiction, something I’ve never really done before.

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’m a musician in several different bands, but a part of me wonders what it would have been like to try to be a professional musician.

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

I do other things, such as work as a literacy instructor, play music, and volunteer for a poetry reading series, but I’m always drawn back to writing because I’m obsessed with the possibilities of language, and I’m constantly seeking new avenues to explore in my poetry.

18 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?

I don’t watch many movies, unless it’s something my kids want to see.

The last great book I read was The Liars of Nature and the Nature of Liars by Lixing Sun. I’m starting a new project about cheats, thieves, and con-artists, in both the human and non-human worlds, and this book was very interesting and relevant for me.

19 - What are you currently working on?

Right now I’m working on the final edits for a collection coming out next spring. It’s a work of experimental translations, framed by a speculative fiction narrative, and I’m a little apprehensive about what people will think about it.

12 or 20 (second series) questions;