Sunday, December 03, 2023
12 or 20 (second series) questions with Nina Mosall
1 - How did your first book change your life? How does your most recent work compare to your previous? How does it feel different?
Well, Bebakhshid is my first book! I think it sobered me in relation to what it means to have a book published and be seen as an "official" writer. I guess I would say it's been humbling, anti-climatic, and surreal? Big words!
2 - How did you come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?
Without sounding pretentious, I think poetry is in my blood. I'm Iranian, and my father was born and raised in the city of Shiraz, known as the "city of poets." My father recited and read many Persian poems to me as a child, so it definitely wasn't a form I was unfamiliar with. But overall, poetry came to me secondary in the trajectory of my life. I initially thought myself a fiction writer, and had been slowly working up to full length novels by writing tons of short stories in my highschool years. During my time there, a teacher had told me that poetry wasn't my strong suit, and to stick to fiction instead - as a very serious, sensitive, and insecure kid, I took that sentiment to heart and didn't doubt it for a second. It wasn't until my time in university that I felt permission to experiment and explore where my gut told me to go. That's when I got serious about poetry.
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?
As of late, it's taken me a while to start projects. I'm learning to balance my non-writing world with my writing world, and hoping to be able to merge the two. As a result, I start and stop projects numerous times.
When the spark appears, the writing comes to me quickly, like I'm trying to catch what my brain is showing me before it's too late! But I edit poems a few time. I have a lot of scribbles, repeated lines, and synonyms written on the pages of my notebooks.
4 - Where does a poem or work of fiction 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 usually begins with an image that comes up in my mind and leaves an impression on me. Sometimes it begins with a feeling I have and I can't place, but I can imagine it or think of words or sentences associated with that feeling.
As a younger writer, I believe I wrote pieces without any kind of cohesiveness or project in mind. Now, I think it helps me with focus and discipline to have some kind of plan in mind. But of course, the heart writes what it wants to write!
5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
Public readings have no influence or part in my creative process.
For the longest time, I disliked doing readings a lot. I had this idea that my work was only meant to be read internally, privately, amongst one's loved ones, or maybe in front of an audience...but not by me! Sometimes I still feel that way. My writing makes me feel vulnerable but honest, and to perform it (which is how I feel when I do readings) feels the opposite of that. I also fear being misinterpreted, or seen differently than how I or my loved ones see me. But I can't control that, and does it really matter? Once the words are out, they're not just mine anymore. On a more positive note, I do enjoy networking among fellow writers - it's always lovely to feel less alone and among people who also love what you love. Talking to people who resonated with my readings is also such a lovely, sincere experience. I cherish that. I've also had such amazing opportunities to share the stage with talented and experienced writers, such as yourself, rob. That is truly the highlight for me! I've been able to read with people I read in my undergraduate classes!
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?
In relation to Bebakhshid, I think a concern I explored was, "will I ever understand?"
Some of the questions I had during the process of writing the poems that ended up in the book were in relation to understanding my parents, their varied past, and my cultural and religious roots. Who are these people who raised me aside from being the people who raised me? What was their experience in and out of Iran during a time of immense political tension? What was their experience being refugees? What are they going through? Who am I in relation to my parents? Who am I in relation to my culture? I also had a lot of questions about familial relationships, as that has always been an area of concern and fascination with me. What does it take to be a family? What kind of bonds occur? Will my family ever be happy? Will I ever understand what it means to have a family bond? Etc.
Currently, I don't know. Sometimes I feel like the book was published so I could move on with my life. I still grapple with these questions and topics, but to go back to that book and fully explore it again feels like I'd be moving backwards in my writing and personal life. Although it is my first and something I hold dear, I also feel a bit combative towards my book now. I resent having the writer-of-colour label and tokenism that comes with it. I'm currently tired of exclusively focusing and talking about my ethnic and cultural identity. Books take a few years to publish, and so it's been around 4-5 years since the last poem that was written in Bebakhshid. I feel and am different now.
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 what the role of a writer should be. I also don't think I have much skin in the game to speak to that. But I see the role of a writer being one who can document, interpret, and convey information through many forms. To share things, whatever they may be. To inspire someone else to write, maybe. I don't know. Don't take my answer seriously.
8 - Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?
Essential. It was a new experience for me to work with an editor. I value feedback and constructive criticism. Although I feel vulnerable writing, I am not precious with my work in relation to editing it. I would say it's essential because it gets you out of your own head and in the present moment.
9 - What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?
To be vulnerable is to be brave!
10 - How easy has it been for you to move between genres (poetry to fiction)? What do you see as the appeal?
I find poetry my comfort and much easier now than it was when I was in high school. I haven't written much fiction as a result - it's a little daunting!
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?
Currently, I am all over the place and don't have a routine. But usually, when I'm more gathered, I try to write early in the morning by my window. Otherwise, I'll write when it comes to me - that can often be in a movie theatre, the park, a coffee shop that feels just right, or out in nature.
Lately, a typical day begins with taking my dog, Honey, out for a long walk. This is followed by some stretching, a cup of tea, and maybe a bit of reading if I have enough time.
12 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?
I find reading doesn't usually encourage me to write. I don't often get inspiration from other books or authors. I usually get inspiration from the visual arts, or being present. Films, paintings, and performance art keep me curious. I also love learning about almost everything. Fixating on subjects, people, events, etc gets my wheels turning. People watching, fully engaging with the everyday (much which is mundane) has also provided me some mental clarity to be able to write.
13 - What fragrance reminds you of home?
Mowed grass.
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?
Yes! Movies. I love movies. I love going to the movies, talking about movies, reading about movies, dreaming about movies, blah blah blah. Good movies do the same thing a good poem does for me. It leaves me feeling things I don't know how to convey, and makes me want to capture them. It leaves such an impression on my outlook on life and my understanding of other human beings. It makes me feel human! I love movies. Did I mention I love movies?
15 - What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?
I've enjoyed Ottessa Moshfegh's work. I like the ugliness of it. She writes well and she knows it - her confidence with herself is something I hope I can have a little of.
Shel Silverstein has marvelous poetry collections that are cleverly written for children and adults to enjoy. I find them amusing. The Giving Tree is a heartbreaker.
Joyce Carol Oates' short story, "Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been" has left a haunting impact on my worldview.
Jon Krakauer writes true stories so well. He balances fact and emotional vulnerability perfectly, to me. I enjoy his book Into the Wild, and re-read it every so often.
The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien has taught me a lot about the power of storytelling and the approach to take when doing so.
16 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
Have my own form of family.
Act - specifically die a horrific death in a major horror film.
Work with animals on a farm.
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?
Since I'm not a full time writer, I am currently working as a Librarian. I'd probably be a homemaker if the stars aligned. Otherwise, maybe something in the film industry. A director if I'm feeling brave.
18 - What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
Writing has always come easy to me. I loved to read, and gained an advanced vocabulary for my age. I was also a quiet, shy child who often internalized a lot of my feelings. I spent a lot of time alone in my room, so I kept myself company with myself. I had many diaries and notebooks that I filled with all the things I didn't feel I could say aloud, and stories I hoped to experience. Writing had and has been my voice in the world.
19 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?
For a book, probably The Door by Magda Szabó.
For a film, The Sound of Metal
20 - What are you currently working on?
A Children's book of poetry. A collection of poems in response to films. Being kinder to myself.
12 or 20 (second series) questions;
Wednesday, October 25, 2023
“In Winnipeg / I'll eat your leg.” — Dennis Lee
You know that poem, don’t you? From Dennis Lee’s classic Alligator Pie (Toronto ON: Macmillan, 1974). If you don’t have a copy, you should certainly get one. I doubt the book has been out of print since it originally appeared. Over the weekend, I made my way to Winnipeg for a quick overnight to launch my latest poetry collection, World’s End, (2023), a collection that immediately pre-dates my University of Calgary title, the book of smaller (2022). The publisher, ARP Books, had set up a group launch for a trio of their recent poetry titles, including Ottawa poet natalie hanna’s lisan al’asfour (2022) [see my review of such here] and Vancouver poet Nina Mosall’s Bebakhshid (2023), both of which mark their full-length debuts.
Oh, Winnipeg. It has been a while since I’ve been this way. The prior weekend I was at a festival in Corner Brook, Newfoundland [see my report on such here]. In December, I launched my Mansfield Press pandemic essay collection in Toronto with Stephen Brockwell and Amy Dennis, etc [see my report on such here] and another Toronto reading last July through Larry Sawyer/milk magazine [see my report here]. Remember all those? Before that, nothing back to February 2020, when Christine and I read in Vancouver as part of Lunch Poems at SFU [see my report on such here]. Did I ever do a report on my prior reading in Winnipeg? Going back through my posts, it does look like I toured a full thirty days back in 2006, posting all sorts of travel nonsense during that time [landing in Winnipeg; being in Winnipeg; leaving Winnipeg]. Has it really been that long since I read there? I know I’ve been at least once since to meet up with some of Christine’s aunties and Oma. Either way, I think my notes make more sense now.
natalie and I met at the airport at some ridiculously-early time for our shared flights (a brief stop-over in Toronto), as we shared hazy conversation until boarding (we were seated rather distantly on the flights themselves). I deliberately brought no reading material with me to force myself to finish the final edits on this forthcoming collection of short stories, On Beauty: stories (University of Alberta Press), supposedly scheduled for next fall, if I can complete these edits in time.
We landed, we made for the hotel, we lunched. We sat for a moment, to breathe. She caught her room prior to lunch, mine wasn’t ready until after. Once we were finished our lunch, she went to crash for a bit and I wandered, ending up at the Plug In Institute of Contemporary Art, an artist run centre almost directly across the street from our hotel, where I saw some really interesting shows (that I would completely recommend). Farah Al Qasimi’s work, The Swarm, is quite stunning. Ultimately, I was heading to the big ridiculous Winnipeg sign at The Forks, which led me more than a kilometre of walking (repeatedly asking locals if I was headed the correct way), wandering in, around and through downtown in a zigzag. I caught the Portage Place mall (where I spent many hours writing in their food court, during prior visits), and saw the march of some hundreds of people protesting Israel’s bombing of Gaza, which is devastating the Palestinian people (everyone needs to stop all the bombing, please). I wandered the corner of Portage and Main for a selfie, none of which captured either sign for proof. I walked through the train station, one of the few of those original train stations still functioning across Canada (Calgary is shuttered; Edmonton and Ottawa stations relocated years ago). Once I found it, two tourists from Philadelphia were kind enough to capture the photo of me at the sign.
Once done, I headed straight back, another kilometre-plus back into the Exchange district for the sake of Red River Books: this is one of my favourite used bookstores in Canada, and I easily mailed boxes of purchased books home from this store across those years of touring from 1997 to 2006. I made the store by 4pm, just in time to realize it had already been closed for an hour. What! And being Saturday, there was no point attempting the ArtSpace building, which houses Turnstone Press, CV2 magazine, Prairie Fire, The Manitoba Writers Guild, etcetera (I used to spend half a day on each trip wandering the building, visiting). This is when and were I first met Todd Besant, who currently runs ARP Books, during his tenure at Turnstone. Instead, I sought out a seat somewhere for the sake of some food, perhaps, and possibly a drink, landing at the Amsterdam Tea Room and Bar. I mean, I needed to be at the reading venue by 5:30pm, and it was only a couple blocks further, so there was no point in wandering back to the mall for the food court (which I did consider).
The Amsterdam was curious: a fancy bar for tea-flavoured cocktails (their menu for such was extensive; I ordered a stout, avoiding all of that). While there, I wrote postcards for the children, only to have a younger couple nearby stunned that I was writing postcards. It’s a lost art! he said. Can I take your picture writing postcards? she asked? Um, I suppose?
And did you see this? En route to the gallery: a building with a restored original front for that whole block, and new back. Completely lovely.
The reading itself was glorious! It was a small crowd, but quality. I don’t think I’d seen A.J. (Adam) Levin since 2004, when we read together at the Windsor Festival, when I launched my Palimpsest Books title (I still have copies, despite it being out of print). K.I. (Karen) Press looked no different than she had ever done. Why doesn’t she age? And it was great to finally meet (in-person) Winnipeg poets Julian Day, melanie brannagan and above/ground press author Melanie Dennis Unrau. Dennis Cooley, as well, was his usual self, his pulse of electrical energy just there beneath the surface. The benefit, also, of those latter four being above/ground press subscribers, I was able to hand them three envelopes each, which did lighten my load considerably. And did you know cam scott [did you see my review of his latest?] is part of aceart as well? I hadn’t met him yet, either. Oh, he's so good. We’ve been discussing doing a chapbook together for some time now.
Christine’s two maternal aunties were also there! They live in Winnipeg, after all. It was lovely to see them.
The last time I was at aceart, Winnipeg’s glorious artist-run centre, it was in a different location. For reasons unknown, Sylvia Legris thought I should be part of an art auction they were running back in the fall of 1999, and, given I’d recently won the Canadian Authors Association Air Canada Prize for Most Promising Writer (in any genre) in Canada under 30 (their only non-cash prize, but included two free tickets to anywhere Air Canada flew), I was able to use one of those tickets to fly into Winnipeg for the sake of that auction. I stayed with Dennis Cooley, brought along terrible artwork and spent the evening working the bar at the event. At least when Karen Connelly won the same prize nearly a decade earlier, she used her tickets for a bit more purpose: flying to Thailand, where she spent a year composing her Governor General’s Award-winning travel memoir, Touch the Dragon (Winnipeg MB: Turnstone Press, 1992).
natalie hanna does occupy an interesting space in Ottawa literary circles: despite this being her full-length debut, she’s been active for years (with a break mid-way for the sake of law school and articling), even back to the second half of the 1990s, when she was involved with running readings at Mother Tongue Books (a series, if I recall correctly, organized with Stephanie Bolster) and above/ground press even published a chapbook-length long poem of hers as an issue of the long poem magazine STANZAS. The reading was straightforward enough (and we were all amazing, I’ll have you know), but what was intriguing was Andrew Lee prompting a panel conversation between the three of us at the end of the event. He opened with a question, and then asked if we had questions for each other (I didn’t realize we’d had homework).
Nina, on her part, immediately jumped at the opportunity, and pulled out a whole list of questions she’d prepared (citing that, as a librarian, this was something she was quite good at). Her questions were interesting, although I made a point of prompting her to answer each one as well, after natalie and I had. After a handful of Nina’s questions, I pointed out that all of her questions seemed to be structural (ie: variations on form, as opposed to questions around content), which prompted me to ask her how her poems begin. She hadn’t even realized her direction. I feel seen! she said, startled.
K.I. (Karen) Press
All
in all, a very fine event, a very fine trip. Thank you, co-readers, and to
everyone at ARP Books: Todd, Irene (in absentia) and Andrew. Thank you.
| myself reading! photo by Andrew Lee, ARP Books |
Tuesday, October 03, 2023
rob mclennan, natalie hanna + Nina Mosall launch ARP titles in Winnipeg!
I'll be launching my latest poetry title, World's End, (2023) alongside ARP Books authors natalie hanna (lisan al'asfour; see my review of such here) and Nina Mosall (Bebakhshid) in Winnipeg on Saturday, October 21, 2023 at 6pm, aceartinc, 206 Princess Street. Might we see you there?

