12 or 20 (second series) questions with Candice Kelsey

Candice Kelsey has been researching and writing, both creatively and academically, for decades. She holds her B.A. (Miami University) and M.A. (LMU) in literature and is inspired by Nelly Sachs, Linda Pastan, Zora Neale Hurston, Herman Melville, and David Sedaris. Candice teaches English at a private Yeshiva girls’ high school in Los Angeles, where she has been inspired to write her blog Don’t Nachas ‘til You Try Us. Her first book explored adolescent identity in the age of social media and was recognized as an Amazon.com Top Ten Parenting Book in 2007.

Her poetry has appeared in Poet Lore, The Cortland Review, North Dakota Quarterly and many other journals. She feels honored that her poem “The Birth of President Trump” was included in Sibling Rivalry Press’ special issue If You Can Hear This: Poems in Protest of an American Inauguration. A finalist for Poetry Quarterly's Rebecca Lard Award and recipient of honorable mention in Common Ground Review’s 2019 poetry contest, Candice’s creative nonfiction was nominated for a 2019 Pushcart Prize.

Candice is the co-founder of a private high school, has served as an essay evaluator for the College Board and the U.S. Department of Education, volunteered as a fiction reader for The New England Review, and continues to foster a love of writing in today’s youth. She is an unabashed fan of Murder, She Wrote, Columbo, and The Nancy Drew Hardy Boys Mysteries as well as all things opera and musical theater. She and her family are passionate advocates for both animal rights and foster youth. You can find her @CandiceKelsey1 @BooksBoxers and @HardyTonight as well as www.christianenglishteacheratorthodoxjewishgirlsschool.com

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

Since Still I am Pushing is my first collection of poetry, I cannot answer this question yet.

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

I’m drawn to fiction more for the author’s use of language than for the plot or even character development. I’m drawn to non-fiction for the genuine, the real. Poetry for me is the best of both worlds – it requires heightened attention to word choice and a reconfiguring of reality. So by virtue of my own reading preferences, I settled into writing poetry rather than fiction or non-fiction.

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?

Typically my process begins with urgency – sudden and effusive. Pulling the car to the side of the road or sitting on the curb of the sidewalk and typing feverishly into my Notes app on my iPhone. Which is wonderful because who doesn’t enjoy feeling fecund? It can be exciting, but really it’s just the proverbial honeymoon period, I think. Because the next step in my process requires identifying what’s missing. I need to ask them, are you where you where you want to be? Are you who you want to be? So I work on solidifying my relationship with each of those poems. I visit them. I sit with them. 

I’ll take maybe four, and I will let them marinate. [I will] sit with them, and read them, and right away I can see little areas, little pressure points, that I can fix and places where I want them to go. Essentially, what I’m noticing is wordiness, which has always been my problem. But then I’m noticing that I lack the element of surprise. I lack the twist. I lack that beautiful element of poetry that I love — for example, in Billy Collins — where you think it’s taking you and then it takes you elsewhere. Michelangelo said that the statues that he would sculpt were already in the marble. He was just revealing them. I feel like my poems, in some way, have a lot in them that I just need to take the time to reveal. So time is a huge part of the process, and not giving into the need to submit them right away. Letting them marinate. Letting them sit. Rethinking them. Gaining more experience. Reading more poets!

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?

I am definitely an author of short pieces, spare strings of images or a single comparison. I sense a poem inside a tiny moment of brief interaction and begin there. The more time I allow it to have without me, the more I know how to spend quality time with it. Sometimes a poem becomes two separate poems; sometimes three separate poems unite as one longer poem. But they each begin small, like every one of us humans.

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

I’m an introvert in an extroverted profession – teaching. Networking, schmoozing, LinkedIn-ing I cannot do. Set me down at the AWP conference, and I’ll go fetal. But put me in a book group, an escape room, or in front of one hundred people eager to hear a few poems, and I shine.

           

I spoke to large venues throughout North America for my 2007 book (nonfiction) tour, and I enjoyed the adventure. I have yet to be put before an audience for my poetry, but I can tell you now that I would relish the opportunity! Especially since so much of my work is meant to be heard… I put a good deal of effort into the sound elements of my work. It does frustrate me that my poems are being read and not heard.

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 do find some safety and comfort about when I’m writing about things that are so personal, traumatic, or even puzzling. There’s a safety in that if it never gets published, I have the benefit of having written it for myself and having revisited and tried to make some sense out it. In a sense, I am answering questions from my past by taking something very prosaic and making it poetic. And this process is fulfilling to me. So that, in a way, I’m manipulating — going back in time — and manipulating some very ugly things that have not sat well with me for many years, and reconfiguring it as something that I can now see as beautiful.

I suppose one theoretical concern I currently have is whether or not there’s a greater expectation for female poets to be more raw and open. I mean almost a fetishization of female trauma. And I wonder if I float into that current subconsciously. Or if being a survivor is just is who I am. The trauma is a part of me. And it’s part of how I see the world. And it’s part of a daily struggle. Look, we all want the world to be more empathetic. And I (usually) have the strength to wrestle with things that are raw both for my own art and for others who can connect to it, who find something in it, and feel less lonely. But does it stand in the way of maybe a less exploited female-as-perpetual- sufferer type of poetry? I don’t know. I do know I’m excited to find out as I write more poetry.

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?

This question. Yes. I love it.

Is see the role of the writer, specifically the poet and memoirist, as that of the Fates in Greek Mythology – the three sisters who spin the thread of life, dispense it, and then cut it. We should be weavers, taking the stuff of life and forming something new and meaningful with the intent to send it out there to be experienced by others while also knowing when to let go and let it become an autonomous piece of work. Not unlike motherhood, actually. If I may…

           

Not that I like to compare, but I watch other mothers, i.e. mother friends, people that I work with, having trouble seeing their children as their own individual people and specifically having trouble separating. I ask myself, why am I not struggling with this, or am I struggling with this -- and I just think I’m not. I’ve talked to my eldest daughter about it. It seems like we have a very healthy boundary, in that she is her own person doing her own thing, and I’m okay with that separation.

I think writing poetry has helped me be a better mom, and by ‘better’ I mean — and I hate to add judgment to it — a little bit more willing and able to see my children as authentic beings, who are not an extension of me in any way, shape or form. Which is the exact opposite of how I was raised. And so, if they’re making choices I don’t agree with, I don’t know? I wouldn’t say I’m numb to it, but I’m more accepting to the fact that they are where they are, and I’m where I am, and let’s just see where we all go.

And that, to me, is the job of the poet.

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

I absolutely cherish working with an outside editor. I learn so much in the process and count it as invaluable to my growth as a writer.

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

One editor said, “I, too, wrote a first chapbook similar to this, and I needed to write it to get it out of my system and move on to the real poetry.” And it hurt, for a second, because Oh, I thought this was my real poetry, but it has stayed with me because maybe what I’m doing — and I have to be okay with that — right now is getting some of my pre-occupation, some of my obsession, and some of my dysfunction out into the poetry, and it is very personal. I can maybe get to another layer where I’m maybe more political. But, right now, I’m a poet whose writing about things that are so intensely personal that I cringe thinking that they’re going to be published.

That being said, I don’t think there’s anything I would avoid writing about. Maybe I write more abstractly about something intensely personal. But, you know, I’ve written about being assaulted and raped. I’ve written about my foster son. I’ve written about issues in my marriage and incredibly hurtful things I’ve experienced with my own mother. Poetry is where we learn truth. My circle of people love me enough to know that my coming to terms with and diving into the truth of things is more important than how they happen to be portrayed.

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?

Because I teach full time, I have to be strategic.

Luckily, at this particular teaching job, I have a lot of free time because the day is longer — there are ten periods every day. They [her students] are doing a dual curriculum: my students are studying Hebrew and Judaica— it’s like they have two school days in one day. But that means I’m here a lot, and I have a lot of free time. That’s when I do much of my writing, so I feel like this job has opened up the option for me to have more time to spend on my writing. And I definitely take advantage of that. 

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

I have two strategies, and both work well: I either sedate my brain by watching re-runs of 70s and 80s police procedural dramas, or I galvanize my brain by reading new poetry.

12 - What fragrance reminds you of home?

I’m such an olfactory geek. Scents are everything. For me, fresh cut grass reminds me of Ohio summers, and chimney smoke reminds me of Ohio winters. I won’t object to pipe smoke, either, as that reminds me of a favorite uncle we’d visit in New England.

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?

Trees. I am addicted to an app that lets me take a picture of a tree I see and then learn its name and every unique fact about that tree. Currently, I’m inspired by the Japanese Black Pine tree. Birds. I have a book of birds and their literary appearances – I keep it in my car at all times and read it when my husband is driving through L.A. traffic. Finally, Turner’s seascapes. His paintings simply unlock all the doors in my head.

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

Linda Pastan. Kay Ryan. Mary Oliver. Ruth Stone. Tracy K. Smith. Annie Dillard. Anne Lamott. Roxane Gay. Tara Westover.

Billy Collins. David Sedaris. Homer. Aeschylus. Sophocles.

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

Spend a year living and working on Nantucket. I’m such a Melville nerd (and Philbrick by default) that I count it criminal to have never stepped foot on that “great sand hill in the air.”

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?

Mail carrier for the USPS. I often fantasize about it. I love the uniform and all its variations, but specifically the vest and the high socks. I’m drawn to being outside in the fresh air, feeling the elements first hand. Imagine being able to pet the neighborhood cats as they sleep in the shade on front steps or smell the wild roses at the fence. Imagine listening to your ear buds while you walk around? Honestly, what a dream!

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

I dabbled all my life in writing, starting with creative grocery lists filled with rhymes and puns for my mother’s trip to the market to better lyrics for sub-par advertising jingles during Saturday morning cartoons. I also confess that I am the walking cliché who came alive intellectually in 11^th grade English class… the more I read, the more I wrote. For me reading is the inhale while writing is the exhale. Some of my early early stuff is mortifying, but this is why we have boxes.

I would say that I’ve been serious about poetry for three years. Look, life is hard, and it kicks you in the kidney or sucker punches you in the spleen. I think participating in  life, in any small way, is just traumatic. But it can and should be transformative, and that is where writing poetry enters the scene for me. Poetry has been a lifeline in so many ways.

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

Kiese Laymon’s Heavy. My word. What a powerful memoir! His courage to tell his story is breathtaking. I was especially moved by his struggles with gambling addiction as my mother experienced that same issue.

I cannot think of a film, but I did just see Miss Saigon, the musical theatre show that addresses the complexity of Vietnamese immigrants in the late 70s. Shockingly relevant in the sense of exploring the American Dream and its being warped over the years or from the very beginning, actually. I find it a bold look at the widely accepted concept of America as always being the “good guys” – especially in an age of growing oligarchy.

19 - What are you currently working on?

I have a number of poems that are in process and need my attention. But my focus is mostly on a collection of poems that detail a poignant time in my life – the conflation of my mother-in-law’s death and our home’s demolition.

12 or 20 (second series) questions;

12 or 20 (second series) questions with Robert Siek

Robert Siek is the author the poetry collections Purpose and Devil Piss (2013) and We Go Seasonal (2018), both published by Sibling Rivalry Press.

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?

It was my thirty-eighth birthday the day that Bryan Borland, the publisher of Sibling Rivalry Press, notified me that they had accepted the manuscript for my first book, Purpose and Devil Piss, for publication. Around the time that I submitted my manuscript to Bryan, I seriously felt like I no longer had the drive to continue trying to get a full-length collection published. I knew I wasn’t going to stop writing poetry because that wouldn’t be possible for me, but I was really doubting that any publisher would ever choose to put out a book by me. So this book fired me up. I began writing more regularly again and realized that it truly is never too late to accomplish a dream or find success. I once again felt that anything was possible—like maybe one day I’ll have enough poems to put together a manuscript for a second book.

            My new book, We Go Seasonal, my recently released second full-length collection, is mainly different from the first book in that the poems included in Devil Piss were from a period of fifteen years of my life, whereas the poems in the new book were all written within a span of four years. I think this caused the new book to feel more cohesive in voice and style than the first book. Even though I didn’t write the poems for the new book with any intended theme, there seems to be more of a connectedness among the poems than the ones in my first book. And of course I feel as though my work has advanced, grown, since what I did in my first book.

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

I came to poetry when I was thirteen. My older brother needed to write a poem for his English class. He was always an awful writer, so he and my mother asked me to try writing the poem for him. I wrote a creepy little poem called “Do You Miss Me?” that was obviously influenced by the short stories of Poe, as it was about a man who kills his wife and then a period of time later gets a telephone call from her saying, “Do you miss me?” I haven’t read it in ages but I’m sure it would make me laugh hysterically at this point. Anyway, the literary magazine of my brother’s high school accepted the poem for publication, so that made me want to write more. I kept going and haven’t stopped since. Honestly, during my childhood and through most of my teens, I didn’t read poetry outside of what was assigned in school. I was definitely only reading fiction in my personal time. It wasn’t until college that I began reading more poetry, beyond what was assigned to me in classes. It was then I began finding my poetry heroes and inspirations.

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 really do particular writing projects. Basically I write my poems as the mood hits me. If I’m not in the mood, forcing something out of me just so I can say that I wrote something this or that day never turns into something I’m proud of. When I feel a strong need to write a poem, I have to go with it wherever I am, which is why I love writing on the Notes app on my phone. I’ve done most of my writing on subway trains in the past few years. So sometimes the work comes quickly, let’s say a poem a week, and then a period comes where I’m just not feeling it for weeks at a time and I might only write a poem every three or four weeks, if that. Because of the way I write, like a house fire that burns quickly, my poems do tend to appear close to their final shape. I never write copious notes or do major research. I will revise and edit again and again until a poem feels near perfect, and sometimes I go back to a poem months later and make further changes.

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 usually begins as just an image floating around in my head, which may have come from some odd thought or from something I saw while out and about. I get that image down and if it moves me, I begin to expand on it. Typically I don’t even know what I’m initially trying to say or where the poem will go, but that’s the fun of it for me. My poems have become shorter in recent years. That is probably because I don’t plan my poems the way I did in my twenties and some of my thirties. For some reason I no longer felt the need to think about what I wanted to write about, to plan the next poem. If a spark comes, I have to drop everything and go with it. So with less planning and more immediacy, a sense of urgency, a rushed release of the words, the poems have become shorter. I don’t write my poems intending to one day combine them into a larger project, nor am I ever working on a “book” as I move along with the writing. I write separate stand-alone poems, and eventually I discover that I have enough to select from for a new manuscript—or at least that’s how it happened for the new book. All of a sudden I decided to see if I could put together a manuscript with what I had written over the previous four years, and it turned out that I did.

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

I would say that public readings are part of my creative process to a small degree. I don’t think about how a poem will go off at a reading while I’m writing it, but I do read my poems out loud when revising them. That helps me hear any issues in the rhythm. But that’s about it. I’m not really hoping to make a poem more performance ready. I think if it’s good enough for the page, it’s good enough to be read in public. I don’t love doing readings. I don’t look forward to them. But I also don’t dislike the experience of doing a reading. I’m never overly nervous going into each reading, as I’ve been at this for a long time and have simply gotten used to doing it, so it kind of turns into this fun moment once I’m up there getting a laugh or applause. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve become more comfortable in my own skin and in my writing, so I just get up there and allow whatever is going to happen to happen.

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 view poetry as an art form and the poet as an artist. My job is to make the reader feel something when reading my poems. That is what I am most concerned with. Feel something, and then if you want to analyze and get cerebral and overthink, go for it. But you better have felt some strong emotion or I have failed.

I’m not consciously thinking about the kinds of questions I’m trying to answer with my work when I’m writing it. I guess deep down, on some level, I’m always trying to answer why people are generally so awful, why we ruin so much around us. I’m typically trying to understand our behavior, our motives, why we can’t be better without constantly being reminded of why we should be better, and also how we deal with life often being unfair and painful. I think those are the questions I’ve always dealt with. I’m still trying to figure it all out, to learn how we work, but these days I’m having more fun searching for answers and I’m willing to laugh more at how ridiculous it all is. I still want to see the world vastly improved in how people treat one another, but in the meantime while that seems less and less likely, I’m going to poke fun at the whole process because otherwise I’m going to die young from stress and anxiety or end up with my head in the oven. Life is short, so I’m trying to make the best of it.

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?

I see writers having multiple roles in the larger culture, whether the writer wants a specific role or not. Writers can be entertainers, artists, magicians, nuisances, activists, friends, earth shakers, celebrities, critics, influencers, prophets, and countless other things. I don’t think writers should define their roles. Why bother when the public will just do it for you. Maybe it helps some writers going into it with a role in mind, like I’m going to write bestselling thrillers or I’m going to write the fitness book that gets America moving. I guess it can be that simple; maybe not so much for poets.

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

My experience of working with the editors of Sibling Rivalry Press, Bryan Borland and Seth Pennington, was beneficial to the poems in my two books published by them. I’m open to suggestions, but I’m also willing to explain why I’d prefer not to change something. They have never been difficult to work with, but they most certainly have felt essential to the bookmaking process. Maybe a different editor would go too far and piss me off, but thankfully I have yet to experience that.

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

Just keep submitting work. No matter how many rejections you receive, just keep sending out your work. Try to always have work out there being considered by journals and publishers. The more work you have out there, the greater the likelihood of your work getting published. Personally I try to send out a new submission each time I receive a rejection.

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 any writing routine. I never have. I just write whenever I feel like I must do it, like there’s no waiting for a better time. Whenever I’ve tried to do the sit down and write every day thing, it just produces crap, but that’s just me. Someone else might thrive on a daily writing routine. It’s not like I’m writing a novel or I’m on a schedule, so no need to force anything. A typical day for me begins with getting ready for work as a production editor at Crown Publishing Group, where I’ve been employed for the past twelve years. I’ve been known to write a poem on my way to the office while riding the subway, but most of the time I’m reading a book and listening to music in an attempt to completely block out everyone around me on the train. I may live and work in New York City, but I’m still not a fan of crowds.

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

I try not to fret when I am stalled because I know it won’t last. This is why I have this “it’s an emergency” outlook on the urge to write, like I’m feeling it right now and if I don’t do something about it, who knows how long it might be until the next surge. I guess it helps me to listen more, look around more, try to experience something new. I get inspired by pretty ordinary things. Recently I noticed this statue of the Jersey Devil hanging behind a glass wall inside Penn Station. I’ve been going there for more than ten years to catch trains to visit family in New Jersey, and for some reason had never set my eyes on this bizarre statue. I took a photo of it for my Instagram page, and then the next thing you now I’m writing a poem using the image of the statue and Jersey Devil folklore, and the poem of course ends up having nothing to really do with the Jersey Devil or that crazy statue—but it’s a new poem and I like it!

12 - What fragrance reminds you of home?

Febreze AIR Freshener, Linen & Sky scent, reminds me of home. It’s the scent I most often by for our bathroom. Beyond that, I think the scent of my home changes depending on what is being cooked in the kitchen or if a truck is running in the driveway next door and the exhaust is stinking up our air.

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?

Movies, TV, music, and visual art all influence my work. I’m a pop culture junkie and that comes through in my work. I’m also a huge horror movie fan, so often you’ll find imagery from horror movies, especially those from the 1970s and ’80s, infiltrating my work. I’m fairly certain Michael Myers of the Halloween franchise makes an appearance in two different poems in my new book. There’s also a poem that is entirely made up of imagery from the original Omen movie; it has nothing to do with the antichrist or the apocalypse, but the imagery worked for what the poem is attempting to say. Song titles and lyrics often find their way into my poems as well. Often if I can’t think of a good title for a poem, I’ll just use the title of or a lyric from a popular song instead. For some reason the Talking Heads make more than one appearance in We Go Seasonal, as well as ABBA and Xiu Xiu. There are probably other movies and songs in the book but I can’t remember them all at the moment.

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

Dennis Cooper, David Trinidad, Lynn Crosbie, and Tim Dlugos are the first four writers who come to mind when I think of which writers are important to my work and to my life outside of my work. I find them to be the most influential writers in my life. There are numerous others, but these four are at the top of my list. They get my motor running.

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

Win a prize for a poetry book. Get a poem or two in Poetry and The Paris Review. Relearn how to speak Spanish. Skydive.

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 would be a visual artist. I was an excellent drawer as a child, and often people would approach me at my brother’s baseball and football games where I’d be sketching away while sitting on the bleachers with my parents and ask me if I was going to be an artist when I grow up. Well I did become an artist but not that kind of artist. I took art every year in high school but was also writing poetry. I was getting more positive feedback regarding my writing and I didn’t have a portfolio of my visual art prepared when I began applying to colleges way back when, so I went the easier route and decided to pursue a degree in English. Initially I was planning on getting my teacher’s certification so I could teach high school English, but in my second year of undergrad I decided teaching wasn’t for me. I then began taking creative writing courses so I could get my concentration in creative writing. I briefly flirted with journalism but I found the two journalism classes I took to be boring. I’m glad I focused on poetry after all, but there is a part of me that is haunted by one of the two art teachers from my high school asking me what I was going to study in college and upon hearing me say English responded with, “Oh no! Why aren’t you going into fine arts? You’re the only one who could have done something in the arts.” He walked off kind of muttering in disappointment. I did take a drawing class at the Art Students League in Manhattan during my four-week sabbatical from work two years ago. I enjoyed it, but it kind of convinced me that I’m not as interested in making visual art as I had been as a child and teenager. Maybe I’m just lazy, but right now I’m good with only being a poet.

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

Again, I’m kind of lazy. All of my energy goes into writing my poetry, and that’s about all I have to give when it comes to making art. I even started writing a novel once (yes, it’s also writing but not poetry), maybe twelve years ago, but I got bored with it and stopped around page 132. I should just delete the file. I don’t really care to return to it. When working on the novel, I kept going back to my poetry and was annoyed that the novel was taking my time away from poetry. The novel really wasn’t that great. Maybe one day I’ll try novel writing again. Maybe. Honestly beyond writing, the only other activity I’d be interested in doing is visual art, but again, I made an attempt to get back into that and it went nowhere. An ex once tried to teach me how to crochet. I didn’t like that very much so that didn’t really go anywhere either. I liked doing gymnastics as a kid, but I doubt at forty-four I’m going to start practicing floor exercises again. I became too tall to be a gymnast when I started going through puberty, or at least that’s what the coaches told me, so that was the end of that dream.

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

Oh geez, one last great book—I’ve read so many. Well I have to say that the most recent book I read that really stuck with me is Lynn Crosbie’s Life Is About Losing Everything. Lynn and I are friends so I suppose this is a bit biased, but it really left the biggest impression on me of everything I’ve read in the past few months. I had already read some of her poetry collections and her two novels, Where Did You Sleep Last Night and Chicken, but I’d yet to read Life Is About Losing Everything from 2012. I’m glad I backtracked because it blew me away. I think the fact that it felt like something I would like to do with my own writing speaks volumes. Lynn seems to string together images with such ease, things that shouldn’t go together or that you would never think should be used to describe whatever it is she’s describing just work in her world, and that is a world I feel most comfortable in. This is probably why we’ve become such dear friends in the short time of knowing each other.

            As for the last great film I’ve seen, I guess I’ll say Hereditary. Yes, it’s a horror movie but it was so bizarre and clever. And it got me to look up and read about the demon Paimon. And honestly during the finale of that movie, I felt a strange chilling sensation through my body, not so much because I was scared but more so because this whole horrifying climax was so weirdly unexpected and presented in a strangely beautiful manner—the lighting, the music, the headless bodies bowing. There was almost a sense of peace during the scene even though it was kind of ridiculous.

19 - What are you currently working on?

I’m just writing a poem here and there. I feel like the poems I’ve been writing the past year or two are some of the best I’ve ever written, so I guess I’ll just keep at it and eventually I’ll surprise myself when I realize that once again I have enough work to put together a manuscript. So I guess you can say that I’m working on a third book. One day I’ll finish it.

12 or 20 (second series) questions;