12 or 20 questions: with Ray Hsu

Ray Hsu is Postdoctoral Fellow in Creative Writing at the University of British Columbia. He has published over a hundred poems in over thirty-five literary journals nationally and internationally. His book, Anthropy, won the 2005 League of Canadian Poets' Gerald Lampert Award for best first book and was a finalist for the Trillium Book Award for Poetry. While completing his doctorate in English Literature at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, he taught for three years in a nearby prison, where he co-founded with incarcerated writers the award-winning Prison Writing Workshop. His second book is due this fall.

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?

My first book opened many doors: whereas marketing managers, journal editors, and others weren't necessarily willing to pay attention to me before I had a first book, they were suddenly willing to support my work with their labor. Which only exacerbates the publishing divide between those who have books and those who don't.

My most recent work is more challenging than my previous work, folks say. It feels different because much of it was written across many conversations around U.S. empire whereas the previous book was written with a different set of more "literary" (and less "social") curiosities.

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

I could say that poetry was the most flexible form for doing the kinds of work I wanted to do (which is true), but I first came to poetry because the poets in Toronto were the kids I wanted to hang out with.

3 - How long does it take to start any particular writing project? Does your writing intitially 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 started my new book as soon as I had finished the previous one. But I'm often juggling a number of projects, whether they're "writing" or something else. Writing starts quickly. It's difficult to make a blanket statement as to whether first drafts look like final ones: they vary a lot, but revision usually doesn't last longer than a week or two before I begin a new piece.

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 in a folder of material I've been gathering over the course of the week. Or in a pile of books I have sitting behind this screen. I tend more towards the short-pieces-from-which-a-larger-project-emerges school.

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

Public readings are essential to the creative process, but I treat them as a genre unto themselves. Like performance art.

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 have tons of theoretical concerns behind my writing, but they tend to be the same questions that make me curious as a human being. So it's hard to separate what most folks call "theory" from my investments as a relentlessly curious person trying to figure out new ways to live in the world.

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 the current role of the writer as shining a light on whatever she or he choose to write about. Collectively, writers and their allies set the agenda for public attention on whatever issues they consider important, even subconsciously. I think this rocks.

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

Essential. E. ssen. tial. The last piece in my first book is about working with my editor.

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

It's a close tie between Maybe Walter Benjamin's motto, "Always radical, never consistent"; and what Sting allegedly said: "Charisma is a trick. What you do is you appear to not be able to do something and then when you do it, do it better than anyone else. The contrast is what makes people love you."

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?

Writing routine is spread over the week. I gather materials all week, then I write them up for my weekly writing group. Repeat.

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

My writing doesn't really get stalled.

12 - If there was a fire, what's the first thing you'd grab?

A fire extinguisher?

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?

Art. Conscience.

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

The immediate writers around me are important.

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

Anything I haven't imagined yet.

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 have no idea what I'd be if I weren't a writer. I never quite thought that I'd be a writer. In fact, who is just a writer?

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

I don't think they're in opposition. I think that'd make for boring writing.

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

Nongovernmental Politics, a collection edited by Michel Feher. The last great film I watched was Control, the biopic on the lead singer of Joy Division.

19 - What are you currently working on?

I'm writing my second book, which has the working title On Humanitarianism. I'm hoping to blow a few things up.

12 or 20 questions archive (second series);

12 or 20 questions: with Karen Houle

Karen Houle: "I am a professor of Philosophy. I specialize in Ethics and Social & Political Philosophy. I regularly teach courses in Environmental Philosophy at the 2nd, 4th, and graduate-level.

I have a background in Science and I’m also a fiction writer (poetry and short stories). I have two kids, twins, who are almost 20 now."

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

It allowed me to take myself seriously as a writer. Before that I used to like to think I could write but after that I also let it be true.

My recent work feels infinitely less cerebral to me (though not to all readers). The first book had as its central question how one undertakes to love, and to try, when, qua educated Western scientistic-type one knows all the Big Facts: mortality, geological time and extinction rates, that there is probably no God, etc. What can anchor faith? Hope? Grace? Can those possibilities come up through more and more intimate connection with the 'facts of nature', or do we need to leave off at some point and turn, blind, into love? I was working out that theoretical problem in that first book. The time between the first and the second was saturated with trauma. Those poems contain (even if they don't show) that trauma.

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

My story lines kept collapsing. The characters, the events, the plot. All these things ended up quickly wearing thin, and wearing out, compared with the sheer power of words, and words arranged for poetry, as poetry. It's like I washed my head too many times and what was left standing were poems.

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

5-7 years.

Writing comes like Kakabeka Falls.

They come out of copious notes on the inside of my crammed skull.

It's like the kitchen drawer that just won't shut, it's so full of everything.

Eventually, you take everything out, match stuff up, sort, edit, reduce the volume.

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?

Likely the poems begin with the day I start composing or writing. And they contain that day. Then there are the rest of those days. Together, these are the short pieces that are the larger project. I'm no more working on a "book" from the very beginning than you are I are working on a "life" from the very beginning.

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

Only once the poems are safe. That is, they are whole, and they retain their wholeness even once they have been shared around, said aloud, offered. So, that clearly means that readings are not part of the writing-creative process. But I would say they are crucial to the receptive-creative process. People often say they can't 'hear' the layers and meanings in my poems until they hear me move, word by word, through them. One review that I didn't much enjoy said my poems needed to have more story or life in them. What is crazy is that it is not possible for them to contain any more than they do. That expression Life is Weirder than Fiction applies here. You would simply not be able to imagine the places that I've been that I've crawled out of via poetry. So then I thought that perhaps I hadn't done enough work, or didn't have the skill yet, of making that 'life' available to the reader. This is where I think my readings are critical. If you hear them, you will likely hear what is packed, quite tightly and yet neatly, into them.

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?

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?

The words 'role' and 'writer' don't go well together, in my opinion. What I think is hardest of all (next to writing) is to find something for which no clear use can be found, or imagined. I go to second hand shops in search of the kinds of things that will rebuke my utilitarian/pragmatic/consumerist self. It's terrifically hard to find something for which a role isn't immediately evident, or can easily be imagined. This is a symptom of the monster that is functionalism. I think writing should be anti-function and the writer should be an ambassador to the Anti-Use zones of possibility. Otherwise, we might turn into robots completely or be replaced, one by one, by them.

Poetry and writing can serve as temporary repositories of uncategorized emotions and overflows of intense affect. A through station between use and ab(use)?

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

Essential. I can only see my work from one side. They can see it from another. Between these is the beginning of a critical thickening.

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

About writing? About living?

Here's what I say to myself often: All will be well. And even if it isn't, it will be.

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 do not have a writing routine. If I did, I'm sure I would freeze in terror. The only sure way to make a poem 'come visit' my conscious brain is to go for a stroll.

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

Movement. Physical movement. Moving on the bike, swimming, walking, travelling by car or train. Planes don't work. The air is too poor, perhaps.

Also, I read other poets, all the time.

12 - If there was a fire, what's the first thing you'd grab?

My kids. Then the dog. Pretty obvious. I don't own many things, and I don't own many that I couldn't live without.

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?

Motion. E-motion.

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

I read so much for work and pleasure it would be unfair to count in a few and leave the others out to roost.

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

Get truly fit. Learn French properly. Write a play. Learn how to relax. Be successful in an intimate relationship.

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 professor of philosophy. It pays the bills. I write in the small interstices of that job, and then once in a great big whooshy-gush about every 5 years. Had I not been a writer I would have ended up being a teacher of some kind. Which I did. Am.

I wish a living could be earned by parenting. I am skilled at it, and it's a chosen profession, and I enjoy it as much as writing or teaching. But as it is, to become an Executive Parent I would still need a Sugar Daddy.

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

Honestly, I think that I am the kind of person who lives in words even more than I live in actions and things. They found me. Words, and then writing was the thing you do to be able to stay inside them longer. I know that it is a kind of neurosis, a withdrawl or an escape from things and actions, and to an extent then, from people and lives. But I also know myself well enough to know that words are people, and living as a writer is how I live.

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

19 - What are you currently working on?

A book on abortion and complexity theory.

A paper on shame and faciality and animal selves. Getting the garden started.

12 or 20 questions archive (second series);

12 or 20 questions: with Matthew Tierney

Matthew Tierney’s second book, The Hayflick Limit, came out with Coach House Books in spring 2009. He is a recipient of a K.M. Hunter Award for Literature, and won 1st and 2nd place in This Magazine’s 2005 Great Canadian Literary Hunt. His poems have appeared in journals and magazines across Canada, including Maisonneuve, The Malahat Review, The Fiddlehead and Eye Weekly, among others. He lives in Toronto.

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 was a long time coming, written off and on over nearly ten years. I was very close to it and both happy and relieved see it into print. Publication itself was a measure of success.
Suddenly, the second book became a “when” not “if”. All that worry about getting published shifted into how it’d be received.

As to how it compares: The first book was written by the poet I wanted to be. The second was written by the poet I am. That make any sense?

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

I came to poetry through fiction. I blame my friends at the time. Steve McOrmond, David Seymour, Andy Weaver. A bad lot.

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?

Starting is not the problem. Finishing is.

Poems come from notes or not depending on the scope, the specifics, my mood, my energy level. Research can be very conspicuous in a poem, like the tics of bad acting. I’m very conscious of this because I tend write about stuff I don’t really understand.

Ideally, I’d like to just know everything so I wouldn’t have to do any research.

That sounds fatuous. It is. But I’m trying more and more to have the research direct me rather than the reverse. Earn the knowledge. Let the poem come out of whatever happens to be in my head.

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?

The poem begins in a complicated place, a miasma of guilt and ambition and intellectual curiosity. Though sometimes it’s just rainy out and I feel like writing. Who knows how things get done?

Poems fall into a book by default. I’m usually interested in one thing for a long time, and the poems tend to flock together, probably for protection.

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

Readings don’t play a part in my process. They’re enjoyable though. I’m a wreck heading into them, but they turn out all right. And there’s usually a pint or two involved.

Also, it’s one arena where humour in a poem is welcome. Then it’s smacked on the nose and sent back to the corner where it belongs.

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’ve been toying with the idea that all poems are failures. The good ones are, anyway.

I don’t mean a failure of language, though that’s always the pink elephant in the room.

Something more particular about the kind of failure. It’s necessary for poetry to fail to be prose, for one. Or even to fail to make “sense.” Like the way quantum physics breaks from classical. Following a logic of its own creation—which is tautological, now that I think about it.

These are some of the answers I’m attempting to question with my work.

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?

The role of the writer should be to write good poems. Even if you write fiction. Okay, a good novel might count. But nothing over 300 pages.

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

Both.

The editor-writer relationship exists to challenge your work. You have to respond to that challenge intelligently and seriously. Sometimes it’s frustrating, even deflating, though it’s always worth it to make the poem better.

I can’t imagine being confident enough to bring the poems into the public sphere all by myself. Doubt is good for a writer. It makes you listen.

I’m lucky to have good friends who happen to be good editors, and who also value what I do. And Kevin Connolly, who edited my new collection, was a complete gentleman the whole time.

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

Stay in school.

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 approach my writing like a serial monogamist approaches a relationship. I have stretches of fairly strict routine, writing generally post-coffee to suppertime on days when I can.

Then I have stretches of nothing. No flings, no flirting. I really let myself go.

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

My writing doesn’t really work like that. I have plenty of ideas to get to. It’s just laziness and lack of time. As soon as I snap-to and get enough scratch together, I’m good to go.

12 - What fairy tale character do you resonate with most?

Sneezy.

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?

The Hayflick Limit was chiefly informed by various branches of science, some math and economics. This was a conscious effort to sharpen my focus and a way to reforge some neural paths (I began my undergraduate as a physics major).

The scientific gaze sometimes chafes against sensory experience. We “see” a coherence in the world that isn’t really there. I wanted to exploit this, create a hyper-aware poem. You don’t need to know the biochemistry involved when you walk across a room, but what if you did? What if your head had access to this knowledge as easily as you do the visible spectrum or sound waves?

Muldoon would say that we reconstruct the consciousness behind a poem in order to read it. I say, make the ride as interesting as you can.

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

I lean on those non-fiction writers who do all the hard work for me. You know, the ones who do ten years of field research and then condense it into a short book that I can digest between naps.
Also, poets. Joseph Brodsky, August Kleinzahler. Jo Shapcott. Carol Ann Duffy, Tomas Tranströmer. Michael Hofmann. Closer to home, David McGimpsey, the aforementioned Kevin Connolly (“Chain:” from Drift is the poem I’m forever trying to write). I have friends that I think are doing some great work that I won’t list for fear of accidentally leaving someone out.

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

Suit up for the Leafs on a Saturday night.

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 always moaning about how I should’ve stuck out the science degree. When I go on vacation, I inevitably end up at places like MIT or the Santa Fe Institute, walking around the facilities, pretending I’m hard at work inventing the math to test out a wild theory. Then I go buy a T-shirt at the gift shop.

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

I’m not sure. By age ten, I knew I wanted to be a writer. Nobody seemed to think that was a bad idea.

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

I’m going to throw in two: The World Without Us by Alan Weisman and O’Meara’s Noble Gas, Penny Black.

Films can frustrate me. More specifically, the third acts of films frustrate me. I admit I don’t put much effort into seeking out the good ones—sometimes I’d just rather be laughing at Will Ferrell.
TV, though—finishing up the Deadwood series right now. Got Damages on deck. I crave these long, unfolding narratives.

19 - What are you currently working on?

Just completed a winter’s worth of edits on the book. I’m gearing up for a tour out west with Jeramy Dodds in April. Then I’ve promised myself I’m going to sit down and write some more poems.

12 or 20 questions archive (second series);

12 or 20 questions: with Ken McGoogan

Ken McGoogan is best-known as the author of an Arctic Discovery Quartet of biographical narratives: Fatal Passage, Ancient Mariner, Lady Franklin’s Revenge, and Race to the Polar Sea. His awards include the Writers’ Trust of Canada Biography Prize, the CAA History Award, the UBC Medal for Canadian Biography, and the Pierre Berton Award for History. Ken chased the ghost of Lady Franklin around Tasmania, lugged a memorial plaque honoring John Rae into the High Arctic, and made a cameo appearance in the BBC docudrama based on his book Fatal Passage. He serves as vice-chairman of the Public Lending Right Commission, and sails in the Northwest Passage as a resource historian with Adventure Canada. Keep in touch at http://www.kenmcgoogan.com/ and http://www.kenmcgoogan.blogspot.com/.

1 - How did your first book change your life?

My first book did not change my life. Neither did my second, third, or fourth. While writing and publishing those books, I continued working at my full-time job in journalism. And I kept the only schedule that ever worked for me, and which I had followed for years before I published my first book: get up at 5 a.m. (or earlier) and write until 8:30 or so, then have breakfast and head off to the newsroom.

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

At eighteen, when I moved into Montreal from a small French town, I wrote poems and songs. I abandoned poetry, but over the years, through several different periods, I have written scores of songs. You can catch one of them here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aeuGZkSNPPQ

Apart from songs, I did focus at first on writing fiction. I was swept up in the romance of the fiction writer, starting with my father’s favourite writers, Thomas Wolfe and Ernest Hemingway. The disreputable Henry Miller caught my fancy, and then Jack Kerouac.

My early stories elicited a few encouraging rejections, and at twenty-one, during a summer in the Laurentians, I produced a novel-length manuscript. It stank so badly that quickly buried it. It taught me that I did not possess anything like the craft needed to write a decent novel. I could either quit or apply myself to acquiring that craft.

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 make fewer false starts now than I once did. I’m a relatively fast writer because for more than twenty years, after training at Ryerson, I worked as a journalist in Toronto, Montreal and Calgary. I develop a rough outline and take a lot of notes, and then I write quite polished drafts. I do not hesitate to jettison passages, pages and even whole chapters if I see that they aren’t carrying freight.

4 - Where does 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?

Lately, I have been writing mostly narrative non-fiction. When I was living at Berton House in Dawson City, promoting Fatal Passage about explorer John Rae, and writing Ancient Mariner about Samuel Hearne, I had an epiphany. I remembered the four-book architecture of Lawrence Durrell’s Alexandria Quartet (the only good thing about it), and saw how I could build my northern exploration books into an Arctic Discovery Quartet.

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

I enjoy performing publicly. I don’t mind doing a straight reading, but I much prefer to present a book, talking about how it came into being, showing slides where possible, and leavening the performance by reading short passages.

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 have read a fair bit of literary theory, as you can see in my best novel, Visions of Kerouac: Satori Magic Edition: http://www.willowavenuebooks.com/. These days, I am interested in the overlap between fiction and non-fiction, in the “nonfiction novel,” and in issues that arise around applying fictional strategies to factual material.

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?

Writers are a diverse lot. No single role can accommodate all of us.

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

For my last four books, I have worked Phyllis Bruce, who has her own imprint at HarperCollins Canada. Phyllis is one of the best editors in the country, and she has improved every one of those books. In the past, I have worked with absentee editors and with dunderheads. I prefer the former to the latter.

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

Asked what advice he would give a would-be writer, Henry Miller said: “If you can find something else to do, anything at all, do that other thing.”

Miller was suggesting that a life in writing can be a hard, long road. If you see an appealing turn-off, best check it out.

10 - How easy has it been for you to move between genres (fiction to non-fiction)? What do you see as the appeal?

In the beginning, I saw myself as a fiction writer. I published a few stories in the early 1970s, and then, while learning my craft, completed several novels that will never see print. To earn a living, I trained as a journalist and began working in newspapers. My journalism led to my first non-fiction book, Canada’s Undeclared War: Fighting Words From the Literary Trenches. After that, I published three novels. Then I applied everything I had learned from both fiction and journalism to a non-fiction narrative. Bingo! Fatal Passage won four awards and became a docudrama.

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?

To begin the day, I read The Globe and Mail over breakfast. I work from eight-thirty or nine until six with breaks for lunch and a workout, a walk or a bike ride. Of course I remain flexible, and take the odd afternoon to get a haircut or visit Canadian Tire.

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

Maybe it’s because I worked all those years in a world of daily deadlines, when getting stalled was not an option. Or maybe it’s because I have been writing for over forty years, and have come up against most every challenge. To tell the truth, I don’t get stalled. Writing a book is like beating your way through a jungle. Sure, you might encounter a vertical cliff, a lethal snake, or a raging river. But if you’ve brought the right tools into the jungle and know how to use them, what’s the problem? If you keep getting stalled, look to your craft.

13 - What do you really want?

What have you got?

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?

I agree with David. And I tell those I teach: Writers write what they read.

Other influences impinge, of course. When walking my dog, I’m often amazed at how he can smell a chicken bone, zip over and snatch it before I even know it’s there. The writer’s unconscious mind is like that. It can find a tasty bit of gristle in a pile of wet leaves.

15 - 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?

Number two has always been singer-songwriter. Although in high school, I did win a trophy as athlete of the year. I’m almost as tall as Jose Calderon of the Toronto Raptors (I ran into him one day at Starbucks). Maybe if I’d honed my skills as a point guard instead of as a centre, I could have played in the NBA.

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

Writing is a vocation. Speaking as a professional, the devil made me do it.

17 - What are you currently working on?

I’m writing a book about Scottish Canadians.

And thinking of calling it Canada’s Tartan Parade: How the Scots / Marched Through Time / To Create a Canadian Space.

12 or 20 questions archive (second series);

12 or 20 questions: with Sandra Ridley

Fond of sitting on stairs and rainy days, Sandra Ridley’s first manuscript of poetry, Downwinders, won the 2008 Alfred G. Bailey Prize. Part of this collection, Lift: Ghazals for C. was published as an art chapbook by JackPine Press. Her second collection, Post-Apothecary, was a finalist for the 2009 Robert Kroetsch Award for Innovative Poetry.

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

Not sure that it did, but getting the call from JackPine was definitely exciting. First time I saw their chapbooks, I fell totally in love with the press and their support of artist/writer collaborations. Hadn’t been writing that long when they accepted my submission, so was privileged to be in such good company. Felt like my writing was valued. Bought bubbly.

Recent work? I’ve been playing with overlaying images and like-minded sound-based words, trying to develop a looser, not quite so linear, narrative. Which seems different to me than earlier work. Less constrained.

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

If I ever had interest in writing non-fiction, I lost it in academia. As for fiction, in a way I didn’t have a choice in the matter – it never occurred to me. My writing started as small handfuls of short lines. The lines and poems lengthened. And the more I think about writing a long poem, a book-length long poem, the more it feels I’m approaching fiction. Lines are wrapping around. What’s happening?

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?

Difficult to say. For me, projects overlap and inform each other. Extend. I’m planning and researching a second one before I’ve finished the first. Ideas tend to come quickly, some workable, most not. But the work also gets stuck quickly too – and first drafts take a very long time. I’m always considering and reconsidering how I can best do what it is I want to do. Second guessing. My new manuscript Post-Apothecary is structured by forays into ideas of sickness, seclusion and disorientation. How can this stuff be represented on the page? Can I write in a way that a reader could feel any of that? Probably not, but I’ll try. And I do take far too many notes.

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?

With an image or juxtaposition of images. Odd pairings of words and phrases. Unexpected connections are generative for me, and one reason why I love doing background research. Never know what’ll be dug up. I have lots of stray poems, but for the most part, I work toward a longer serial. I like writing with the idea of a trajectory of atmosphere in mind, say poems building toward a mood, rather than a specific narrative arc.

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

I’m somewhat introverted and don’t naturally enjoy reading in public, but it does make the writing stronger. Suddenly painfully aware of what isn’t working. It might be a fixable thing like having the ‘wrong’ word or rhythm or sound pairing, or it might be that the poem just isn’t working at all. I’d much rather be in the audience than be the one reading. I do enjoy listening to writers who read their work well. It’s an art.

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?

Nope. Not sure. And not sure.

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?

Tough questions, rob. I think a writer should write – and if all goes gangbusters, a reader is somehow altered. But maybe at base level, the role of the writer shouldn’t be any different than the role of anyone else – it would be nice if everyone put their best effort into making life more livable.

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

I appreciate having outside editors – most are writer-friends of mine, whose work I respect. For me, it’s essential to have their perspective and objectivity. Fresh eyes. Savvy editors see what’s missing. Well, they see what needs to be there, and what doesn’t – and can motivate a writer to push their language or larger structure.

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

“To reveal all is to end the story. To conceal all is to fail to begin the story.” Robert Kroetsch.

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?

When not freelancing, I have a simple order of operations. Get out of bed, turn on the laptop, make coffee, stare at the screen, shuffle paper, walk the dog, eat when necessary, daydream, read, read, read. If a day goes by without me doing something active towards a writing project, I get real cranky.

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

Other people’s books, random pickings from library stacks, long walks outside, films at the ByTowne Cinema. Generally, contact with something unfamiliar.

12 - What fairy tale character do you resonate with most?

Hansel or Gretel. Take your pick. Both abandoned in a dark forest, dropping breadcrumbs but getting lost anyways, being lured by candy, then taken and locked up by a child-eating witch. Need I say more? Wait, how did it end?

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?

The environment surrounding, for sure. Woods, fields, cityscape. When I was doing research for Post-Apothecary, I snuck into the grounds of Fort San, a TB sanitarium in Saskatchewan, and hung around the abandoned buildings. It’s been closed for years, but, for what’s worth, I tried to experience the environment as much as I could, for the short time I was there. And I went back. Place is important – it sets tone and atmosphere, generates image, and carries its own language. For me, it informs the whole process of writing.

Old photos and ephemera. I love digging through boxes in archives.

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

Both contemporaries and not-so-contemporary writers influence me and it’s important to recognize that. Here’s an incomplete list: Amanda Earl, Christine McNair, Daphne Marlatt, Erin Mouré, Ernest Hemingway, Gertrude Stein, Hunter S. Thompson, Jennifer Londry, Jennifer Still, John Thompson, jw curry, Margaret Christakos, Michael Blouin, Michael Ondaatje, Nicole Brossard, and Robert Kroetsch.

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

Surf and collaborate with another writer on a book-length work. Tell me they’re not mutually exclusive.

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?

A photographer. A beer slinger at the local pub. Still tempted by both, so who knows? Is The Manx hiring?

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

I’d be writing no matter what else – seems essential to me.

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

Films. Bladerunner and Gus Van Zant’s Gerry. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen both, this year alone. Books. Poetry? Finally added George Bowering’s Kerrisdale Elegies to my shelf. Fiction? Nicole Brossard’s Mauve Desert. I keep going back to it. And Michael Blouin’s Chase and Haven. For god’s sakes, someone give him an award for that.

19 - What are you currently working on?

Besides this? A Canadian road trip poem. (Yes, another Canadian road trip poem. And it’s a long one at that.) A novena. And edits on Post-Apothecary.

12 or 20 questions archive (second series);

12 or 20 questions: with Sharon Harris

Toronto Life calls Sharon Harris “a woman of ethereal interests.” In 2006, Avatar, her first book of poetry and art, was published by The Mercury Press and her first photography exhibition, I Love You Toronto, received national attention. She curates iloveyougalleries.com and iloveyougraffiti.com and blogs at theiloveyoublog.com. Not coincidentally, her current book project is a cultural study of the words, “I love you.” She plays hockey for a team sponsored by record company Sonic Unyon; the number on the back of her jersey is 143.

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?

If you look at photographs from the time when my first book, Avatar (The Mercury Press, 2006), was launched, you might guess that it wrecked me! It happened during the run of my first solo photography show. The exhibition ended up in almost every newspaper in Canada and I gave a month of media interviews for it. At the same time, I did readings to support Avatar, thought I’d have a nervous breakdown, and ate incredible amounts of chocolate. But I’m not complaining—the learning curve was steep and it was great. For one of the launches, I thought it would be a good idea to paint myself purple and pink from head to toe. Maybe it’s healthy that I can’t quite get back into that headspace to recall the exact motivation.

I’ve just finished The I Love You Book, a cultural study of those three little words. Like Avatar, It’s about love and has pictures, but they’re photographs instead of visual poems: same themes, but completely different form.

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

Unrequited love! I was twenty years old and had never thought much about poetry, though I had some vague but strong idea that I wanted “to write.” A poem appeared out of nowhere and I wondered for months if it would happen again. They still show up in the same hallucinogenic fashion, but happily, they’re no longer about unrequited love.

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?

Sometimes it’s tough to figure out where projects start and where they end! All of my books/art shows/websites are related, so I just write and they figure themselves out. Nicky Drumbolis told me that bpNichol worked in a similar way: when a poem/drawing/whatever arrived, it was filed into one of many projects, and eventually the collections started to look finished.

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?

Usually I get the notion that some pieces look like they’re meant to go together, and then the concept for the project forms. I’ve learned to follow good energy. The only exception is The I Love You Book, for which the idea came first. Maybe that’s why it took eight years to create!

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

I used to hate them and must apologize to everyone who sat through my early readings. It took a while for me to understand that even when I’m writing without pictures, I write visually: my writing is for the page. That said, I figured out how to have a lot of fun with this at readings—your perceived weaknesses can be your greatest strengths. Sometimes I bring visuals; other times I get the audience involved. It’s fun to chant vowel sounds with a room full of people who weren’t expecting it!

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 do I write poems about love that aren’t “love” poems? How do I write words about things and places beyond words? Why am I supposed to only think in black text on white paper? At this point, am I psychotic? I think I’ve taken some sort of Hippocratic Oath, but for writers. First, do no harm. Not so easy, when you’re working with words.

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?

If you’re doing what you love, whether you’re writing, fixing cars, baking cookies, or whatever, others will pick up on that. That’s the highest role I can imagine—you’re doing yourself and others a great service. If I start putting on some sort of "lazy tweedy sniffy literati bullshit" writer act, please shoot me. (thanks to Dave Bidini for the description). People often expect it though—avoidance is not as easy as it sounds.

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

Never had an editor I didn’t love. Some highlights: Stephen Osborne at Geist for pushing me when I needed it, Beverley Daurio at The Mercury Press for strong, gentle guidance, and the Torontoist team of Marc Lostracco and David Topping for being brilliant on a regular basis.

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

bill bissett (to Sandra Alland): “Keep going.” Nicole Brossard (to me): “Keep going.”

10 - How easy has it been for you to move between genres (poetry to more critical prose)? What do you see as the appeal?

I can’t not move between genres. I think in poems, photographs, essays, sculptures, paintings … but can’t write fiction to save my life! I recently figured out that I’m synesthetic, so maybe because I can’t clearly separate colour, sound, sight, emotion, and touch from each other, I can’t work in just one genre.

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?

There is a sort of routine in no routine. I write when the kids are asleep and in the moments they’re occupied. When I’m out for a run in the park, I’m working. It doesn’t ever turn off.

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

Stalled? Once I finally got going, it was full speed ahead. Everything is inspiration.

13 - What fairy tale character do you resonate with most?

The average garden variety fairy tale character is a dysfunctional mess, so I’d rather not go there. But I do resonate with fairies as a group. Does Han Solo count?

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?

I think we’re all one, so influences come from everywhere. But kisses, street art, ‘pataphysics, rainbows, small children, playing hockey, Niels Bohr, trees, outer space, and Dave himself are some of my favourites.

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

Robert Indiana, the PussiPo poets, bpNichol, Yoko Ono, Michael Tweed, the Infusoria poets (especially Jessica Smith, Jenny Sampirisi, and Helen White), Stephen Cain, jwcurry, Jennifer Code, Agnes Martin, Daniel Handler, Erin Mouré, Annie Sprinkle, John Barlow, Jennifer LoveGrove, Christian Bök, Douglas Coupland, Stephen Roxborough, Vasko Popa, Margaret Christakos, Dave Eggers, Sina Queyras, Cory Doctorow, Natalee Caple, Dan Waber, Paul Dutton, derek beaulieu, Adam Dickinson, Eiríkur Örn, Jay MillAr, Roland Barthes, every graffiti writer, graphic novelist, and concrete poet who ever lived. And you, rob – what would the poetry scene be like without your writing and publishing activities???

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

I want to sing, ride a motorcycle, learn to sail, and figure out how to win a faceoff. But first: bring about world peace.

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?

Olympic hockey-playing naturopath/ lavender farmer?

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

I think I tried doing everything else, but it didn’t work because I only wanted to write and make art. It took some well-placed graffiti on a bright spring day for me to get that. I’m a late bloomer.

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

It’s not a book yet, but my friend Stephen Roxborough has been sending first drafts from a collection of hockey poems in progress. It’s a thrill to wake up to a fresh hockey poem every morning! I also enjoyed Night Work: The Sawchuck Poems by Randall Maggs. (Brick Books, 2008). I’ve had too much energy to sit through films since 1998.

20 - What are you currently working on?

Poetry-wise, I was recently honoured to contribute to an exhibition of women’s visual poetry from around the world called Infusoria (http://infusoria.blogspot.com/). It took place in Belgium, and it was the first show of concrete by women—ever! I’ve got some visual work coming up in the 2009 Spring Issue of Drunken Boat (http://www.drunkenboat.com/), and I think I’ve just started a new collection of poems about serendipity (not planned, of course!). The focus is on finding The I Love You Book a publisher, but I’m embarrassed to admit my terror of having eight years of work rejected. I’m finishing the proposal right now, and there are a few other related projects in the works. I blog about all things, “I love you,” at http://theiloveyoublog.com/.

The I Love You World Graffiti Project at http://iloveyougraffiti.com/ is almost ready to launch. It celebrates the “I love you” graffiti that has appeared across the planet. I’ve been collecting photos and stories from the graf’s admirers through Facebook (http://www.facebook.com/pages/I-Love-You-World-Graffiti/40534399415) and Flickr (http://www.flickr.com/groups/iloveyouworldgraffitiz) and can’t wait to see how it will all look together as a website and as a book. Some of that material is online at http://iloveyougalleries.com/. I’m also working on an illustrated cultural history of rainbows. Two nights ago, some friends and I saw a rainbow after playing hockey. I was ecstatic. One friend remarked that it doesn’t take much to make me happy, and all of a sudden my insecurities about rejection looked very small. I was wearing a rainbow shirt and the moment was a nice reminder to get back to work!

12 or 20 questions archive (second series);

Ongoing notes: early June, 2009

[Lainna reading an issue of Poetry] Here’s hoping you can make it to the spring edition of the ottawa small press book fair, happening June 20th at the Jack Purcell Community Centre; there’s even the pre-fair reading by five writers (McArthur, Sze, Anstee, Fuhr + Fiorentino) happening the night before at the Carleton Tavern, Parkdale Market. And watch out for the sixteenth anniversary above/ground press reading/launch/party, with readings and new publications by Roland Prevost, Lainna Lane El Jabi and Phil Hall (and perhaps more), at the Ottawa Art Gallery on Thursday, August 13 at 7pm. Or then, of course, the Talonlaunches I'm part of this week in Calgary (Tuesday, Pages on Kensington) and Vancouver (Wednesday, Anza Club). Will I see you at any of these? Check out, too, an interview I just did with Vancouver poet Elizabeth Bachinsky.

Edmonton AB: Former Vancouver and current Edmonton resident, the poet Marita Dachsel has published sparingly over the past decade and a half, whether a chapbook with above/ground press back in 1996 or a trade poetry collection but a couple of years back, so a new poetry chapbook from Trisia Eddy’s Red Nettle Press is something to pay attention to, her Eliza Roxcy Snow (2009).

I will never feel the ache
of filling breasts
heavy for release
or the need to hide my blouse
blooming with stain,

but do not be mistaken.

I know the urgent suckle
of a needy mouth.

Eliza Roxcy Snow is a series of unmarked photographs, a series of flashes, of flickers; an odd kind of collage work that isn’t really explained, and moves, fluid, from page to page. As the back of the small collection explains:

This is a work of fiction, inspired by the real Eliza Roxcy Snow, polygamous wife of Joseph Smith, founder of the Latter Day Saints (Mormon) Church. It is by no means meant to be read as a biography of the woman. For factual information on her, I suggest reading In Sacred Loneliness: The Plural Wives of Joseph Smith by Todd Compton.

The connections are made and the narratives created by the reader. A break from her first collection of poems, this works far less of a narrative but threads nonetheless.

There are many versions of the story,
& you should be wise enough to know
that truth is filtered through tongues.

Calgary AB: I’m liking this new publication derek beaulieu is working through his No Press, speechless 1, “dedicated to the dissemination and discussion of visual and concrete poetry.” beaulieu has long been a proponent of the form, through his own work as a writer, critic, editor and publisher, including his own essay on such in his title with Talonbooks, his work with filling Station magazine, and perhaps bringing the form into Canadian literary journals the past few years in a way that hasn’t been seen since the small press explosion of the 1960s and 70s, with his own work appearing in journals that traditionally don’t publish such work. The first issue is a lovely production (just like all of his other No Press publications), featuring the work of Eva Gonzalez, Rachelle Pinnow, Helen Hajnoczky and Mary Ellen Solt, including the essay “Writing the Concrete Body: Cixous, Solt, and the Feminist Potential of Concrete Poetics” by Hajnocsky. I wonder if she has written about Vancouver visual/concrete poet Judith Copithorne? He says that submissions are welcome, c/o #2, 733-2nd Avenue NW, Calgary AB T2N 0E4.

12 or 20 questions: with Antanas Sileika

Antanas Sileika is the author of three works of fiction and many magazine and newspaper stories. He is the Artistic Director of the Humber School for Writers.

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

Nothing beat the excitement of having my first book published. It was the thing I had planned for and dreamt of since grade four, but it took so very long to happen that at times I was ready to give up hope. The physical thing in hand made me feel as if I hadn't skipped something like law school for a stupid reason. But I no longer want to look at that book now, nor am I eager to have anyone else look at it. Other things interest me now.

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

I was always addicted to stories, so I come to novels through narrative, not pure language drunkenness, like some poets. (I love people who are drunk with words, though) I didn't care if I told stories or heard them, and as a result, I was both a writer and an occasional book critic in the popular press or on radio and television.

3 - How long does it take to start any particular writing project? Does your writing intitially 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 novel takes me four to seven years to write. I'm slow. Composition is the hardest thing of all. I can barely stand it - the work makes me anxious and irritable. But rewriting is heavenly. I rewrite many, many times and often find shapes far different from what I started with. The one exception is humour. I can write humour fast and in few drafts, but I don't do it much any more.

4 - Where does a piece 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?

Always a book from the beginning. Even my stories make me think of other stories, series of stories, linked stories etc.

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

I have a gregarious side. I want to entertain people. I want to see them laugh. This characteristic, though, is quite opposite from the characteristic required to write - a determined and hermit-like nature.

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?

Literary theory is like death to me. I follow quirky routes to unpredictable destinations.

I am perplexed by living here and now. I therefore, wonder what I am doing here and what others are doing here.

I wonder about individuality in history. I have characters caught in the maws of history with only limited self-determination. They act as if they are free, but their freedom is sharply limited. Since we live in a rich place at a peaceful time, we function under the illusion of choice and self-determination and judge characters from the past from our armchairs. I'm interested in characters who are stuck, who have almost no moral space in which to move. What do they do then?

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?

It's too hard to be prescriptive. Writers are cat-like in their individuality. Give them an "ought" and they creep away from it. I'll say this, though. It's not enough to celebrate stories and to say we are made of stories. There is a moral component to the stories we tell. Nazism is a narrative, for example, and I wouldn't want people to be neutral about it. Barry Unsworth studies these sorts of themes. Cormac McCarthy is much celebrated, but I can't read his material because I find it too violent and bleak, and no argument about the poetry of violence will convince me of its value. But I wouldn't dream of telling him what to write, nor of telling others what to read.

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

A good editor is like a coach who forces me to dig a little deeper, or, to change the metaphor a building inspector who crawls into the sub-basement with a flashlight to make sure the foundation is sound. No one engages your work as well as a good editor. to change the metaphor again, a great editor is an angel you wrestle with until the morning, and by dawn you are exhausted, yet somehow strengthened by the struggle.

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

American novelist Richard Bausch once said, "I don't teach creative writing. I teach stubbornness and hard work."

10 - How easy has it been for you to move between genres (fiction to non-fiction)? What do you see as the appeal?

My non-fiction is short and easy. Fiction is harder and has higher language requirements. Fiction has depth, but non-fiction , although it may be very complex, lies on the surface unambiguously when compared to the best fiction.

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?

Mornings are best for writing, but if you are really serious, you will push through the early afternoon blahs with coffee into another late afternoon spurt. If you are really serious, you'll seize whatever time you have.

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

I keep writing, even it's crap. The worst writing in the world sometimes takes you to a better place. You don't hit paydirt every time you sink a shaft, but you have to keep sinking shafts to hit anything at all.

13 - If there was a fire, what's the first thing you'd grab?

My flash drive with a copy of the novel.

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?

Sure, from stories told by people, in the same way that Dvorak's complex music came from simple folk dances. Or anecdotes. A friend whose father fought with four armies in WW2 stuffed his iron cross medal in among a heap of stones before crossing the lines to surrender and eventually join the Polish army fighting the Nazis in Italy. What a moment! You could make a novel out of that with no trouble.

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

Shirley Hazzard' The Great Fire is subtle and moving. David Mitchell's Cloud Atlas in brilliant and impressive. Rachel Kushner's Telex from Cuba is finely written. There are more.

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

Visit the Hanseatic League cities of the Baltic in a summer cruise.

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?

If not for the word business, I'd be in the food business. To this day, I can chase a particular ingredient to the far ends of the city, or spend a good hour working on a fine French buttercream sauce. I dream of finding the time to brown veal bones to make good stock.

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

I was no good at sports, unlike my brothers. In consolation, I took to my bed with chips and pop to read books. Since I couldn't just read, I had to write as well.

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

There are so many. The new translation of Anna Karenina a few years ago was great, but there are dozens of great books besides that one. The recent Brideshead Revisited was a subtle film.

20 - What are you currently working on?

A novel about the underground resistance against the Soviet Union form 1944 to 1955, a resistance that has been forgotten or glossed over as Fascist. These people fought on, like the French underground, but the allies never came for them. The archives have opened up since the collapse of the Soviet Union and historians are writing their stories. I want to do a fictional take.

12 or 20 questions archive (second series);

David Bromige 1933-2009

David Bromige 1933-2009

June 3, 2009

David Mansfield Bromige passed away at 6:00 am today, surrounded by his wife, Cecelia, his children Margaret & Chris and touched by all those who came to visit and call over the past few weeks.

Poet, writer, reviewer, actor, farmer, explorer, cartographer, storyteller, illustrator, piano player, driver, swimmer, traveler, brother, uncle, father, grandfather, husband, friend, mentor, inspiration are some of the roles David played in his 75 years. This is to be a web pository of memories, thoughts, impressions and opinions.

We, his immediate family, hope that you will take the time to contribute to these pages.

Private emails may be sent to davidmbro_ _ _ _@gmail.com (where the _ _ are replaced with letters).

Thanks.

from http://digitalaardvarks.blogspot.com

12 or 20 questions: with Dayle Furlong

Dayle Furlong studied English Literature & Fine Arts at York University. Her poetry & fiction has appeared in Kiss Machine, The Puritan, Word & The Voice. She works as a literary publicist and has worked as a screenwriter’s assistant for the Showcase television series Slings & Arrows. Her debut collection of poetry, Open Slowly was published by Tightrope Books in spring 2008. [photo credit: Liz Martin]

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 did get a generous review, which was great. My back seized the day of my book launch and it hasn’t been the same since. – does that count?

Poems I have written since the book was published tend to be longer and more ‘relaxed’. I notice a lot of poems of late generally tend to be of the ‘so-this-is-life-and-I’m-amused’ variety.

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

The very first book I wrote was entitled, Impossible Imogene and Ridiculous Ryan. I wrote this in the third grade. My school had a Young Authors’ Conference and I remember being extremely excited. We made Mr. Men and Little Miss bookmarks. Ever since then I’ve been writing short stories and experimenting with words, language, sentence structure, shapes and form – with age-appropriate topics. I started to write narrative/lyrical poetry when I was fourteen.

Although I love reading non-fiction – I do permissions research for a Canadian textbook company and I generally read all of the essays - I don’t have much interest in writing non-fiction. I’d rather write sketch-comedy.

3 - How long does it take to start any particular writing project? Does your writing intitially 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 write something everyday, whether it is a research note, a scene, a line, a conversation or a character sketch. I write everything by hand. I’ve written a lot of poems that maintain their initial shape but have copious editing notes around them. I’ve written a lot of prose that came out of copious editing/research notes. I tend to write quickly then struggle with editing. I don’t like to edit at all.

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 generally come out of some emotional impulse or some mental reaction to the visual spectacle of human bodies in space, landscape, or architecture. My short fiction generally has one complication or character objective and when it is reached the story is over – I know that from the start. Novels tend to come from my observations on the complexity of human life and involve many complications and objectives that my characters either achieve or fail to achieve. Then whatever ‘narrative voice’ I decide suits the project will have its say and prove its point about life. I am of the mind that you can prove/demonstrate something about life that may or may not even reflect your personal values.

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

I like going to readings because I enjoy the friendships I have in the community. I prefer to listen. I really love poetry that is different to mine. I really love poetry that is similar to mine. I love outlandish performance poets. I love gentle quiet readers. I tend to fall on the side of ‘gentle quiet reader’. I don’t quite know why. I can often be seen dancing all over the city or behaving as if I’m in some kind of comedy sketch. I attract all kinds of attention and I share laughs with people I don’t know through this aspect of my personality, but put me in front of a microphone with a handful of poetry and I get really shy.

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 enjoyed lit theory while in University, then I started studying languages and travelling, my mindset evolved. I am not really interested in theory of any sort at all anymore. However, I did read an amazing article in Scientific American about the necessity and power of narrative. If I remember correctly the article said that reading & writing keeps our perceptions ordered and our minds focused so that we can comment on and connect with one another through language. Basically reading and writing keeps us sane.

I love writing that leaves the question (specific to the book) unanswered and forces the reader to answer the question, for example at the ending of Oryx & Crake the character Snowman can’t decide what to do which leaves me free to imagine the outcome. What would happen if he killed the humans? Then my mind imagines life without man. Then I imagine what would happen if he doesn’t kill the group of humans. Then I think life would re-build itself and the initial problems the characters in the book were combating would just re-occur.

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?

Our primary job is to stock library shelves - or the equivalent of the i-tunes bookstore - get books in classrooms, show up at events and represent our art form. Through the written word we should aggrandize, be bold, criticize, denigrate, elevate, freak out, gut, harmonize, illuminate, joke, knock-out, love, mollify, nourish, open perceptions, question, reject the status quo, support the status quo, tease, unify, venture, win over, Xerox (copy) (can’t think of anything that begins with X), yip, and be zany.

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

I have first and last say during the spewing and writing process, I am completely alone with it and I don’t talk about it with anyone. When I handed my poetry book over to my editor, I literally handed it over. I let her do her thing without objecting and she was amazing.

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

‘Suck it up Buttercup’ and ‘Settle Petal’. Direct clear advice like ‘toughen up’ and ‘calm down’ using foliage as a part of speech amuses me.

10 - How easy has it been for you to move between genres (poetry to fiction)? What do you see as the appeal?

It’s pretty easy. I fictionalize both in some form or another. I think that’s the appeal, I get inside of different people’s thought processes and then I get to tell stories through fiction or poetry about what it must feel like to think and behave that way.

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 extremely disciplined. I studied dance at one point so I can’t imagine not working hard every day to the point of injury. I am up at 6 or 7 am. I write, work on my publishing projects then practice yoga and do household tasks. I mix up the order but everything gets done.

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

Folk music, punk rock music, yoga, books, books, books, watching a film or going to the theatre or a live music show.

13 - What fragrance reminds you of home?

Artificial apricot, cherry, strawberry, and grape scents. Sharp 80’s hairspray, nail polish remover, nail polish, Noxzema, and baby powder. I have two sisters; we are all one year apart. We were all teenagers at the same time and those smells remind me of those years when we were all living together – before everything became organic and wholesome and vanilla and green tea scented.

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?

Singer/songwriter types have influenced me more than they can imagine. Especially Canadian singer/songwriters.

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

English Romantic poets, Russell Banks, J.M Coetzee, John Irving and every Canadian female novelist & Canadian poet under the sun.

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

Elope and get married on a beach in a white bikini with “Just Married” emblazoned in silver on my bottom. During aforementioned ceremony I want a bee-hive hairdo, false nails, large hoop earrings and rings of black kohl around my eyes.

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?

I would have loved to have a job where I could solve algebraic equations all day long. I would also like to have been a bricklayer, a construction worker, or a plumber.

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

I don’t know. It just dominates my daily life. The urge to read, write and contemplate literature is just stronger than any other impulse. I am grateful it has translated into a means of making a living.

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

The Darling by Russell Banks & Fingersmith by Sarah Waters. The perceptive tricks these two authors play are fantastic. I love Canadian Film so I’ll have to say Away From Her and The Saddest Music In the World.

20 - What are you currently working on?

Several poems. A novel about foreign correspondents working abroad. A short-story collection.

12 or 20 questions archive (second series);