Rob Mclennan's Blog, page 381

Julie Carr, Think Tank

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Kettle boils, boils now      Maligned and languishing in an upstairs room: a lacrimal dimple      trips the obsceneHonk geese: soprano duck, duckhobbles, belly first, a girl-falcon spins      rebuffs the rough draftToo long, my husband’s sweater      Sleeve. My patience no: threads of whatwarms a baby’s unrivalled calamitoushour. Full sob
      transpires to rust the pendulous rug      long in arms, short on timeOld devotionsnow gone to      sorrow: cap’s cracked and leaking      door doesn’t open: exit through mirror, o      the plumbing      fails
Denver, Colorado poet Julie Carr’s most recent poetry book, Think Tank (New York NY: Solid Objects, 2015), is constructed out of an accumulation of stand-alone fragments that articulate how one navigates through the chaos, grief and beauty of living. Composed as a series of short sketches, the poems of Think Tank also include some three-dozen lines incorporated into her text, and a list of those lines and their source authors exists at the end of the collection: César Vallejo, John Ashbery, Inger Christensen, Erin Mouré, Lisa Robertson, Alice Notley, Eileen Myles and Stephen Ratcliffe, among others.
There is a darkness in Carr’s work I’ve seen throughout her published work, one that exists not in isolation, but as part of a much larger canvas. Carr doesn’t shy away from violence, death or other subject matter, but an element that requires acknowledgment and examination.
















Tim was in the pool when another boy drowned. A very quiet      disappearanceAll the adults thought the others were watching. This sense they would      not easily give away
Biting the nail that secures the hand, staring into dead timeI’m afraid to speak so full of blood, but there’s no way I’m anything
                                      sweeter or other or bland
Babies sleep hugging animals. At the doorway: endlessness
I like very much that Carr works on books as projects, as units of composition, each one existing for and as an entirely different purpose, something that doesn’t become clear until one begins to experience more than a couple of her poetry titles. Recently, Essay Press produced The Silence That Fills The Future , an online pdf publication that explores some of her current works-in-progress, including “The War Reporter: On Confession,” “By Beauty and by Fear: On Narrative Time,” “Spirit Ditties of No Tone: On Listening” and “Eight 14-Line Poems from Real Life,” each selected from a different project-in-progress. The diversity of her projects is quite striking, and the chapbook-as-‘sampler’ allows a compact glimpse into the range of her range of current projects, even before the consideration of her overall published works-to-date: a list that includes two critical studies and five poetry collections prior to Think Tank . As she says of her book-length process in a recent interview posted at Touch the Donkey: “One day perhaps I’ll write a book of discrete poems – what Spicer called one night stands. But for now, this is how my mind works.”
One to two to one to two to one to two to one
      runs regeneration’s
                                          math.
There, the door opens for: sun, road, behold      five—a raw ladder of kids
Apples, potatoes, pigs, and birds. Bread, milk, sugar, and eggs:Feed my kids. The cow feeds my kids. The truck. The flame feedsmy kids. The bag feeds my kids. Plum and butter and nut and hen:nothing so kind as a warehouse
There is something of the critical study to her poetry books, working through a series of observations and ideas using the machinery of language to articulate a series of unspoken theses, anywhere from “how does one survive this” to “what can be done differently,” among so many others. Hers is a poetry composed as a search for meaning, through all the mess and beauty of everything and everything else. As she writes toward the end of the collection:
I want your voice in my poem, which is like I want your body in my own,        but no milk    All readers and non-readers desire that pouringThese experiences are absolutely unwriteable which is why I am putting        them here    Fruit’s nothing, the side lamp slumps    This was not a life time spent reading clouds
Books said something, said, “God too must with me wash his body”

Notes and Dispatches: Essays reviewed at Maple Tree Literary Supplement

Janet Nicol was good enough to provide the first and only review for my second collection of essays, Notes and Dispatches: Essays (Insomniac Press, 2014) over at Maple Tree Literary Supplement. Much thanks!

A short interview with Allison Green

My short interview with American writer Allison Green, author of The Ghosts Who Travel With Me: A Literary Pilgrimage Through Brautigan's America (Ooligan Press, 2015) is now online at Queen Mob's Teahouse.

Profile of Henry Beissel, with a few questions

My profile of poet, translator and editor Henry Beissel, with a few questions, is now online at Open Book: Ontario.

12 or 20 (second series) questions with Lance Phillips

Lance Phillips has published four books of poetry ( Mimer , Corpus Socius , Cur Aliquid Vidi , and These Indicium Tales ) with Ahsahta Press, and a book of experimental autobiography ( Imposture Notebook ) with Blazevox Books. His poetry has appeared in New American Writing, Fence, Verse, TYPO, Colorado Review, and has been anthologized in Far from the Centers of Ambition: A Celebration of Black Mountain College and A Best of Fence, The First Nine Years, Volume I . His work has received an &Now award and been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. He lives in Huntersville, NC with his wife of 20 years and their two children, and works as a freelance writer for the health and wellness industry and will soon be teaching writing at the University of North Carolina at Charlotte.

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?
The publication of my first book made me feel lucky and connected, however tenuously, to a world I’d been away from for a long time but I don’t think it changed my life in any real way.

My recent work is a continuation of my previous work. The fact is the work is my life, by which I do not mean that it consumes my life but that it constitutes it. I feel lucky each time I publish a book.

2 - How did you come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?
I’m not sure that I did come to poetry first. When I started writing I was 19 or so and I wrote fiction and poems. I felt, and still feel, a huge urge to write fiction but the words keep getting in the way; which is where poetry comes in. I guess I liked that poetry is fast and densely made. It helped that I could write it on little cards and present them to my girlfriend, who, I’m happy to say, has been my wife for the last 20 years.

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?
My writing accumulates, on that I can count. From there I do sometimes set certain parameters for it, working on a piece of writing for 100 days or for a full year or writing 100 small poems in a month. Once I’ve finished the project I let it sit for 9 months to a year. Then I cut what doesn’t work. I maintain the original sequence of the writing and just remove the parts that get in the way, often these are my favorite parts. 

4 - Where does a poem or work of fiction usually begin for you? Are you an author of short pieces that end up combining into a larger project, or are you working on a "book" from the very beginning?
I tend to think of my writing as a continuous process. Given that I let accretion do its work. For me the construct “book” is rather arbitrary, usually it’s just a kind of shorthand for referring to a specific period of time.

5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
I think public readings, usually, are an entirely different endeavor than writing. For me poetry will always happen on the page, hearing a poem read aloud is hearing a personality first and foremost.

I’ve been out of the habit of giving readings for a long time but have recently decided to try my hand at them again. We’ll see how that goes.

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 like to think of my writing as praxis in the Aristotelian sense, but I do think about the notions of time and memory a lot. What constitutes our notions of the body is pretty important to my writing, and the mythologies we construct around those notions.

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 is the same as it ever was to be honest.

8 - Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?
I don’t find it difficult or essential. It has been helpful on occasion.

9 - What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?
Something said to a teacher of mine, Jorie Graham, by a teacher of hers, Donald Justice, which she then conveyed to me in a conference when I was 22 or 23. “You must learn to give into the destructiveness of the poem.” I tend to frame it terms of trust though. The writing will always be smarter than you, if you doubt that then you’re a fool and should leave off completely, if you accepted it then you learn to trust that the poem is right, plain and simple. 

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’m up at 4:30 five days a week. I make coffee, pack my wife’s lunch and then sit at my desk, in the dark, and start typing.

11 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?
My writing has never stalled. I don’t really believe in inspiration; I believe in work.

12 - What fragrance reminds you of home?
The lilac securing the air outside my screen door at this very moment.

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?
Visual art has always had a large influence on my work. Also, whatever I’m interested in at the moment, whether that be a book on investment strategies or a history of the mirror (just now it’s a biography of Balthus), comes to bear on my writing in some way.

14 - What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?
R.D. Laing, John Dominic Crossan, Flannery O'Connor, Beckett, Susan Howe; too many others to list.

15 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
Finish the memoir of my father I’ve been working on in fits and starts for the last 6 years or so.

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’ve always wanted to be a painter.

17 - What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
For me writing has always been a way to get obsessive thoughts out of my head, a way to release them into the world, a way to exorcise them. 

18 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?
I just re-read Bolano’s 2666, and am in the midst of Dogen’s Extensive Record and Dinnerstein’s The Mermaid and the Minotaur all of which are pretty great. I don’t remember the last film I watched.

19 - What are you currently working on?
A project about mutually agreed upon falsehoods.

12 or 20 (second series) questions;

Sandra Doller, Leave Your Body Behind

So there he sits, condensing away. Condensating. Every vowel so purpose, so dirty hole. Who are the ones that shake it loose my way. Shake some action, my feet. Like a radio stop. Here we are at at the bridge again. I had nothing specific in mind. When I asked you to hold the bag. Nothing in particular when I put it in the park and walked up the see saw under the armpit border in another country in an orphan train. I’m getting loose away from it like all those slut shamey bypass pills. You should be paying me not to procreate. If I popped you’d be sorry then. I believe so much in shame. It’s just sluts that don’t exist.
I’m stunned by San Diego writer Sandra Doller’s remarkable Leave Your Body Behind (Los Angeles CA: Les Figues, 2015), a book described as a mix between novel, memoir, exploratory essay and prose poem that, through the combination, manages to become both none and all of the above. Powerful, unrelenting and entirely physical, Leave Your Body Behind pushes and thrashes through an accumulation of short sections in which she “actively relives, revives and revamps her own memories.” Through the space of the book she explores memory, space and accountability, utilizing the structures of fiction, non-fiction and poetry to blend into something fluid, that exists impossibly easy and wonderfully complex. As she writes: “That Amy Tan really knows how to stay on track. If I could whip up something like a room, and a mother, and some situations, I’d really have something to share. As it is, I only have this little observation to offer, petty as it is. I hope you will accept it in the true and conflicted heart wrenching manner it is offered. Proffered.” Part of what has appealed for some time about Les Figues is its ability to refuse what many consider “bookstore designations” for its titles, including “literature” on the back cover instead of, say, “fiction” or “memoir,” either of which would have been an incomplete designation. Remember when Vancouver writer Michael Turner’s Hard Core Logo first appeared as “poetry,” and later, once the film adaptation was released, was reprinted as “fiction”? For certain works, the declaration can appear to be rather arbitrary.



Does work equal energy? Apart from physics. Work is demand. Energy is forgive. Energy is something you want and want to keep. Work is something you trade. Take my work, leave me my energy. College is made of people. People require energy which is work. You have to get rid of some things. Give up things. Spend your money. College gets a negative w-rap. Things that are similar are not things. There you could say stop asking me taking me. Now: you say, please ask me take me. Now you are lucky to get suck work. You are lucky to get work. You are lucky to give away your energy to people or things. You give it almost for free. Now. There is nothing similar. Not anymore. It’s a dirty word. Get burned. Stay bad.
Editrice of 1913 Press and 1913: A Journal of Forms, Doller is the author of four previous works—Oriflamme (Ahsahta Press, 2005), Chora (Ahsahta Press, 2010), Man Years (Subito Press, 2011) and Sonneteers (Editions Eclipse, 2014)—all of which display an engagement with a blending of forms and shapes and movement. In an interview posted in 2014 at Entropy, she writes:
Lately, I’ve been using this Lyn Hejinian quote for almost everything—from thinking about poetry & dance, to answering this question—so I’ll pop that in here. It’s from The Language of Inquiry...which bears reading/re-reading, yes/wow:
“The language of poetry is a language of inquiry, not the language of a genre. It is that language in which a writer (or a reader) both perceives and is conscious of the perception. Poetry, therefore, takes as its premise that language is a medium for experiencing experience.”
Poetry is so many things—political speech, resistance, music, comedy—and has different roles in different contexts. In Slovenia and Russia and Mexico and Canada, in my limited experience, poets seem to be treated differently than in the US, where to say you are a “poet” to a non-poet listener is like saying you’re an anarchist who lives in the desert in a tent made of decomposing trash, by choice.

kevin mcpherson eckhoff, Their Biography: an organism of relationships

Although Kevin McPherson Eckhoff has been praised as “the onanism of the literary world,” there is much we are still decoding about his possible past of villainy. A man who is as complex as an algorhythm can only be understood and analyzed through close observations of semiotics (and the endeavor of shopping for attractive shirts of the spectacle variety). It would appear that his features evoke emotional, confessional lyrics that reveal the depths of a sensitive soul… or is this mere performativity?
For his fourth book, British Columbia poet kevin mcpherson eckhoff’s Their Biography: an organism of relationships (Toronto ON: BookThug, 2015) is less a composition by the author than a selection of invited submissions on and around the author by a multitude of others. Deliberately twisting ideas around “identity or relationships or language,” the collage aspect of the collection writes “about” the author as a collaborative and deliberately contradictory “memoir.” What becomes interesting through the process of going through Their Biography: an organism of relationships is just how much the structure instead opens up a different kind of portrait: one created less out of facts than through, as the title suggests, a series of relationships. This portrait portrays a writer deeply engaged with writing, his community of friends, family and contemporaries, and the notion of “serious play,” one that a number of his “authors” reflect in their individual chapters. There is such a generosity present throughout sixty-two chapters of anecdote, illustration and pure fiction. At the end of the collection, as a “Table of Contents,” he includes a full list of “chapters” and their authors, including what appears to be family members included alongside well known Canadian poets such as Gregory Betts, Eric Zboya, Vickie Routhe Ness McPherson, Al Rempel, Amanda Earl, Laurel Eckhoff McPherson, Rob Budde, Jeremy Stewart, Jonathan Ball, Claire Donato and Marlene Martins McPherson, among others. Some pieces are incredibly playful, deliberately inventing facts around the fictional character “Kevin McPherson Echoff,” while others are a bit more straightforward, suggesting the use of a more literal narrative of facts. What becomes clear, and quite compelling, is the ways in which the portrait makes itself directly impossible through the collage, and reads akin to a biography of a character that, in the end, becomes entirely separate from the British Columbia poet. This is a highly entertaining and imaginative book, and after a while, it might no longer matter if this character is real, or has anything to do with the the author himself.
When I first met Kevin McPherson-Eckhoff I was in a costume and he didn’t recognize me. I met Kevin McPherson-Eckhoff coming out of the grocery store and noticing that we had both shoplifted. It was then that I knew what the word hemorrhage really meant, and how to spell it. I first met Kevin McPherson-Eckhoff while taking dancing lessons; he was the only one to ask if I knew how to samba. At that time I didn’t know that he would one day be a U.S. congressman, and treated him like any other samba. When I first met Kevin McPherson-Eckhoff he was carried by a circus man and in turn he carried a trapeze artist, which means we must have been at a circus. It wasn’t until later that I recognized the glimmer of terrible audacity in his buckling knees, but when I did, the realization drove me to Vancouver. When I finally meet Kevin McPherson-Eckhoff after all these years he will just be getting off the plane from the Deep South and I imagine his thick accent perfuming our cab ride to the dog food plant. I met Kevin McPherson-Eckhoff when I was a child and he was an elderly gentleman who taught me how to read and introduced me to the wide world of daredevil listening. It was then that I became a follower Marxism-Leninism against his wild gesticulation. The day before I met Kevin I had a dream in which two jigsaw puzzles (one alive and one dead) and two glass suitcases (one clear and one frosted) told me to make a clearing in a field in which they could birth the future. I assume these were Kevin McPherson-Eckhoff and Jake Kennedy, though I could be wrong. It wasn’t until later that I realized how literal the prophecy was. I met Kevin McPherson-Eckhoff lying naked in the middle of the highway, but when I offered him a lift he spat in my eye. At the time I didn’t realize that was just his way of speaking. When I first met Kevin McPherson-Eckhoff it was a cold day in the spring and a deer stood in our path, casting aspersions our way. It was then that I realized what kind of metal Kevin was made from: an aluminum alloy with 5% bronze. I met Kevin McPherson-Eckhoff while we were both in the middle of something important, but it wasn’t until later that I realized it wasn’t that important.

12 or 20 (second series) questions with Chelene Knight

Chelene Knight [photo credit: Ayelet Tsabari] was born in Vancouver and is a graduate of The Writer’s Studio at SFU. She has been published in Sassafras Literary Magazine , Room, emerge 2013 and Raven Chronicles and is the Poetry Coordinator at Room. Braided Skin , her first book (Mother Tongue Publishing, March 2015), has given birth to numerous writing projects, including a work in progress, Dear Current Occupant. Her work is deeply rooted in her experiences of mixed ethnicity. Her mother is African-American, and her father and his family were victims of the Asian expulsion in Uganda during the 70s, when President Idi Amin led a campaign of "de-Indianization," resulting in the “ethnic cleansing” of the country’s Indian minority. Chelene is currently pursuing her BA in English at SFU.

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?
I don’t think it was the book itself that changed my life, it was the journey getting to this point. Before the idea for Braided Skin even emerged, I wasn’t really taking myself seriously as a writer. I had little to no writing experience besides writing small articles for a local parenting magazine (I taught myself to write freelance articles out of pure desire to just be writing something, anything). I found that I wasn’t using any of my ‘voices’ when I was writing articles so it feels completely different now with my creative writing, poetry in particular because now I am saying the things I’ve always wanted to say, and completely uncensored. It’s freeing. It’s satisfying.

2 - How did you come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?
As a child I was drawn to writing poems and short stories; this came naturally. I’ve always had characters floating around in my mind because when I would read novels as a young girl, I would get very attached to the characters. They became a part of me. I would wonder about them and ask questions about the missing pieces that the book itself didn’t provide. I wanted to provide these missing pieces. I would write as a response to these questions in my head. As I got older I tried to write short stories again, but somehow they always managed to turn into poems because there was a strong emphasis on bold imagery and music in what I wrote. There was still a good sense of character in some of my pieces but I would always stray from the narrative in my writing and focus on the way words sounded together and how they looked on the page.  Poetry had its arms wrapped around me, and to this day I truly enjoy this embrace.

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’m a collector. I file words and phrases in notebooks and draw from them later. Then, before anything even hits paper, I write in my mind first. Things marinade in there all the time, so I always seem to have something in stock. Sometimes people who meet me for the first time, find me to be quiet, or non-social because everyone around me is talking and engaging with people, while I sit there, in silence, but I’m writing in my mind. Just writing. When this ‘mind writing’ happens, I give in to it completely. Then everything comes fast. I edit and revise quite a bit and go purely with a mix of gut instinct and feedback from my writing workshops. Each piece has its own formula, but most of my first drafts are no where near where they end up. I’m a vicious reviser, I rip things apart, move things around and I don’t apologize for it later. I LOVE when I get constructive feedback and get to hear other experienced writers tell me what doesn’t work in my piece because then I get excited about all the possibilities for revising. I don’t take it personal. I think a poem is done when you feel it is, no editor or mentor can really do this for you, they can only guide you to that point, but polished work as an end result is one of the most satisfying feelings a poet can have, well in my opinion anyway.

4 - Where does a poem or work of fiction usually begin for you? Are you an author of short pieces that end up combining into a larger project, or are you working on a "book" from the very beginning?
A poem almost always begins for me, as a word or phrase I’ve heard in passing, or read somewhere.  These words or phrases can spill over to me from overhearing a conversation, watching a movie, listening to music etc. I will usually jot it down or just say it over in my head multiple times until I can get it down on paper later.  I think I always have a larger project in mind but this doesn’t always show up as a clear vision. Most times I will see a thread throughout a few pieces and then the idea for a larger projects shows itself.

5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
My very first reading took place in 2013 as part of The Writer’s Studio student readings and I was terrified. When we speak about ‘stepping out of one’s comfort zone’, I saw doing readings as exactly that. Over time, and with many readings under my belt, I found it became a very important part of my creative process. I like the atmosphere of being around other writers and knowing that the audience truly wants to be there, and wants to hear what the reader has to say. When it comes to poetry, it is so important to hear it read aloud, to listen for those subtle things one just can't get simply from reading it on the page. The reading is an experience all in its own and it’s one I feel has become a necessity in my writing world.

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?
The only concerns I have currently, are to do with how certain poems are perceived by people who do not read poetry. Most people assume that all poetry is personal and that the writer is the poem, and the poem is about the writer, but this is not always the case. In my book, I write in various ways and forms (rant, prose, story, lines, erasure etc) and even though some poems are drawn from personal past experiences, many of the pieces have nothing to do with my personal life but instead are based on characters I have created. We poets can wear masks too and we can write stories through verse, and we can paint pictures, and have backstory, slight narrative, climaxes, arcs, you name it. I worry that some people will not get this, but I also know I can trust in my work, and know that it will do what it needs to, and to remember to give myself the strength and breathing space to step back and then come to the table ready to answer the inevitable! I am always looking to answer questions about missing things, missing information and things in history that do not get shared the way they should.

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?
Fantastic question. Lately, I have been thinking a lot about roles, and the ones I play in my daily life and how we define them. Do we update these definitions and descriptions frequently enough? I think we need to think about this more. In the writing world, the obvious role of a writer is to share stories, by any means necessary, and I’ve repeated that very line in multiple ways throughout many of my pieces. We as writers tend to be lumped in these very general categories riddled with stereotypes (like all poets are broke and all fiction writers are sitting pretty on a pile of cash) and I think our role should also be to cross borders and break barriers with words. Our role should be to educate, create new ways to share stories and write stories, and with that, realize that every thing is story. Poem, novel, memoir, essay. Stories, opinions, voice and information. I have a very good feeling about the writer’s role in today’s society, and how it’s evolving.

8 - Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?
This depends. If I am writing poetry and the editor is not familiar with or doesn’t have a lot of experience with modern forms etc, then I would of course find working with them difficult. It is important to remain open to other’s opinions, but also to remember to stay true to the core of your pieces. I think if you can create a clear, unobstructed line of communication with the outside editor, then there is always a way for both to relate and to have each other’s opinions voiced and heard.

9 - What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?
From the mouth of my then-ten-year-old daughter: “Just do your writing and stop waiting around.”

10 - How easy has it been for you to move between genres (poetry to short fiction)? What do you see as the appeal?
I think I tend to blend the two together more often than not. A lot of my newer pieces are short fiction mixed within a poem. I love the idea of bending, mixing and merging genres. Genres are shifting and weaving more and more.  Poetry comes easy to me but, if I do write short fiction it will be very ‘poetic’. This very concept of poetic fiction reminds me of Jamaica Kincaid’s work. Within Kincaid’s fiction, are these long, soft and flowing ribbons of imagery, rhythm and repetition; three strands, forming a ‘braid’. At times she strays from narrative and focuses on character description and inner thoughts which then lead the reader into this poetic land of dense and vivid images, sometimes very unexpectedly. I am drawn to this genre-mixed style of writing and I try and emulate this style within my own writing, and hope that readers pick up on that, and welcome it.

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?
Ah how I love routine! I would say I am probably the most organized person I know, when it comes to the daily stuff. I start my day at an average time of 7 a.m. (sorry, but I am not one of those get-up-at-5 a.m.-to-write kind of writers) I do breakfast for my daughter and I, then head to work. I have a lot of outside responsibilities, volunteer work and everyday life stuff to take care of (as we all do) so I have categorized reminders in my phone to keep me on task. If I wasn’t organized, I would be completely overwhelmed and probably wouldn’t write, or make time for events like readings and book launches. It is important for me to attend events not only to support my colleagues, but also to keep that sense of community that us lonely writers so desperately need. When it comes to writing, I try to allow myself the freedom to write. I am not one of those people who can write at a scheduled time. I can edit and revise on schedule, but not write. I always say the writing comes when it comes, you can force it if you want to, but I don’t.

12 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?
When my writing gets stalled, I put it away and work on something else. I really don’t like forcing the work. The writing will suffer, and it will show. If I am super stuck during the revision stage, I have a few key people I turn to. Sometimes I just need a fresh eye to find what I couldn’t find.

13 - What fragrance reminds you of home?
In all honesty, I am still trying to figure out where exactly “home” is.

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?
Living in BC I guess I should say that nature influences my work, but it doesn’t really. I tend to look for things between the cracks, things no one blinks an eye at, the forgotten. Music plays a huge role in my writing, especially that of Lauryn Hill, Nina Simone, and more similar songstresses. I also watch a lot of documentaries and these types of movies also force me to create.

15 - What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?
I constantly quote Toni Morrison. Her writing always inspires me to create something. It’s usually a line that strikes me, and I’ll write it down for later use. When it comes to poetry tend to like rhythmic poets who can tell a story and then make you figure out how it ends. Writers that make you think. For this, I celebrate Dionne Brand and Patricia Smith. It is also important for me to read new and emerging writers that I workshop my writing with. We all become familiar with each other’s stuff, and this is integral to learning to look at writing openly and objectively.

16 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
Over the past two years I’ve been setting writing goals for myself such as doing more readings, publishing in literary magazines, publishing my book, speaking on a panel, and getting the cover of a newspaper and being on the radio. In the past two years I have achieved every last one of those goals and that is huge for me. The next big goal I would love to achieve is to judge a poetry contest. You never Know!

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?
Had I not become a writer, I know I would have been somewhere in the Culinary field. I trained as a Chef 15 years ago, worked in a few restaurants and really loved what I did. But the writing bug couldn’t be silenced no matter how much anyone tells you it can, it just can’t. If you are so passionate about something that it takes over your thoughts everyday, you should probably turn up the volume on that, and start listening.

18 - What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
I had this need to be heard, but I was always afraid to speak up, share my opinions etc. I knew I wanted to write, I knew I should take some classes, be around other writers, hone the craft. It was my daughter (who was 10 years old at the time) who said, “Just do your writing, and stop waiting around.” Simple. Straight forward. Blunt. But those words from her mouth held such power and after that day, I followed her advice, didn’t give up, kept at it. I haven’t looked back since.

19 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?
I recently read Kayla Czaga’s For Your Safety Please Hold On and I really loved it. She has this way of using repetition to create a unique musical-vibe in every poem. I’ll probably read it again very soon.

As for film, recently I have been re-watching my favourite movie (which I guess is still technically a book) The Color Purple . I always consider that movie to be like a long poem. I remember watching it multiple times when I was younger, and feeling such a strong connection to the characters. I try to re-watch it often because there is something about that movie that sparks new writing, every single time.

20 - What are you currently working on?
Right now I have finished the first draft of my second manuscript, Dear Current Occupant which is a mix of letters, prose poems and sonnets written in the voice of a young woman. She writes letters to all the occupants of the 20-30 houses she’s moved in and out of as a child. It is loosely autobiographical, and it has some really different styles so far. I am excited about this project, as it has forced me to do some digging into my past, and it is almost like I am re-learning about myself. Another life changing journey is being had, and I kinda like it.

12 or 20 (second series) questions;

Rachel Loden, Kulchur Girl

My review of Rachel Loden's Kulchur Girl (Vagabond Press, 2014) is now online at The Small Press Book Review.

Profile of Aaron Tucker, with a few questions,

My profile of Toronto poet Aaron Tucker, author of punchlines (Mansfield Press, 2015) is now online at Open Book: Ontario.