12 or 20 (second series) questions with Lynn Domina
Lynn Domina is theauthor of several books, including three collections of poetry:
Inland Sea
,
Framed in Silence
, and
Corporal Works
. She teaches English atNorthern Michigan University and serves as Creative Writing Editor of
The Other Journal
. She lives in Marquette, Michigan, along the beautiful shoresof Lake Superior.1 - How did your first book change your life? How does your mostrecent work compare to your previous? How does it feel different?
The publicationof my first collection of poetry, CorporalWorks, felt magical. I’d always believed in my work and had been submittingthe manuscript to contest for a couple of years, but still, when it won thefirst book contest from Four Way Books, I almost couldn’t believe it. And thenafter a few months, I held the actual copy in my actual hands. As a friendsaid, “Publishing a book is like getting a gift you get to keep opening.” Istill feel like that—an awe that someone else finds my poems engaging enough totake that kind of risk on.
I’ve publishedseveral other books since, including two more collections of poetry, Framed in Silence from Main Street Rag,and Inland Sea just out from KelsayBooks. Inland Sea is particularlymeaningful, too, because in some ways it’s the most personal of my collections.It’s not that I reveal deep, dark secrets—it’s not personal in the sense ofconfessional—but the “I” speaking the poems is often very close to my realself. It’s less often a persona, in other words. Part of the reason for that, Ithink, is that I’ve returned to Michigan, where I lived until I was in mymid-20s, but where I hadn’t lived since. So the book is filled with images ofnorthern Michigan and Lake Superior. I gaze out at that lake every day, and Istill can’t believe I live here.
2 - How did you come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fictionor non-fiction?
When I was muchyounger, I did write some fiction, but it never felt as natural to me. I’m notthat good at plot structure or dialogue. I am trying my hand now at morecreative non-fiction, so we’ll see how that goes. I think the biggestdifference between poetry and prose for me is that in the revision process whenI’m focusing on structure, I make choices more intuitively in poetry—though Ican later explain them logically—but with prose more of my choices begin withlogic.
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 firstdrafts appear looking close to their final shape, or does your work come out ofcopious notes?
With a poem, Ioften have a page or so of false starts. I think of them as the scaffoldingRichard Hugo describes in his essay “The Triggering Town.” I don’t begin with alot of notes with poetry, though sometimes I’ll write down a bit of overhearddialogue or an image that will later prompt a poem. With prose, I often dobegin with many more notes and some kind of haphazard outline. When I look backat my notebooks, the poems I’ve finished often emerge in a shape reasonablyclose to the final draft, though many times it takes me a while to get to thetrue beginning, as I’ve said. My notebooks are full of a bunch of abandonedpoems, though, ones that began looking ok but then didn’t go anywhere. I’moften frustrated by a poem I abandon, but I tell myself that it will lead tosomething else that’s more engaging.
4 - Where does a poem usually begin for you? Are you an author ofshort pieces that end up combining into a larger project, or are you working ona "book" from the very beginning?
I don’t often begin with a solid ideafor a unified collection, though I have written several poetic sequences thatare anywhere from 10-25 pages long. I do find, though, that once I get 50 ormore new poems written, ones that haven’t appeared in collections, themesemerge that I wasn’t necessarily aware of. My poems almost always originatewith an image, though that image might not appear at the beginning of the poemin its final form. My body almost vibrates when I lock onto the right image,the one that’s going to lead somewhere, and that’s how I know I’ve reallybegun.
5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creativeprocess? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
I love givingreadings. So often we complete our work alone, and we send it out into theworld hoping someone someday somewhere will read it—but we seldom really knowif that happens. But with readings, you can feel the response of the audiencemembers, and then they often ask interesting questions. I like different typesof audiences, too, community members, students, other poets—different types ofpeople tend to notice different things going on in the poems.
6 - Do you have any theoretical concerns behind your writing? Whatkinds of questions are you trying to answer with your work? What do you eventhink the current questions are?
One of myfoundational assumptions is that art gives our lives meaning. So, on the onehand, that idea alone compels me to write. Writing is a spiritual practice, asbeing a poet is part of my identity, not just a task I complete. Makingsomething new, art for art’s sake, can be very gratifying. On the other hand,there’s a lot going on, locally and globally, that’s very disturbing. In recentyears, I’ve found myself addressing some of those concerns in my poetry morethan I used to. Much of my current work is environmentalist; living along LakeSuperior makes that almost inevitable I think. But I’ve also written poemshonoring George Floyd and addressing immigration at our southern border. So Iguess one of a poet’s primary questions is “Who am I?” not only as anindividual, but also “Who am I?” as a member of a community, and where do theboundaries of that community lie: with my immediate family? with myneighborhood? with my country? with my planet?
7 – What do you see the current role of the writer being in largerculture? Do they even have one? What do you think the role of the writer shouldbe?
Our responsibility is to tell the truth. So many people weencounter are intent on obfuscating reality. Writers lack access to manyconventional forms of power—most of us aren’t rich, and we don’t walk the hallsof corporate headquarters or national governments. But our facility withlanguage provides us with a different kind of very potent power, and we need tobe willing to use it.
8 - Do you find the process of working with an outside editordifficult or essential (or both)?
I’ve workedwith all kinds of editors. One in particular was extremely unpleasant, and I’llnever work with him again. Others, though, have been very pleasant andenthusiastic. The very best have really helped me make my work better, byasking insightful questions and seeing aspects of my work that I could developmuch further.
9 - What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarilygiven to you directly)?
I don’t know ifthis was actually advice or just an observation, but I was talking with anacquaintance at the beginning of a summer long ago. I didn’t have any plans andsaid I was waiting for something exciting to drop into my lap. He said, “oh, ifyou want exciting, you can’t just wait for it. It doesn’t drop in your lap. Youhave to pursue it.” So, sometimes I’m looking for rest, but when I’m lookingfor something exciting—which for me, usually means exploring a new place—I gofind it.
10 - How easy has it been for you to move between genres (poetryto critical prose)? What do you see as the appeal?
I writescholarly articles and books as well as poetry and other creative pieces. Thehardest part is keeping that more abstract language that scholarly writingsometimes requires out of my other writing. It’s a matter of voice, I think,remembering which voice to inhabit. Writing book reviews, though, at least bookreviews of poetry, really complements my own poetry because I focus in a lot oncraft in the reviews.
11 - What kind of writing routine do you tend to keep, or do youeven have one? How does a typical day (for you) begin?
I’m much more anight person than a morning person. So on days when I don’t have to go to work,I lounge around in the morning, entering the day very gradually. I’m able tofocus on language much more intently in the evening, which is when I write mostof my poetry. I’m not someone who writes every day, though. Some days myschedules is just too complicated. Some days I do some writing adjacentactivities like submitting work, reading a book I’m going to review, visiting aplace I want to write about, etc. But I try not to spend too many days notwriting because then it takes me too long to re-enter that writing state thatis so fruitful.
12 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or returnfor (for lack of a better word) inspiration?
I rely on manyhabits that help prevent my getting stalled. I go to the beach or other naturalsites. I visit art museums and attend concerts regularly. Even a hockey gameexposes me to sounds and sights I don’t regularly experience. I try to keep myimaginative well filled. Julia Cameron in her popular book The Artist’s Way assigns readers to go on an “artist’s date” inorder to observe different things, and I try to do that.
13 - What fragrance reminds you of home?
What aninteresting question! Maybe the smell of roast beef or meat loaf reminds memost of my childhood home—my family’s midwestern identity showed up most in ourmeals. Now I’m not so sure. My sense of smell is not very acute, which deprivesme of some experiences, but relieves me of a few others!
14 - David W. McFadden once said that books come from books, butare there any other forms that influence your work, whether nature, music,science or visual art?
I’ve writtenseveral sequences of poems directly responding to visual art. In my first book,I have a series of poems called “Objects from Still Lives.” They weren’tresponding to actual paintings, but eachone used a specific object that often appears in still life paintings as acontrolling image. My second book has a whole section of poems about Edward Hicks and his Peaceable Kingdom paintings. Many of the individual poems focuson one of the animals in the paintings. The book’s title, Framed in Silence, comes from that series. I’ve just completedanother sequence responding to the story of Judith and Holofernes in the Bible,but really inspired by the mosaics of Canadian artist Lilian Broca. Her work isjust fantastic, and I was lucky enough to see an exhibit of all of the Judithmosaics a few years ago. I think I’m going to try to publish this group ofpoems as a chapbook rather than incorporate them into a collection with otherpoems.
15 - What other writers or writings are important for your work,or simply your life outside of your work?
I return toElizabeth Bishop over and over. I’ve learned so much from her precisedescriptions and from how she expresses emotion through restraint.
16 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
My bucket listis so long that I’m going to have to live to be 200. There are lots ofcountries that I want to travel to that I haven’t been able to yet—Iceland,South Africa, Thailand, and many others. I would like to walk the Camino. Iwould like to go on one of those long bike rides across a whole state or groupof states. I took up quilting a few years ago, and I’m particularly interestedin art quilts, like the work of Bisa Butler. I’d love to become skilled enoughto do something like that.
17 - If you could pick any other occupation to attempt, what wouldit be? Or, alternately, what do you think you would have ended up doing had younot been a writer?
I make myliving as an English professor, and I really enjoy teaching, so it’s hard toimagine doing anything else. I would like to spend a year or so teachingEnglish abroad someday, but I don’t know if I’ll ever manage to do that. SinceI’ve begun quilting, I’ve thought it would be fun to be a fabric designer, butmy skills in visual arts are so limited that that would really be a stretch.
18 - What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
That magic ofconverting experience and emotion into language that other people cancomprehend just astonishes me. I’ve been writing for almost fifty years, and itstill astonishes me.
19 - What was the last great book you read? What was the lastgreat film?
“Great” is areally high bar, but I’ve really enjoyed The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry and The Love Song of Miss Queenie Hennessy, both by Rachel Joyce. I just got Maureen, the final book in that trilogy,and I’m really looking forward to reading it. I don’t see many movies, so I’llamend this question to include concerts and plays. I heard The Unarmed Child performed at Northern Michigan University lastyear, and it was the most heart-wrenching composition I’ve ever heard. And thissummer I saw several plays at Stratford, Canada. They were all great, but Wedding Band by Alice Childress wasabsolutely stunning.
20 - What are you currently working on?
I’m hoping tohave another poetry manuscript ready by next summer or so. Some of the poemswill extend the themes of Inland Sea. I’malso beginning a series of personal essays focused on significant people andplaces that I feel some ambivalence about. Those will be different from anyother writing I’ve done.
