12 or 20 (second series) questions with Robert Colman
Robert Colman is a poet, essayist, and critic based inNewmarket, Ont. His fourth book of poems, Ghost Work, was just releasedby Palimpsest Press.
1 - Howdid your first book or chapbook change your life? How does your most recentwork compare to your previous? How does it feel different?
It made me realize that Icouldn’t pretend not to care about the work, that poetry wasn’t just anoccasional distraction but was an integral way in which I want to expressmyself. My first chapbook came 7 years later. When Shane Neilson accepted Factory at Frog Hollow Press it revivedmy belief in my abilities, the idea that I might have something to say, and theability to say it with craft.
Shane’s influence, andthat of Palimpsest editor Jim Johnstone, has encouraged my use of form in Ghost Work, which is a suite of poemsthat explores the gradual loss of my father from dementia. This new book has amuch more defined narrative arc than any of my previous work, and yet it’s alsothe most varied in form from poem to poem.
2 - Howdid you come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?
I’ve always been muchmore interested in poetic form than fictional narrative. I just don’t think inthat shape. I do pursue non-fiction when an idea doesn’t work effectively forme as poetry. That work moves slower for me.
3 - Howlong does it take to start any particular writing project? Does your writinginitially come quickly, or is it a slow process? Do first drafts appear lookingclose to their final shape, or does your work come out of copious notes?
Very few poems in Ghost Work came out close to their finalform. The only exceptions were three of the pantoums that inspired the project.After writing those, I knew a project had begun. After that I wrote about fivereally bad poems that were soon disposed of. Writing those, however, encouragedthe creation of a shape for the first section of the book.
4 -Where does a poem usually begin for you? Are you an author of short pieces thatend up combining into a larger project, or are you working on a"book" from the very beginning?
I usually start bywriting individual poems inspired by events in my life or, on occasion, a movieor piece of art. Once I’ve written enough poems that I see certain themes, Imight be influenced by those themes as I write. Ghost Work was different. I knew very early that I wanted to writeabout experiencing my father’s dementia. That intention sometimes made it achallenge, but the use of form helped push me, allowing me to write both awayfrom and towards that ultimate concern.
5 - Arepublic readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sortof writer who enjoys doing readings?
I love readings. That’swhere community happens, where you can talk to other people whose work youadmire. But I don’t think of them as a natural part of my creative process. Forinstance, I’ll read a poem out loud to myself but would never take a half-formedpoem to an open mic to hear how it’s coming. What I love is hearing what workresonates with an audience. My last book came out during the pandemic, so I hadfew opportunities to read aloud from it in person. Reading in London, Ontario,last year, though, I had two readers comment on the same poem, one that I’dthought very little of since writing the work. That interaction changes my ownperception of the work. Writing is a solitary process, as is reading, so thoseoccasional in-person interactions are revivifying.
6 - Doyou have any theoretical concerns behind your writing? What kinds of questionsare you trying to answer with your work? What do you even think the currentquestions are?
I write because I want toexpress emotion in a crafted, hopefully beautiful way. I guess the overarchingquestion is, can I reiterate a scene or emotion in a way that is new enough orstriking enough that people will notice? Writing on the anthropocene, which Ithink most of us feel compelled to tackle, is particularly challenging in thissense. Environmental concerns found their way into Ghost Work sideways, which is probably the best way for it tohappen.
7 – Whatdo you see the current role of the writer being in larger culture? Do they evenhave one? What do you think the role of the writer should be?
I think writers canreframe experience to clarify it for a larger audience. I think of how Roxanna Bennett and Shane Neilson have helped reconsider dis/ability on the page. Whileit can have a societal impact, poetry can also simply encourage readers to considerlanguage(s) in new ways, as Klara du Plessis has done for much of her poeticexplorations. Hopefully what we write gives our readers at least one moment ofrecognition, something they’ve seen before that they have a new appreciation ofbecause of the work. It’s all about connecting.
8 - Doyou find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential(or both)?
I love working with myeditor. For me that interaction is essential. Jim pushed me to try new things -for instance, he encouraged me to work on a longer poem, which became “We’llMeet Again” in this book. My work is very much a collaboration with my editor.
9 - Whatis the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to youdirectly)?
Don’t think of theoutcome of the work. Allow the poem space to become what it needs to become.Save the editing for later.
10 -What kind of writing routine do you tend to keep, or do you even have one? Howdoes a typical day (for you) begin?
When writing towards myfirst book I wrote every day. I needed that discipline to find my way towardthe work. Now, I have a full-time job as editor of a trade magazine and life ismuch busier. If I have a routine, it is that I read or write poetry almostevery day, but much more of that time is spent reading. I read before work, andlate in the evening. Poetry writing primarily happens at night, sitting up inbed and organizing those thoughts into concrete shape.
11 -When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of abetter word) inspiration?
I try to get to the ArtGallery of Ontario or the McMichael. Visual art helps calm me and occasionallyinspires me.
12 -What fragrance reminds you of home?
The smell of sand andpitch pine.
13 -David W. McFadden once said that books come from books, but are there any otherforms that influence your work, whether nature, music, science or visual art?
Visual art is the formthat seems to influence my poetry the most. The opening poem of my last book, Democratically Applied Machine, was acommentary on a Gerhard Richter painting that, at the end of the process ofwriting that book, helped me frame its narrative arc in a way that hadn’t beenpossible before. The work of Joan Miro appears in Ghost Work in a way that remains a bit mysterious but is veryimportant to me.
14 -What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your lifeoutside of your work?
Honestly, my peers whosework challenges me and encourages me to push the art further.
15 -What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
I’d like to write poemsthat tackle the anthropocene effectively. It’s something I’m working on verygradually.
16 - Ifyou 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 awriter?
Rock star? Maybe a loungesinger at my age. That’s the fantasy job I joke about.
17 -What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
It’s honestly the onlymarketable skill I have. I’m glad I found poetry along the way to becoming adaytime writer and editor.
18 -What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?
Barbara Tran’s debut, PrecedentedParroting, is remarkable. Also, Russell Thornton’s latest really surprisedme.
19 -What are you currently working on?
I am currently working ona book of essays and criticism that is due to be published in 2026 or 2027.There is also an eco-themed poetry collection that remains in its protean stageof development.
