12 or 20 (second series) questions with Scott Mainprize
Scott Mainprize
is a lawyer with experience incriminal, family, and refugee law. His grandfather spent his life never feelingsafe in exploring who he was. In contrast, Scott has written two novels andbeen an instructor at Wilfrid Laurier, Carleton University and UniversityCollege of the North, where he has taught courses on Indigenous-colonialhistory (in response to the TRC’s Calls to Action) and a course he designed onRestorative Justice. For the last 16-months he has been developing a legalsupport program to assist the 7,000 strong-Inuit community in Ottawa. As aTwo-Spirit person, Scott has been privileged to do all these things, none ofwhich he could have done 75 years ago. That said, their greatest adventure isjust beginning, as a new parent.1 - How did your first book change your life? How does your most recentwork compare to your previous? How does it feel different?
Getting my first book out of me was a relief. I know a lot of talentedpeople who could write a book and never will. On a superficial level, that first book mademe a professional writer, but it was also healing: toiling with the pleasuresand pains of my world and building something beautiful out of it all. It alsocarved out my writing process. I learned to trust my ability to use words withpurpose to take things back that had once been taken from me. My writing isalways going to be personal. That first book has served me well, both personallyand professionally.
Where A Waking Life was taking an internal world and lifting itinto a conversational narrative, The First Few Feet is about things somuch larger than the self. It’s about the pluralities of truth and history thatexist across Turtle Island and Inuit Nunangat. It’s about the depths of colonizationand shining light on the continuity of that effort that has taken place overthe last three hundred years. While it is very personal, I also felt a greatresponsibility to write it in a good way for many peoples—Indigenous, colonial,and those who are other. That is a weight that did not come with my firstnovel. I am grateful that this book is the very best I am capable of at thisstage in my life.
2 - How did you come to fiction first, as opposed to, say, poetry ornon-fiction?
My fiction takes heavily from non-fiction. Of course there areexceptions, but, on the whole, I see fiction as having a greater ability to findthe reader where they are at than non-fiction. It transcends time, space, andsituation in a different way. It also allows for flexibility in thestorytelling that true non-fiction doesn’t have access to. That is at least howI come to other works when I am the reader.
3 - How long does it take to start any particular writing project? Doesyour writing initially come quickly, or is it a slow process? Do first draftsappear looking close to their final shape, or does your work come out ofcopious notes?
My first two novels were journeys. Each one had over a dozen drafts. Thestories had to find their own life through me as a conduit, I suppose. When thathappened, it was as though I was starting over, but now within the immense worldthat the previous drafts had developed. There are notes, maps, chronologies.They were journeys in every sense.
My next project seems different. Or, maybe I’m just lucky this time thatthe life of the story has been awake from the beginning. It’s a refreshingexperience.
4 - Where does a work of prose begin for you? Are you an author of shortpieces that end up combining into a larger project, or are you working on a"book" from the very beginning?
Like my own world, it begins seemingly as though it is severalfragmented pieces that need to be connected. Much like my own world, that’s notactually the case. There is a current of life connecting the tapestry that isat the heart of the story. I know it is there the whole time, I just don’t tendto see it for the first nine drafts.
5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Areyou the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
My other creative outlet is stand-up comedy, and I am a barrister bytrade, so I enjoy workshopping my narratives. That said, it is not essentialfor me to do readings of my novels. I have a deep respect for the notion thatthe story received by any reader is going to be different than the story awriter s offering. I don’t know that such workshopping supports this.
6 - Do you have any theoretical concerns behind your writing? What kindsof questions are you trying to answer with your work? What do you even thinkthe current questions are?
The stories I tell are rooted in concerns about the world. The FirstFew Feet is the story of hundreds of years of suppressed histories and whatthat means for the reconciliation we all face today, as selves, communities,and nations. These are urgent issues that some of us have been treading forcenturies, while others are being newly shocked by in this moment. How do we moveforward in a good way, now that we know the truths of the past? A Waking Life is a conversation questioning the dichotomy between ideas of life anddeath.
I am not trying to answer these questions. I simply raise them and tryto deconstruct some of the incomplete “answers” that have been accepted withoutquestion by large swaths of our society.
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?
There are different types of writers, who serve separate (equallyimportant) roles for society. Mine is as a storyteller. Whether I’m lawyering,performing comedy, or writing a novel, that’s the central current. As astoryteller, I see my role as being one that opens spaces for the conversationsI explore to continue beyond my self. Facilitating a discussion that has a lifeof its own or offering a new way of seeing an issue. I am sure other, moretechnically sound, writers, would see their roles differently. I happily differto them for the aggregate responsibilities of the profession.
8 - Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficultor essential (or both)?
I think it’s both difficult and essential. The editor I worked with on TheFirst Few Feet was very hands-off. For some reason, that really worked forthis piece. Maybe because of the personal nature of the story. The story I’vewritten isn’t the same story that any reader finds, so anyone who is willing toshare how to best bridge that fissure is vital to a better experience forwriter and reader. I think when good writers and good editors find each otherthey can lift a text to another level. As with most interpersonal dynamics, sometimesegos get in the way of that, but the end result is usually better for thecollaboration.
9 - What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily givento you directly)?
Embrace the silences. The power of the space between our words is often morepowerful than the words themselves. Silence isn’t scary. Not in the stories wetell; nor, in the lives that shape them.
That was the advice I got before I went out on stage the first nightthat I performed stand-up comedy. I’ve found it equally helpful as a courtroomlawyer, a hospice social worker, a community developer, professor, and writer.There must be something to it that’s worth sharing here.
10 - What kind of writing routine do you tend to keep, or do you evenhave one? How does a typical day (for you) begin?
My writing ebbs when I have space for it and flows when I don’t. If Ihave a day to write, I’ll use an hour well. If I have no time, I will beinspired. I have gotten used to waking up at 3 AM to secure my words to paperand working until dawn. There is a serenity to working at night.
True to form, now that I am a single father, the next writing venturethat is finding life in me is making itself known with increasing fervor thesedays.
11 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for(for lack of a better word) inspiration?
The stories I tell find their own way into the world. I see myself asmore of an assist in the process. When the process “stalls” I trust that itwill “unstall” when the story is ready. That is the luxury with not being afull-time writer. The story doesn’t have to carry that pressure the way itwould if my rent depended on it.
12 - What fragrance reminds you of home?
Mold. The place I called home growing up was covered in wall mold. Homeisn’t always a sanctuary. It drove me out and into the world.
13 - David W. McFadden once said that books come from books, but arethere any other forms that influence your work, whether nature, music, scienceor visual art?
My stories come from life. They reverberate with the people, places, andanimate beings I have shared space with. That’s the part I am conscious of. Thereis a whole world of contributors I am not conscious of as well.
14 - What other writers or writings are important for your work, orsimply your life outside of your work?
David Rakoff. Someone who was a brilliant essayist/satirist broke awayfrom his comfort zone with his last work, Love, Dishonor, Marry, Die, Cherish, Perish. As an individual piece, it’s worth reading. As a contrastto his previous works, it is inspiring. It made me rethink my idea of what itmeans to be an accomplished writer. I’d rather write four extremely differentbooks (in form and substance), than forty novels clearly written by the sameperson.
Writers whose individual works became a friend include Tomson Highway, JamesBaldwin, Mikhail Bakhtin, Mikhail Bulgakov, Yann Martel, Shirley MacLaine,Richard Bach, Paul Monette, and Vito Russo. I mean, the list goes on (and on, and on). Ijust need to stop somewhere.
15 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
I have had the privilege of living so many of my dreams already. I havealready done all the things I once felt I “needed” to do to feel fulfilled. Ihave performed stand-up comedy, became a lawyer, written books I’m proud of, craftedand taught a course on restorative justice and developed a legal supportprogram for the Inuit community in/around Ottawa. More than doing any of thesethings, I am proud that I did them n a way that has always been true to myself.I find that I walk in this world very differently than most of the people Ioccupy space with. I am proud that I found my way on this journey of lifedespite the obstacles.
By far, the most important thing to me is the journey I am justembarking on—fatherhood. That has always been the only thing I ever reallywanted in life; from the time I was twelve years old. As a Two-Spirit person, Ididn’t know that the colonial infrastructure would ever allow me to do that onmy terms. I did it. I found my son. Thatis what I needed to do in this life.
I still have dreams and pursuits, of course, but it’s selfish to expectthey will all materialize. I’ve had more than my share in this life already.
16 - If you could pick any other occupation to attempt, what would itbe? Or, alternately, what do you think you would have ended up doing had younot been a writer?
I think I am a pretty good lawyer and instructor. I enjoy thoseprofessions. They make me a better writer as well. I don’t think I’d be veryinteresting if all I did was write. That’s not me.
17 - What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
The only stories I write are the ones I think no one else is able totell. The ones I hoped I would find when I picked up other works and read differentstories.
So long as that continues to happen, I will continue to write. I willalso continue to enjoy reading the stories that compel me to write.
18 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last greatfilm?
Book: A Confederacy of Dunces. A bit of a cheat because it’s are-read. As I sat reading it in class (the first time), I couldn’t stoplaughing uproariously to myself. It released this tension in my mind thathumour and advocacy need be separate beasts. Each is far more persuasive whensupported by the other.
Film: One Sings, The Other Doesn’t. A subject as polarizing todayas it was upon its release. It’s handled with an equal respect for the choicesmade by the two protagonists. An under-appreciated gem in the Varda canon.
19 - What are you currently working on?
I’ll keep that a secret. Stay tuned, though.
12 or 20 (second series) questions;


