12 or 20 (second series) questions with K.R. Segriff
K.R. Segriff
(she/her) is a poet and filmmaker. She is stunningly awkwardbut has an excellent game face. Her work has appeared in Greensboro Review,The Malahat Review, Prism International, and Best Canadian Poetry,among others. She won The Edinburgh Story Prize, The London Independent StoryPrize, The Bumblebee Prize for Flash Fiction, The Space and Time Magazine IronWriter Award, and The Connor Prize for Poetry. Her first collection of short stories was published by Riddle Fence Debuts in 2024. She lives in Toronto withher spouse and three children where they are known as ‘those neighbours’ andrarely cut their grass. 1 - How did your first bookchange your life? How does your most recent work compare to your previous? Howdoes it feel different?
I feel like, "Well, ifnothing else, there is a book on my shelf with my name on it." It's likebeing one step closer to a good death. It also opens up a fantasy world wheresometime, 60 years from now, some rando who is not even born yet might happenupon my book, read the stories, have a laugh or some deep thought, and, in thatsmall way, I will have influenced the world from my grave. This is an excellentand creepy thought. I try not to think how there will probably be no books in60 years. No. That is not part of my fantasy world. Also, it was pretty coolwhen I was at my book launch with Riddle Fence and, instead of reading off myphone or fumbling around with a stack of crumpled papers, I just pulled out mybook, like some suave fox, opened the book to the appropriate page, and read.It felt pretty legit. It was not me who thought of this, though. One of theother authors there who noticed that feature of book-havery. I forget if it wasJennifer Newhook, Tia McLennan, or Danielle Devereaux. Whoever she was, she wasa genius, and you should read her book too.
2 - How did you come tofiction first, as opposed to, say, poetry or non-fiction?
I do write poetry, but it'shard to do it sometimes without feeling a little pretentious. I have anunreasonable poetry prejudice that was drilled into my head at an early age bymy poetry-hating dad. So perhaps, in that way, I write poetry as a form of adolescentrebellion. Actually, I have a book of poetry that I am currently shoppingaround, so maybe I should stop talking so much crap about poetry. Non-fictionis just off for me. I hate to be constrained by the truth.
3 - How long does it take tostart any particular writing project? Does your writing initially come quickly,or is it a slow process? Do first drafts appear looking close to their finalshape, or does your work come out of copious notes?
It usually starts with aquote or a line. Then, I build a mind map around it. I write lots of emails tomyself about random thoughts, and I put the word "Miliza" in thesubject line. That is my secret code that the email is about a story. So when Iam ready to write, I search all the "Miliza Mail" for my ideathreads. Miliza is my grandmother's childhood nickname. I don't know why Ichose that. She was not much of a writer. She let me read her diary once. Itwas mainly about the weather and the people she met in town. Super boring.Anyways. Once a Miliza thread gets too long, I start to get stressed out, so Iget out these colored cue cards and write out the ideas. Then I arrange them onthe dining room table into some sort of order. Then, I type that into my laptopas an outline. Then I fill in the gaps. That's the hardest part. Filling in thosedamn gaps. The easy part is the cue cards. The glue that holds them together?That's the real challenge. But the cue card thing is for longer projects. Forflash fiction and shorter pieces, I havebeen known to sit down and bang it out in one sitting. I guess I am smartenough to keep track of all the moving pieces for shorter pieces, but I'm lostfor anything over 1500 words. That's when cue cards hit the scene.
4 - Where does a work offiction usually begin for you? Are you an author of short pieces that end upcombining into a larger project, or are you working on a "book" fromthe very beginning?
I am also a filmmaker, somost of my stories start with an image or a line of dialogue, and I build thestory around it. I commute to my day job on my bike, and during that time, Ican think. I suck on stories like hard candy, dissolving them slowly over daysin my mind. I often stop on the side of the road and type little fragments intomy phone. The problem is that sometimes, they are hard to decode later. I havelearned to write out my thoughts like I am spelling them for an 8-year-old.Otherwise, I return to them and think, ‘WTFis this?’ I still have something onmy phone that says, "Moon lungs crash teeth." Sometimes, I stillwonder what I was thinking when I wrote that.
5 - Are public readings partof or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoysdoing readings?
I went to an arts highschool. I love performance. Much of the stuff I write is meant to be read aloudon a stage, by a campfire, or alone in my living room. I perform everything formyself early in the edits. Bouncing it off the walls gives me a differentperspective. It lets me see the holes and the laggy bits. I think the bestwriting sounds as good as it looks. I also enjoy the experience of sharingstories live. It's timeless. It's lizard-brain stuff. I think, on some level,live storytelling is a human need. To be honest, a lot of why I write stuff isso I can have an excuse to get together in some sticky-floored, dimly lit spaceand legitimately hang out with other weirdos, just sharing our words andletting it all hang out.
6 - Do you have anytheoretical concerns behind your writing? What kinds of questions are youtrying to answer with your work? What do you even think the current questionsare?
I think, ironically, fictionwriting is a search for what is real. It's about trying to dig into the heartof our existence and discover what is truly common to all of us, even if weexpress it in disparate ways. It's trying to figure out what drives characters,trying to understand them by putting them into novel situations. Fiction is athought experiment of the human experience. The fantasy teaches us aboutreality. For me, it's driving toward some universal acceptance. A lot of mycharacters are rough around the edges. But understanding what motivates themmakes me love them even when they misbehave. It also makes me forgive myself,in a way, for times I have personally misbehaved. When I understand mycharacters, I understand my most hated neighbors a little better. Sometimes, Iam my own most hated neighbor. So, it can be therapeutic.
7 – What do you see thecurrent role of the writer being in larger culture? Do they even have one? Whatdo you think the role of the writer should be?
I think writers need to be awareof what they are reinforcing or countering. Some of the bravest writers challengethe status quo; they are those who bring a fresh perspective and break apartthe literary bird-wires that the other parrots stand on. Art drives thought. Itinfluences public opinion and politics. By presenting fictional situations, youcan make folks consider things they might be resistant to thinking about inreality because when it’s "just fiction," it's safe. But you can'tun-think a thought. Once you've had it, it's there forever. You can't help butapply it to your real life. What I mean to say is, if racist lady-haters readmy fiction and my crafty literary guiles trick them into liking it, slowly butsurely, things can change.
8 - Do you find the processof working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?
I love working with outsideeditors. I feel like once I have submitted a story to someone, it is no longermine. It becomes collaborative. It belongs to everyone who touches it. So Idon't feel defensive when I see my drafts changing. The original story isalways in the original draft if I want to visit it. What happens after is itbecomes a different animal. Outside eyes are essential to making a storystrong, for giving it teeth so it can protect itself from the discerning eyesof readers. Editors fill in the story’scracks, make it resilient and fierce.
9 - What is the best pieceof advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?
Just put it out there. Letsomeone else read it. But tell yourself you don't care what they think. You cantake their opinion or leave it. Once your work is out there, there it is. Theworld officially knows you are not typical. Your secret is revealed. You arefree.
10 - How easy has it beenfor you to move between genres (poetry to screenplays to short fiction)? Whatdo you see as the appeal?
Very easy. I have switchedgenres frequently. I have entirely rewritten many pieces in a different genrebecause the new medium was better for the story. I wrote a flash fiction aboutthis fisherman who was dying but wanted to buy a new truck. It was called"The Long Haul". Many editors passed over it, and I had pretty muchshelved it, but then I rewrote it into a short screenplay, and it won all sortsof awards. The screen was just a better home for that story; it was justwaiting for me to realize it.
11 - What kind of writingroutine do you tend to keep, or do you even have one? How does a typical day(for you) begin?
I have no routine. My lifeis too chaotic. I have a day job with rotating hours and a family full of folkswith ADD. Trying to maintain order and routine is a recipe for disappointment.I think my routine is just giving myself blanket permission to stop what I amdoing at any given point in the day to write down an idea and email it tomyself. When I find time, I open the email and run with it. Also, I have a verysupportive family that can distract themselves quite effectively if I disappearto write things down. I also sign up for those online one-time generativeworkshops, just to get something granular in a file with its own name on mycomputer. Because once that is there, I want to complete it. I find the time inthe margins because my mind will not rest otherwise.
12 - When your writing getsstalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word)inspiration?
I sign up for one of thosecontests where they give you a prompt and a time limit. There have been manytimes that I have become convinced my creative well has finally run dry, andthen one of those contests kicked my ass back into gear. It’s true what theysay. Writing crap is better than writing nothing. I think a lot of writer'sblock is just anxiety. Like there’s this blinking cursor in front of you that'sjust whispering, "yousuck-yousuck-yousuck," and you start to believeit. But if you can push that little demon down the page, it loses its hold overyou. And the next thing you know, you have a draft. And that draft might suckrocks, but it's something. And oncethere's something on the page, the anxiety ends. All you have to do is edit. Ifind editing way less stressful because by the time I’m editing, I already feellike a writer again.
13 - What fragrance remindsyou of home?
Lilacs. They used to growoutside my window. And mildew. From my grandpa's books.
14 - David W. McFadden oncesaid that books come from books, but are there any other forms that influenceyour work, whether nature, music, science, or visual art?
Defiantly music. I oftenplay music while I am writing. I don't listen to what I like. I listen to whatmy characters like or something that sets the mood of the scene I am trying toconjure. I guess it's the filmmaker in me again. Every story needs asoundtrack. There have been times when I'm writing something, and its falling flat.I'll put on a song and, voila, there itis, the jewel I was looking for. Music lets your associations go loose. Itenables you to spin around the way required to be creative. A lot of creativityis the ability to be disjointed in an interesting way. Music puts you into thatspace if you are the kind of person who is not super into drugs.
15 - What other writers orwritings are important for your work or simply your life outside of your work?
I am a Miriam Toews fangirl.She is a total inspiration to me because she threads that needle between comedyand tragedy so elegantly. I wish I could write a book as epic as All My Puny Sorrows. Also, I appreciatethe friendship of other writers. When I was in St. John’s for my book launch, Imet many great writers. One was Susie Taylor, who wrote a fantastic cover blurbfor me. We were sitting with Tia, Jennifer, and Danielle in The Battery Cafétalking about writing and life, and it was like we were all buds from way back,even though we had just met. It was a perfect afternoon, the kind of thing youcarry in your pocket for a future grey day. Then, a week later, Susy sent me apicture of all our books together in the bookstore. What a perfect visual metaphor! Right now, Iam reading Susy's book, which is awesome. You should also read her book.
16 - What would you like todo that you haven't yet done?
Get interviewed by somesuper top-drawer literary program and shake things up a little. They would askme some subtly brilliant questions, and I would be “this close” to usingf-words at all times, and then afterward, they would tell me how "refreshing"my take was, and I would smile because, at that moment, I would be able to readtheir thoughts and their thoughts would be "Woah. This gal is messed up. Somebody get me a latte withMargaret Atwood, stat!”
Also, I would like to befamous enough to be disrespected by Eminem. Bring it, Slim!
17 - If you could pick anyother occupation to attempt, what would it be? Or, alternately, what do youthink you would have ended up doing had you not been a writer?
I would be a heavy metal rockstar in my dream parallel life. Big bangs, ripped jeans, and rocking onforever. I would never sell out to some reality show. I would never get plasticsurgery. I would go full Robert Smith (from The Cure) and become the visualrepresentation of the demon I had always implied was inside of me. When my popularitydeclined, I would go to political conventions and yell all sorts ofinappropriate/idealistic stuff until I got arrested on misdemeanors, and PeopleMagazine would do a “fall from grace” piece featuring my mugshot. "Sourcesclose to me” would speculate that I had finally gone off the edge, but littlewould they know I was living happily on a giant houseboat on the shores of LakeSuperior with my partner and kids and all sorts of exotic reptiles, cackling withthe knowledge that I had invested wisely in the 90s and could ride the rest ofmy life on the coattails of my prudent financial choices.
18 - What made you write, asopposed to doing something else?
Loneliness. I think writingfiction comes naturally because I am an only child who lived rurally and hadbusy parents. For most of my early life, I needed elaborate fantasies forcompany. I made stories in my head as a means of survival so I wouldn't feel soisolated.
19 - What was the last greatbook you read? What was the last great film?
I am currently enjoying the hellout of Susie Taylor's book Vigil. It's funny. It's crafty. It's just the rightamount of bizarre. The last great film Iwatched was Wim Wenders' Perfect Days. It was a meditative filmwith stunning cinematography about a reflective guy who cleans Tokyo toilets. Iconvinced my teenage son to see it with me. He was like, "OMG. Do I have to? It's just gonna be one of thosecrap adult films where literally nothing happens, and you will want to talk tome for 10 hours straight about the symbolism." But he came with me becausehe is basically a good human and also I told him, "It’s going to beawesome! It was nominated for an Oscar!" My son was absolutely correct inhis summary. Still, the film was a multisensory triumph. 10/10. The best part of it, though, was theexperience of seeing it with a dis-impressed teen. At the film's beginning,they have to set up the protagonist's routine as he cleans eight successivetoilets in silence. In the midst of this, my son leans over and whispers in myear, "You're right, Mom. This s**t is riveting," in the snarkiesttone imaginable. Then I started seeing the film through his eyes, accompaniedby his sarcastic soundtrack, and I started laughing my ass off in the theatre.This caused my son to be absolutely mortified, which made it all the more funny.Art is a beautiful, beautiful, feed-forward cycle of joy.
20 - What are you currentlyworking on?
A novel! My cue card ringoverfloweth! I started drafting it in a little house on Middle Battery Roadright after my book launch. The protagonist is loosely based on my great auntGeorgina who lived on the edge of things in Detroit. It concerns hercomplicated friendship with the bad-assed dude who did her nails and theirquest for a red 1968 Cadillac.
