12 or 20 (second series) questions with Raisa Tolchinsky
Raisa Tolchinsky
is the author of the poetry collection
Glass Jaw
(Persea Books, 2024),winner of the Lexi Rudnitsky First Book Prize (2023). She has published poemsin Boston Review, Kenyon Review, Michigan Quarterly Review,and elsewhere. Raisa earned her MFA from the University of Virginia and herB.A. from Bowdoin College. She was the 2022–2023 George BennettWriter-in-Residence at Phillips Exeter Academy in New Hampshire, and iscurrently a student at Harvard Divinity School. Previously, Raisa lived inChicago, Bologna (Italy), and New York City, where she trained as a boxer. 1 - How did your first book change yourlife? How does your most recent work compare to your previous? How does it feeldifferent?
My first book changed my life because itfulfilled the promise I made to myself at eight, and at sixteen, and again attwenty-six. The promise: not that I would write a great or even goodbook— just that I would finish one. There’s something sturdy about fulfilling apromise to past iterations of myself who walked through the poetry section andalways found the place where a book of mine might be shelved. I feel sturdieras a person, more capable of trusting my work in the world. I’ve realized more concretely that the peopleI love are rooting for me. I’m more able to accept I won’t be everyone’s cup oftea.
I don’t buy the myth that you have to publish abook to be a writer. But I will say I feel like a different kind ofwriter.
My current work risks more— I’ve learned a lotfrom my recent teacher Jorie Graham. These recent poems arrive gently, and arealso more terrifying to imagine out in the world.
2 - How did you come to poetry first, asopposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?
I found poetry in third grade. My teacher Pat isstill a dear friend and mentor. I loved the way a poem could hold so much in sofew words. All my intensity as a young kid had somewhere to go, somewhereplayful and loving. I’m sometimes creatively impatient and I like to toggle inbetween projects. I love fiction but I find it harder to dip in and out of. Ilike to think each genre has its season in my life, and I’m definitely in apoetry season.
3 - How long does it take to start anyparticular writing project? Does your writing initially come quickly, or is ita slow process? Do first drafts appear looking close to their final shape, ordoes your work come out of copious notes?
It’s taken me a few years to realize I’m a bingewriter. I’ll write 40 pages in four months and then not write for six. I’vebeen calling this “my living phase,” but the pause challenges me.
The real work of writing occurs for me inrevision— poems look entirely different when I finish them, and sometimes theinitial line that opened the poem is gone by the time it is “finished.” I writefor thirty minutes to an hour at a time— I always admire writers who can sit attheir desks all day, but I’m not one of them. I’m always getting up to getanother beverage. Sometimes it’s hard to quantify a “day’s work”— the processis still mysterious to me.
4 - Where does a poem usually begin foryou? Are you an author of short pieces that end up combining into a largerproject, or are you working on a "book" from the very beginning?
A poem usually begins with an image or a line,often while doing something other than writing (running, walking, cooking,etc). That line rarely makes it into the final poem, but serves as a compasstowards the poem beneath the poem. I tend to write widely until I’m clear whatI’m writing about, and then I search for the structure or story/myth the bookis telling. Once I’ve identified that, I know I’ll need to spend another chunkof time writing into the gaps.
5 - Are public readings part of or counterto your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
I just completed a degree called Master ofReligion in Public Life at divinity school, so I am very interested in thepublic aspect of readings. There’s something so beautifully nourishing andgrounding about them— the simple act of showing up and saying here, I madethis. On this first tour, I love that I got to drive to every city whereI’ve lived and hug the people I love most. In that way, for those of us whohave patched together our livings from fellowships and programs, the book tourreally knit my life together. I learn so much from those who read Glass Jaw—and I also am aware that part of the process of being in a public space isembodying an archetype or image for others that is sometimes accurate,sometimes not.
6 - Do you have any theoretical concernsbehind your writing? What kinds of questions are you trying to answer with yourwork? What do you even think the current questions are?
There’s that saying, and I’m not sure who saidit, that we ask the same question throughout our lifetime many different ways.I am always asking about how to live in my body. I am always asking what itmeans to love hard, in ways that are often painful. More of my recent work isinterested in where divinity enters or exits a life. I’m also interested inbending time. Writing is a way to be in conversation across many selves.
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?
For me, the writer is one who embodies moralimagination, sometimes beyond the current era— the one who courageouslylistens. Sometimes, the embodiment of Cassandra.
8 - Do you find the process of workingwith an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?
I’m so grateful to work with editors, teachers,friends who can point out my blindspots. All my work is a collaboration ofsorts, although sometimes with whom I’m collaborating is a mystery— everythingfrom ancestors to songs I listened to as a kid, turns of phrases that enteredmy mind and reappear in rhythm or pacing of a poem.
9 - What is the best piece of adviceyou've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?
“I think we are well-advised tokeep on nodding terms with the people we used to be,whether we find them attractive company or not.” - Joan Didion
“If your Nerve, deny you— Go above yourNerve—” —Emily Dickinson
10 - What kind of writing routine do youtend to keep, or do you even have one? How does a typical day (for you) begin?
I tend to work well in the mornings. Coffee,some kind of movement practice, either before or after the page. I’ve learnedfrom my father, who is a playwright, to open the document every day, even if Imake no changes. It’s a way of keeping the poem alive. The things in my dailyroutine that tend to be consistent no matter the season are coffee and longwalks… especially now, as I’m trying to figure out the shape of my currentmanuscript, I find that I can’t really be at my desk “thinking”— I need to encounter,to play, to walk aimlessly. It’s a way of making a date with inspiration orchance. I love the story of David Lynch who showed up at Bob’s Big Boy everyday at 2:30 pm for ten years. Hereceived “only three perfect milkshakes out of more than 2,500.But that wasn’tthe point. For Lynch, it was enough to know he had set the stage for excellenceto occur,” believing that “whether with milkshakes or movies,”one “must make room forinspiration to strike — to lay the proper groundwork for greatness to takehold.”
11 - When your writing gets stalled, wheredo you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?
Silence. Trees.
12 - What fragrance reminds you of home?
Lake water, sun warmed wood, burnt coffee.
13 - David W. McFadden once said thatbooks come from books, but are there any other forms that influence your work, whethernature, music, science or visual art?
Definitely music. Country ballads. I’ve beenlistening to Adrianne Lenker and Jess Williamson lately. Definitely artistic friendships across thecenturies. Frida Kahlo and Georgia O’Keeffe, to name a few. Pilgrimages toplaces—New Mexico shows up a lot in my recent years because I’ve gone to Ghost Ranch (Georgia O’Keefe’s home) a few times.
14 - What other writers or writings areimportant for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?
My partner, fiction writer Derick Olson, who isbrilliant and kind and makes the best cappuccino I’ve ever had. On my deskright now are books by A.R. Ammons, Jorie Graham, Lexi Rudnitsky, Kiki Petrosino, Maggie Millner, Helene Cixous, and .
15 - What would you like to do that youhaven't yet done?
Lift more heavy weights. Write a novel. Go on awalking pilgrimage for my thirtieth birthday. Learn more bird calls. Get morecomfortable driving, since I learned in my late twenties.
16 - If you could pick any otheroccupation to attempt, what would it be? Or, alternately, what do you think youwould have ended up doing had you not been a writer?
It’s always been a writer’s life for me. Maybe adancer or a painter or a carpenter, but I have none of the attributes neededfor those jobs. Without poetry, I’d probably be a chaplain or a therapist.
17 - What made you write, as opposed todoing something else?
It’s FUN. And strange. And magical. It makes mefeel alive. Some days I’m frustrated, but most days I get to be surprised.
18 - What was the last great book youread? What was the last great film?
Great book: Couplets by Maggie Miller.Alternatively, The Highly Sensitive Person by Elaine Aron— I picked itup because I thought it said The Highly Sensitive Poet— ha!
Great Film: Not a film, but I’m watching Twin Peaks for the first time. My partner and I started it in May on a road tripwhen we stayed at a creepy ski lodge…
19 - What are you currently working on?
A book about the heart!
