12 or 20 (second series) questions with Lesley Krueger
Lesley Krueger [photo credit: Nika Belianina] isa Canadian novelist, screenwriter and short story writer. Her latest novel,
Far Creek Road
, waspublished last fall. It tells the story of Tink Parker, an adventurous, nosyand very funny nine-year-old living a happy suburban life. But the Cold War isslowly building toward the Cuban Missile Crisis. The world is in danger ofending—and Tink's innocence comes under threat.Accordingto a starred review in the Miramichi Reader, “Iwas sucked into this novel right away, and Krueger’s ability to immerse meinside of Tink’s mind was impressive. The background politics are skillfullywritten in the way so many of us experienced the world as kids: these thingswere happening and leaked into our lives in ways we didn’t entirely understand.It was a treat to be able to kick off my reading year with FarCreek Road outof the gate.”
Lesley’sprevious novel, Time Squared, was published in 2021, while herhistorical novel Mad Richard came out in 2017. All three were publishedby ECW Press of Toronto. She is the author of eight other books.
Lesleygrew up in North Vancouver, where Far Creek Road is set. She has alsolived in London, England, Cambridge MA, Mexico City and Rio de Janeiro. She nowlives in Toronto with her husband and ancient cat, Archie (17). www.lesleykrueger.com
1 - Howdid your first book change your life? How does your most recent work compare toyour previous? How does it feel different?
Myfirst book was a short story collection called Hard Travel. Most of thereviews were pleasantly positive. One was an over-the-top rave, saying I was alikely candidate to succeed Margaret Atwood as a “prima donna of Canadianliterature.” One it gave an extremely-frosty thumbs-down, calling it acollection of “five drab little stories and one good one,” and implicitlysuggesting that I go away and die.
Unfortunately,the rave review ran in The Winnipeg Free Press and the pan was in TheGlobe & Mail. If the rave had been in the Globe, my career mighthave been different. Instead, my life didn’t change when the book came out. Icontinued to struggle to publish in little magazines and small presses beforemy writing eventually gained a degree of traction.
Allthese years later, I think the reviews in the middle were right. The collectionwas fresh and showed real promise, but Margaret Atwood had no cause to fret. Ialso think that from the start my work has circled around the same themes, eventhough the subjects have been quite different. The Free Press reviewerwas right about something that remains true of all my work. “The femaleprotagonists of Hard Travel adventurously set forth to fashion their ownexperiences,” he wrote, “rather than waiting for experience to fashion them.”
Differences?I think that technically, the writing is far more professional now and thesubjects better chosen.
2 - Howdid you come to fiction first, as opposed to, say, poetry or non-fiction?
I wasone of those people who knew very early that they wanted to be a writer. Myparents gave me a baby typewriter for my eighth birthday, and I used it towrite little stories. That means I have no memory of why I chose to write, orwhy I chose to write fiction. One thing I can say: I never wrote poems on my littletypewriter, always stories.
Somethingelse happened early. I was in my early teens when my father said, “If you’regoing to be a writer, you’d better train for a job. Writers don’t earn anymoney.” He was right, and I knew that even at the time. I decided to train as ajournalist, and not long afterward, signed up to work on the high schoolstudent newspaper.
Thatmeans I started writing non-fiction not long after I began to write my stories.My heart was always in my fiction, even as I earned my living as a journalist. YetI loved journalism as well, just as I loved my post-journalism careers in filmand teaching.
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?
When Istarted writing seriously, I began to scribble ideas for stories and novelsinto the journals I kept from my early twenties onward. Eventually I got anotebook so I could write these ideas down outside my journals and find themmore easily. Sometimes I’d look at an idea later and wonder, What was I thinking?But some of those initial thoughts became books, and gradually I got a betterfeel for what might work. At that point, I began to keep separate notebooks foreach serious idea, putting a tentative title on each cover and opening itperiodically to write down thoughts, character ideas and snippets ofinformation that might eventually prove useful.
Thesedays, by the time I start writing the first draft of a project, I’ve beenthinking about it for years. I first jotted down ideas about the novel I’mcurrently writing in 2010. I opened the dedicated notebook four or five years ago,and started the first draft of the book in January, 2022.
Once Iget going, I can usually finish a decent draft of a novel in two and a halfyears. I rewrite as I go along, starting each day by going over what I wrotethe day before, then circling back to rewrite chapters as I finish them. Myfirst real draft of a project is usually in pretty good shape, although I begfriends for notes afterward, then do another rewrite.
4 -Where does a screenplay or work of prose usually begin for you? Are you anauthor of short pieces that end up combining into a larger project, or are youworking on a "book" from the very beginning?
Iwonder if I’ve answered this one above?
5 - Arepublic readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sortof writer who enjoys doing readings?
To me,readings are part of the marketing process, and I think of the writing andmarketing as two separate things. However, I enjoy them because they’re a wayto get together with other writers and to hear them read their work, as well asto meet readers with interesting questions and stories of their own.
Writingitself is such a solitary business that I think of going to readings as areward.
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’m notan intellectual writer, I’m a storyteller. I write literary fiction, whichmeans the writing itself is a concern to me: the precision, whatever beauty Ican create, the flow of the words and sentences and paragraphs. However, thestory and the characters are central to my writing, not the ideas behind them. Ilike concrete things, which means I’m not trying to answer questions so much asraise them. Nor do I self-consciously think about which questions to raise, orwhat I ought to write about. I write more instinctually than that.
7 –What do you see the current role of the writer being in larger culture? Do theyeven have one? What do you think the role of the writer should be?
I thinkof art generally as being among the best parts of our collective humanity. Artrepresents our good side, what’s worthwhile about our species, what gives usvalue. (There are far too many examples lately of our worthless side.) Thismeans I think the writer’s job is to do the best work they possibly can, notsettling for good enough or second best. We need to do something to justify ourtime on this earth. Good art counts, and it lasts, however invisibly.
8 - Doyou find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential(or both)?
I loveeditors, and I’ve been blessed with good ones. Susan Renouf has edited four ofmy books, one at Key Porter and three at ECW Press. She’s made all of them farbetter. Susan recently retired and I’m in professional mourning, although weremain good friends. Writers need to know how other people will read our work,and editors not only read it very closely, they’re kind enough to give usdetailed responses along with helpful suggestions. Some writers talk about howthey write for an imaginary Ideal Reader, and that’s great (although I’ve neverhad one). Personally I like meeting with a real person who can call me on mybullshit. We can also do lunch.
9 -What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to youdirectly)?
I thinkwriters need to find a community of other writers to support them. I’ve heard differentpeople say this over the years, and I often suggest to emerging writers thatthey seek out their community. Take a course, maybe attend readings and talk toothers in the audience. Writers can be loners, but we need other people.
10 -How easy has it been for you to move between genres (novels to short stories toscreenplays to memoir to children's literature)? What do you see as the appeal?
When Ifirst started writing, I was learning to write both fiction and newspaperstories at the same time. It was terribly hard. You need to be in a differentframe of mind to tackle a news story than you do to sit down and work on anovel—and my first real writing project was a novel. I had trouble movingbetween the two different forms of writing, and ended up spending most of mytime trying to improve my journalistic work. (They were paying me.) If I’d hadearly jobs driving truck or waiting tables, I might have learned to writefiction faster than I did.
Well, Idid work as a waitress for a while, but I was so bad I got fired.
Once Iwas comfortable in each separate form, it got easier to move between the two. Ilearned something from both journalism and fiction writing, picking up researchskills as a journalist, for example, that served me well in researchinghistorical novels like Mad Richard.
However,I didn’t find the skills immediately transferable to all genres. When I startedwriting short stories after failing to publish that (dreadful) first novel, Ihad to learn another new form. When I wrote a memoir, ForeignCorrespondences, I was able to marry my journalistic and literary skills,and that helped, but writing creative nonfiction didn’t come automatically.When I started writing screenplays a few years later, I had to climb anotherlearning curve. A children’s book, ditto.
So Iguess my answer is that I don’t find it easy to move into a new genre. But onceI’ve got it, I’ve more or less got it. These days, I can write an essay for mySubstack one day and get back to work on my novel-in-progress the next. If I’mon deadline, give me a ten-minute break and a cup of tea and I can switchbetween two forms. I like doing it. You can say different things in differentways. And I’m my father’s daughter: I also like getting paid, so I need to mixit up.
11 -What kind of writing routine do you tend to keep, or do you even have one? Howdoes a typical day (for you) begin?
I’mbeing healthy lately. I was laid up for too long with a badly broken ankle, sonow I come into my office after breakfast and flop down on the floor to do yogastretches, moving on to a program of strengthening exercises, lifting weightsand so on. Afterward, I go directly to my computer and get to work on one ofthe writing projects I have underway, mainly the novel I’m currently writing,but also essays for my website and Substack. I tend to write until 4 p.m.unless the novel is going really well, when dinner ends up being take-out. Ican often manage this routine, which I love, four weekdays out of five. Butthere’s also this thing called life, and I don’t always get to write as oftenas I’d like.
12 - Whenyour writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of abetter word) inspiration?
I’mafraid I’m one of those annoying people who don’t get stalled writing. I neverhave enough time to do as much writing as I want to, so I bull ahead when Ican. Sometimes I’m tired and end up grinding out really boring sentences. ButI’ve done this long enough to recognize when that’s happening and break off todo something entirely different. Go for a walk, read a book, do the shopping, thelaundry, try to get a good night’s sleep. The next day, I’m fine.
13 -What fragrance reminds you of home?
Baking.My mother could bake anything.
14 -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?
I findthat my books come from places. Sometimes I go somewhere and feel a ping, and Iknow I’ll write something set there. My second collection of short stories, The Necessary Havoc of Life, grew out of a visit to an abandoned farm. I canstill see the fallen-in cellar of a barn that for some reason made me picture afailed back-to-the-land commune. In the notebooks I mentioned, I almost alwaysstart with a setting. I’m sure many other writers’ books come from books, but Idon’t think mine do.
15 -What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your lifeoutside of your work?
Inuniversity, I started reading 19th century British writers and theirRussian contemporaries, everyone from George Eliot through Charles Dickens toTolstoy and Chekhov. In them, I found a moral seriousness that’s been importantto me—and in Dickens, at least, a sense of humour. I was born and grew up insuburban Vancouver, which is very far from England and Russia in both historyand tone. But these writers were so particular to their own places, and soevocative of their settings, that they implicitly asked me to examine mine.
16 -What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
SomedayI’ll take a pottery course. I love pottery.
17 - 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?
I thinkI’ve been very lucky in spending my life as a writer, which means that I’vebeen able to do what I set out to do, and what I wanted to do. If I hadn’t beena writer, I think I might have been a doctor, maybe a psychiatrist. It’s theonly other thing that’s ever appealed to me.
18 -What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
I thinkI’ve answered that?
19 -What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?
That’ssetting the bar high. Great book? I recently read Emily Wilson’stranslation of Homer’s Odyssey. I’ve read several previous translationsand hers was a revelation. A very good book: Epidemics and Society: From theBlack Death to the Present by Frank M. Snowden. It’s anenormously-informative 582-page social history of disease and its impact on societiesaround the world.
Greatfilm? I don’t know about great, but I really liked Past Lives, thedirectorial debut of Celine Song, which is set partly in Korea and partly inNew York. It revolves around childhood friends reconnecting across cultures.There are no bad guys in this film. How often do you see that?
20 -What are you currently working on?
I’malmost finished the first draft of my new novel. It’s set mostly incontemporary Toronto, and it’s about freedom of choice and Chekhov.
