12 or 20 (second series) questions with Michelle Winters
Michelle Winters is a writer,painter, and translator born and raised in Saint John, NB. Her debut novel, IAm a Truck, was shortlisted for the 2017 Scotiabank Giller Prize. She isthe translator of Kiss the Undertow and Daniil and Vanya byMarie-Hélène Larochelle. She lives in Toronto.
1 - How did your first book change your life? How doesyour most recent work compare to your previous? How does it feel different?
Publishing my first book made me a writer; getting itshortlisted for the Giller made me a suddenly popular writer, an experience atonce glorious, terrifying, wonderful, and fraught with self-doubt. Hair for Menis a more assured book than I Am a Truck; the concepts are stronger andbetter argued, the writing is more fluid... I used to worry about I Am aTruck out there in the world with its wobbly little legs; Hair for Mencan handle anything.
2 - How did you come to fiction first, as opposed to,say, poetry?
I’ve always been a sucker for character and narrative.I love a story that develops as a result of the way a person is. It’s anotherworldly kind of fun.
3 - How long does it take to start any particularwriting project? Does your writing initially come quickly, or is it a slowprocess? Do first drafts appear looking close to their final shape, or doesyour work come out of copious notes?
I won’t spend too much time planning, because I find theidea only develops while I’m actively writing. This means that I discover thestory as I go, and it changes a lot, but it gets written!
4 - Where does a poem or work of fiction usually beginfor you? 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?
I keep a lot of observations, episodes, characterstudies, etc. tucked away in a Notes folder. There are Big Notes for novels andSmall Notes for short stories. I usually know whether a note is Big or Small,but it tends to be a particularly compelling character that pushes a note intothe Big folder and sets a novel in motion. I watched a man on a flight theother day close all the overhead compartments before takeoff, not in order tohelp the flight attendants, but because he seemed to think he’d do a betterjob. Then he stood in the aisle and talked about himself to anyone who wouldlisten for the whole five-hour flight. That guy was a Big Note.
5 - Are public readings part of or counter to yourcreative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
I love doing readings. I only consider my own workcomplete once I’ve read it out loud - very important for flow and pacing. Istudied theatre, so delivery is important. Hair for Men is written insuch a way that you should be able to read it out loud, in character, asLouise.
6 - Do you have any theoretical concerns behind yourwriting? What kinds of questions are you trying to answer with your work? Whatdo you even think the current questions are?
I like to think I’m turning over a number of rocks, takinga look at what’s underneath, and seeing how it responds to the light of day. I’mmore an asker than an answerer, and the question I’m always asking is “Why this??”
7 – What do you see the current role of the writerbeing in larger culture? Do they even have one? What do you think the role ofthe writer should be?
The writer is there to reveal humanity to itself.
8 - Do you find the process of working with an outsideeditor difficult or essential (or both)?
I find it essential. My structure is absolutely everywhere.
9 - What is the best piece of advice you've heard (notnecessarily given to you directly)?
Write for the top 5% of your audience.
10 - How easy has it been for you to move betweengenres? What do you see as the appeal?
I write, translate fiction, and paint. Translation iswonderful practice for my own writing; it’s expression without the strain ofcreation and is deeply satisfying. Painting clears the whole slate, returning meto my factory settings - but I can ruminate on a story/character idea while I’mpainting, which is a refreshing way to get there. All the arty activities feedone another in a nice symbiosis.
11 - What kind of writing routine do you tend to keep,or do you even have one? How does a typical day (for you) begin?
I still work a regular job, so when I’m not doing that,I’m cramming the rest of my moments with creative things. I do get a few full,glorious days a week where I can just write. Those days start with coffee (obviously)and proceed with as little interruption as possible. After dinner, I’ll jam in anothercouple of hours. Then a sensible hour of prestige television. Time is so precious.
12 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turnor return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?
Walking helps, and a good, long stretch, but alsopicking up any book from the shelf and reading a few pages reminds me that anythingcan be written. My idea is as good as any other. Sometimes, I listen to TheStreets, A Grand Don’t Come for Free. It’s like an electronica hip/hopoperetta about the mundane events surrounding a guy misplacing a thousand quid.Again, it reminds you that you can write anything.
13 - What fragrance reminds you of home?
The smell of the Bay of Fundy at the Market Squaredocks in Saint John. The scent of a shipping port will always bring me home.
14 - David W. McFadden once said that books come frombooks, but are there any other forms that influence your work, whether nature,music, science or visual art?
Oh man, music, film, visual art – but I also lovesitting quietly, watching my fellow humans. The things we do…
15 - What other writers or writings are important foryour work, or simply your life outside of your work?
Martin Amis – for better or worse - has influenced meheavily my whole reading/writing life. I’m aware of his difficulties, but noone was more generous with humour – plotting it out bit by bit, laying hislittle trap, until he delivers the punchline, and you realize just how muchwork he was doing all that time - what subtle, devious work - in the pursuit ofyour amusement. I loved Mart.
I aspire to the brisk, no bullshit style of Patricia Highsmith, I seek guidance from Lynn Coady, Lorrie Moore, Lydia Davis, and thesuperhuman Jennifer Egan. Also, George Saunders, Barbara Gowdy, and Raymond Carver, of course.
16 - What would you like to do that you haven't yetdone?
I toy with a one-person performance – where I’m theperson. Or maybe a musical...
17 - If you could pick any other occupation to attempt,what would it be? Or, alternately, what do you think you would have ended updoing had you not been a writer?
There’s a chance I’d have ended up back in jail.
18 - What made you write, as opposed to doing somethingelse?
The first word of fiction I ever set down was borne ofanger and frustration, and writing felt like the only option. I paint when I’mhappy. When something needs conquering, I write.
19 - What was the last great book you read? What wasthe last great film?
I loved Kick the Latch by Kathryn Scanlon. The lastgreat film is (and perhaps always will be) Border – the 2018 Swedish one,written by John Ajvide Lindqvist. Utterly transforming. Oh, but I also justwatched Jeanne Dielman, 23 quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles, which changedmy whole cellular makeup. Hoo!
20 - What are you currently working on?
Paintings. Big, defiantly joyful ones. I also have someof a novel started, currently concerning a factory and an accidental murder. I’llknow when it’s time to jump in and write the thing, but for now I scribble bitsand let them simmer while I paint and listen to true crime podcasts.
