12 or 20 (second series) questions with Trisia Eddy Woods
Trisia EddyWoods is the author of A Road Map for Finding Wild Horses (Turnstone Press, 2024.) A former editor for Red Nettle Press,Trisia’s writing has appeared in a variety of literary journals and chapbooksacross North America including Contemporary Verse 2, The GarneauReview, and New American Writing. Her artwork has been exhibitedboth close to home and internationally, and is held in the special collectionof the Herron Art Library. Currently she lives in Edmonton /amiskwaciywâskahikan with her family, which includes an array of four-leggedcompanions. Her photography, including wild horses, can be found online atprairiedarkroom.com or IG: @prairiedarkroom
1 - How didyour first book or chapbook change your life? How does your most recent workcompare to your previous? How does it feel different?
My first chapbook was a long form poem published with dancing girl press, over ten years ago now. I really loved it,it felt special and the poem still holds a lot of meaning for me. Although thesetting is quite different, this current book is similar in the sense that I amexploring different layers of connection. However, I definitely see and feel whereI have grown as a writer, and I feel more confident in my voice. This being myfirst full-length collection, I’m incredibly excited to see it out in theworld.
2 - How didyou come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?
I was encouragedwhen I was still in junior high school by my English teacher, Mrs. Leppard. Iremember her putting together a compilation of pieces written by students, andwhen one of my poems was chosen I felt incredibly proud. I continued writingpoetry throughout university, and after my kids were born. It wasn’t veryaccomplished or well edited, but poetry was a way for me to write in the briefspells of time I had in between working and mothering. As they have grown Ihave been able to spend more focused time, be more thoughtful and consistent. I’ddefinitely like to write essays or fiction; perhaps that is on the horizon.
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?
I amconstantly writing things that come to mind, and collect them in notebooks oron my phone if I don’t have a pen and paper. I also often make voice memos tomyself, and transcribe them every coupleof months. This particular project was done over several years, so I had a lotof disorganized pieces to go through and make sense of!
Lately as Ihave been dealing with the effects of long covid I find myself coming acrosssnippets of writing, and I cannot remember when they are from, or the contextunder which I wrote them. So I am accumulating a collection of verses that aresimply phrases I like the sound of, or evoke certain feelings, which is provingto be an interesting way to put together a project.
4 - Wheredoes a poem usually begin for you? Are you an author of short pieces that endup combining into a larger project, or are you working on a "book"from the very beginning?
I thinkthat my ideas grow out of what I happen to be obsessing over at the time. I don’tpurposefully create a book, but I do like to deeply explore concepts and getlost in research, so that seems to organically take shape as a larger body ofwork. Sometimes it feels as though the idea of putting together a collection isintimidating, as I have a few half-formed manuscripts that were supposed to be ‘books.’In the last several years, though, I have become more comfortable with takingthings apart and letting them go, whether it is individual poems or acollection.
5 - Arepublic readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sortof writer who enjoys doing readings?
Havinghelped organized readings in the past, I found them really quite inspiring andimportant in terms of hearing the work of others, as well as sharing my own.Poetry in particular has always seemed to me a kind of art form that enjoysbeing read aloud. I love hearing writers interpret their work in their ownvoice, I think you hear things that you might miss just reading from the page.With this book I have had a few opportunities already to read at differentevents, and it seems to bring a life to the project that is invigorating on adifferent level.
6 - Do youhave any theoretical concerns behind your writing? What kinds of questions areyou trying to answer with your work? What do you even think the current questionsare?
That’s adifficult one. I don’t know that I have contemplated much in the way oftheoretical concerns, aside from my own emotional processes. In the past I wasoften mired in wanting to say something ‘important,’ and I struggled withfeeling reluctant to share my writing. Now I appreciate the fact that all of ushave important experiences and perspectives to share, so perhaps I might saythat one current consideration is to be generous with our reading and writing,and to make space for embracing a variety of questions and answers, especiallyfrom voices that are not traditionally heard.
7 – What do you see the current role of thewriter being in larger culture? Do they even have one? What do you think therole of the writer should be?
I work in alibrary, so I see first hand the influence of writers in people’s lives. It’squite amazing, really, how many books circulate, and how attached people get tocertain authors. How excited they are when their holds arrive, how disappointedthey are when we don’t have something they are looking for on the shelf. Howmuch they love to talk about a book they really enjoyed, with staff and withstrangers. I think if writers could see the interactions we have with thepublic they would feel quite proud of the pivotal role they play in creatingcommunity.
8 - Do youfind the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (orboth)?
A Road Map for Finding Wild Horses was my first opportunity towork closely with an editor, and it was a transformative experience. I was veryfortunate to work with Di Brandt, and she asked a lot of questions that helpedme clarify what I was wanting to convey in the manuscript. So in that sense, itwas definitely both; difficult because I was confronted with the potentialweaknesses in my writing, and at the same time essential, because I was able todig deep to answer those questions.
9 - What isthe best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?
When I was working with Di, at one pointshe told me ‘you need to trust your writing more,’ and I was really struck bythat. I think there are a lot of moments (for myself, at least!) wheresecond-guessing the words on the page becomes a habit, and the idea of givingourselves permission to believe in what we write can be very liberating.
10 - Howeasy has it been for you to move between genres (poetry to photography)? Whatdo you see as the appeal?
In many ways I see both my visual artpractice and my writing practice as a conversation—there are times when I don’thave much to say in writing, and I turn to photography or printmaking toexpress what I am processing at the moment. Other days writing takes over, andI will spend weeks without picking up my camera. There is a certain amount ofcomfort in knowing that if the words aren’t at my fingertips, I still have waysof finding a creative outlet. It also means I am looking at the world in amulti-faceted way: sometimes I see or experience a moment and words come tomind, while other times I am struck by the particular way the light is just so,and feel the need to create a photograph.
11 - Whatkind of writing routine do you tend to keep, or do you even have one? How doesa typical day (for you) begin?
It isreally only in the past couple of years that I’ve been able to develop any kindof writing routine. In the past I always just found bits of time here andthere, late at night when everyone had gone to bed, or perhaps during the oddretreat away from home. Now I am able to sit and focus more consistently, butit is definitely a practice I am still working on.
12 - Whenyour writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of abetter word) inspiration?
I had tokind of laugh at this question, because my writing has been a constant sort ofjourney of starts and stops. I’ve learned to find inspiration in little things,as that is often what life is composed of; unfolding moments that make youpause. Sunsets that take your breath away, music that makes you teary. Reallyappreciating small accomplishments, or even the ability to have the time torest and breathe in between the bustle.
13 - Whatwas your last Hallowe'en costume?
A witch, Ithink? I still have this fabulous witch hat I used to wear on Hallowe’en when Idid library story times.
14 - DavidW. McFadden once said that books come from books, but are there any other formsthat influence your work, whether nature, music, science or visual art?
Yes, all ofit! Especially since much of what I write about is the interconnectedness oflife, how loss of that connection spurs grief, how rediscovery of it can openus up in so many ways. All of these modes of expression are avenues forexploring our relationships with one another and the world around us.
15 - Whatother writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your lifeoutside of your work?
I havealways been buoyed by friends who are fellow writers. I think it has been that encouragementand support that kept me on the path, because there were many moments when Ifelt discouraged or ready to shove ideas in the drawer. Dear friends like Jenna Butler, Shawna Lemay, Marita Dachsel… reading their writing has been sustainingin some dark moments because it feels like having a conversation with them.
16 - Whatwould you like to do that you haven't yet done?
Oh gosh, somany things. Before I became ill, I was actually booked on a trip to SableIsland, to photograph the wild horses there. I still plan on doing that. I alsodream of photographing Polar bears in the north; that trip definitely requiresmore planning, but the time I have to actually make it there feels pressing asour climate radically shifts. I also look forward to the day I go to Montrealto see one of my sons perform; he’s studying jazz at university and will bedoing his final recital soon. That will be a proud day.
17 - If youcould 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 a writer?
I oftenthink I would have liked to have been a teacher; my husband is a teacher andthe stories he brings home have become a part of our family mythology now. Iwas always struck by what a difference he made in many of his student’s lives.But now my oldest son is also becoming a teacher, so I will live vicariously!
18 - Whatmade you write, as opposed to doing something else?
Writing wassomething I often turned to as a child. I had no siblings so spent a lot oftime alone, immersed in creating other worlds, and writing became a sort ofrefuge. During the years of raising a family, writing was often the same kindof respite, but in the sense that I had a place to go and decompress, exploremy thoughts while caught in the tangle of parenting and working and all theother things life entails.
19 - Whatwas the last great book you read? What was the last great film?
Mostrecently I have been reading and thoroughly enjoying Jasmine Odor’s newestnovel, The Harvesters. We just watched American Fiction which was based on the novel Erasure, it was really well done.
20 - Whatare you currently working on?
Lately Ihave had to focus on health and recovery, which has meant finding new ways toincorporate writing and creative expression, as it is difficult to sustain anykind of activity, mental or physical. I find being in natural spaces is one ofthe things that is truly healing, so a lot of what I am writing is based on myexperience with trying to access those spaces while also being limited in mycapacity. I also find myself writing about aging, the mother wound, and climateanxiety, capitalism and the politics of care, how to embrace beauty and loveand being flawed.
