12 or 20 (second series) questions with Angel T. Dionne
Angel T. Dionne is an associate professorof English literature at the University of Moncton's Edmundston campus. Sheholds a PhD in creative writing from the University of Pretoria and is thefounding editor of Vroom Lit Magazine. Her writing and art have beenfeatured in several experimental publications.
She is the author of a full-length collection of short fiction, Sardines(ClarionLit, 2023) and two chapbooks, Inanimate Objects (BottlecapPress, 2022) and Mormyridae (LJMcD Communications, 2024). She is alsothe co-editor of Rape Culture 101: Programming Change (Demeter Press,2020). Her full-length poetry collection, Bird Ornaments, is forthcomingwith Broken Tribe Press in early 2025.
1 - How did your first book or chapbook change your life? How does yourmost recent work compare to your previous? How does it feel different?
My first book, a chapbook of what I call “strange” flash fiction titled InanimateObjects, gave me a big confidence boost. I remember getting the acceptanceemail and thinking, “Hey, maybe my work is worth reading.” That validationpushed me to send in my full-length story collection, Sardines andeventually, my forthcoming collection of surrealist poetry. I feel less constrainedby self-doubt.
2 - How did you come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction ornon-fiction?
I came to fiction first. I toyed with poetry here and there in my lateteens and early twenties, but fiction always felt like home. It wasn’t until Ibecame interested in the surrealist movement that I began to seriously considerwriting poetry. I love the freedom that surrealism offers. Before, I viewedpoetry as more constrained and “stuffier” than prose. I write fiction, ofcourse, but I have a much deeper appreciation for poetry than I did when I wasyounger.
3 - How long does it take to start any particular writing project? Doesyour writing initially come quickly, or is it a slow process? Do first draftsappear looking close to their final shape, or does your work come out ofcopious notes?
I call my first drafts dumpster fires because that’s exactly what theyare – flaming messes. Over time, I’ve learned that this part of my writingprocess. If I try to write a first drafts that’s too close to its final shape,I become paralyzed by the idea of perfection. I usually write my poetry andprose in a fit of wild inspiration, followed by a much slower and moremethodical editing process.
4 - Where does a poem or work of fiction usually begin for you? Are youan author of short pieces that end up combining into a larger project, or areyou working on a "book" from the very beginning?
I’m drawn to short forms. My first book, Sardines, is a collection ofshort stories. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to stretch a story into afull-length novel. I focus on what I call “cramped” stories – stories that takeplace in limited settings, stories that have one or two characters at most,etc. It’s difficult to stretch this style of writing into a novel that peoplewould want to read. It’s the same with poetry. I prefer shorter pieces. Ibelieve there’s real beauty in brevity.
5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Areyou the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
Would it be wrong to call them a necessary evil? Public readings sellbooks. They give you a very important opportunity to meet people and network. Thebest readings are those that take place in bars and little cafés because thevibe tends to be more casual. I often try to advertise my readings as “openmic.” After I do my reading and sign a few books, I open the floor to otherwriters and musicians who want to come share. That takes the pressure off. Istruggle with readings because I’m extremely introverted.
6 - Do you have any theoretical concerns behind your writing? What kindsof questions are you trying to answer with your work? What do you even thinkthe current questions are?
With Sardines, I used fiction to explore the concept ofunresolved, existential guilt. Martin Buber’s paper, “Guilt and Guilt Feeling,”was a big inspiration for this collection. The characters in the storiesstruggle with guilt in one form or another but are ultimately unable to resolveit in a meaningful way. Bird Ornaments is a bit more difficult to define.The poems the juxtaposition of unrelated elements to focus on the language ofthe body and the dream-like that exists within the mundane.
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?
Five years ago, I might have given a different answer. Now with AI beingat our fingertips, I think the writer’s role is to be uniquely human. Sure, AIcan generate text and visual images, but can it truly create? True art andwriting necessitates lived experience and emotion. These forms of expressionare ultimately going to separate human from machine.
I once had my students use AI to generate poems about loss. Then, theyread a poem written by a former student of mine. All agreed that the AI poemlacked that human experience of what it means to deal with loss. At best, itwas an empty husk of a poem. The role of a writer, and my role as I see it, isto show others that creation is necessary and that it forms the foundation ofwhat it means to be human.
8 - Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficultor essential (or both)?
I’m extremely fortunate to be working on Bird Ornaments withWilliam Lawrence from Broken Tribe Press. He’s the head editor and working withhim has been an absolute pleasure. He’s helped me refine my work without losingits essence.
9 - What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily givento you directly)?
A good first draft is a done first draft.
10 - How easy has it been for you to move between genres (poetry tofiction)? What do you see as the appeal?
Since discovering surrealist writing, I’ve found it easier to move betweenpoetry to fiction rather. I’ve also started experimenting with surrealistvisual art, which nicely complements my writing. My fiction tends more towardsthe literary, while my poetry is almost always surrealist or experimental. Ithink my earlier attempts to limit myself to just “literary” writing might bewhy I struggled with poetry in the past. I don’t have much to say about thechanging of seasons, but I can certainly tell you about flowers blooming froman infected gout toe.
11 - What kind of writing routine do you tend to keep, or do you evenhave one? How does a typical day (for you) begin?
I wish I had a routine! I tell my students to try and find one, but Ialso tell them that some people work better without them. It’s funny because inmy daily life, I thrive on routine. When it comes to writing, I work in spurts– weeks of nothing, then suddenly a burst of frenzied productivity.
12 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (forlack of a better word) inspiration?
I don’t force it. I was once told that writing is a job. You don’t waitfor the muses to descend; you sit down, and you write no matter what. Thatnever worked for me personally. I’ve learned that trying to say something whenI really have nothing to say is counterproductive. I need to trust my ownprocess.
13 - What fragrance reminds you of home?
Vick’s vapour rub brings me back to my childhood. I still use it when I’msick, of course, but sometimes I’ll use a little when I’m feeling anxious.
14 - David W. McFadden once said that books come from books, but arethere any other forms that influence your work, whether nature, music, scienceor visual art?
Visual art has over the years been a huge influence on me as a writer.I’m inspired by artists like Rene Magritte, Leonora Carrington, Unica Zürn, andFelix Nussbaum. I also think there are some wonderful young artists to discoveron social media. Toby Ross, a young surrealist painter from the UK, has a knackfor creating work that feels like a fever dream.
15 - What other writers or writings are important for your work, orsimply your life outside of your work?
For fiction: Bernard Malamud, Anzia Yezierska, and the philosophy ofMartin Buber.
For poetry: the surrealists, especially Andre Breton.
I can’t forget my students, who are always willing to experiment withtheir writing. They each have something to teach me.
16 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
I’d love to learn the violin but unlike my grandfather and my brother,I’m not musically gifted.
17 - If you 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 notbeen a writer?
I’m a writer, but I’m also a professor, which has always been my dreamjob. If I wasn’t a writer or professor, maybe I’d be a veterinarian. I imagineit would be emotionally exhausting, though.
18 - What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
My mother made me into a storyteller. I grew up in a challenging home environment,and she would tell me bedtime stories to make sure I went to bed with apositive mindset. She’d then have me make up my own stories. This helpeddevelop my creativity and love of storytelling at a young age.
She always hoped I’d become a writer but when I started my undergraduatestudies, I chose biology and pre-med. I ended up switching to literature andwriting. She was happy that I switched, which is sort of the opposite reactionmost parents would have.
19 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?
Rachel Yoder’s Nightbitch was a brilliant, disturbing read. I alsorecently reread Bernard Malamud’s TheFixer.
One film that I recently enjoyed was Hereditary. It’s an artfully done piece of horror cinema.I discover something new, like a small (yet meaningful) word etched into thewall behind a character’s bed, each time I watch it.
20 - What are you currently working on?
I’m working on another surrealist collection. It doesn’t have a titleyet, but it’s coming together in in small bursts. It’s likely going to be ahybrid collection of surrealist poetry and prose vignettes.
