12 or 20 (second series) questions with sophie anne edwards
sophie anne edwards is anenvironmental artist and writer who works on and off the page, at her desk andin the bush. Her first collection of visual and text-based poetry, Conversations with the Kagawong River(Talonbooks) was recommended by CBC as an October 'must read', and made bothCBC's and Quill & Quire's most anticipated fall release lists. Herwork has appeared in Empty Mirror, The Capilano Review, CNQ, and the Pi Reviewamong others. A graduate of the Humber College creative writing certificateprogram, she was longlisted for the 2021 CBC poetry prize, as well as ArcPoetry Magazine's 2019 Poem of the Year. Recently, she was long-listed forOmnidawn's 1st/2nd book prize. She's been generously supported by the CanadaCouncil for the Arts, and the Ontario Arts Council. Born and raised in NorthernOntario, she lives on Manitoulin Island with her dog Bea and a roster of other Wooferswho help in the garden.
1 -How did your first book or chapbook change your life? How does your most recentwork compare to your previous? How does it feel different?
Seeingmy debut book of poetry out in the world is wonderful, but really, it’s thewriting itself that changed my life, not the book itself. Writing after wantingto write for so very long has been very healing and fulfilling for me,confidence- and community-building. In the process of writing the book Iconnected with so many incredible writers and had the opportunity to attend anumber of writing residencies. I remember people in the upper years of myliterature program being very competitive, so I think I was half expectingsomething similar in the writing community, but instead I’ve found that writershave been generous, thoughtful, and supportive, which has been so uplifting.
2 -How did you come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?
I’dsay it came to me. I didn’t aim to write a book, and not a book of poetry whenI started spending time at the River. I followed the process and found my wayto what became a very interdisciplinary, multi-tributary book.
3 -How long does it take to start any particular writing project? Does yourwriting initially come quickly, or is it a slow process? Do first drafts appearlooking close to their final shape, or does your work come out of copiousnotes?
Thirty-fiveyears? Almost forty? I was seven when I decided I wanted to write books. Butchildhood aside, I’ve had a number of books floating in my head for many years.Some of the writing happens in my head – it floats around, gathers threads,forms and reforms itself – and comes out on the page ‘quickly’ once I getstarted, then I build it up, or edit it down. Other stuff is very slow – Istart something and it just doesn't gel, so I leave it. I’m obsessed withnotebooks. I don’t journal anymore, but I have loads of sketch- and notebooksin which I jot thoughts, gather quotes and references. I’ve learned to numberthe pages, and keep a reference at the back of each notebook so I can findvarious thoughts later when I sit down to write. My work feels like research. Ithink of my poetry as non-fiction, so I tend to approach the process in a fieldresearch way, probably influenced by my time working on a Geography PhD. Ioften work in analogue ways, as with the notebooks. I use my typewriters a lot.I write drafts in them, or build up notes as I type, then I eventuallytranscribe those to the computer and rework or edit them on the computer. Icreate visual maps of what I’m thinking, and spread stuff around. So, the shortanswer is it sometimes comes out in a way that might seem quick after a long,slow, thinking and gathering process.
4 -Where does a poem usually begin for you? Are you an author of short pieces thatend up combining into a larger project, or are you working on a"book" from the very beginning?
I’mpretty new to all this, but I’m finding each ‘thing’ has its own demands, itsown energy and process. My second book, coming out in the fall, is anexperimental novel. The first twenty pages ‘just’ came out of me (again, aftersome of the words circulating in my brain for twenty or so years). The text ofthose pages have pretty much not changed since (although their order has).Those pages defined the shape of the book, the energy of it, the style – I justfollowed those first pages and wrote the rest. The hardest part was finding theorder as it’s not a traditional novel with an arc, more of a twining narrative.For another project – non-fiction – that I’m mid-way on, the concept came firstin combination with some note-taking that didn’t know it was note-taking for aproject. This one needs more development to find its shape, which isn’t quitethere yet.
5 -Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you thesort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
Ididn’t know I would enjoy readings. I live in a pretty rural place, so readingsare a rarity. The Talon launch in Vancouver was my first public reading (apartfrom reading stuff in workshops and at residencies). So now, as a seasoned (ha)reader after four or five events, I’m finding that I enjoy reading the workaloud. The voice does something with the work that isn’t found on the page, andI love the quiet vibe when folks are really into it.
6 -Do you have any theoretical concerns behind your writing? What kinds ofquestions are you trying to answer with your work? What do you even think thecurrent questions are?
Underneatha lot of my writing are my attempts to situate and to understand my love ofthis place as a settler, and to not be complacent about, nostalgic with, or toromanticize that love. I’m also very interested in form, and work thatchallenges the dominance of the page in terms of size, shape, and scale, andwhat that means for language, form, and reading.
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?
Ilove Naropa’s slogan – Making the World Safe for Poetry – and what Anne Waldmansays about that slogan: that if the world is safe for poetry it's safe for manyother things. I think poetry can also make poetry safe for all kinds of ideas,people, histories and make them visible too. Words do work in the world, and Ithink we need to take that seriously. We’ve imagined and constructed a veryparticular kind of world, and I hope writers and poets can help us re-imagine adifferent one.
8 -Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficult oressential (or both)?
Mylimited experience so far shows me it’s kinda like working with a really goodtherapist who’ll call you on your shit, redirect you, and push you to work onstuff between sessions. Writing seems to find itself on/through the page, andsometimes I don’t quite see the connections, the ribbons, the tangles that areeither working for me, or tripping me up. My readers have been like goodtherapists, helping me to see what I need to see more clearly, and alsoreminding me to not be so hard on myself, and encouraging me to go out in theworld.
9 -What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to youdirectly)?
Thereis so much stuff out there about being disciplined, getting up early andstaying up late to get a certain number of words written a day, to beproductive and focused. I’ve found that quite debilitating and difficult givenwhat I have to balance and needing to work within my very variable capacity.Chris Turnbull encouraged me with writing slowly, in my head, to not beburdened by productivity. My own best advice, which I always tell the writers Isupport, is to keep the best hour of each day for myself – whether that’sreading or writing, or thinking about either.
10 -How easy has it been for you to move between genres (poetry to prose tophotography)? What do you see as the appeal?
Inmy River book, prose, poetry and photography are interconnected. I was workingon site-specific, or installation-based poetry as the base, so documentation(photography) went hand-in-hand with that process. The prose was part of myreflection process and just happened as I went. I am always reflecting upon thework I do, it’s just part of the process. I suppose the poetry bit – thetext-based poetry bits – were the hardest part, in terms of requiring moreresearch, more thought, more pen to paper thoughtfulness.
11 -What kind of writing routine do you tend to keep, or do you even have one? Howdoes a typical day (for you) begin?
Ilove it when I spend an hour or so writing or thinking about writing or readingand taking notes in the morning. But that doesn’t happen regularly, as life andthose in my life have their own demands and rhythms. I also have to go by myenergy as I have a couple of chronic conditions that mean I never know how I’llfeel in a day.
12 -When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of abetter word) inspiration?
Thebush. Water. Books. Quiet. I really need quiet and rest to be creative.
13 -What fragrance reminds you of home?
Juniperbushes, pine, lake breeze.
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?
Bookscome from (out of) life and its traumas and inspirations, and for me are alsoentwined with visual art, particularly drawing, installation, and site-specificwork. They resonate and speak with everything, really.
15 -What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your lifeoutside of your work?
That’sa hard one to answer. I have a continually shifting stack(s) of books beside mybed, my desk, the couch … a lot of it is poetry (particularly experimentaland/or visual), but also novels, gardening books. I really love The Capilano Review, Brick, and TNQ. I love spending time with those each time they comeout.
16 -What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
Writing’skinda the thing I hadn’t been doing until my 50’s. So I just want to write. Iam saddened that there is so little time left (certainly the dial is on theshorter side of my life at this point), certainly not enough to write all thebooks in my head. I’ve done all kinds of things before this: curator, waitress,houseplant manager, tomato picker, grant-writer, executive director, organizer,facilitator, after-school art teacher, co-operative sector educator … I wouldlike to write a novel, but I’m not sure I have that kind of steam in me.
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 not been awriter?
Sameanswer at #16. I guess if I wasn’t writing now, I’d probably be doing more workwith the early learning community. I would have liked to have been abiologist/ecologist. I’d love to be a full time gardener.
18 -What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
Couldn’tnot do it anymore.
19 -What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?
Itook a class with Hoa Nguyen recently, and read her A Thousand Times You Lose Your Treasure. So good. Through her, Iread a number of books that just floored me, including Alice Notley’s BeingReflected Upon, WandaColeman’s, WickedEnchantment: Selected Poems, Mei-mei Berssenbrugge’s, ATreatise on Stars (I’ll berereading that one several times for sure), and Cecilia Vicuña’s, SpitTemple.
Ihaven't watched a great film in a while. I have a fond memory of cuddling witha friend; we watched a black and white Japanese film that she picked (I can’tremember the name of the film, sadly). It was slow and gorgeous. Just like ourevening.
20 -What are you currently working on?
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A couple of early learning books that extend mythinking in the early two. I’m in the editing process of an experimental novel,and am about mid-way on a non-fiction project.
