12 or 20 (second series) questions with Tea Gerbeza

Tea Gerbeza is a neuroqueer disabled writer andmultimedia artist. She has an MFA in Writing from the University ofSaskatchewan and an MA in English & Creative Writing from the University ofRegina. She is the winner of the Ex-Puritan’s 2022 Austin Clarke Prizein Literary Excellence for poetry, and has published widely in magazinesincluding ARC magazine, Action Spectacle, The PoetryFoundation, Wordgathering, and Contemporary Verse 2, amongothers. Tea resides in oskana kâ-asastêki in Treaty 4 territory (Regina, SK)with her spouse, three dogs, and cat. How I Bend Into More is her firstbook. She hopes you spiral art from its pages.

How did your first book change yourlife? How does your most recent work compare to your previous? How does it feeldifferent?

My debut, How I Bend Into More,changed my life in many ways, the biggest being that I finally articulated the experiencethat shaped who I am the most and learned so much from that process. This bookwas transformative for my style and voice as a poet because I discovered blendingverse and art and making them work together is integral to my poetry. I’vefervently been sketching in my notebook the possibilities of paper quilling andverse for one of my projects that is concerned with using the paper strips asmodes of memory (postmemory, intergenerational trauma, cellular memory frommother to child) and reaching toward a past self to understand the aftereffectsof war on a family.

How did you come to poetry first, asopposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?

This is a funny question because Iactually came to poetry last in my writing journey, despite it being the firstgenre I published in. I wrote only fiction while in high school and earlyundergrad, and I dabbled with creative nonfiction in my Master’s program at theUniversity of Regina, but once poetry seeded itself in me, I realized that theform that held the most space for my playfulness and experimentation waspoetry. The rules were as I made them so long as the poem taught its reader howto read it.

How long does it take to start anyparticular writing project? Does your writing initially come quickly, or is ita slow process? Do first drafts appear looking close to their final shape, ordoes your work come out of copious notes?

Everything I do is slow; I create inqueer crip time. The writing happens gradually—I usually have a grasp of anidea for a poem and then I let that idea percolate until I’m able to get myjournal out and write the first draft by hand, which then I’ll transcribe to mycomputer to continue working on it. I make copious lists in my notebook whentrying to work out a poem, but typically after a few drafts on my laptop, itsshape is usually figured out; though, sometimes the shape changes drasticallyif I have an epiphany while I’m paper-quilling and thinking about the poem. Assomeone with an unpredictable body, I invite unpredictability into my poems,too.

Where does a poem usually begin foryou? 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?

My poems usually begin at the end. Theending line or feeling is the charm I hold close when I start, even if the originalending changes in revision. Endings make me consider “what needs to come first”before I can reach my desired destination. To answer the next question, I’d sayI’m typically a project girlie—much of what I write is usually connected to anoverarching idea or narrative, so I guess you could say I’m working on a “book”from the beginning. I am a long poem poet, so this tracks.

Are public readings part of or counterto your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?

I love public readings. While I getintensely nervous and nothing brings out my imposter syndrome more than beingin front of a crowd, the energy of a room really moves me. Once I get my rhythmgoing, I’m good. I adore hearing people’s cheesecake mmms when a poem resonates.Readings are intimate spaces, especially when I meet a writer I’ve never metbefore but get to read with—that is such a rich ground for friendship. I metone of my good friends, Spenser Smith that way when Spenser launched ABrief Relief From Hunger in Regina.

Do you have any theoretical concernsbehind your writing? What kinds of questions are you trying to answer with yourwork? What do you even think the current questions are?

Oh this is a tough one! Yes, Iabsolutely have theoretical questions behind all the work I do. I’ll letreaders of my book determine the theoretical underpinings of How I Bend IntoMore, but I’ll give insight into some of the theoretical questions I’mworking with in my current projects. I’m working on a few different projectsright now—one is about my family and our experience during/after theYugoslavian Civil War (a.k.a Bosnian War of the 1990s) and this work, so far, isinterested in memory, notably intergenerational trauma and postmemory. Thisproject’s current theoretical concerns explore what memories become stories inthe child’s body from the mother and once I become a mother, what stories willbe passed from me to my child, and all the complexities that live there.Another question I ask is: what traumas are imbedded in my body, in my mother’s,in my father’s, and how do these traumas affect us as we make a life here inSaskatchewan? How did/do we survive under so much pain? My other two projectscenter their questions around friendship and care, particularly queer disabledplatonic friendships. I ask: what happens when spoons are low and our carenetworks aren’t expansive? What are the tensions in these friendships? Whatdoes care look like in a disabled queer context?

Do you find the process of workingwith an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?

Definitely essential! A well-trainededitor can pick out the places in a manuscript where the poem(s) don’t sing asstrongly as those around them. It’s also especially helpful to be able tobounce ideas off of another person that has thought about your work intimatelyand thoroughly. I also love a good, ruthless cut. Revision is my favourite partof the writing process.

Working with my editor, Jim Johnstone,was magic. He was so attuned to my work that he helped me cut chunks of thelong poem, in turn making the poem tighter, and lifting my voice to thesurface. I couldn’t have done that without him and his keen editorial eye.There’s a richness in the relationship between writer and editor, and often thecollaboration brings out the poetry in a whole new way that only strengthensthe manuscript. It’s all very gratifying work.

What is the best piece of adviceyou've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?

My favourite writing advice came fromJes Battis, who told me to “write within my own rhythms,” and this transformedthe way I thought about routine and practice. I actually have Jes’ advicewritten on a sticky note plastered to my wall beside my desk. As a disabledperson with an unpredictable body, writing every single day is not possible. Sowhat do I do? I figure out my own rhythms and work within them. I resent theableist notion that to be a writer one must write everyday—that’s simplyuntrue. I think writing within your own rhythms and practicing softness is muchmore beneficial.

How easy has it been for you to movebetween genres (poetry to fiction to visual art)? What do you see as theappeal?

I find it particularly easy becauseI’m constantly thinking in poetry and visual art and their intersections. Mypaper quilling is interconnected to my poetry in many ways (my conceptual work,especially, often explores similar themes to my poetry, so they are oftenworking together to convey the message, as seen in How I Bend Into More).Fiction is harder for me and takes me much longer to finish a piece. I’mintimidated by fiction—and therefore less confident about the stories Iwrite—but the genre excites me, and gives a different kind of space to exploresome themes I’m interested in (like friendship, for example).

What kind of writing routine do youtend to keep, or do you even have one? How does a typical day (for you) begin?

Again, my routine often is reliant onwhat my bodymind is like on any given day. What I try to do is useFriday-Sunday mornings as writing days, however the writing becomes. A Fridaymorning begins with making coffee, going to the couch in my pajamas and havingmy cat lay on my chest as I read a book. Coffee gone cold, I’ll get up and gomake more and sit at my dining table or desk and write in my journal (or get towork on a poem that I’m in the middle of). Other times, after the coffee hasgone cold, I’ll go to my favourite café and have an americano and work therefor a couple hours. On Sundays, I meet with a group of friends to write for anhour in the morning (bodymind allowing) over Zoom. During the week, I work myday job and usually come home exhausted, so no writing gets done in theevenings; however, if I get inspired throughout the day I’ll make a note in myjournal or email myself.

When your writing gets stalled, wheredo you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?

I consume stories, whether that be abook, a TV show, or a movie. If I’m particularly moved by something, thatusually sparks me. Sometimes, it’s as simple as I need to do something else, soI’ll go and make paper-quilled shapes to make my brain work itself out.

What fragrance reminds you of home?

That very specific smell that dogguardians will understand of when a dog comes inside after being outside duringa particularly cold day.

David W. McFadden once said that bookscome from books, but are there any other forms that influence your work,whether nature, music, science or visual art?

Oh absolutely. Visual art definitelyinfluences my work, but so does music (I’m always listening to music when Iwrite). Nature impacts me because I feel the most calm when outdoors. I workthrough any of the day’s anxieties when on a walk, a bike ride, or sitting ingrass under the sun. In the spring/summer, I begin each day in my backyard withmy dogs and cat in the morning sun reading poetry. Friendship, as a form, is alsoa huge influence on my work.

What other writers or writings areimportant for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?

Oh, there are so, so many people thatI admire and whose work was important for this book and beyond. I’ll do my bestto name some whose work really helped inform my book and my understandingsaround poetics, disability, pain, memory, and the bodymind. Among them: RaymondAntrobus, Courtney Bates-Hardy, Roxanna Bennett, Elena Bentley, Victoria Chang, Leanne Charette, Chen Chen, Travis ChiWing Lau, Meg Day, Sarah Ens, Therese Estacion, Laura Ferguson, torrin a.greathouse, Carla Harris, Johanna Hedva, Leah Horlick, Karl Knights, Diana KhoiNguyen, Amanda Leduc, Molly McCully Brown, Arianna Monet, Walela Nehanda,Emilia Nielsen, Dominik Parisien, Nisha Patel, Jason Purcell, Rebecca Salazar,Jennifer Still, Jane Shi, Lauren Turner, Daniel Scott Tysdal, and JillianWeise. There are numerous others that there’s just not enough room for me toname everyone!

What would you like to do that youhaven't yet done?

I’d really love to put together astand-up comedy piece and perform it.

If you could pick any other occupationto attempt, what would it be? Or, alternately, what do you think you would haveended up doing had you not been a writer?

I think I’d always be a creativeperson, so I’d probably find myself as a hair stylist or florist, or perhaps, adog groomer.

What made you write, as opposed todoing something else?

A feeling of immense joy followed by asigh of relief. I also really love being playful in my interrogations andwriting allows that. Writing also gives me the excuse to do ample research onrandom topics I’m interested in.

What was the last great book you read?

How to Tell When We Will Die by Johanna Hedva. Everyone should readthis book.

What are you currently working on?

I’m working on two poetry projects: one is about mine and myparents’ experience during/after the Yugoslavian Civil War (partly acontinuation of How I Bend Into More, but more focused on memory,trauma, and relationships), and the other is about disabled queer friendships(essentially love poems to my friends, haha). Then, I’m working on a fictionproject that also explores friendship between disabled queer friends. All ofthese are in pretty early stages.

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