12 or 20 (second series) questions with Sean Minogue
Sean Minogue is amultidisciplinary writer whose work has appeared on stages and screens, inmagazines, and online. His stories, poems, and essays have been published in Lithub,ARC Poetry Magazine, Maudlin House, THIS Magazine, FullStop, The Globe and Mail, and elsewhere. In 2017, Sean’s play Prodigalswas produced as a feature film. Terminal Solstice is his debut novel.
1 - How does your most recent work compare toyour previous? How does it feel different?
Terminal Solstice is my first big fiction project. Before the first draft, I had nomental canvas for writing a book. I didn’t understand what the informationshould feel like in my mind. I have that familiarity with screenplays and plays– they’re still hard to write, but I at least ‘get’ their shape. With anovel, I had to build a much larger creative scaffold.
Switching mediums is like being a competenttrumpeter and suddenly looking down at a harpsichord and wondering what thehell compelled you to try something new.
2 - How did you come to fiction first, asopposed to, say, poetry or non-fiction?
I was a late literary bloomer. Whenever I hearabout writers who discovered their love for telling stories at a young age, andthen they went on to publish their first book in their early twenties, itsounds so alien to me. I never felt any calling as a kid. I had zero ambitionuntil I left home.
As a teenager in Sault Ste. Marie, I was mostlyplaying in bands or watching TV. When everyone started making plans for thefuture, I decided to cling to English Lit because that was the only subjectwhere I understood what people were talking about.
But after a few years of university lectures onChaucer and Thackeray, I fled to the West Coast and started writing for kidscartoons while churning out spec screenplays that were never made. I only setmy sights on a big fiction project after I moved back to Ontario.
3 - 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?
Starting is the easiest part for me. It’s thebest. You get to make these big promises that some later version of yourselfwill have to fulfill. Writing only gets hard once I paint myself into a cornerand the adult ‘me’ has to swoop in with an exit strategy.
My journey toward becoming a productive writerhas been focused on being more economical with my creative time. Now, I startfewer projects and finish more of them.
4 - Where does a poem, play or work of fictionusually begin for you? Are you an author of short pieces that end up combininginto a larger project, or are you working on a "book" from the verybeginning?
With Terminal Solstice, I knew I wastrying to write a book. I just didn’t know if I’d be able to finish it, letalone get a publisher’s attention. The starting point was a central fantasticalconcept (i.e., what if time froze but a few people were unaffected). Then Ifound myself developing three main characters who were all stuck at transitionpoints in their lives. It was unintentional but felt correct.
My play, Prodigals, which will bepublished this August by Latitude 46, started with a group of friends shoutingover each other on the page. There was no initial structure. I was just tryingto make myself laugh and channel the guys I grew up with. It became a playbecause I happened to see a call for submissions from a theatre company.
In summary: I have no idea how creativity works,but I’m glad that it does.
5 - Are public readings part of or counter toyour creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
Thankfully, my time in the spotlight has beenbrief until now. I prefer informal occasions where you can unwind a bit andhave a laugh or a productive argument about something interesting.
6 - Do you have any theoretical concerns behindyour writing? What kinds of questions are you trying to answer with your work?What do you even think the current questions are?
I think every writer has some unconsciousbaggage they’re working through. Someone with a long list of books to theirname might be able to look back and recognize a thread running through them,like a preoccupation with self-destructive relationships or a belief thatpolitics corrupt art, or whatever. I don’t have that perspective yet.
I wish I were a writer with grand philosophicalobsessions, but I think my creative process is more playful. I like storiesthat are accidentally bent and then stubbornly reinforced to strengthen thatquality. My plays feature on-stage characters who are deeply troubled byoff-stage characters. A recent short story of mine follows a guy waiting toanalyze soil samples from Mars and he accidentally gets high at a marketingparty. Terminal Solstice is built around an otherworldly globalphenomenon that is a mystery to everyone impacted by it.
I think there’s a weird wisdom sloshing aroundin our unconscious mind. Writing provides a means for expressing it. If I havea theory at all, it might be that a good story requires getting out of theway.
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 think writers should possess an ability tobullshit, but they’re at their best when calling bullshit. Anyone who can offercogent, broadly digestible insight for our current moment is in possession of asuperpower. Not everyone can do this. Even great writers struggle to make apoint. Clarity of thought is the ultimate goal, in my mind.
8 - Do you find the process of working with anoutside editor difficult or essential (or both)?
I’ve been lucky enough to collaborate with somereally thoughtful, empathetic folks who have supported me through differentprojects. Sometimes the work doesn’t reach the finish line, but the quality ofcollaboration is such a pleasure that I grow as a result. For me, this is anessential part of turning something that could be interesting intosomething that is interesting.
It takes a special kind of person to get onboard with a writer who’s attempting a feat they don’t know they can pull off.I’ve also encountered some folks who offer more notes than insight. Though,even that can be valuable. As a writer, you’ve got to know how to argue againsta bad note. The process sharpens your storytelling.
9 - What is the best piece of advice you'veheard (not necessarily given to you directly)?
Did you ever see that old Ira Glass video thatmade the rounds on YouTube forever ago? He talks about how, when you’re firststarting out as a professional storyteller, the gap between your skill set andyour critical taste is immense. So, when you start creating your own work, itobviously sucks. And then you feel bad and that’s when most people quit. But ifyou create a second thing, and then a third, you start narrowing the gap. Ialways considered that a helpful way of thinking about a writer’s journey.
And then there’s George Saunders. He’s one ofthe best thinkers on how writing works from a writer’s perspective (vs. acritic’s perspective). I adore his whole approach to creativity. A Swim in a Pond in the Rain is bursting with the most generous, thoughtful insightinto the mysteries of great writing. Can’t recommend him enough.
10 - How easy has it been for you to movebetween genres (poetry to fiction to plays to non-fiction)? What do you see asthe appeal?
I’ve moved around a lot, genre-wise. My primaryfocus right now is fiction, but I could totally see myself jumping into somethingelse if an opportunity presented itself. My day job is copywriting, so I’malways engaged with shaping sentences and paragraphs. I think fluidity betweendifferent forms strengthens your ability to express creative ideas.
11 - What kind of writing routine do you tend tokeep, or do you even have one? How does a typical day (for you) begin?
I never had a proper routine until kids cameinto my life. Then, all of a sudden, I had to account for every minute of theday. Now, I write most nights once the house is calm and I can get in a solidhour of coherent thought.
I treat my writing time the same way as theearly morning rush to get the kids out the door. There’s a ticking clock thatdoesn’t care about my muse or whatever. It’s either type or go to bed. Then,when I go to bed, I’m full of angst about what I didn’t get done. Rinse,repeat.
12 - When your writing gets stalled, where doyou turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?
I don’t really experience writers’ block, but Idefinitely go through periods where I think everything I write is terrible. I‘mjust too stubborn or delusional to stop.
The most reliable way for me to get back into aconfident space is through watching movies. I’ll put on Sidney Lumet’s TheVerdict a couple of times a year, along with Terry Gilliam’s Brazilor anything from . If I’m really bummed out, I’ll dig out theoriginal Law & Order seasons.
13 - What fragrance reminds you of home?
Cedar bushes in the summer. And welded metal,for some reason?
14 - David W. McFadden once said that books comefrom books, but are there any other forms that influence your work, whethernature, music, science or visual art?
Early episodes of the Radiolab podcast were abig source of inspiration for Terminal Solstice. They did one aboutCRISPR in 2015 that blew my mind at the time (“Antibodies”). I also listento a ton of music on Bandcamp and try to keep my tastes evolving. I never wantto be the old dude who has four albums he listens to over and over again.
During the pandemic, I started picking upphotobooks. Gregory Crewdson’s work is incredible and really captures the kindof frozen-world creepiness I was thinking about for my novel.
15 - What other writers or writings areimportant for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?
I’m a sucker for Paris Review interviews.It’s my favourite thing to read. I love hearing about the personal dramas thatimpact a writer and how they respond to setbacks over a lifetime of creativework. Brick journal publishes good ones too. (Not to mention robmclennan’s blog.)
16 - What would you like to do that you haven'tyet done?
Make stable money as a writer.
17 - If you could pick any other occupation toattempt, what would it be? Or, alternately, what do you think you would haveended up doing had you not been a writer?
Since becoming a parent, I’ve discovered a lovefor science and math. I never understood either subject as a kid, so I’m comingto both with fresh eyes.
I think I could’ve found my place as anunderling in a research lab somewhere. There’s a ton of creativity involved inthese fields, and I wish schools made more of an effort to communicate that tokids who have trouble engaging with STEM.
18 - What made you write, as opposed to doingsomething else?
I was drawn to writing because it gels with my conflictedintroversion. I enjoy small bursts of manic activity but then get worn out bycrowds. The best way to refresh my brain is expressing the tension into somewritten form. It’s like wringing out a wet cloth.
Also, I can’t discount how important it was tohear teachers compliment my writing as a high school student. I wasn’tinterested in pursuing anything at that point, but the latent sense that I wasgood at something really made a difference when it came time to choose apath.
19 - What was the last great book you read? Whatwas the last great film?
I really enjoyed Prophet Song by PaulLynch. It’s a terrifying book that feels like it’s forecasting the worst yet tocome in the United States. Rot: An Imperial History of the IrishFamine by Padraic X. Scanlan is a must-read for anyone who wants tounderstand how a caustic political ideology can hasten social collapse. I alsogot a kick out of Kneecap the movie (noticing an Irish theme yet?).
20 - What are you currently working on?
I’m in the earliest days of a new book idea. Notsure if this will become something, but I can feel the pull to getstarted.
