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Author Spotlights

Author spotlight: Philip Moscovitch

Author Spotlights

Philip Moscovitch is a writer and audio producer living in Glen Margaret, Nova Scotia. He is the author of the book Adventures in Bubbles and Brine, producer of the Canadian Museum of Immigration at Pier 21’s French-language podcast D’innombrables voyages, and co-host of the books podcast Dog-eared and Cracked. He is a regular contributor to Saltscapes and the Halifax Examiner. While his focus is mainly non-fiction, he occasionally publishes short fiction and poetry as well. Several of his pandemic-related poems will appear in 2020: An Anthology of Poetry with Drawings by Bill Liebeskind from Black Dog & One-Eyed Press this fall. (Photo Credit: Nicola Davison)

You recently graduated from the University of King’s College with a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Nonfiction. What was your experience of the program?

The program was great. I know several people who have done it, but I had not considered it myself until I had lunch one day with Kim Pittaway, who is the program’s executive director, and also a former WFNS board chair. We got to talking, and I shared some ideas with her for a book I was contemplating writing, and she said, “Have you ever thought about doing the MFA?”

I wrote Adventures in Bubbles and Brine while I was an MFA student, but it wasn’t my MFA project. So I was writing two books at once – I actually got a contract for the book very early on in the process of doing the program. That was stressful and exhausting, but the program itself was great. I learned so much, and I’m happy to recommend it to others. You know I’ve been in this business a long time, but the MFA experience helped me fully realize the kind of writer I want to be.

How does your background as a journalist inform your creative writing practice?

One of the ways I’ve survived as a full-time freelance writer for some 25 years is by doing many different types of work. I’ve done journalism, communications work (of course, I make sure I don’t have any ethical conflicts between these two) French-English translation, documentary film marketing—and on and on and on. And I find in some ways everything informs everything else. Right now I’m working on a draft of a novel, and there is a real exhilaration in just making things up. At the same time, I’ve kept a running list of things I’ve researched in the course of writing it. So far they include measuring moisture levels in firewood, when Plenty of Fish launched, features of hydraulic lifts for service stations, and the popularity of the name Walter by decade. I value insight, accuracy, and paying attention to details, no matter what I’m writing.

One of the things I love about your book, Adventures in Bubbles and Brine, is how it incorporates so many different elements—interviews, recipes, history—to tell the story of fermentation in Nova Scotia. Did you ever consider tackling this subject another way, or was a multi-genre approach always the plan?

This question made me laugh, because honestly, there was no plan. Kara Turner from Formac approached me about the possibility of writing a book about fermentation in Nova Scotia. I jumped at the chance, but after my first meeting with her went home and realized I had no idea how to go about it. Kara was clear she didn’t just want a cookbook. She wanted a narrative approach, and she gave me the freedom to tackle that however I wanted. I outlined the book, but the approach didn’t really gel until I’d done most of the research on my cider chapter. It’s not the first chapter in the book, but it’s the first I wrote.

I have a friend named Brian Braganza who would throw an annual cider party, where people bring their own apples to press. I’d been meaning to go for years, so this seemed like a good opportunity. After that, I visited cider-makers, dug into the history of cider, talked to people who remembered their first and worst hangover coming from Golden Glow cider — even brought in a reference to a character called Captain Glow from the 1970s Old Trout Funnies comics series.

I quickly realized my role in this book was not to be a food expert or reporter discussing the subject at a distance. It was to be an enthusiastic companion, taking the reader along on this fun journey of discovery with me. Instead of submitting the whole manuscript to Kara when it was done, I wrote the cider chapter and sent it to her to see what she’d think. She was completely on board with the way I approached it, so that set the tone for the rest of the book.

What was the research process like for this book?

Early on, I drew up a detailed outline, and that really made life easier. I did go through a period of kind of ignoring the outline, and then I realized that it was good and comprehensive, and all I had to do was follow it – while staying open to anything that might come along that I should add.

The research was a mix of travel and in-person interviews with practitioners and experts, reading a lot of archival materials, local histories and community cookbooks, and developing and testing recipes. Some events were really helpful, like the Upskilling food festival in Sydney, which gave me the opportunity to sit in on workshops on subjects like fermenting vegetables and making kombucha. So that gave me colour for the story, but also an opportunity to visit other folks in the area, like someone with a thriving home cheese-making practice. Fermenters also tend to be really enthusiastic and have different practices (eg, a professional cider maker who also makes sourdough bread and ginger beer for fun), and so each person I interviewed would give me more leads and ideas to follow.

My longstanding interest in fermentation and my obsessive note-taking came in handy too. For instance, a cheese-making workshop I went to several years ago wound up providing some of the narrative for my cheese chapter.

When writing about food, is it difficult to translate taste into words?

Many fermented foods have a particular kind of oomf to them, and I tried to capture that. I used words like “earthy,” “bite,” “bitter tang,” “edgy,” “rich,” and “funky” a lot. 

You thank your mother and grandmother in the acknowledgements for sharing their own fermentation traditions with you. Growing up, what was the relationship between food and storytelling in their kitchens?

My Greek grandmother was an incredible storyteller. She could talk for hours, and you had to pay close attention, because she could be telling you about something that happened last week, 50 years earlier during the Second World War or the Greek civil war, or during the early 1800s, or under the Ottoman occupation – or even farther back to stories of Greek Orthodox saints.  I grew up on the West Island in Montreal, and I definitely had a sense we were somehow different. The other kids I knew did not have mums who made bread and yogourt, and who picked and cooked greens growing by the side of the road. I did not grow up knowing how to cook. My mother ran the kitchen (my dad could fry eggs, but that was about it), and I was generally not involved. At the same time, I do remember enjoying listening to my mum and other relatives who had come from to Canada from Greece sitting around in the kitchen, smoking (they’ve all quit since then) and telling stories.

What do you hope readers of Adventures in Bubbles and Brine will take away from this book?

Fermented foods and drinks have a long and fascinating history, and are fun to make at home. I encourage experimenting and recognizing that your results won’t be the same every time – and that’s part of the fun.

How do you keep distractions at bay while writing?

I don’t really have a good answer for this, because I am very much prone to distraction. The best thing I’ve found is the Pomodoro technique, which involves setting goals, breaking tasks down into 25-minute segments, focusing during those segments, and then taking short breaks. I don’t always use it, but I should. It’s a great technique. I use an app called Pomodoro Timer. It costs $2.99, I think, but there are free ones out there too, and the original Pomodoro Technique book, by Francisco Cirillo, is worth reading also.

I was delighted to learn from your website that you also wrote for the Daisy Dreamer comic, which appeared in the popular children’s magazine Chickadee. I have fond memories of following Daisy’s adventures as a kid. What was it like to take on this long-running series and make it your own?

I’m glad you liked the comics! I was fortunate enough to write Daisy for 14 years, until the magazine decided to bring the comic to a close. That’s an incredibly long run, and I’m grateful for it. For those not familiar with it, Daisy Dreamer was a two-page comic featuring an active and adventurous girl with a magic ballcap that allowed her to transform into any animal she thought of. When the comic launched in the 1980s, Daisy was younger and didn’t have any magic powers – just an active imagination. When Mark Shainblum and Gabriel Morrissette were brought on as the creative team in the 90s, they updated Daisy and gave her a new origin story. I knew Mark, and we were chatting about comics writing opportunities one day, when he told me he was planning to step aside from Daisy. I approached the editor at the time, and wound up getting the gig.

In the early going, the writing was challenging because I didn’t really get the characters. All my dialogue felt generic, and like any of them could have said it. But over time, I got to know them better and to figure out which types of stories worked well and which I wanted to avoid. I can’t say I ever thought of it as my own though – and that’s a good thing. It was always a collaborative effort among myself, Gabriel, who is a creative genius and brings so much to the table, and the editorial team.

What are you fermenting right now in your writing space and kitchen?

I’ve spent a lot of my career focusing on the short term: the next article I need to write, the next short project I want to pitch. One of the benefits of having written a book is realizing I can think more long term. Gabriel and I have been talking about putting together a creator-owned comics series, I’ve got a solid chunk of the draft of my novel done, and two potential new non-fiction projects in the works. We’ll see what happens.

In terms of the kitchen, my partner, Sara, has been making kefir and is brilliant at coming up with flavours for our kombucha. I regularly make bread, and as the summer goes on and the harvest starts to roll in I’ll do up some batches of various types of fermented vegetable pickles. Kosher dills are a perennial favourite. My attempt at fermented hot sauce fell flat last year, but I’ll try again with a different recipe when the peppers are ready.

—Questions by K.R. Byggdin

Author spotlight: Philip Moscovitch Read More »

Author spotlight: Michelle Sylliboy

Author Spotlights

Michelle Sylliboy is a Two-Spirited L’nu (Mi’kmaw) artist, and Assistant Professor at St.FX University in N.S. in three departments: Modern Language, Education and Fine Arts. Sylliboy was born in Boston, MA, and raised on unceded Mi’kmaw territory in the community of We’koqmaq, Cape Breton. She gathers much of her inspiration from personal tales, the environment, and her L’nuk (Mi’kmaq) culture. Her interdisciplinary art practice has led her to work with emerging and professional artists from all over Turtle Island. Sylliboy is currently pursuing a Doctor of Philosophy in Education from Simon Fraser University. Her dissertation combines her artistic background and education by writing about her Mi’kmaq Komqwejwi’kasikl living curriculum. Her recently launched Komqwejwi’kasikl clothing line is now available at legaleriste.com/en/artist.5.

Kiskajeyi – I AM READY is the first Komqwejwi’kasikl (Mi’kmaq hieroglyphic) poetry book ever to be published. What was your initial spark for this collection?

The initial spark happened a number of years ago. For many years I had wanted to publish a L’nuk (Mi’kmaq) poetry book written in the alphabet we adopted from English. And then, I started to do more and more work with the Komqwejwi’kasikl symbols, and I realized during my research and time with my community that I should do what I do best, which is use these symbols to write poetry. Initially, I had asked some people if they wanted to co-write the Komqwejwi’kasikl poetry with me, but there was this hesitancy and fear to do that. So I realized that I needed to write an example of what we can do with these symbols first. Poetry is something I’ve been writing since my early twenties, and I just love it. It’s how I see the world, it’s how I think about things, so it was natural for me to just use that as my medium to explore the Komqwejwi’kasikl language.

What else inspires you to write poetry?

With my regular poetry, I usually write about current events. If something really touches my heart or pulls my heartstrings, I will write about it. In the L’nuk language, you’re constantly describing what’s going on at that very moment, like a newscast. And I look at poetry in the same way. It’s a way to tell what’s going on in my life, or what’s going on in the world at that very moment. As First Nations Peoples, our own narrative has always been replaced by someone who never spent time with us, or by someone who decided to write about us but never asked us what we felt. And so as a poet, and as an interdisciplinary artist, it’s important for me to tell my own story about how I’m seeing things right then and there, whether I’m writing about COVID or the 215 children that were found at the Kamloops residential school.

In addition to that immediacy, your poetry has a holistic quality to it. For example, in your Author’s Note for Kiskajeyi – I AM READY, you talk about how the act of writing connects you to your ancestors, the land, and future generations all at the same time. Can you tell me more about the interconnectivity that’s present in your work?

Culturally speaking, as a L’nu person, I was brought up with this knowledge, this worldview, that we are interconnected with all life that exists. And so I communicate to Spirits and my Ancestors as if they’re sitting right here beside me. For example, there’s no word for goodbye in my language. We say Nm’ultes, which means “see you later,” whether I see you in person or I see you in spirit. So Nm’ultes has an infinite timeline, I’m going to see you regardless, because the dream world and the physical world are interconnected according to my L’nuk worldview. I often write poems where I’ll go back in time and I’ll connect it to the present, or I’ll connect it to the future. My poetry is quite layered. It’s connected to the way history was told and how I see history and what I think is going to happen next.

What was the editing process like for a book that incorporates Mi’kmaq and English text, Komqwejwi’kasikl symbols, and photographic images within its pages?

Michael Calvert is a very good editor and it was really nice to work with him. He was so gentle and generous.

I originally worked with another publisher, a children’s publisher. They approached me and asked me to write a book for young people, which was a challenging request because I’ve never written for children. But I’ve worked in education for many years and always felt it was important for me to leave something for the next generation. So when I was writing the Komqwejwi’kasikl poems, my target audience was youth, but when I sent in my manuscript to that publisher they said they thought my poetry was more for adults. They didn’t understand that I was writing for youth.

I remember sitting in my vehicle thinking that I really wanted this book to be done. I had just submitted some poems for an anthology with Rebel Mountain Press, and I thought, I’m just going to call them. It doesn’t hurt to ask. And it turns out they were already fans of my work! So I told them, listen, I’m doing my PhD and my dissertation is to create a Komqwejwi’kasikl curriculum. And I have this body of work, thirty years of poetry, and now this new Komqwejwi’kasikl poetry. Would you be interested in publishing it? And they were thrilled by the idea and because they’d already been following my career they asked if they could add my photography into the book as well. And I said yes, of course. So they took my poetry from the last thirty years and my new Komqwejwi’kasikl poetry and my photography and blended it really well into one book. I was really pleased with the end result.

The only thing was, I had a major art exhibition coming up, and I said I kind of needed this book completely finished before that exhibition, which was only a few seasons away. The publisher was able to negotiate with the printers to have it done on time, and my book launch and my art exhibition happened the same day. It was amazing! It was also two years ahead of schedule, normally books usually take that long to publish. When I think about it now, I think the Creator and the Ancestors knew this pandemic was coming. This is why I work with my Ancestors in my artistic practice and as my spiritual guides. They knew I couldn’t wait two years. I got it out there just in time.

I really love the self-portrait that accompanies your bio in the book. Your personality—and your styling fashion sense—really shine through! As a photographer, what do you think makes for a good author photo?

It’s so funny, I actually took that photo in my parents’ bathroom! I’m always playing around with light, looking for ways to focus or change an image with light. I didn’t have any fancy equipment at the time because I was a poor student, so I decided to just work with existing indoor lighting instead. And I’m a hat person, that’s my signature look, so I thought I’ll play with the light and I’ll wear a hat and I’ll show the camera lens because I’m a photographer. That’s my personality, that’s me. I was very strategic about that photo because I wanted it to represent who I was.

In addition to your poetry collection, you’ve recently launched a Komqwejwi’kasikl clothing line as well. How did that project come about?

I used to silkscreen clothes back in 1988 in Toronto, and that was the first time I started to look at the Komqwejwi’kasikl symbols. I decided to silkscreen the language onto clothing and I sold them as a twenty-year-old street vendor. So I guess I have been preparing myself since 1988, or since childhood really, to do something with this language that my Ancestors left behind for us. I remember seeing Elders reading from Komqwejwi’kasikl prayer books, and there was a scroll of the lord’s prayer on my parents’ wall growing up written with the symbols as well. It wasn’t translated, it was just there. I remember seeing that and wondering, why don’t I know this? So the seeds were planted at a very young age. I think each generation does something to ensure that the language lives on. Growing up, my own Elders put on workshops. Rita Joe put the symbols on her book cover. Marie Baptiste did her dissertation on the Komqwejwi’kasikl. And as an artist, I use my art as the medium to share it. I hope my book and the clothing line will plant some seeds in the next generation, to inspire them to use it as an everyday language. Even if not everybody gets poetry, that’s fine. These symbols are infinite, they can inspire people on different levels, to help you say, okay, I can do that too. I can explore this language in my own way.

Several of my artist friends were selling clothes online, but they were based in the US. I decided to wait until I found this company based in Montreal using sustainable materials, which was important to me, and I partnered with them to make the clothes. But then the line launched the same week that the children were found in Kamloops. That really broke my heart, it broke everybody’s heart. It was very heavy news. At first I thought, maybe it’s not the right time to launch this. But in the end I decided to launch it anyway to change the online narrative and spread some good news, and I’m really pleased with how it turned out. The symbols look great on the clothes, they’re quite stunning.

June is both National Indigenous History Month and Pride Month. As a Two-Spirit L’nu (Mi’kmaw) woman, who are some Two-Spirit and Indigiqueer writers you appreciate?

Chrystos is my favourite Two-Spirit writer. She wrote the forward to my book. And Beth Brant, as well, who was a Mohawk poet and writer. I think I first met Beth around 1990 when she launched a book in Vancouver. I was very intrigued because there weren’t many Two-Spirit writers at the time that I knew about. I met other queer poets, but within the Native community, Beth and Chrystos were the first women that I followed, and I really admired the work that they were doing. At that time, a lot of the Native writers across North America like Chrystos and Beth were speaking out to say we can tell our own stories. We can write our own poetry, we can write our own plays, we can write our own movie scripts. We have the knowledge and the education to write our own stories, you don’t need to write about us. And that was really important for me to hear as a young person because it activated my social justice buttons and validated what I always wanted to say and wanted to do within my own artwork.

But to be honest, I wish that the queer community would showcase my work more. I don’t know why they haven’t. I’m Two-Spirited and my publisher is a queer press, but I haven’t been invited into queer bookstores and queer communities to read. In my poetry, I write about the women that I fell in love with, that broke my heart, who inspired me, but it’s not always about my sexuality. Because as a Two-Spirit person, the focus isn’t on your sexuality, it’s about your gifts. So maybe that doesn’t line up with the queer community? I don’t know. Maybe after people read this they’ll invite me into these spaces to read and perform!

Speaking of Chrystos, you ended up with some really great blurbs for your book. What was it like to approach authors that you admire and ask them to publicly review your work?

Chrystos and I have been friends for many years, since the early 90s. When I chose writers to review my book, I asked Chrystos, Lee Maracle, Janet Rogers, and Jónína Kirton. With the two Elders, Chrystos and Lee Maracle, I trust their opinions. I knew that if this book was horrible they would tell me straight up. They’d be like “Go back to your editor and work on this some more!” So I felt very blessed when they wrote such positive reviews. It didn’t matter after that who liked the book or who didn’t, because two of the most incredible writers that I know of loved it. If anybody else wanted to review it after that, great. But I had the best reviews already. And I think that’s something that young writers or any writer should do. Approach the ones that will give you the most honest, critical feedback. Because I think that advice allows you to nurture your writing and hone it to a different level.

—Questions by K.R. Byggdin

Author spotlight: Michelle Sylliboy Read More »

Author spotlight: Nolan Natasha

Author Spotlights

Nolan Natasha is a queer and trans writer, performer, and filmmaker. Of Faroese and English ancestry, Nolan is a settler living on unceded Mi’Kmaw territory in Kjipuktuk/Halifax, Canada. Nolan has been a finalist for the CBC poetry prize, the Ralph Gustafson poetry prize, the Geist postcard contest, and was the runner-up for the Thomas Morton fiction prize. His debut poetry collection, I Can Hear You, Can You Hear Me? was released in the fall of 2019 with Invisible Publishing. Nolan is currently working on a collection of short stories and a series of video poems.

You’ve lived on both sides of the Atlantic. How do the Faroe Islands compare with Nova Scotia?

I spent multiple summers in the Faroes as a kid. I never lived on the islands full time, but that time in the Faroes was a huge influence on my growing up. I don’t think there is a place where I feel more “at home.” When I’m lucky enough to go back to the Faroes, I always catch myself saying, “I’m going home.” I think that my connection to the Faroes is part of what made Nova Scotia instantly comfortable. I like the grey, the smell of the ocean. There are small overlaps in architecture. Don’t get me wrong, the differences are also stark, but there is a kind of connective tissue that seems to link places on the ocean that also have climates often demanding a good sweater. I don’t doubt that these links are part of what made me feel at home when I first moved here.

Some of the poems in your debut collection I Can Hear You, Can You Hear Me? first appeared in Canadian literary magazines such as Plenitude and CV2. Did you always have this project in mind while submitting individual pieces to journals, or did you reach a critical mass of published work and say “hey, I think I’ve got a book here?”

I think it was more of a critical mass thing. I knew I wanted to have a collection eventually, but at the time of my first journal publication in Event, I was far from having enough material for a book. As I kept writing, themes emerged early on, and I started to have a sense of where the collection was going. That help provide momentum for sure.

Your book is divided into four sections: Signals, Souvenirs, Phenomena, and Devotions. Was it fairly easy to group the pieces together, or were there any poems that you struggled to categorize?

There were a few tricky poems that bounced between sections. But the categories emerged out of themes that occurred naturally as I was writing the work so placing the poems within the collection happened pretty organically for the most part.

Your inclusion of (presumably) autobiographical poetry in this collection is highly engaging. In particular, I was struck by the way you so effectively drop your readers into single moments with each poem, utilizing crisp language and a clear voice to create vivid pictures we can step into alongside you. Can you talk about the role that memory plays in your poetry?

Sure. As for the poems being autobiographical, I won’t deny that in places this is true, but it isn’t always. It’s interesting the way that many of us assume that events in poems are being rendered more-or-less as they happened. I am frequently guilty of this myself, but of course, this isn’t always the case and I do write poems that are entirely works of fiction even if it isn’t my most common mode.

Memory has always played a really central role in what I make and write. I have always been fascinated by the way certain moments of our lives seem to have a kind of resonate glow no matter how much time goes by. These moments often wind up in my work. In a way, this is practical, because it gives you material to work with even if there is nothing in the present moment inspiring you to write. But also, I find these moments create a kind of itch in my life and writing about them is a way of scratching that itch. Many of the poems in this collection reach back, but a good chunk of it was also written very much about the present and I’m also fascinated by the way that writing creates these resonate moments as well, or perhaps captures is a better word. Poetry is at times a bit of a net for me—a way of holding on to bits of resonance that might otherwise slip away or be transformed by time. I recently read somewhere that the first step of making art is to wonder about something, and the second step is to invite other people to wonder with you. I loved that and I think it’s true of where my poetry comes from. I start writing because there is something provoking wonder, the poem is an attempt to hold that wonder out for others to engage with.

Like you, the publisher of I Can Hear You, Can You Hear Me? has roots in both Ontario and Nova Scotia. What was your experience like with the team at Invisible?

I have nothing but wonderful things to say about my experience with Invisible. I felt very supported through the process and was of course thrilled that they were interested it publishing my work.

Recently, you taught a free WFNS workshop series for 2SLGBTQ+ writers that focussed on developing a specific and intentional writing practice. What is one piece of advice that you shared with the participants, and was there anything you took away from the experience as well?

I think I almost certainly got more out of it than the participants, but teaching is like that in my experience. I was so paranoid about not having enough to say that over the weeks of the course I read every note I had ever taken in a writing class or workshop. I also became hyper aware of my own slightly stagnant writing practice. While attempting to help the participants energize their own writing practice, I felt obligated to energize mine and I’m writing more than I have in a long while. I feel like a owe a great deal of this to one piece of advice I encountered. It wasn’t about writing, but was about habit formation generally. The advice was to “lower your standards”. Make the thing you want to be doing as easy as possible and start there. I set a goal to write 300 words a day. That’s the number that is so low and easy to hit that I can literally do it even if it’s 11pm and I’m already half asleep. I’m really happy with the results of the experiment, while there have been a few days that I’ve only written 300 words, there have been many that I’ve written well over a thousand. Writing a tiny bit everyday has completely changed how I feel about writing and those small numbers add up. It really got me unstuck.

You’ve been a finalist for several prestigious writing competitions, including the 2017 CBC Poetry Prize. What do you think makes for a good contest piece in particular?

Ah, the great mystery. I really don’t know, but I feel like these days I just trust my gut. If I feel like I have a piece that I’m truly proud of, then I’ll submit it to contests. If I just really like it, I don’t bother. Every now and then I write something that I’m very excited about and my gut tells me that it has contest potential. If I feel like that then I go with my gut. But sometimes pieces I really love don’t feel like contest winners. Maybe they are too short. Maybe they feel to out there in terms of my voice and style. I feel like you get a feel for this from reading the work that wins contests. Certain trends emerge and you start to get a sense of which of your pieces has the best shot. I also think that if you know who is judging and you know their work and have a feeling they might love your stuff, that is also probably a good time to enter. At the end of the day though, I don’t think contest results are a good metric to judge your own work. Lots of great work is never going to win a contest. I try to just focus on the work and then if something feels like it has a shot I figure, you can’t win if you don’t play, and I submit.

During the pandemic you launched a YouTube channel which you’ve described as a series of “music videos for poems.” I love that! What’s it been like to translate your work into a visual format for a social media audience?

It has been something that I’ve want to do for a long time. I used to do a lot of video work and I had been missing it. I’m often struck by how frustrated young aspiring filmmaker me would be with how little present me takes advance of all the technology I have at my disposal. When I was 17 I would have given anything for the worst camcorder money could buy. Now I carry a shockingly capable camera with me everywhere on my phone and I rarely use it. It has been great to work on the video poems and get back into that visual practice. I have more videos coming soon, both video poems and other short project that I’m working on. 

When you’re not writing, what do you do to relax?

Reading in a hammock is up there for sure. I love to surf despite being worse at it than any other human being alive. I always love a good country drive. And I’m really looking forward to being able to sit around and laugh with more of my favourite people soon.

—Questions by K.R. Byggdin

Author spotlight: Nolan Natasha Read More »

Author spotlight: Virginia Konchan

Author Spotlights

Virginia Konchan is the author of three poetry collections, Hallelujah Time (Véhicule Press, 2021), Any God Will Do and The End of Spectacle (Carnegie Mellon UP, 2020 and 2018); a collection of short stories, Anatomical Gift (Noctuary Press, 2017); and four chapbooks, as well as co-editor (with Sarah Giragosian) of Marbles on the Floor: How to Assemble a Book of Poems (University of Akron Press, 2022). Her poems have appeared in The New Yorker, Best New Poets, and The New Republic.

Your academic and publishing background is largely American. How did you find your way to Nova Scotia?

Serendipitously! I was born and raised in Cleveland, Ohio, and I moved to Montreal in 2014 after having lived in Chicago for five years. Prior to Chicago, I lived, worked, or went to school in Austin, Virginia, Wisconsin, Phoenix, Hawaii, Paris, and Prague.

After finishing the last year of my PhD from the University of Illinois at Chicago remotely in 2015, I remained in Montreal until 2019, when I met my partner Kourosh who was visiting from Halifax, and I decided to move to Nova Scotia to live with him.

Has your time on the East Coast influenced your writing in any way?

Living in the same province where my favorite 20th century poet Elizabeth Bishop spent her early years, in Great Village, has inspired me deeply. I return to her work often for its perceptual acuity, and as a reminder that the best poetry supersedes the categories imposed on writers (confessional/formalist, for her), and also because I relate to her more than any other American poet, for having been educated in America yet living elsewhere for much of her adult life (contributing to a charged sense of apartness, exile, and home).

I moved here just before the pandemic began, and I am writing this a day before our third lockdown ends, so though I haven’t really been able to explore Halifax or the province yet, I’m greatly looking forward to it, and to putting down roots in this magical place.

But on the molecular level, I think my writing has also been influenced by living on a peninsula where there is no given spatial coordinate less than 50 kilometers from the ocean, the fresh produce and seafood, clean air, and lack of sound and light pollution. It’s also difficult to travel to Nova Scotia by car, and, during the pandemic, by plane. I haven’t seen Canadian or American friends or family since 2019, and I think the relative solitude I have experienced since I moved here has also opened up space in my thinking and being, altered my relationship to music and silence, and helped me better appreciate what it means to listen, to observe, and to be comfortable with not speaking, not writing.

Your website lists an impressive number of recent publishing credits, including three poetry collections between 2018-2021. Did you find that a continuum or through line developed among these three books, or did you consciously try to differentiate them and cover new creative ground each time?

Both. They’re definitely each their own collection in terms of questions and concerns (writing women into art and literary history, critique of spectacle culture, metaphysical questioning, and phenomenological and epistemological meditations), but united in the establishment and development of a poetic consciousness and aesthetic (intertextuality, ekphrasis, metapoetics, aporia, ellipsis, rupture, and a mix of high and low registers). The tonal through line, if there is one, is bathos: I delight in thwarting expectations, undercutting assumptions, creating moments of levity, and trying to deconstruct what I believe to be an extremely difficult period of history for artists, writers, and poets.

If artists were artisans in the Renaissance, bohemians in the nineteenth century, and professionals in the twentieth, a new paradigm is emerging in the digital age, that of the multiplatform, entrepreneurial artist, as cultural critic William Deresiewicz writes. Lyric subjectivity is under siege in our brave new hypermediated technocracy, like much else. My poems in all three collections are about trying to survive with soul and mind intact.

A reviewer of The End of Spectacle said that the collection asks the reader to assume responsibility for their own role as a spectator, and seeks to dismantle romantic/Romantic conceits, which historically draw power from the separation between subject and object, and a reviewer of Any God Will Do said it is essentially a book about betrayal. The book description for Hallelujah Time says the speaker’s fast-moving monologues confronts the contemporary need to constantly adjust our masks to appease impossible standards, and our desperate fear of having our true selves be seen and understood. I am grateful for all these readings, too, and think they are true and equally valid as any answer I could give.

In addition to your publishing projects, you’re also a teacher, freelance editor, and co-founder of Matter journal. What’s your secret to managing your time and conflicting priorities?

I taught time- and stress-management workshops to fellow students in undergrad, which remains one of the greatest ironies of my life. A decade of data collected by researchers at Stanford University reveals that heavy multitaskers have reduced memory capacity, among other cognitive deficits. No one can have, be, or do it all, but the expectation that you can are fierce, as Anne-Marie Slaughter argued in The Atlantic. I’ve found that the external and internal pressures to fractalize my time and energy into smaller pieces only results in mediocrity and shortchanging the people and projects I’ve committed to. Jia Tolentino’s essay collection Trick Mirror: Reflections on Self-Delusion also speaks brilliantly to optimization culture in the West, and its impact on women specifically.

I will say, however, that setting an egg timer when grading papers helps enormously, and that it’s never too late to learn to say no, or to “fail better,” as Samuel Beckett quipped.

Have I even mentioned your short story collection yet? Anatomical Gift was published by Noctuary Press in 2017, so I’m sure you were probably working on these stories alongside your poetry collections. How has fiction writing influenced your poetic practice, and vice versa?

I think of my fiction and poetry as parallel worlds, but when they collide, I would hope that a heightened sensitivity to language and rhythm in poetry lyricizes my prose, and that a sense of pacing, plot, and dialogue expands the rhetorical possibilities for verse.

I also tend to think of poetry theatrically, in terms of personae, staging and performance. A poem is a dramatic situation with a volta, and I’m most interested in character-driven stories and psychological fiction. I also favor poetry collections that have a lyric or narrative arc: not Freytag’s Pyramid per se, but inner coherence, an architecture.

When working with emerging writers, are there any common issues you’ve come across that can hamper their ability to tell a compelling story?

Fear of not knowing enough in The Information Age, conformism, and timidity.

Technique can always be learned. Confidence, vision, and voice comes from within, even if it’s by imitating other writers one thinks are more confident and visionary. Don’t underestimate the power of mining your own self, life, and life experiences for material, and resist second-guessing yourself into abstraction or silence. Even the most theoretical, archival, historical subjects are filtered through the lens and perspective of the self. Fortune favors the bold, which in this political climate can mean speaking your truth.

Zoom readings: do you think they’re here to stay, or should they go away?

Hopefully stay—they provide an intimate, albeit virtual space to readers and listeners who otherwise often wouldn’t be able to gather. The Eve of Poetry reading series I started in 2020 went virtual, actually, and our fifth reading is on July 10th, with poets Heather Treseler, Sarah Giragosian, Alyse Knorr, and Kate Partridge. All are welcome!

If you could go back in time to a point when you had not yet published any work, what would you want to tell your younger self about the writing process?

Haters gonna hate, digital footprints will follow you forever, and when in doubt, READ. Even neuroscience proves that learning how to read like a writer has enormous benefits. Also, try to accept failure and rejection gracefully, and use it to spur yourself forward.

What’s next for you? Are there any upcoming projects you can give us a glimpse into?

Hallelujah Time, my first full-length poetry collection in Canada, is forthcoming this September from Véhicule Press’ Signal Editions poetry series, alongside new poetry collections by Erik Lindner and Jenny Boychuk. I’m thrilled, honored, and excited.

In early 2022, the craft anthology Marbles on the Floor: How to Assemble a Book of Poems I co-edited with Sarah Giragosian will be published with University of Akron Press, featuring 12 stellar essays that demystify the undertheorized process of manuscript assembly and explore the manifold, complex considerations of this idiosyncratic process.

And I’m working on an autobiography from a generational perspective, as an Xennial who grew up on the cusp of the Generation X and Millennial demographic cohorts.

—Questions by K.R. Byggdin

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Author spotlight: Jane Doucet

Author Spotlights

Jane Doucet is a journalist whose articles have appeared in myriad national magazines, including Chatelaine and Canadian Living. In 2017 she self-published her debut novel, The Pregnant Pause, which was shortlisted for a 2018 Whistler Independent Book Award. Jane lives in Halifax, Nova Scotia, with her husband. To learn more, visit janedoucet.com.

As your bio mentions, your first novel was self-published. How did that process compare to working with the team at Nimbus on your latest book, Fishnets & Fantasies?

Self-publishing was an incredible learning experience—and a lot of hard work. But I didn’t do it alone. I hired a talented team of professionals: editor, proofreader, book designer, website designer and launch publicist. Still, I wore several hats; I was the author, project manager, production co-ordinator, distributor and promoter, all on top of a full-time day job in communications. With Fishnets & Fantasies, I was able to focus on just being the author. Huge relief!

Do you have any advice for other writers who are considering the self-publishing route?

Don’t do it. No, I’m kidding! My advice is to thoroughly research self-publishing before you fully commit to it. There are many online resources, so investigate them to see if you’re up for the challenge. Then just go for it.

Did your background as a reporter and professional editor make it any easier to revise your own books and “kill your darlings” when needed?  

Absolutely. After I finished the manuscript for The Pregnant Pause and fired my literary agent in London, England (long story for another Q&A), I stuck it in a drawer for 14 years before deciding to self-publish. When I returned to the manuscript with fresh eyes, I cut 20,000 words. But it’s always best to have an editor with an objective lens on the job (I hired one). As for being a reporter, I interviewed several people to help flesh out story lines in Fishnets & Fantasies, including two sex shop owners, a waitress and a seniors’ safety program co-ordinator. Their input helped make my fictional story more believable.

Fishnets & Fantasies is hot off the press just this month. What’s your favourite part about launching a new book?

The fame! The fortune! The adulation! But seriously, after being holed up in my home office staring at my iMac over the course of three and a half years—from the moment I started writing to when I held a printed book in my hand—it’s now thrilling to start hearing from readers who are enjoying what I’ve written. I will float all day when someone comments that one of my novels made them laugh, or feel seen, heard and empowered. There’s nothing better. Well, I guess it’d be nice to make some money, too.

Right from the first paragraph, Fishnets & Fantasies is both very funny and very Nova Scotian. How would you describe a quintessentially Bluenoser sense of humour?

First, thanks for your kind words and your well-placed italics. As for describing a quintessentially Bluenoser sense of humour, I’m not sure I can. I suppose Nova Scotians—and Atlantic Canadians generally, those living in the so-called “have-not” provinces—are pretty good at laughing at themselves in the face of adversity. Which is what many of my characters do.

Who are some other Nova Scotian writers who make you laugh out loud?

Top three: Lesley Crewe, Morgan Murray and Amy Spurway.

Fishnets & Fantasies comes on the heels of Ellen Denny’s play Pleasureville—which inspires one of your characters Wendy to open a sex shop in Lunenburg—and the popular Netflix series Grace and Frankie. Are you hoping this book will help spark a larger conversation around sex and aging in our society?

I first heard of Pleasureville six months after I finished writing Fishnets & Fantasies, and I had a mild coronary event. I was worried the playwright would think I had “borrowed” her idea, when in fact I had started writing three years earlier, long before she launched her show, so it was a total coincidence. I added the Pleasureville reference to my manuscript during revisions last year, after I saw the play at Neptune Theatre in the fall of 2019. In it, a millennial opens a sex shop in a small fictional town. While it has some similar themes, it’s very different from my novel, because it’s from a twentysomething’s perspective, and there are only three characters. As for Grace and Frankie, I loved every episode! I’m describing Fishnets & Fantasies as a cross between The Beachcombers and Grace and Frankie. If my novel sparks conversations around aging and sex (and it already is), I think that’s great. 

I understand your next novel will combine elements from your first two books. How exciting! Are there any other details about that project you can share?

It is exciting—and terrifying! I hope I can pull it off. In my third novel, I’m bringing back Rose Ainsworth, The Pregnant Pause’s protagonist, at age 50 (she was 37 in The Pregnant Pause), and she’ll move to Lunenburg to take over the sex shop from her friend Wendy Hebb from Fishnets & Fantasies. I’ll be combining some characters and story lines from both of my novels to create a “sort-of” series. I’ve started writing it, and it’s great fun so far.

—Questions by K.R. Byggdin

Author spotlight: Jane Doucet Read More »

Author spotlight: Becca Babcock

Author Spotlights

Becca Babcock grew up in Alberta, but since 2005, she’s lived just outside of Halifax with her husband Trent, and now with their almost-five-year-old son Thorin. Becca is a writer, writing instructor, and sometimes an actor and a filmmaker, as well. She teaches writing and English at Dalhousie University in Halifax, and occasionally at other universities in the region. (Photo Credit: Claire Fraser)

You originally came to Halifax to complete a PhD in English. What’s kept you here?

We fell in love with life here. Originally, we’d planned to stay no more than 4 years, but both my husband and I realized very quickly that we were very happy here, and it would take a pretty attractive opportunity elsewhere to make us consider moving.

You’ve said your debut novel One Who Has Been Here Before was inspired by Nova Scotia’s real-life Goler clan. Why did you want to approach these historical events through the lens of fiction?

I’m a fiction writer. I tell stories. Marianne Moore said that “Good stealers are ipso facto good inventors,” and this idea feels very true to me. The line between stealing and inventing, truth and fiction, is actually more of a smudge for me.

Also, this family has been through a lot. The more I learned about them, the less I wanted to add scrutiny to them and what they’ve lived. I hope my book makes readers consider families like the Golers more gently. I didn’t want to turn a hard spotlight back on them.

This book is part of a long tradition of East Coast gothic literature and, as the Toronto Star notes, women writers have been at the forefront of the genre’s recent resurgence. Why do you think gothic tales have such staying power in Atlantic Canada?

I think it’s because we have a longer settler history than most of Canada. Gothic fiction is about reckoning with the most uncomfortable parts of our past. The legacy of colonialism is one of the hardest things for us to really come to terms with. It makes sense that a region that has a long colonial legacy is going to have the most to work through, in terms of the horrors of the past.

You published a collection of short stories with Blaurock Press in 2011. Did you learn anything from writing that book that helped with the development of this one?

Patience. I learned patience, and to manage my expectations. Especially as someone who studied literature, I had a very unrealistic idea of the reach and potential of a book. My first publishing experience made me realize just how many books are out there, competing for readers’ attention, and what a challenge it is to woo readers into choosing yours to spend a weekend with.

What’s it been like to do podcasts and press for One Who Has Been Here Before?

Honestly, it’s been really scary. The past year, with COVID and restrictions, has actually made me realize how much more comfortable I am in relative solitude. Certainly, I love teaching and I love performing, but when I do either of those things, I’m not centering myself—I’m centering either the concepts and texts for my students, or I’m entering the character and the story on the stage. I love sharing the story that I’ve written with readers, but sharing myself with the public has been a very uncomfortable experience. I’ve been trying to keep the focus on the book, and what I think readers will find most interesting about it. But my book is very different from someone else’s character, or someone else’s novel. It’s part of me. It takes a lot more energy and effort to make the book the story, to figure out what people might want to know about it.

In addition to being a writer and academic, you’re also an actor. Has that experience influenced your writing style in any way?

Yes, I think so. When I act, I look for the character. It’s a quest—find out what you know about them, and unfold it. That’s essential for both writing and acting.

As a reader, I found the quiet, contemplative moments your protagonist Emma experiences while exploring the ruins of the Gaugin family property particularly compelling. How did the landscape of the South Shore influence the way you told this story?

The landscape of Nova Scotia in general, and the South Shore in particular were absolutely central to the story and the characters, and the way they developed. Since I moved here, I’ve spent a lot of time out walking and hiking and really appreciating the landscape, the environment. It used to be something I did a lot on my own (with my dog for company), and now my son and I share the experience of going for long walks in the forest or along the shore. It’s something we both love.

A few years after my husband and I moved to Nova Scotia, my mom moved out here, too. She lives in the Hubbards area, and I’ve really loved the experience of getting to know both the community and the landscape where she lives. In a lot of ways, my book is a love letter to that place. I wanted Emma to feel the same way about the place that I did.

Do you have any favourite spots to visit along the South Shore?

Hubbards is such a lovely community. My mom lives there, and folks have been really welcoming to both her and us. And I love going for day trips to Mahone Bay. It has to be the prettiest town in Canada.

I was intrigued by your choice to include both first- and third-person sections for Emma. What led you to introduce these shifts in perspective?

I wanted the book to be a bit of a pastiche, to reflect Emma’s research quest. So there’s a central, unifying narrative that tells the story from a third-person perspective, but then there’s also Emma’s research material—the first-person passages are her own reflections, what she writes down for her thesis (maybe), as she digs into the story. And there are other letters and journals, and even newspaper articles. Originally, I’d planned to include photos as well, but they felt clumsy and intrusive. It felt more natural to stick to written storytelling.

Along with the letters, journal entries, and articles, there are also chapters that present the viewpoints of other characters. Why was it important for you to incorporate a multiplicity of voices in One Who Has Been Here Before?

I felt that was the best way to center my protagonist, Emma, and her quest—to include both her story (the story about her), and the story she’s telling as she gathers her research.

—Questions by K.R. Byggdin

Author spotlight: Becca Babcock Read More »

Author spotlight: Chad Lucas

Author Spotlights

Chad Lucas has been in love with words since he attempted his first novel on a typewriter in the sixth grade. He has worked as a newspaper reporter, communications advisor, freelance writer, part-time journalism instructor, and parenting columnist. A proud descendant of the historic African Nova Scotian community of Lucasville, he lives with his family near Halifax, Nova Scotia. He enjoys coaching basketball and is rarely far from a cup of tea. Thanks a Lot, Universe is his debut novel.

You wrote Thanks a Lot, Universe while also working a day job, parenting four kids, and coaching a youth basketball team. How did you make space for your writing practice?

I’ve learned how to write just about anywhere, including on the bus to and from the office, when I’m not working from home thanks to COVID-19. I’ve also tried to find a rhythm that works for me. I don’t subscribe to the old notion that a “real” writer has to write every day—that just isn’t realistic for me right now. But I try to squeeze in writing in the early mornings and on weekends when I have longer blocks of time.

What’s the number one thing (besides a computer!) you need to write, and why?

Other than time, my noise-cancelling headphones. I have a playlist of instrumental music, mostly electronic, that helps me tune out distractions and focus.  A good cup of tea doesn’t hurt either.

Sometimes middle grade writers are encouraged to employ generic North American settings for ease of marketability, but I loved how distinctly Haligonian your book is. Was this a deliberate decision on your part? And what was it like to work on a Nova Scotia-centred story with an American publisher?

It was definitely deliberate. I was an avid reader as a kid, but I encountered very few books with kids who looked like me or lived where I lived. So I wanted to set Thanks a Lot, Universe in Nova Scotia, and I’ve heard from so many local readers who loved that aspect of the book. I braced for my publisher to ask me to change the setting, but it wasn’t an issue at all. My editor and everyone at Abrams have been really supportive.

Thanks a Lot, Universe is told from the perspective of two young teenaged boys, Brian and Ezra. Was it easy for you to write in these distinct voices, or was one of them trickier to inhabit than the other?

Brian’s voice came more naturally, mostly because I had his plotline first. Ezra sort of gradually insisted on taking a bigger role in the story. But that said, Ezra’s voice was a lot of fun to write. They’re very different characters—Brian’s shy, socially anxious, an internal overthinker, while Ezra’s much more outgoing—so that made it easier to develop a distinct voice for each.

Did your characters take you in any surprising directions during the drafting process?

This book went through a lot of drafts even before I found an agent and a publisher, and as I mentioned above, Ezra kept asserting himself. He was a minor character in the first draft, and his role kept growing until finally I realized he needed to be the second narrator. Along with providing a different perspective, he brought so much more life and humour to what could have been a heavy story.

Your book touches on some important issues that many youth in Canada face. For example, Brian ends up in foster care after his parents’ struggles with mental illness and the criminal justice system, while Ezra navigates his burgeoning queer identity and deals with racial microaggressions from his white peers. How did you approach writing about these topics for a middle grade audience specifically?

Middle graders are thoughtful, curious and savvy, and today they’re growing up in a time of massive social upheaval. So it’s important not to underestimate them or talk down to them, and I tried not to do that in this book. It doesn’t end with a tidy happily-ever-after, because that wouldn’t have felt very authentic. But at the same time, I put a lot of hope and humour in this book as well. I think a middle grade audience needs that balance: they’re ready for honest talk about complicated topics, but it should come with some hope that things can get better.

Brian and his mom share a love of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. Have you introduced any books to your kids that are now a family favourite?

We love Jonathan Auxier’s books, like Peter Nimble and his Fantastic Eyes, and The Night Gardener. I still read out loud most nights with my 11-year-old, and we’re also big fans of Kwame Mbalia’s Tristan Strong books and Lamar Giles’ Legendary Alston Boys series. I love that there are more adventure stories with Black kids front and centre these days.

You were paired with author Darcy Rhyno in the 2016 Alistair MacLeod Mentorship Program. What was that process like for you?

The manuscript I worked on with Darcy, which will be my next book, is due out in spring 2022. I learned so much from working with Darcy on revising and receiving feedback that has carried over into my writing process. Working closely with a mentor is a real gift, and it helped prepare me for working with an agent and an editor.

What was it like to launch this book in a pandemic?

A mixed blessing. Of course, I had visions of launching in public with friends and family (and cake!), not from my bedroom on Instagram Live. But at the same time, it was great that some of my writer friends from across Canada and the U.S. were able to tune in and celebrate with me. And I’m grateful to Tom Ryan and Woozles, who hosted and helped make the event special. (Also, I still got cake!) I hope I get to launch Book #2 in person next year, but I’ll likely still do something online as well.

How do you blow off steam when writer’s block hits?

Going for a run or a walk has been a general sanity-saver, especially during the pandemic when we’ve all spent so much time in one place. Sometimes the cure is just patience. For me, I usually get stuck when I’ve written my way into a problem that I haven’t figured out how to solve yet, and sometimes the solution shows up randomly in the shower, or at 4 a.m. when I’m half-conscious and wishing I was asleep. I’d prefer if those solutions showed up fully formed in the morning, but sometimes you take what you can get.

Finally, can you give us a sneak peak of any upcoming projects? The universe wants more!

As I mentioned, the book I worked on as part of the Alistair MacLeod Mentorship is going to be my next published book! It’s another middle grade, about a Black boy who moves to a mostly white small town and discovers it’s a place of nightmares—literally. I’m in edits on it now and I’ve just seen first sketches for the cover, and I can’t wait until I can share more details!

—Questions by K.R. Byggdin

Author spotlight: Chad Lucas Read More »

Author spotlight: Joanne Gallant

Author Spotlights

Joanne Gallant is a pediatric nurse and writer. She is a graduate of Mount Allison University and the University of Alberta. In 2019, she was selected by the Writer’s Federation of Nova Scotia as an apprentice writer in the Alistair MacLeod Mentorship Program. She lives in Halifax with her husband and son. A Womb in the Shape of a Heart is her debut book. (Photo Credit: Katie Tower)

A Womb in the Shape of a Heart, which is forthcoming with Nimbus Publishing this fall, tells your story of motherhood, including your miscarriages and medical complications. What led you to write about infertility initially? Were you motivated to share your story with others, or was it more about trying to process the experience for yourself?

Writing is often how I process difficult emotions. I’ve kept a journal since I was a young child, so it felt very natural for me to turn to writing when I lost my first pregnancy. Initially, I was just writing to survive. The more I wrote however, the more I began to consider what it would be like to share my story with others. I read a lot of books about pregnancy and infant loss during my miscarriages and they brought me a lot of comfort. It can be a really isolating experience for many people to lose a baby, and it certainly was for me, so when I read books about it, I felt like I had someone to turn to. Someone who understood what I was feeling and going through. I am hoping that maybe my story might bring comfort to someone else someday.

I’d imagine that your partner’s experience of the journey to parenthood together is both very similar to and very different from your own. What was it like to navigate these two perspectives while writing your memoir?

It took me several years into our journey with infertility to fully understand that although Joey, my partner, and I experienced the same events, we held very different perspectives of that shared experience. When writing my memoir, I didn’t want it to be our story, but rather my version of our story, leaving space for Joey to maintain his. Joey is incredibly supportive and when I started to write this book, he was involved early on. I read him parts out loud, showed him pieces I was working on, and he read through it entirely before I submitted my manuscript. It was important to me that he felt fairly represented and that he was okay with everything I included. Even though it’s my story, it’s still very much about our life together and our family’s beginnings. We actually worked on a few parts together and it was cathartic for our relationship to re-visit difficult moments and to reflect on how we would act differently now or how we would care for each other in different ways. It showed me how much we have grown as a couple.

It was just last year that you were participating in the Alistair MacLeod Mentorship Program, and now in a few months you’ll have your published book in your hands. I think this speaks both to the strength of your writing and to how much your story resonates with others. What has it been like to receive outside feedback on such a deeply personal book?

I can’t speak highly enough of the Alistair MacLeod Mentorship Program and my time spent with Carole Glasser Langille who taught me so much and continues to be a wonderful support in my life. That program is truly what has gotten me to this moment.

The last couple of months have been overwhelming, in a really wonderful way. I’ve always been quite private about my writing and rarely did I share it with others. A part of me was nervous that some people might think I was making too big of a deal over my miscarriages if I spoke up about it or shared my writing on it, but I think that’s an echo of how infertility and loss have historically been handled in our society. Grief surrounding infertility is often disenfranchised, misunderstood, or not spoken about at all, so I had to push those thoughts aside and be confident that my story is worthy to be shared. The warm, loving reception I’ve received has made me feel very cared for and has made this process a lot less scary. It’s helped quash my fears of judgment since I’ve allowed myself—the most fragile parts of myself—to be exposed and the responses I have received so far have been incredibly generous.  

Are there any authors you drew inspiration from while writing A Womb in the Shape of a Heart?

There are so many authors who inspired me and gave me courage during the process of writing my book. I could spend this entire interview talking about them! I used a quote from Beth Powning’s book Shadow Child: An Apprenticeship in Love and Loss as the epigraph for my book because I wanted to acknowledge how deeply her work has impacted me. She writes about grief in a way that I am really drawn to and her book feels like a safe place for me to turn and feel understood. 

Kate Inglis’ Notes for the Everlost: A Field Guide to Grief gave me permission to see myself as a grieving parent and to claim my story for what it is without needing to qualify it in terms of others’. Her writing is so elegant, and I turned to her book for advice like a dear friend when writing mine. Jessica Westhead, Maggie O’Farrell, Elizabeth McCracken, and Lucy Knisley all wrote books about the loss of babies and I felt like each one was a piece of a roadmap that helped me navigate the telling of my story. I have a section at the back of my book dedicated to all the books and writers who inspired and comforted me along the way because without their guidance, this book could never have been written.

This is your debut book. Has there been anything about the editorial or publishing process that has surprised you?

I still feel like I am such a beginner when it comes to understanding the world of publishing, so I’m sure there will be more surprises down the road, but before I began working with Nimbus, I didn’t realize how much emotional labour editors take on. My editor, Whitney Moran, is so emotionally invested in my book and the way she handled the editing process came from a place of genuine love and empathy. I don’t know how editors do the rollercoaster of preparing a book for release multiple times a year since they must manage and absorb the emotions of each writer. I’m in awe of the work they do to elevate, support, and be champions for a book that isn’t their own, but they adopt it for a brief period of time as if it is.

In addition to being a writer, you’re also a pediatric nurse. How has your career influenced the way you’ve told this story? Has the exploration of your own experience with infertility influenced your work life in any way?

Even though my career as a nurse is not a big part of the narrative, it provided a lot of context for my story. I worked as a pediatric critical care nurse for several years and when you spend time with children and their families in deeply grave circumstances, it’s impossible to not have those moments shape your worldview. I was also cognizant that I have medical knowledge that the average reader may not have. So, my editor and I tried to make sure the language I used was accessible to those who may not have the same intuitive knowledge I carry because of my work.

My experiences with loss and having my son born prematurely certainly changed me as a nurse. After becoming a patient at the IWK where I work—and perhaps more importantly, the mom of a patient— it was as if I was given new glasses through which I saw my profession. I now understand what it feels like to see your child attached to tubes and wires, needing life-saving medicine to keep them alive. I learned how it felt to get woken up by a call in the middle of the night to come quickly to your child’s bedside because they were worried about him. I feel my families’ fears and grief in a visceral way that I only imagined before. It’s given me a deeper understanding of the importance of my work as a nurse and the privilege of caring for those who are at their most vulnerable.

On your website you’ve shared a Spotify playlist for A Womb in the Shape of a Heart. What role does music play in your writing process?

I often listen to music when I’m writing. It helps me focus and songs allow me to readily access the emotion of a scene I am trying to write. It was a useful tool when working on my memoir because I listened to songs that were important to me during different times in my life and they put me right back in the moment I was trying to write about. I love how different forms of art interact, as though they are holding a conversation, and listening to music can inspire me to write something new.  

I have a chapter in my book dedicated to my son’s first birthday. When I was trying to write it, I heard Jenn Grant’s song, “Happy Birthday Baby” play on one of the playlists I had put on. I listened to it on repeat for about six hours straight when writing and editing that chapter. Now, when I hear that song, I am thrown right into the space of celebrating my son’s birthday. The song now holds such meaning for me, which is a wonderful unexpected experience.

The cover of your book is so beautiful! Can you tell me a bit about how it came into being?

Thank you! I have always been drawn to covers with paintings, I believe that books are pieces of physical art, and when I shared my vision with my editor at Nimbus, she reached out to local artist Briana Corr Scott to see if she’d be willing to paint an original for the cover. I have loved Briana’s work for quite some time, my son and I play with her paper dolls, I have many of her prints on the walls in my house, and I have all of her books that we read often at bedtime. Her art has meant a lot to me over the years, so I was thrilled when she agreed to do it. The piece she created for the cover still brings me to tears. I’m honoured to have her art represent my words and to be given a cover that I am so proud to show off.

Parenting in a pandemic comes with its own unique set of challenges. What’s bringing joy and delight to you and your husband and son right now?

We’ve turned inward and slowed down in a way we hadn’t since our son was an infant. We’re used to rushing to activities or playdates, but ever since things shut down, we’ve found joy by connecting in small, quiet ways at home. We spend a lot of time in our yard exploring, collecting sticks and rocks or making friends with worms and ants. We have a little dish on our entryway table that I used to toss spare change into when I came home. Now, my son empties his pockets and fills it with the rocks he’s gathered on our walks.

We have neighbors who have similarly aged children to our son, who is now 4. Since they can’t see each other right now they will stand in their front yards in the evenings and yell back and forth about what they did that day. I love hearing what they share, which is usually what snacks they ate and what they did at the playground. It gives my son a sense of community with other children and I love seeing his face light up when he hears one of them shout their greetings to him from across the road.

—Questions by K.R. Byggdin

Author spotlight: Joanne Gallant Read More »

Author spotlight: Jacqueline Dumas

Author Spotlights

Jacqueline Dumas’s latest novel is The Heart Begins Here (Inanna Publications, 2018). Her previous writing includes two published novels: Madeleine & the Angel and The Last Sigh (Fifth House); a children’s picture book: And I’m Never Coming Back (Annick Press); and a one-act play, Secrets, which was produced at the 2013 Edmonton International Fringe Festival. She has extensive experience in the book business, including ownership and management of two bookshops in Edmonton, Alberta. She moved to Nova Scotia in July 2013. (Photo Credit: Nicola Davison)

First of all, happy Pride Month! As the former owner of Orlando Books in Edmonton, how do you think the Canadian publishing landscape has changed for 2SLGBTQ+ writers from the nineties to now?

And Happy Pride to you! The publishing landscape has changed for everyone, and in an especially expansive way for 2SLGBTQ+ writers. What’s interesting now is that despite the demise of many independent presses, the dominance of the internet means writers don’t need to find a traditional publisher anymore, or be subject to the whims of the day. You can self-publish without having to satisfy the demands of a conventional editor or sales force; you can find your audience on-line. On the other hand, while social media has opened up avenues for being heard that weren’t available before, audiences seem quite compartmentalized now, with many readers only wanting to read what they already know about, or what they think they know about.

In this new digital reality, your work quickly disappears if you’re not good at self-promotion. Even writers with traditional publishers are expected to spend a lot of time and energy publicizing themselves. When I started out in the 1980s, the writer was expected to write and the publisher was expected to sell. The publisher would arrange readings, interviews and reviews across the country, all to a broad reading public. Media outlets at the time were required to carry a certain amount of Canadian content, so if you managed to get published, you were pretty much guaranteed publicity on radio and TV, and each major newspaper had a solid book section with knowledgeable critics, so your book was met with a healthy dose of diverse reviews. Current media conglomeration means that a small number of writers receive a single, centralized review that’s reproduced across the country, so if you’re lucky to get one, you have to hope it’s a good one.

What brought you from Alberta to Nova Scotia?

I was in my late sixties, living in Edmonton surrounded by young men from across the country who had come to Alberta to earn big bucks and burn rubber up and down Whyte Avenue in their brand new heavy-duty, fully loaded pickup trucks, the kind with the massive wheels and spikey hubcaps, and I asked myself: What am I still doing here? My daughter had moved to Toronto, given birth to twins, and my partner, Mary, who is from Newfoundland, was missing the ocean. So there was a double pull east, to be closer to my daughter and grandkids and back to the sea (with better weather than Newfoundland).

I love Nova Scotia. Looking back, I see Alberta as the place I was always trying to leave. I was born there, and over the years I would go off and live somewhere else only to end up in Alberta again, usually because of a relationship. I miss the landscape, its mix of mountains and lakes and prairie and aspen parkland, but I abhor its extreme politics that promotes the devastation of the environment to fill the greed of a few.

Have you noticed any interesting similarities or differences between Prairie and East Coast writing?

I think both writing spaces are defined in large part by the landscape—here on the East Coast, the seascape. Looking across the Prairies is like gazing across a vast ocean, looking out to the horizon. Both regions are away from the traditional centres of power in our country, away from its cultural centres. Perhaps, as a result, we tend to look more outward, look to what’s out there.

I was very glad that the Writers’ Fed paired us together for the 2018 Alistair MacLeod Mentorship Program. I learned so much from you during our time together. As a mentor, what was the experience like for you?

In a word: invigorating. For me, it was a brilliant if somewhat unlikely pairing. You freshened me up: a young writer filled with enthusiasm and a strong work ethic who was a joy to work with. It helped that I loved what you were working on. I looked forward each time we met to our discussions. And being a mentor was good for my own writing. Analyzing your manuscript for what worked and didn’t work, then having to articulate it, was an exercise that transferred over to what I was working on. At your reading, I felt so proud seeing you stand up there and take your place. I can’t wait to read the final version of Wonder World when it’s finally released.

Your latest novel, The Heart Begins Here, covers some serious topics, but you also had me laughing out loud as your poor protagonist struggles through a dismal reading by an overconfident and self-obsessed poet at her independent bookstore. With all of the events you’ve hosted or attended over the years, what are your tips to ensure a good experience for both author and audience?

It’s good to keep in mind that apart from selling books, the goal of a reading is to engage and entertain, so 15 to 20 minutes should be the maximum length. You want to leave your audience craving more, not silently praying for an ordeal to end. Your piece should have a beginning and an end and be edited for the ear. Writing is a solitary occupation, so it can be difficult to be suddenly standing in the spotlight. Remind yourself that the audience has come because they’re interested in what you have to say. Make eye contact with them during the introduction, then be fully present while you’re reading.

The host needs to control the Q & A, put a limit on the number of questions. And it does no harm to have good drinks and snacks.

Allison Bechdel’s long-running comic strip Dykes to Watch Out For also featured a progressive bookshop, and I’m a huge fan of Venus Envy here in Halifax. Why do you think 2SLGBTQ+ folks have historically gravitated to bookstores? And what does the local queer community lose if these spaces go away?

Perhaps I can best answer this question by referring specifically to Orlando Books, which was a queer, progressive space in Edmonton. I opened the bookshop in 1993 and closed it in 2002. During that time, Alberta’s 2SLGBTQ+ community was still quite closeted (this was a time when you could lose your job if you were a teacher or a health care worker, for example), so the bookshop was a safe space for the queer community, a space where you didn’t have to justify your existence. I think it was especially important for young people to be able to come in and see what information was available. There was a high school in the neighbourhood (the one my daughter had gone to) whose principal claimed the school with its student population of over 1,000 had “no gay students.” The bookstore didn’t just sell books and promote writers; we sponsored and sold tickets to live events, including the monthly women’s dances, garnered donations to support human-rights cases, put up book tables at events in the general community (e.g., the teachers’ conventions), etc. People from out of town routinely came to us for information on queer friendly spots in the city. A lot of that information is online nowadays, but I still think it’s important to have our own physical spaces, to not be completely absorbed by general society. I think we find ourselves by defining ourselves in our own spaces.

Your book is set in 2001 and was published by Inanna in 2018. Is it fair to say you ruminated on this story for a long time? I don’t mean this as a criticism, it gives me hope for my unfinished work! I am curious what helped you return to this project, and what advice you might have for writers with their own dusty manuscript or cobwebbed Word document at home?

The short answer? I’m a slow writer. There’s also a longer answer. When I started working on The Heart Begins Here, I was in the middle of writing a historical novel, tentatively titled Sacred Heart. This novel dealt with the 1870s Northwest, a pivotal time in the history of Western Canada. I had researched what I could find on Indigenous history, on the treaties, the smallpox epidemics, the resistances, examined photographs of the times, studied canoe routes, conducted interviews, sifted through the Oblate archives, the archives of the Grey Nuns, read between the lines for what was missing, fleshed out all my characters and the plot lines. Gradually I came to realize there was an important part of the story that wasn’t mine to tell, and the book couldn’t be written without it. Because of all the work I had put in, the book hung around a while before I abandoned the project totally. This process slowed down work on the new book. During this time I also went back to school to complete a Master’s degree.

The end of the story is that when I did finish The Heart Begins Here in 2015, it was rejected by a few publishers before Inanna accepted it, and then it was another couple of years before it actually saw the light of day.

With travel being a no-go lately, have you read any books that have transported you in some way?

I could go on and on, but I’ll mention three books that I keep close and are particularly relevant to what I’m working on at the moment.

The Lying Life of Adults by Elena Ferrante. Reading her is a bit like meandering through Proust’s garden of words, where you get helplessly, delightfully lost in the verbiage. There is so much life going on in a single Ferrante sentence.

And because I’m working on a memoir myself, two books: First, The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion. She has an amazing ability to make the intensely personal, universal. A concise, journalistic style that is the opposite of a writer like Ferrante. And interesting that you bring up Alison Bechdel. Her graphic memoir, The Secret to Superhuman Strength, boings all my buttons. It’s a brilliant chronicle of the various layers and intersections of the personal with the political over the years—a book for dykes of my generation.

In addition to your three novels, you’ve also written a children’s book and a play. Do you have a favourite genre to work in? Or is that like asking a parent to pick their favourite child?

This parent’s favourite child is the novel, which might soon be replaced in my affections by the memoir I’m working on.

—Questions by K.R. Byggdin

Author spotlight: Jacqueline Dumas Read More »

Author spotlight: Deborah Hemming

Author Spotlights

Deborah Hemming lives and writes in Wolfville, Nova Scotia. She holds an MA in English from McGill University, a BA in English from the University of King’s College, and an MLIS from Dalhousie University. When Deborah’s not writing, she works as an academic librarian. Throw Down Your Shadows, her first novel, was shortlisted for the 2021 ReLit Novel Award.

Congratulations on getting your first book published. What did it feel like to first hold your book in your hands?

Thank you! Holding my book for the first time was something I had looked forward to for a while. There’s so much about the process of writing a book that feels intangible, from nurturing the initial idea in your head to how much the story changes draft to draft, and I was certain once the book was printed and bound, it would take on a new weight. But I have to say, my experience of first seeing my book in the flesh was one of weightlessness. It was very surreal to see it printed, but it was also, overwhelmingly, a strange relief. I realized, even though I was finally holding it, it was now out of my hands. There was no more tinkering possible. It felt like letting go, which was very freeing.

Tell me about your book – what was your inspiration?

Throw Down Your Shadows is a coming-of-age story set in the Gaspereau Valley, Nova Scotia. It follows 16-year-old Winnie and her group of guy friends through a life-changing summer in which they meet Caleb, a charismatic new neighbour. Caleb totally upends their lives, exposing them to new ideas, encouraging them to push personal boundaries, and awakening feelings and desires that, until now, lay dormant.

At the heart of the story is a mysterious and devastating fire at a local winery. We don’t know who or what started the fire, but as the narrative jumps back and forth in time, the story gets closer to the truth of the event.

My inspiration for Throw Down Your Shadows was what I saw as a void. Coming-of-age stories are common, but I had rarely seen stories that dealt with friendships between young women and young men and how those friendships change due to the pressures of adolescence. I’d also never seen a teenage character like Winnie before. Most depictions of young women rely on heightened emotion and feeling, whereas Winnie is very cold and detached. I wanted to explore what it would look like for a young woman like Winnie to navigate lust and desire for the first time.

There aren’t very many books set in the Annapolis Valley, and the Gaspereau Valley in particular. Why did you decide to make the Gaspereau Valley your setting? What is it about this place that makes it fertile ground for fiction?

I grew up in the Annapolis Valley and had many friends who lived in Gaspereau, so I spent a lot of time in the area as a teen. I had always thought of it as this beautiful, hidden gem. It’s not so hidden anymore because it’s now considered the heart of Nova Scotia wine country, but it still retains its rustic charm.

Because Throw Down Your Shadows explores themes of appetite, pleasure and awakening desire, I really liked the idea of setting the story in a lush natural setting that would mirror the tensions and experiences of the main characters. As the world around them blossoms, grapes ripening, flowers blooming, Winnie and her friends do too.

If you were going to be a tour guide for tourists to Gaspereau, where would you take them?

I love this question. One of my favourite scenes in the book is when Winnie and the boys go tubing down the Gaspereau River. This is a local tradition and a required stop on any tour I’d be giving. After, I’d take them to Benjamin Bridge for a glass of sparkling wine in the vineyard.

What were some of the challenges you faced in writing the book?

The book is told in first person from Winnie’s perspective and finding her voice was a challenge in the beginning. As I mentioned, she’s not an overly emotional creature, so writing her in a way that didn’t alienate the reader was important. Similarly, when developing Caleb as a character, I needed to be careful not to make him too much of a challenge for the reader. He’s both charismatic and antagonistic, which is a tough balance to strike.

From talking to readers, I’ve noticed they tend to have more sympathy for Caleb than Winnie, which totally surprised me, but perhaps it shouldn’t have. I think we’re much more willing to embrace unlikeable men than we are unlikeable women.

The book bounces back and forth between “Before” and “After” and I found that to be very intriguing … it’s like the book had a dark heart that gradually comes into focus, and I read with a growing sense of dread. Can you talk about why you decided to write it that way?

There’s this notion that one event can change your life completely and I’m not sure I believe that. Change, to me, is always gradual. Even if one event ignites a major shift, the real changes happen around that event, before and after. This was why I wanted to tell a story that pivoted around a central moment, building in momentum and suspense, but ultimately, when the reader looks back, I hope they see how the story of that moment stretches beyond the event itself, from the first pages to the last.

What was your experience like in getting it published?

I finished the book in January 2018 and signed with Vagrant Press in September of that year. The months in between were a lot of querying and submitting, with inevitable rejections along the way. As a Nova Scotia-centric book, it made a lot of sense for Throw Down Your Shadows to find a home with Vagrant, an Atlantic Canadian publisher.

Can you talk about your title, Throw Down Your Shadows?

I understandably get a lot of questions about this. It’s quite an opaque title. My idea with it was that, in life, you come across certain people who illuminate unexpected sides of you. Shadows are always a by-product of light, so this fit with that idea, but shadows also connote darkness. I wanted the title to invoke how Winnie’s dark side is illuminated over the course of the story, and of course, that ultimately happens because Caleb comes into her life.

What are you writing now?

I’ve finished a second novel, which I’m hoping to find a home for. It’s very different from the first: no teenagers and no Nova Scotia connection this time. I’ve also just started a new novel, but it’s very early days. Writing is a part of my every day, so I’m always working on something.

Is the pandemic helping or hindering your writing?

The pandemic has been a very productive time for me. I always write in the mornings, very early, and now that I work from home for my day job as an academic librarian, I don’t have a commute, which means more time to write. I’ve also always used writing as therapy. It’s been a welcome escape for me over the past year or so.

What are some of your favorite coming-of-age novels?

I’m very resistant to the idea that coming-of-age novels are necessarily young adult fiction. I didn’t write Throw Down Your Shadows as a YA book and I’ve never understood why stories about teenagers shouldn’t be of interest to people of all ages. It’s such a formative time; I’m still digesting my teenage years.

That being said, I also think coming-of-age experiences can happen at any point in one’s life, not just adolescence. One of the best coming-of-age books I read recently was Death in Her Hands by Ottessa Moshfegh. Most people probably wouldn’t see this as a coming-of-age novel (the main character is 72) but to me, it is. It’s the story of a woman embracing transformation and learning about herself. Even though it’s set at the end of her life, it’s still has the spirit of coming-of-age.

Other coming-of-age novels I love: Sweetbitter by Stephanie Danler was a major influence for me. As well, History of Wolves by Emily Fridlund was a masterpiece.

What are you looking forward to the most when restrictions end?

Travelling is my favourite way to spend my time. When we can travel again, I will be very, very happy. I have my sights set on a trip to France to visit friends in summer 2022. We’ll see if that’s possible. I have my fingers crossed!

—Questions by Marilyn Smulders

Author spotlight: Deborah Hemming Read More »

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Simultaneous Submissions

The Writers’ Federation of Nova Scotia (WFNS) administers some programs (and special projects) that involve print and/or digital publication of ‘selected’ or ‘winning’ entries. In most cases, writing submitted to these programs and projects must not be previously published and must not be simultaneously under consideration for publication by another organization. Why? Because our assessment and selection processes depends on all submitted writing being available for first publication. If writing selected for publication by WFNS has already been published or is published by another organization first, copyright issues will likely make it impossible for WFNS to (re-)publish that writing.

When simultaneous submissions to a WFNS program are not permitted, it means the following:

  • You may not submit writing that has been accepted for future publication by another organization.
  • You may not submit writing that is currently being considered for publication by another organization—or for another prize that includes publication.
  • The writing submitted to WFNS may not be submitted for publication to another organization until the WFNS program results are communicated. Results will be communicated directly to you by email and often also through the public announcement of a shortlist or list of winners. Once your writing is no longer being considered for the WFNS program, you are free to submit it elsewhere.
    • If you wish to submit your entry elsewhere before WFNS program results have been announced, you must first contact WFNS to withdraw your entry. Any entry fee cannot be refunded.

Prohibitions on simultaneous submission do not apply to multiple WFNS programs. You are always permitted to submit the same unpublished writing to multiple WFNS programs (and special projects) at the same time, such as the Alistair MacLeod Mentorship Program, the Emerging Writers Prizes, the Jampolis Cottage Residency Program, the Message on a Bottle contest, the Nova Writes Competition, and any WFNS projects involving one-time or recurring special publications.

Recommended Experience Levels

The Writers’ Federation of Nova Scotia (WFNS) recommends that participants in any given workshop have similar levels of creative writing and / or publication experience. This ensures that each participant gets value from the workshop⁠ and is presented with information, strategies, and skills that suit their career stage. The “Recommended experience level” section of each workshop description refers to the following definitions used by WFNS.

  • New writers: those with less than two years’ creative writing experience and/or no short-form publications (e.g., short stories, personal essays, or poems in literary magazines, journals, anthologies, or chapbooks).
  • Emerging writers: those with more than two years’ creative writing experience and/or numerous short-form publications.
  • Early-career authors: those with 1 or 2 book-length publications or the equivalent in book-length and short-form publications.
  • Established authors: those with 3 or 4 book-length publications.
  • Professional authors: those with 5 or more book-length publications.

Please keep in mind that each form of creative writing (fiction, nonfiction, poetry, and writing for children and young adults) provides you with a unique set of experiences and skills, so you might consider yourself an ‘established author’ in one form but a ‘new writer’ in another.

For “intensive” and “masterclass” creative writing workshops, which provide more opportunities for peer-to-peer feedback, the recommended experience level should be followed closely.

For all other workshops, the recommended experience level is just that—a recommendation—and we encourage potential participants to follow their own judgment when registering.

If you’re uncertain of your experience level with regard to any particular workshop, please feel free to contact us at communications@writers.ns.ca