Friday, August 22, 2025

12 or 20 (second series) questions with Andrew Bertaina

Andrew Bertaina is the author of the essay collection, The Body Is A Temporary Gathering Place (Autofocus 2024), the book length essay, Ethan Hawke & Me (Barrelhouse, 2025), and the short-story collection, One Person Away From You (Moon City Press Award Winner 2021). His work has appeared in The ThreePenny Review, New Letters, Prairie Schooner, Orion, and elsewhere. His work has been anthologized in The Best American Poetry, The Best Microfiction, and listed as notable in three editions of The Best American Essays and as a special mention in The Pushcart Prize anthology. He has an MFA from American University and more of his work is available at andrewbertaina.com
 
1 - How did your first book change your life? How does your most recent work compare to your previous? How does it feel different?
My first book was really just making writing feel possible. I wasn't sure I'd ever have a book, and I think landing that first book just made writing feel suddenly real. 

This book is my third, which means the initial excitement isn't quite as large. I've settled into a career as a writer, which means books if I'm lucky, so I'm enjoying it, but it's definitely a different experience. 

2 - How did you come to fiction first, as opposed to, say, poetry or non-fiction?
I have always written fiction and non-fiction. Like most writers I started out wanting to write fiction. However, I started my MFA as a really inexperienced writer, and I happened to land in a non-fiction course and wound up loving it. I think I wanted to write fiction because the novel has long been the dominant form, which means my experience as an avid reader had me thinking it was the only real form. 
 
3 - How long does it take to start any particular writing project? Does your writing initially come quickly, or is it a slow process? Do first drafts appear looking close to their final shape, or does your work come out of copious notes?
My writing tends to come quickly when I'm interested in a project. I really prefer to finish a whole draft in as few sittings as possible. I find that without momentum I tend to lose the thread of a project. My writing is already partially fragmentary, so I need to do it quickly to keep it together!

4 - Where does a work of prose usually begin for you? Are you an author of short pieces that end up combining into a larger project, or are you working on a "book" from the very beginning?
In this case, Ethan Hawke & Me was a known project. I figured I was working toward a book, and I had the lovely scaffolding of the Before Trilogy movies by Richard Linklater. The book is subdivided into three distinct time periods in my life that roughly coincide with the thematic concerns of the movies. That gave me a nice pathway into the book. 

5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
I enjoy doing readings, but I consider them as only somewhat related to the art. Reading is a bit of a performance with its attendant requirements of audience engagement. Ie, I love and write pretty lyrically. I tend to find something funny or that breaks up the hypnotic feeling of being read to when I'm doing it for an audience.
 
6 - Do you have any theoretical concerns behind your writing? What kinds of questions are you trying to answer with your work? What do you even think the current questions are?
My writing is always considered with questions of meaning, self, spiritual, and cultural. I tend to write towards questions that I try to unravel in my work. How should a person be? I think Sheila Heti already took that title, but it's the question underneath my work. What to do with the time we have been given here? 

7 – What do you see the current role of the writer being in larger culture? Do they even have one? What do you think the role of the writer should be?
I think the role of a writer in the culture is pretty diminished, particularly in the United States. People don't think writers are cultural critics in the way they used to. I do think story telling is an important part of conception on a cultural level, and I think losing a role of prominence probably isn't the best thing for writers. However, it's always been a rarefied air for those writers at the top. Almost everyone else should be doing it for the love of the game. 

8 - Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?
I found working with my editor to be really positive. Mike Ingram at Barrelhouse was great. He pushed me where I needed it but was also okay with my stylistic tics. As I said, I write lyrically. I would really struggle with an editor who wanted that lyricism pared down to make it more palatable. 

9 - What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?
Read a lot. I feel like we are in an era where I see more and more writers cropping up, but folks should be matching that with a lot of reading. 

10 - How easy has it been for you to move between genres (short stories to essays)? What do you see as the appeal?
I write what I'm interested in. That's the only reason I have continued to write for the last fifteen years. That means I'm bad at the marketing side because everyone thinks they can sell a novel. But I just can't get myself to write something I'm not interested in. The appeal of working in multiple genres is really keeping myself interested in the work. 

11 - What kind of writing routine do you tend to keep, or do you even have one? How does a typical day (for you) begin?
I don't have a writing schedule. I tend to work best when inspiration strikes, which can come in burst of a month or so when I will get a lot done. Then I might go months and write only one or two short things. I wish I could control it more. 

12 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?
I read! Or if I'm in the middle of something I'll take a nature walk and not listen to anything. I find the mind needs time to wander. The subconscious brain is always working, and we just need to let it have some silence at times. 

13 - What fragrance reminds you of home?
The smell of hot tar or honeysuckle. 

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

In the case of this book the Before Trilogy was really the inspiration. Of course, my book is written with writers like Patricia Hample or Lia Purpura as influences at a line level, but it was really these movies that helped create an outline for life. 

15 - What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?
Too many to count! As I said, Patricia Hampl and Lia Purpura come to mind for this project, but I'm inspired constantly by so many different writers, past and present. I love to be fed by the great lake of writing. 

16 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
Live an entirely different kind of life :). 

17 - If you could pick any other occupation to attempt, what would it be? Or, alternately, what do you think you would have ended up doing had you not been a writer?
I considered being a therapist. Sometimes I tell my kids that I got an A+ in my college acting course and wish I'd pursued that instead. Bookshop owner. I have a lot I'd have liked to do. 

18 - What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
I just wanted to see if I could do it after having the incredible experience of feeling so moved by the masters. A mixture of wonder, honor, and I suppose a bit of hubris. Also, I was so bad at math. Horrendously so. 

19 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?
The last great book I read was It Lasts Forever and then it's over by Anne De Marcken. It's this incredible meditation on grief and loss folded into a zombie novel. I'm not even a zombie guy. This book just blew me away. It has these haunting and lyric lines combined with thinking through the grief of a relationship and life that has been lost. I'm always drawn by line level stuff and this book manages to wed the gorgeous lines to the form of a strange and compelling story. Masterful. 

The last great film was probably All Of Us Strangers. I am apparently just a sucker for grief. We all have those things we love. 

20 - What are you currently working on?
I'm writing some short stories that keep getting stranger and stranger. I think I'm just always interested in something new in fiction. In the essay form, I have a more consistent voice, but I don't have anything to reflect on right now, so it's weird short stories! 

12 or 20 (second series) questions;

Thursday, August 21, 2025

Natalie Lim, Elegy for Opportunity

 

If Mary Can Do It 

I give myself permission to write
about the small things. a trip
to the ice rink. the bus ride home.
cherry blossoms in full bloom. anything to feel
like I have anything at all to say.
my pen pal in Tokyo writes a book
and I find out through Twitter. it’s getting easier
to see the future. marriage and a kid,
two probably, unless I change my mind. I want
people to remember me. I want to write like she did.
focused, intentional, whole poems taken over by a flock of starlings
or a blade of grass. not this wild tangle of thoughts
all pressed in together. I would blame
the internet, but I think it’s just me. I want
to stop living through late-stage capitalism.
I want to do something about it
but without getting in trouble. I don’t care
what you say – I need to be good. tell me
about despair, Mary. tell me if, at the end,
you felt you had done more
than just visit.

The full-length debut by Vancouver poet Natalie Lim, winner of the 2018 CBC Poetry Prize and Room magazine’s 2020 Emerging Writer Award, and author of the chapbook arrhythmia (Rahila’s Ghost Press, 2022), is Elegy for Opportunity (Hamilton ON: Buckrider Books/Wolsak and Wynn, 2025). I’m curious about the way Lim approaches narrative and her first-person lyric: offering the suggestion of something relatively straightforward, but curving a bit. “I’ve only written love poems for months so it feels like I’ve written no poems / at all.” she offers, to open the prose poem “Love Poems Don’t Win Contests,” that begins the collection. “Instead of writing, I’m sitting on a park bench in early spring, the air so heavy with pollen and promise that it’s hard to breathe. I make eye contact with a dachshund wearing a coat and yet all I do is complain.” There’s something intriguing and almost wry about the way Lim acknowledges the economy of poem composition, including attempting contests, writing her failure as an accomplishment (or the other way around, perhaps). “I am scared of killing everything I touch,” she writes, to open “On Biology,” “this includes people, which is new, / and plants, which is not. / did you know we lose vertebrae / as we age? we’re born with thirty-three and die / with twenty-four, usually, the lower ones fusing together / by the time we call ourselves grown.” Lim’s poems are immediate, and the collection provides a myriad of lyric shapes and purposes as Lim feels out possibility, the way one could argue a debut full-length collection should be, seeking out what options the lyric form might allow. She works poems big and small, expansive and uniquely condensed. There’s a meandering element I quite like, a fresh counterpoint to far too many poems that one can see the ending from the beginning. Lim’s poems are thoughtful, unafraid of exploring within a particular moment, or making sharp turns; they move as needed with a quiet confidence. I’m quite taken with her short poem “Winter in Ottawa,” a poem she is possibly unaware holds a title similar to one of John Newlove’s final pieces. As her poem, dedicated “for the Love Poem Collective / after Manahil Bandukwala,” begins:

the Rideau Canal doesn’t freeze over
for the first time ever.
it feels like a sign, although
I’m not sure what of.
global warming, I guess. our
impending doom.
but we sit in the café
and talk about love poems
and the dread can’t touch us.
I think the cold makes me better.

Wednesday, August 20, 2025

the ottawa small press book fair, autumn 2025 edition: November 22, 2025

span-o (the small press action network - ottawa) presents:

   

 the ottawa
    small press
    book fair

autumn 2025 :
will be held on Saturday, November 22, 2025 at Tom Brown Arena, 141 Bayview Station Road.


“once upon a time, way way back in October 1994, rob mclennan and James Spyker invented a two-day event called the ottawa small press book fair, and held the first one at the National Archives of Canada...” Spyker moved to Toronto soon after our original event, but the fair continues, thanks in part to the help of generous volunteers, various writers and publishers, and the public for coming out to participate with alla their love and their dollars.

General info:
the ottawa small press book fair
noon to 5pm (opens at 11am for exhibitors)

admission free to the public.

$25 for exhibitors, full tables
$12.50 for half-tables

(payable to rob mclennan, c/o 2423 Alta Vista Drive, Ottawa ON K1H 7M9; paypal options also available

Note: due to demand, we offer half as well as full tables (because not everyone needs a full table, and this allows more exhibitors to participate).
To be included in the exhibitor catalogue:
 please include name of press, address, email, web address, contact person, type of publications, list of publications (with price), if submissions are being considered and any other pertinent info, including upcoming Ottawa-area events (if any). Be sure to send by November 10th if you would like to appear in the exhibitor catalogue.

And hopefully we can still do the pre-fair reading as well! details TBA
: and we're on Bsky now! that's exciting, yes? follow us!

BE AWARE: 
given that the spring 2013 was the first to reach capacity (forcing me to say no to at least half a dozen exhibitors), the fair can’t (unfortunately) fit everyone who wishes to participate. The fair is roughly first-come, first-served, although preference will be given to small (literary) publishers over self-published authors (being a “small press fair,” after all).

The fair usually contains exhibitors with poetry books, novels, cookbooks, posters, t-shirts, graphic novels, comic books, magazines, scraps of paper, gum-ball machines with poems, 2x4s with text, etc, including regular appearances by exhibitors including: above/ground press ; Anvil Press / A FEED DOG BOOK ; Apt. 9 Press ; Arc Poetry Magazine ; Manahil Bandukwala ; battleaxe press ; Jessica Bebenek ; Book*hug Press ; Bird Lips Zine ; The BumblePuppy Press ; Bywords ; Dave Cooper ; CreateSpace ; Amanda EarlElliott Dunstan ; equitableEducation.ca ; flo. lit mag ; Good Golly Zines ; The Grunge Papers ; John Haas ; Seymour Hamilton ; Heartlines Spec ; Horsebroke Press ; Shirley MacKenzie ; Robin Blackburn McBride ; Patricia McCarthy ; Kersplebedeb Publishing (LeftWingBooks.net) ; Paragon of Virtue Press / la presse POV ; phafours press/Writebulb app/Pearl Pirie ; Proper Tales Press ; Puddles of Sky Press ; Raccoon Comics ; Claudia Coutu Radmore ; ROOM 3o2 BOOKS ; Sarah's Zines ; Simulacrum Press ; shreeking violet press ; swooncor ; Tel # Publishing ; Things in my Chest ; Touch the Donkey [a small poetry journal] ; Turret House Press ; Alberte Villeneuve-Sinclair ; Wyrdsmyth Press ; etc etc etc.

the ottawa small press fair is held twice a year (apart from these pandemic silences), and was founded in 1994 by rob mclennan and James Spyker. Organized/hosted since by rob mclennan.

Come on by and see some of the best of the small press from Ottawa and beyond!

Free things can be mailed for fair distribution to the same address.
 Unfortunately, we are unable to sell things for publishers who aren’t able to make the event.

Also: please let me know if you are able/willing to poster, move tables or distribute fliers for the event. The more people we all tell, the better the fair!

And don't forget: the 2026 fairs have already been announced for Saturday, June 20 and Saturday, November 14, 2026;

Contact: rob mclennan at rob_mclennan (at) hotmail.com for questions, or to sign up for a table
.

Tuesday, August 19, 2025

recently on periodicities: a journal of poetry and poetics:

recently at periodicities: a journal of poetry and poetics: Laura Kerr : Unfixed Readings : Fugue, Fire, Fish ; Buck Downs : How to Be Alone With Someone Else Who Is Also You ; Jessie Jones : Two poems ; Kemeny Babineau : Two poems ; Jérôme Melançon : On the Gaza Poets Society ; Dani Spinosa and Derek Beaulieu : Notes on Visual Poetries in Canada ; Misha Solomon : How Does a Poem Begin? ; Noah Berlatsky : The Absolutely True Origin Story of Spamtoum! ; Jamella Hagen : Four poems ; a review of Julie Carr's Underscore by Jérôme Melançon ; Process Note #61 : Dawn Angelicca Barcelona ; a review of THE WEATHER AND THE WORDS: THE SELECTED LETTERS OF JOHN NEWLOVE, 1963-2003, Edited by J.A. Weingarten by Ken Norris ; Sarah Wolfson : How Does a Poem Begin? ; Michael Sikkema : Contemporary Vispo Conversations : Kate Siklosi, Dani Spinosa and Amanada Earl ; Andrew Brenza : on Sigil Series ; Noah Pitcoff : Five poems ; Miranda Mellis : DRIVE SATISFACTION ; Scott Inniss : On First Looking into Andrew Mbaruk’s Slavespeare: A Brief Interview ; Darby Minott Bradford : How does a poem begin? ; a review of Shannon Webb-Campbell's Re: Wild Her by Kim Fahner ; Ernesto Noboa y Caamaño : Four/Four: The Decapitated Generation : translated by Tristan Partridge ; a review of Cherry Blue's Je ne ferai pas de casse-tête de dauphin by Jérôme Melançon ; two poems by Eva Haas ; J-T Kelly : Short Remarks on More of How to Read the Bible ; ryan fitzpatrick : Some Notes on Being the 2024–25 U of A EFS Writer-in-Residence ; Clint Burnham : from “Sea of Sludge” ; Process Note #60 : Elizabeth Costello : Childhood, Adulthood, Enchantments, Entanglements ; John M. Bennett : JIM LEFTWICH’S LAST BOOK : PIT SWAN & ORBATE WRITING ; Grant Wilkins : Where Does A Poem Come From? How Does A Poem Begin? ; Nicole Mae : Matryoshka and Other Poems ; a review of Aedan Corey's KINAUVUNGA? and Emily Laurent Henderson's Hold Steady My Vision by Chris Johnson ; Kim Trainor : A small quiet voice in the dark: ecocide and lyric poetry ; J-T Kelly : A Conversation with Poet Aaron Poochigian ; Jessica Lee McMillan : Pain in the Reverie: What is a good poem and how does it begin? ; Daniel Borzutzky : HIJ ; Arturo Borja : Four/Four: The Decapitated Generation : translated by Tristan Partridge ; J.A. Weingarten : John Newlove’s Life in Letters: Notes on the Publication of The Weather and the Words: The Selected Letters of John Newlove, 1963-2003 ; Tea Gerbeza : How a poem begins ; Laura Kerr : Unfixed Readings : Resisting Resolution ; a review of Chris Bailey's Forecast: Pretty Bleak by Kim Fahner ;  

other features: seeking essay submissions in our "Reconsiderations" and "#FirstRealPoets" series. Originally prompted by Canadian poet Ken Norris, "Reconsiderations" is a series of essays by poets on older poetry titles they consider important. The "#FirstRealPoets" series was originally prompted by Canadian poet Zane Koss, who posed the questions: Who was the first poet you interacted with? While some of the responses have leaned into first discovering the work of a particular poet, the original question wished more to ask about interactions in-person. Was there a poet who read in your high school? Someone you caught early on at a reading? Was there a particular poet who first made you feel welcome in the community?

coming up: Farah Ghafoor : How does a poem begin? ; Laynie Browne : on Daily Self-Portrait Valentine ; Laressa Dickey : Four poems from THE LUNATIC SPEAKS TO US DIRECTLY, a manuscript in progress ; Nada Gordon : on COPIUM, …or…The Audacity of Dope ; Kim Fahner reviews Paula Eisenstein's Flight Problems: The Amelia Earhart Poems and Rebecca Salazar's antibody ; Holly Loveday : Three poems ; etc

be aware that periodicities is perpetually open to submissions of previously unpublished poetry-related reviews, interviews and essays. Please send submissions as .doc with author biography to periodicityjournal@gmail.com


Monday, August 18, 2025

12 or 20 (second series) questions with Matthew Nienow

Matthew Nienow’s recently released collection, If Nothing (Alice James Books, 2025), has been recommended by the New York Times Book Review, the Washington Post Book Club, and Poetry Northwest. He is also the author of House of Water (Alice James Books, 2016) and three earlier chapbooks. His poems and essays have appeared in Gulf Coast, Lit Hub, New England Review, Ploughshares, and Poetry, and have been recognized with fellowships from the Poetry Foundation, the National Endowment for the Arts, and Artist Trust. He lives in Port Townsend, Washington, with his wife and sons, where he works as a mental health counselor.

1 - How did your first book change your life? How does your most recent work compare to your previous? How does it feel different?
I’m not sure my first book did change my life, though it perhaps coincided with a volatile period in which I did go through some very big changes. I can’t say for sure from this distance, but I likely held some hope that my first book was going to somehow open doors (to where, I don’t really know). All in all, the response was quiet, and this was one of several elements of my life that contributed to a deepening depression and addiction. My drinking, which was already problematic, got worse and worse, and I dove straight to the bottom and stayed there for some time.

When I finally began to get sober eight years ago, it took a great deal of time to get healthy enough to begin writing. Making If Nothing changed me. By going back to the source of pain and betrayal again and again with a hunger for honesty, I had to grow my capacity to be with the parts of myself I couldn’t bear. By doing this, I became more coherent, more resilient, and much more available to my family and friends. Until writing the poems that make up this new collection, there had always been a faint veil between my daily life and my poems. This book erased that separation for me and I haven’t fully metabolized what this means in the larger scope of my life.

2 - How did you come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?
I struggled with writing until I was about 20 years old when I took my first creative writing class. It was then that I was first introduced to living poets. Prior to this time, it was epically difficult for me to get even a single page out and my essays and assignments were always far shorter than the stated requirements. So, the fact that I found a life in writing was quite surprising. The typical brevity in poetry, though, really makes sense with that in mind.
 
3 - How long does it take to start any particular writing project? Does your writing initially come quickly, or is it a slow process? Do first drafts appear looking close to their final shape, or does your work come out of copious notes?
I tend to bristle at the word “project” when it comes to poetry, though I do understand it as a guiding concept. (More on this in the next question.)

I don’t take notes, but I do revise voraciously, often experimenting with significant changes in form and lineation. It is rare that my finished poems closely resemble their origins. As sound is really important to me, I often record the poems I am working on and listen to them while throwing the ball for my dogs, so I can check what is resonating and what falls flat. This often helps me take the work to the next level.

4 - Where does a poem usually begin for you? Are you an author of short pieces that end up combining into a larger project, or are you working on a "book" from the very beginning?
I consider reading an active part of my writing process; most of my poems begin in the space of reading. I’m looking to be knocked off-kilter, to be stunned away or lulled into a trance. It is in this interstitial space that I can follow the trail of something I can sense, but not yet see clearly.

I tend to draft without a book in mind, which means it can take a great deal of time before I begin to feel something larger growing up between and around the poems. When I do have a critical mass of sorts, I begin to hone myself towards this space without being overly restrictive. It still requires a great deal of patience and the willingness to write a lot of poems that will never leave my desk.

5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
I see readings as adjacent to my creative process. I don’t write towards readings and I am rarely inspired to write by attending readings. With that said, I love doing readings and have devoted a lot of energy to the art and skill of reading and presenting well. It’s always sad and confusing to me how so many poets who make incredible work on the page read in such a dull or off-putting manner. As sound strongly guides me in making and revising my work, I can’t understand how poets who don’t read well relate to their art.
 
6 - Do you have any theoretical concerns behind your writing? What kinds of questions are you trying to answer with your work? What do you even think the current questions are?
This is constantly evolving for me. What I can say is that I see poetry as a place to encounter and wrestle with Truth, in all its varied forms. I am probably most interested in what this means in relation to the human experience. As for questions, I favor the asking over answering. One of the questions I’m currently interested in is: “What is healthy masculinity?”

7 – What do you see the current role of the writer being in larger culture? Do they even have one? What do you think the role of the writer should be?
Though they are nearly unavoidable, I think “shoulds” are often limiting and unhelpful expectations. I do, however, have opinions on what the “best” writing might be doing in the world, which is, of course, closely linked with the role of the writer. In the broadest sense, I believe good writers help us to look more closely at the world and ourselves, providing a chance to know and understand and feel the world more deeply.

8 - Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?
I think it depends on the editor. For the most part, I am open to feedback, though I have worked very hard to develop and trust my own internal editor. I’m very lucky to have had both of my books with Alice James; they believe in collaborating with poets and the poets have final call on editorial guidance.

9 - What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?
No one does their most important work alone.

10 - What kind of writing routine do you tend to keep, or do you even have one? How does a typical day (for you) begin?
For much of the last twenty years, I kept a pretty consistent practice of starting my day by reading poems and then drafting something new. If time and interest allowed, I could spend anywhere from 30 minutes to four hours revising work later in the day.

I entered a new chapter about two years ago when my older son got me into strength training. Now, I am at the gym first thing about six days a week, which has all but eliminated my decades-long struggle with anxiety. I’ve become more flexible with my writing practice, and now read and write at other times in the day, though I do believe setting a consistent schedule will help me dig in more fully with new work.

11 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?
Almost always to the poems of others. If I can’t find something new and surprising in one of the many lit mags I subscribe to or read online, I turn to the favorites in my home poetry library.

12 - What fragrance reminds you of home?
Cedar and salt water.

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

I’m also a musician and woodworker, and these have influenced my writing. More so, I find that paying attention to what is happening in my life and the world at large tends to inform the poems I make. Fatherhood and marriage are at the core of my life and so these relationships are sometimes the most significant guiding forces.

14 - What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?
Larry Levis, Natalie Diaz, Eduardo C. Corral, and Jack Gilbert are some of my favorite poets, though I read widely and am often very taken with single poems from too many poets to name.

Lately, True and False Magic by Phil Stutz has been helping me to grow and move beyond my self-limitations in all areas of my life. It’s an easy read with profound and accessible lessons, but the work of integrating these practices is lifelong work.

15 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
I have too many hobbies and passions and I know more will be on the way. With that said, I have been a musician and songwriter since the age of 14. I continue to draft songs all the time, but I almost never prioritize completing or recording these. I’d love to actually make an album I’m proud of even if it is just for me.

16 - If you could pick any other occupation to attempt, what would it be? Or, alternately, what do you think you would have ended up doing had you not been a writer?

I’ve already gone down the rabbit hole on several other careers (boat builder, woodworker, educator, therapist) and many of these continue to be present in my life alongside writing. There were times when I wanted only to be a writer, but I think I do my best writing when I have some friction from another occupation (or two). It keeps the world moving and I have to really choose to make it the page with a bit more urgency.

17 - What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
As someone who also creates in other forms, I go to writing for a certain flavor of magic I find most strongly there. It may also be true that I am most able to finish what I start when it comes to writing. As noted above, my song drafts often remain unfinished and it isn’t always for lack of trying.

18 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?
The last great book: This is Happiness by Niall Williams. The last great film… To be honest, I spend more time watching shows than movies and a lot of it is entertaining fluff. I enjoy it, but I wouldn’t call it great.

19 - What are you currently working on?
Finishing a sauna and building my therapy practice. As for writing, I’m leaning into essays about a range of topics around healthy masculinity, fatherhood, ADHD. I’m also drafting poems without any specific aim.

12 or 20 (second series) questions;

Sunday, August 17, 2025

filling Station #84 : let slip the dogs

 

Hey America, How Are Your Stones?

Sometimes the bicycle swirl of a landscape unfurls hot
butter – edge – white – wax – smear – mushed 

into cloud          //          there’s a mountain out there

catches the eye even from a semi
barrel-rocket of goods boxed into a flare jean 

the urgency makes you solution-oriented

                        // 

Every time you leave like a video game (Meredith MacLeod Davidson)

It has been a while since I’ve more regularly discussed an issue of Calgary’s legendary literary journal filling Station [see my review of #83 here; my review of #81 here; see my review of #57: showcase of experimental writing by women here, etc], but I am trying to get better at it. Did you see all the posts up at The Typescript celebrating filling Station’s thirtieth anniversary? Thirty years is a long time for a journal, despite the handful of journals that have made it far longer (Arc Poetry Magazine is well over one hundred issues, for example), but always worth acknowledging a birthday, especially for a journal founded by scrappy youths passionate about experimental writing, and producing a journal that has continued entirely with that founding aesthetic. Yes, I said it: filling Station is and always has been run by scrappy youths passionate about experimental writing, both in Canada and well beyond. Built with their usual array of “poetry, fiction, non-fic, review, interview, project, art,” filling Station #84 provides a showcase of established and emerging, some of whom I know well and others I’ve never heard of. Virginia-born Scotland-based Meredith MacLeod Davidson, for example, is a poet entirely new to me through these pages, as is Northern Ontario poet Erin Wilson [although a quick search provides that I actually interviewed her two years ago], who has two poems in this particular issue, including the poem “Tenebrae,” that begins:

The watering can beads with rain.
Slugs slowly ruin the gibbous rind of the pumpkin. 

Put your black nylon socks on your cold black feet.
Think think think, charcoal, in darkness.

Further, there’s Calgary-based poet, fiction writer and editor Chimedum Ohaegbu, and her poem “Culpable, Too, the Minutes,” that begins: “My innocence on the abacus / although you’ve already deemed me / wolf. Courtroom drama / as directed by Internet questionnaire: / How often do you feel seen?” Otherwise, I think everyone should be reading the work of Montreal poet Misha Solomon (who has a couple of chapbooks out, with a full-length poetry debut out next year, you know, with Brick Books), or Brooklyn-based Canadian poet Michael Chang [see my review of their latest here], both of whom have new work in this particular issue. Or there is Toronto writer Sneha Subramanian Kanta, with the three-stanza/paragraph piece “Three Broken Sonnets: Escape Room City,” a lyric and narrative swirl of layer upon layer that includes: “Two cups of hot chocolate arrive in / ceramic glasses like we were drinking a warm beverage in the home / of a friend. No one befriends another in this city because they don’t / have time. The evening streets are quiet although hours are porous. / I have begun to understand the concept of time as not being finite.” As ever, if you wish to know what is happening on the ground when it comes to contemporary writing, one could not do much better than paying attention to the little magazine, and filling Station (alongside The Capilano Review, Geist and FENCE magazine) remains high on my list.

Saturday, August 16, 2025

above/ground press author spotlights : substack,

Over at the above/ground press substack [free to sign up for and free to leave] I've been posting a series of interviews with above/ground press authors with multiple titles through the press [as above/ground press authors with only a single title often get covered in the essays posted over at periodicities: a journal of poetry and poetics] with new interviews posted so far with Amish Trivedi, Brook Houglum, Orchid Tierney, Jason Christie, Steph Gray, Monty Reid and Lydia Unsworth, with further interviews scheduled with Micah Ballard, Nathanael O’Reilly and Michael Sikkema, and even further interview currently-in-progress (as well as new titles forthcoming) with Ben Ladouceur and Renée Sarojini Saklikar. Click the links to see the posted interviews so far, and even sign up to catch what might come next! The next few months of above/ground press really does have some exciting material coming through. And be sure to watch in a few weeks for the announcement for 2026 subscriptions!

Friday, August 15, 2025

12 or 20 (second series) questions with Ashley D. Escobar

Ashley D. Escobar is a literary angel from San Francisco, residing in New York City. Eileen Myles selected her debut poetry collection GLIB (2025) as the Changes Book Prize winner. She is a high school dropout who graduated from Bennington College and holds an MFA in fiction from Columbia University. She is a proud outpatient at the teenage art ward.

1 - How did your first book or chapbook change your life? How does your most recent work compare to your previous? How does it feel different?

My first chapbook SOMETIMES guided me through the pandemic. My long-distance friend Kendall and I wanted to try writing a poem a day for a month and it was October and I drove my mom’s cream Mini Cooper in circles trying to decipher if this would ever come to an end. It was a period of unrequited longing. California ennui. It’s influenced a lot by Baudelaire and Cortázar and long pensive walks alone by the beach. I don’t have that same privilege of long days spent looking out onto the ocean, but I try to access that inner meditative state despite the chaos of New York. It’s strange because I was younger, yet one of the poems, “Beachcomber,” that made it into my debut collection GLIB has been remarked as more “mature.” 

2 - How did you come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?

I think poetry just comes naturally to everyone, especially as a child learning to string words together. I never stopped playfully stringing words together. Fiction requires more focus and sitting down to finish a single scene, whereas in poetry, you can leap into infinite worlds in a few stanzas, even between a few words. I love the liminality and open endlessness that poetry offers.  

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

Regarding poetry, I never knew SOMETIMES or GLIB were necessarily going to become a manuscript. The poems were collected throughout a certain period of my life. My writing usually comes quickly, and the initial drafts usually are quite similar to the final shape, give or take a few word changes or removing scaffolding. It was interesting reshaping a few poems in GLIB that I would have never thought about if it weren’t for my editor Kyle Dacuyan. I think the words are usually already there but playing with form can sometimes transform the poem into something else.

4 - Where does a poem usually begin for you? Are you an author of short pieces that end up combining into a larger project, or are you working on a "book" from the very beginning?

I usually think of a line and go from there. I collect a lot of my poems in an ongoing document, and I came to a natural stopping point with GLIB where I felt like I had archived enough of a specific era of my life to turn it into a book.

5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?

I’ve grown to enjoy readings since moving to New York City. It’s cool to see what the audience reacts to, especially when it’s a new poem I haven’t shown anyone yet. I’m in awe of my boyfriend Matt Proctor who always reads something new at every reading. I feel restrained to reading the “hits” at certain readings, but I’m getting back into writing poems more frequently. I’d like to create more youth-centered readings intertwined with music, which I’ve done through my zine We Are in the Shop, bringing together upcoming artists with established ones in cool places such as Billy’s Record Salon. R.I.P. Billy Jones. He helped bring together some of my favorite writers and musicians into the same room. 

6 - Do you have any theoretical concerns behind your writing? What kinds of questions are you trying to answer with your work? What do you even think the current questions are?

With SOMETIMES, I was concerned with the difference between loneliness and solitude. But with GLIB, I wasn’t necessarily trying to answer question, but a few ideas were naturally brought up and answered throughout the collection such as “Walking in New York like scrolling the internet.” GLIB examines the multitudes of a persona and how we’re basically actors in our everyday life, code switching from person to person. GLIB examines girlhood in a world where its overly commodified online. 

7 – What do you see the current role of the writer being in larger culture? Do they even have one? What do you think the role of the writer should be?

I feel like being a writer is only one role to play alongside being an activist, a lover, a friend. I think of the sign in City Lights bookstore: “Be not inhospitable to strangers, lest they be angels in disguise.” Writing is important for not only documenting the culture but shaping it and creating something instead of just reciting what’s fed to us. It’s about making connections within neighborhoods and sparking revolution.

8 - Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?

Like I said before, I worked with Kyle when he was at Changes, and it offered a lot of perspective on form that I had never considered before. As long as there’s some common ground, I don’t mind the process. It gave me a lot to think about. He was the first one to look at some of the poems I later added in, and I was honestly surprised by the generous feedback and enthusiasm.

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

To not wait for permission!

10 - How easy has it been for you to move between genres (poetry to filmmaking)? What do you see as the appeal?

They’re separate in terms of process but I find pure poetry in moving images. At the New York GLIB launch at Anthology Film Archives, my boyfriend Matt and I played our cut-up vlogs during our readings. It was amazing to be in such a historically rich theater. 

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

I have more of a writing routine if I’m writing prose or have a deadline. If not, I’ve been working a lot during the afternoon lately and going out at night. I’ve started working on a longer prose project, so I’ll have to find blocks of time to continue the pace I’d like for it.

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

I dig into my archives. Listen to songs I used to be obsessed with. Old diary entries. Old tweets. Old Rateyourmusic.com posts. Anything that reminds me of me. I start writing things down again even if it’s just a to-do list. It turns into something, usually.

13 - What was your last Hallowe'en costume?

I was a bunny Sonny Angel doll and a vampire. It was cute, and I read a few poems at Matt’s Easy Paradise open mic and hung out at Tile Bar after.

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

It’s mainly music for me. I’ve actually made a playlist for a song accompanying every poem from GLIB based on what I was listening to around the time I wrote it. I’m a very sonic person, and getting lost in a certain song evokes a lot of memories and feelings for me that don’t necessarily come out of other mediums as easily. There are a lot of references to songs and musicians scattered within GLIB. The Clientele, Felt, Now, Weyes Blood, Jack Kilmer, Bright Eyes, Housekeeping, Horsegirl, and Dear Nora are a few of the artists who directly influenced GLIB.

15 - What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?

Alice Notley has been an important guiding force as of late. R.I.P. to her as well. I feel lucky to be in conversation with Matt, Eileen Myles, Aristilde Kirby, Edwin Torres, Julien Poirier, and Eddie Berrigan. Zines like Eli Schmitt’s Unresolved are important to me. Old letters mean a lot. I love reading interviews with indie bands. Julio Cortázar and the Beats, especially Jack Kerouac, haunt me always.

16 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?

I would like to direct a feature film. I already have a screenplay called The Lovers III that is a continuation of Magritte's painting sequence. It follows a young girl, coping with the recent death of her mother and hospitalization, as she runs off to Greece with a stranger––an older woman in a baby blue suit. It intertwines the human condition with the gaze, desire, and a love of art. I would also love to be in a band, even if it’s a Pastels cover band. I’d love to sing and play tambourine! I can play guitar, too.

17 - If you could pick any other occupation to attempt, what would it be? Or, alternately, what do you think you would have ended up doing had you not been a writer?

I would love to open my own restaurant, imagine a tiny bistro in Paris where we play cards in the back room. Or a bookstore café that turns into a wine bar at night. I’d love for it to be a place that merges gastronomy with literature and music. Without being pretentious. I would not like it to be recommended on TikTok. It would have to be underground enough.

If I was not a writer, I would be a fashion designer. I love vintage clothing and going thrifting. There’s a reference in GLIB to the “fish pants” I made when I was sixteen. Also be in a jangle-pop band but that’s possible. Please reach out. I love K Records.

18 - What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?

It’s something I can do without any budget or planning. I can turn to my notebook or computer rather than go out and extra materials or wait around for approval. I love playing cinematographer, art director, and the lead role without a film crew. I also can’t help it. 

19 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?

Can I speak about the last two records I loved instead? Now Does the Trick, the latest from Now, is immaculate glam pop. Glimmering music to dance to. Each song is a poem. They hold a special place in my heart, especially when I’m away from the fog. Radio DDR by Sharp Pins has also been on repeat. Pure pop pleasure. I love Kai’s kaleidoscopic world of layers and layers of sound and color, fuzz and jangly guitar. Long live the youth musik revolution.

20 - What are you currently working on?

I’m currently working on an ongoing book-length prose poem that I like to call my “one-sentence novel.” It blurs the boundaries between genres, grammar, and cultural eras. The poem questions the presence and purpose of the “I” in writing through recollections, overheard dialogue, and interactions between memory and art, reality and the imagined. As well as a novella about a girl swept in Christmas.

If anyone wants an irreverent novel set in Berlin about a 19-year-old girl who ends up living in her lesbian godmother’s bookshop mixed with rowdy boys and Joë Bousquet, please email me. I am also pitching around my semi-autobiographical short story collection Have a Pepsi Disappear. Think Chelsea Girls by Eileen Myles meets Eve Babitz. It’s a love letter to California, underage cocktails, and above all, poetry.

12 or 20 (second series) questions;

Thursday, August 14, 2025

Cedar Sigo, Siren of Atlantis

 

Ode to The Hi-way House

OK calm down, let’s also say
there is no need to write anything down for a while,
Let’s think back on all the poets that may have flirted in this room
or fucked or tried to or met often, in semi secrecy several times a week.
For now, I feel silenced by the everyday I have already told you,
diseased and purposely kept form new love and old.
And then Margaret dreamt that she and Barbara
drove back-up through the desert 900 miles
to leave cooked food in front of room 217. I call Lydia to say that Kazim
is teaching a whole Naropa summer course on Yoko Ono.
I hope this means a retelling of the Chambers Street
concert series with Jackson Mac Low.
This constructed attempt at poverty so chic I can forgive.
Especially if real poets were there as specimens taking part.
Any other poets that may have collapsed halfway down the hallway
of the archive? The ones that barely made it.
They make the rest of us smell so sweet; it becomes unreal.

The latest from Lofall, Washington-based poet and member of the Suquamish nation, Cedar Sigo, following titles such as Stranger in Town (San Francisco CA: City Lights, 2010), Language Arts (Seattle WA/New York NY: Wave Books, 2014), Royals (Wave Books, 2017), All This Time (Wave Books, 2021) [see my review of such here] and Guard the Mysteries (Wave Books, 2021), is Siren of Atlantis (Wave Books, 2025), a collection assembled as an ongoing accumulation, akin to a day-book of lyrics held together across a particular stretch of attention. “I toss my stencils / to the neon fire and begin to build, / stacking obsidian dust,” he writes, to open the poem “STRANGER (FULL TEXT) #2,” “a text that betrays the shape of a tone, / a semblance of pitch, / the opposite of rubbing down / onto a headstone.” Referencing poets such as Bernadette Mayer, Clark Coolidge, Wanda Coleman, Joanne Kyger (Sigo edited Kyger’s There You Are: Interviews, Journals, and Ephemera for Wave Books back in 2017, don’t you know) and Kazim Ali, Sigo composes a book of echoes and of the everyday, keeping a regular writing practice of his immediate, from his reading and recollections of mentors and the immediacy of his peers, dystopian peril and climate crises, and a very present and particular sense of time. “Lay my figures bare / and give them no rest,” offers the short poem “THE LIFE OF SUN RA,” “I can relate to his premise, that he was born on Saturn // and must be getting back soon, // that the earth is a failed planet, // that rehearsal itself / becomes a ceremony.”

Part-way through the collection, Sigo introduces the following pages with a note that begins: “I suffered a stroke in late July of 2022. As I was reentering my body, I decided to try writing poetry again (I was still endlessly flipping fragments in my head and reorganizing them.) The following poems seemed to come out as a series of exhibits, a naïve garden that I forced myself to connect into something larger. It is a gift to be reintroduced to your practice.” It is interesting to think of the journey, the distance, the author travelled to compose these pieces, held in similar foundations to what I’m already aware of his work. One might suspect that the experience, as he suggested in his note, forced a return to the foundations of how he approaches writing, and approaches the poem, something that perhaps someone far more familiar with his ongoing writing should probably delve into with more detail. Either way, these poems are remarkable, and deeply grounded, held in the hand as a bird might trust to light, while able to take wing at any moment. As one of the poems that follows his short note, “MEMORIZATION SONNET,” begins: “The common vernacular is our movement / and should never be reduced to echoes of voice.”