Laura Broadbent, In on the Great Joke

You disappeared into obscurity for a long while, and your heroines often experienced exile as well. Is this the natural movement following an inner death, which is the first death?

Now I no longer wish to be loved, beautiful, happy or successful.

I want one thing and one thing only – to be alone.

Can I help it if my heart beats, if my hands go cold?

And then the days did come when I was alone. Quite alone.

No voice, no touch, no hand. How long must I lie here? Forever?

No, only for a couple hundred years.

Oh, no place is a place to be sober in. (“A POSTHUMOUS INTERVIEW WITH JEAN RHYS”)

Montreal poet Laura Broadbent’s second trade poetry collection, In on the Great Joke (Toronto ON: Coach House Books, 2016), is an exploration of film structure and voice, theory and narrative. There is something reminiscent in In on the Great Joke of the work of Anne Carson, as Broadbent utilizes the frame of poetry to write her way around and through theory, prose-blocks and conceptual bursts, as well as through offering introductions to both sections – “Wei Wu Wei / Do Not Do / Tao Not Tao,” a series of poems that include responding to short films, and “Interviews,” a series of poems around voice – as well as a final prose-piece to close the collection, “*Postscriptum: A Note on the Short Films Compromising Positions Featured Throughout this Text.” And yet, the explanation is an element of the text, articulating layers of framing throughout, which themselves lead to a series of further openings. In the introduction to the second section, “Interviews,” “What a Relief not to Meet you in Person: an Homage to the Alchemy of Reading,” she writes that “The following interviews are an homage to the alchemy of reading.” She continues:

From the outside, reading can seem isolated, antisocial, indulgent, boring or nerdy because the subtle magic is not immediately observable. When you are witnessing someone reading, if they are indeed a skilled listener and not a passive escapist (no judgement toward the joy of the latter), what you are actually witnessing is a transformation which is also known a magic. Magic can, at its most basic, mean a change that is wonderful and exciting.

            Objectively, texts are blocks of words in a certain order. One hundred copies can be made of the same book with the same words in the same order, and we can say, ‘These books are the same.’ But when the book is enmeshed with a human reader’s subjectivity, the words are transformed based on the particular configuration of the receiver’s conscious and unconscious structures. Subjectively, a text has many meanings indeed – one book can be one thousand different books if one thousand people read it. Furthermore, let it be said that when a person picks up a book they are choosing to listen as an activity, a powerful decision often overlooked. I see this choice as a very beautiful and elegant thing a human can do, completely devoid of class or any other divisive hierarchy. Seeing people read has never ceased to calm me, because they are choosing to listen, which is a gentle and intelligent and elegant and stylish choice. I am speaking of a certain kind of reading, and if you are reading this you know what kind of reading I mean, I mean reading as contact between souls.

Broadbent’s In on the Great Joke is very much an exploration of meaning, translation and boundaries, and how stories, including histories, are told, blurring perceptions, and the complexity of tales that might easily contradict. How are stories told and re-told? How do the stories alter through each subsequent telling? As she writes to introduce the first section, referencing the book’s title: “There are more than 170 English translations of the Tao Te Ching, each of which differently translates the first line about it not being translatable. Lao Tzu’s begrudging attitude is immediately made clear: the first line is about how futile this naming business is, since the Way cannot be named, and if it icould be named it would not be the Way, but if it must be named, it is named Unnameable. Most translations of the Tao Te Ching are accompanied by commentary, and these commentaries take great pains to talk about how the Way cannot be talked about. Just as I am talking about it now. This is part of the Great Joke.”

Your sense of history is remarkably melancholic – does joy fit into this long account of calamities?

There are only two seasons: the white winter and the green winter. Scenes of destruction, mutilation, desecration, starvation, conflagration and freezing cold. However, I have always kept ducks – and the colour of their plumage, in particular the dark green and snow white, seemed to me the only possible answer to the questions that are on my mind. (“A POSTHUMOUS INTERVIEW WITH W.B.SEBALD”)

12 or 20 (second series) with Ashley Opheim on Metatron

Metatron is a publisher of poetry pocket books based out of Montreal. To order our books: http://www.onmetatron.com/shop/

EDITORIAL TEAM
Editor In Chief - Ashley Opheim ; Director of Publications - Jane Penny ; Publications Manager - Sarah Brunning ; Technical Director - Matthew E. Duffy ; Director of Photography - Rebecca Storm ;
Art Director - Claire Milbrath

AUTHORS
Roland Pemberton ; Laura Broadbent ; Ashley Opheim ; Ali Pinkney ; Jay Winston Ritchie ; Matthew E. Duffy.

SISTER PUBLICATIONS
The Editorial Magazine ; Weijia Quarterly

DISTRIBUTORS
Drawn & Quarterly (211 Bernard Ouest, Montreal) ; Argo Bookshop (1915 Rue Sainte-Catherine Ouest, Montreal)

Ashley Opheim is the author of the poetry collection ‘I Am Here’. She lives in Montreal, where she is the founding editor of Metatron and co-director of the reading series This Is Happening Whether You Like It Or Not. She can be followed on Twitter @hologramrainbow.

1 – When did Metatron first start? How have your original goals as a publisher shifted since you started, if at all?
Technically Metatron began in the spring of 2013 when five others and I secured a publishing grant via Emploi Quebec’s Jeunes Volontaires program under the mentorship of David McGimpsey, but realistically its beginnings go back a little further…

Metatron has roots in a publishing press Guillaume Morissette [New Tab, Vehicule Press] and I helped establish at the end of 2010 called Ribbon Pig. We were responsible for curating the written content for the first two issues. Guillaume and I were both enrolled at Concordia University at the time and had friends within the program whose writing we were interested in publishing. In total we published work by 18 different writers [not all students], including two writers who are now published with Metatron [Laura Broadbent and Roland Pemberton].

Although I feel Ribbon Pig was fairly successful, we ultimately didn't have much control over the project, which is something I craved. Guillaume and I both retired from the project after two issues to focus on our own writing and our reading series.

While we were working on Ribbon Pig, Guillaume and I became interested in organizing readings amongst peers. I quickly coined the event This Is Happening WhetherYou Like It Or Not [TIHWYLION], as a cheeky jab at the typical boringness of readings. The reading series was initially a ploy to get all our favorite writers in a room together outside of the classroom to read from their work in more of a casual environment.

TIHWYLION has been an integral aspect to building Metatron. Our first six books are from writers that are integral to the community that has grown around it, and who are frequent readers at our events.

My original goal with Metatron was pretty simple: to publish a few books by local writers that influenced and inspired me. I think that these books are the best things I’ve manifested so far on Earth. My motivations and goals are still very much in line with my initial intentions.

2 – What first brought you to publishing?
My love of writing and of community brought me to publishing. I was exposed to lots of great writing both in and outside of my creative writing program, but didn’t see any Montreal-based presses that were desirable to be published by or accessible to young poets. I was unemployed at the time of starting the press and deeply wanted to do something meaningful with my time and energy. I guess Metatron is kind of like a 2-in-1 dream publisher/ dream job deal. It is a press I would want to be published by if I wasn’t the E.I.C. of it.


3 – What do you consider the role and responsibilities, if any, of small publishing?

The role of small [literary] publishers is to understand the value of literature and to carve out a space in society for it to exist and thrive in.

4 – What do you see your press doing that no one else is?
Metatron is publishing some truly exciting, innovative poetry in Montreal right now. We are the only English press in Montreal (as far as I’m aware) that has a strong focus on poetry by young writers.

5 – What do you see as the most effective way to get new books out into the world?
1. Throw a memorable launch party in a unique setting

2. Hold various secondary launches

3. Maintain a web presence/ build an easy-to-use web shop

4. Nurture a good relationship with local bookshops and the community around you

5. Publish authors who are excited about selling their own books and who are capable of delivering strong readings

6. Create books you are 100% confident about

6. How involved an editor are you? Do you dig deep into line edits, or do you prefer more of a light touch?
Over the course of a year I coaxed the writers into the idea of finishing a manuscript and followed up with them until I had enough pieces to work with. It depended on the writer I was working with on how much coaxing and editing their work needed. Some needed more work than others; some needed hardly any at all.

All of the Metatron poets consciously made decisions about their work that I respected and didn’t want to skew, so I just focused my attention on making their decisions as consistent as possible for each manuscript.

I also did the layout, typeset and design for all the books and worked with various artists for the covers.

7 – How do your books get distributed? What are your usual print runs?
We are currently selling our books at two locations in Montreal [Drawn & Quarterly and Argo Bookshop], online and directly via my self and the authors. We did a first print run of 100 for each book and are now working on second print runs.

8 – How many other people are involved with editing or production? Do you work with other editors, and if so, how effective do you find it? What are the benefits, drawbacks?
Metatron is currently a collective of 6 artists and writers. The Metatron books are my personal project, but the others help me coordinate cover art, author photos, event planning and provide me with friendship, encouragement and support.

When Metatron was first established we tried to create one publication we could all participate in creating, but we found that very challenging since we’re all very independent and had already established our own projects that we were devoted to. We eventually altered our mission to individually focus on separate publications, but to remain committed to helping one another in whatever ways we found necessary.

The other publications that we consider part of the Metatron catalog are currently Weijia Quarterly [a writing and arts quarterly] and The Editorial Magazine [a contemporary art magazine].

9– How has being an editor/publisher changed the way you think about your own writing?
I can’t say that it has changed the way I think about my own writing, but I do think that my being a writer has changed the way I approach my role as editor/ publisher.

10– How do you approach the idea of publishing your own writing? Some, such as Gary Geddes when he still ran Cormorant, refused such, yet various Coach House Press’ editors had titles during their tenures as editors for the press, including Victor Coleman and bpNichol. What do you think of the arguments for or against, or do you see the whole question as irrelevant?
One of the Metatron titles is in fact my own. I feel confidant about self-publishing and don’t have any problems with it. Self-publishing puts you in a vulnerable position, as you are the only person who is standing behind your work. I'm ok with this, but I don't think it's for everyone.

11– How do you see Metatron evolving?
We are currently aiming to add 4-6 new books to our catalogue by September 2014. I have a couple of writers in mind that I am currently gathering the courage to request a manuscript from, and a couple writers I am considering who reached out to me with manuscripts to review. I also want to ask some of the Metatron poets to do second books.

Guillaume and I have ambitions to throw three TIHWYLION readings over the spring/summer. We want to explore outdoor readings this time around and continue to give new writers a chance to share their work.

I can see Metatron continuing to evolve organically. I don't want to force publications out for the sake of having them out, but I do want to continue to motivate writers to consider their work worthy of publication and inspire them to put together manuscripts. I hope we can grow our catalogue and create a sustainable business model to ensure there is a place for the publication of innovative, English poetry books here in Montreal.

Eventually I would love to purchase some printers and begin producing the books and sister publications our selves. The ultimate dream is to have a small space that we can operate out of, throw readings at and distribute books from. There is a place in New York City called Mellow Pages that I am very interested in modelling the space around. It’s a not-for-profit library, with a strong focus on community, readings and small press distro.

12– What, as a publisher, are you most proud of accomplishing?
I am proud that these are books are almost sold out of their first print run!

13– Who were your early publishing models when starting out?
Early publishing models were based around the impressive publications I witnessed popping up in Montreal between 2012-2014.

The projects that Metatron members were creating and nurturing were inspiring to me. What Sarah Brunning [and Sonya Mandus] were doing with Weijia Quarterly and what Claire Milbrath and Rebecca Storm were doing with The Editorial were models that I viewed as successful. Trapshot Archives, a Montreal-based literary press run by Jack Allen, was another inspiration of mine. All these publications definitely paved the way for Metatron and set the bar high for quality of content and visual aesthetic.

I was also inspired by the energy of presses like New Directions and City Lights.

Inspirations aside, I’m trying to approach Metatron with a fresh mind and with no preconceptions about how publishing is or should be. I am open to exploring and defining new publishing models.

14– How does Metatron work to engage with your immediate literary community, and community at large? What journals or presses do you see Metatron in dialogue with? How important do you see those dialogues, those conversations?
We are definitely in touch with the other literary communities here in Montreal. I try and make it out to readings and launches as often as possible to show my support and to hear new voices, and I think that’s true for many people in the community. I tend to see a lot of the same people out at readings and launches. There is definitely a support network that exists between all the reading series and small presses. I think that’s a beautiful thing, but I am also consciously trying to create an environment around Metatron that doesn’t have a fixed audience, or necessarily a literary one. This is something I think that TIHWYLION has been very successful at. Guillaume and I are always amazed at how we don’t know like 60% of the people who come to our readings. We love that. We want to be able to connect with other, non-literary communities too.

15– Do you hold regular or occasional readings or launches? How important do you see public readings and other events?
Our readings aren’t typical of what the average person would expect from a literary reading at a local library or coffee shop. Guillaume and I make an effort to make our events fun, radical and appealing to non-literary types. We aim to create an environment where people feel free, lucid and open to express them selves in non-traditional spaces.

Most of our readings happen late at night, usually starting around 10 p.m. and last until the wee hours of the morning with the help of live bands or djs. We’ve hosted readings in grungy, illegal lofts and old bathhouses.

We were actually kicked out of our Metatron office for the one reading we threw there to celebrate our first publication due to noise complaints. Once we organized a writing marathon in some friend’s basement and encouraged a collaborative writing jam by passing notebooks and computers around. That night there was a live Theremin and cello duet that played. We’ve had writer friends from the Internet read at our events via Skype, a projector and some speakers. We hosted Steve Roggenbuck, a well-known Internet poet, at one of our events, which was followed by an acid techno dance party. There have been readings where we’ve struggled with keeping the audience quiet enough to allow the readers to read, where the smoke has been so palpable it’s mere impossible to see the readers from the back of the room. And amongst all this chaos, we have been able to create a space where close to 50 readers have been able to share their feelings and thoughts casually with a receptive audience. I’ve seen and heard some crazy, unforgettable stuff!

We have a loft reading happening at the end of this month and another reading at Drawn & Quarterly planned for June 13 [Friday the 13th!]. Readings are very important to Metatron. They are the backbone of the press.

16– How do you utilize the Internet, if at all, to further your goals?
Aside from creating the online shop, I haven’t placed too much energy in establishing a community online for Metatron. Eventually I would like to have a beautiful web site with a roster of authors and a regular blog featuring writing, audio recordings, videos of readings and other stuff—but good things take time. Right now I’m happy focusing on things outside the Internet. When we’re ready to grow an international audience, then we’ll turn to the Internet.

17– Do you take submissions? If so, what aren’t you looking for?
If someone wants to be published by Metatron, I recommend they reach out to either Guillaume or I about reading at one of our future events. It’s important to me that who I publish is involved and active in the community and making an effort to make their writing heard and relatable. I believe that taking part in local readings is the best way to create visibility and interest around ones work.

18– Tell me about your most recent titles, and why they’re special.
I strongly suggest all of our books. You can learn more about them via our web shop, which includes book descriptions and author bios.

Magnetic Days is really wonderful. It is special because it’s written by Roland Pemberton who is a famous rapper and a former Poet Laureate! Tampion by Ali Pinkney is really wonderful. It is special because it’s written by Ali Pinkney and features a scene with an Ouija board! Les Oeuvres Selected is really wonderful. It is special because it’s written by the craziest, most prolific artist I know! I Am Here is really wonderful. It is special because it’s written by me! Interviews is really wonderful. It is special because it’s written by Laura Broadbent and features interviews with dead people! How to Remain Perfectly Indifferent While Cryingon the Inside is really wonderful. It is special because it’s written by Jay Winston Ritchie and has a really long title!

12 or 20 (small press) questions;

Oh There You Are I Can’t See You Is It Raining?, Laura Broadbent

A.

Your task is to smell the morning and there’s nothing wrong with what you’re wearing and your hair’s just fine so notice the wild staccato and sinew of sound from the loud to minute brush of dry grass there is no violence or distraction let’s say it’s lightly snowing and every snowflake has the power of an extraterrestrial crystal palace of monumental healing and light so who cares if your decisions have been correct. No you, no you, no you.

B.

Now that Montreal publisher Snare Books hasbecome an imprint of Invisible Publishing [see Snare Books editor/publisher Jon Paul Fiorentino’s post on such here], it puts a different spin on Montreal writer Laura Broadbent’s first poetry title, Oh There You Are I Can’t See You Is It Raining? (2012). Selected by Toronto poet Sachiko Murakami as winner of the sixth annual Robert Kroetsch Award for Innovative Poetry, Broadbent’s Oh There You Are I Can’t See You Is It Raining? unfortunately holds the position of being the last independent title by SnareBooks. At least under Invisible, at least, the press will still exist, albeit in a different form, which is certainly preferable to the press disappearing entirely. Does anyone recall such Canadian presses as Ragweed Press, Gutter Press or Red Deer College Press (who produced the magnificent “writing west” series)? All gone, for many different reasons, well before their time.

XII.

She looked over to me looking at her and said I need a fire ceremony to burn all my old love letters. I told her that could be arranged. I told her I’ve burnt all the love letters I’ve ever received. Except for hers. Which will probably get burned one day too, she says. I told her, probably, but so will my corpse. She laughed without smiling. (“Men In Various States”)

Broadbent’s collection is constructed out of a series of section-suites, each stretched out across a series of single canvases that stitch together into a tight collection of lyric fragments. Composed in section-suites, the book includes “Between A and B” and “Culled,” the second of which appears to include the remainder of the collection, four smaller section-suites: “Suite 1,” “Suite 2,” “Suite 3” and “Men In Various States.” There is something about the sharpness of Broadbent’s lines that really appeal, and the range of styles that move throughout the collection, showing a larger, longer comprehension of the line, the sentence and the entire book, very much a single unit constructed out of pieces. Her work has a questioning certainty to it, one that asks as much as it gives. The last three sections of “Suite 3” read:

[18]

Art school students’ projects are parties.

Be on guard for the projects of art students.

[19]

Men like when my whole body

is ostensible.

[20]

Remembering things

is an invitation to drowning.

12 or 20 (second series) questions with Laura Broadbent

Laura Broadbent was born in Stratford Ontario and has lived in Montreal for the past seven years. She won the most recent Robert Kroetsch Award for Innovative Poetry, and her poetry collection OH THERE YOU ARE, I CAN'T SEE YOU, IS IT RAINING? is out momentarily from Snare Books.

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 is forthcoming with Snare Books in the Fall of 2012.  The story is this: I had just completed my [creative writing] master’s thesis and knew about the Kroetsch Award, so I thought: Why Not. I’ve been notoriously reticent about showing my work until I believe I have written something approaching my impossible standards. The manuscript I sent for the Kroetsch award was the first poetry I have ever sent out in the world. By some miracle the world took care of it. Being shortlisted alone was enough. It meant, simply and profoundly: Laura you have permission to write. Or, in less sentimental terms, it meant: It Isn’t Total Shit. Which was the best gift possible. The resulting kindness, congratulations and encouragement from my peers is overwhelming. Further permission. I realize pretty much everyone believed in me except me. That’s the story.

2 - How did you come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?
I came to poetry last. In fact I hated poetry for a long time – I thought I didn’t understand it. I thought it was phony, pretentious, and intentionally obfuscatory.  Like becoming best friends with someone you initially thought was an impossible jerk. I was taking fiction classes, and the comments were always the same: the language is rich, the images are precise, the ideas are good, but there is no narrative. I don’t believe that fiction needs narrative, but whatever. That’s when I realized I was a poet. I wrote my first poem in 2008. My first poetry professor was the Canadian Poet Laureate at the time, John Steffler. All at once it dawned on me that not only was I a poet, but I have always been a poet. I’m pretty sure one is born that way. I think and observe and live like a poet. I’ve always had an immense staring problem.

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 make a mess and then see what I can do with it. Same goes for ‘life in general.’ Ideas for any of my better poems always come as a direct flash of inspiration. Some call it the voice of the Muse. Sometimes, very rarely, they come out fully formed and all I have to do is make minor adjustments. But usually I psychically projectile-vomit way too much onto the page, and then strategically take away, lug away, take away. I suffer from excess in general. Too intense. Too passionate. Enormous emotions. I’m always too much, and my initial writing is no different. So, with this excess, after I’ve taken most of it out, I then take a break from the page, clear my mind. Then I take out my editorial surgical instruments and refine it to the most crystalline form I can. I have to be ruthless and trust the intelligence of my readers. I haven’t mastered this whatsoever. It’s arduous and I love it. It hurts so good. I wish I could refine my person the way I do my writing. However, and this is important, I craft the fuck out of my poems but I don’t want them to seem too cool and ‘crafted,’ I still want them to contain human mess, monstrosity, and warmth. A fine line.

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 don’t begin with images, I begin with abstract ideas or theoretical concepts. The image is created to flesh the central conceit. Sometimes there are no images. Sometimes someone just says something outrageous and that’s it. Thinking of a book is far too overwhelming. I work in suites and series, and usually there is a conceptual or narrative thread that makes these individual suites work together, and they create a dialogue. This aleatory coherence makes the world feel magic.

5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
I hate readings. I attend for moral support for friends or colleagues, but I hate to read my work. I never wanted a public persona, I’m exceedingly private, I always wanted my work to stand on its own. A tall order. I am this utterly confusing and confused mix of extrovert and introvert. When I speak to people I think it seems effortless, at least confident, yet I hate being looked at and I crave long stretches of deep solitude. I need to drink a lot around crowds. My nervous system is shot. I can’t lie very well and performance is basically the joy of lying, and I don’t mean that in the pejorative whatsoever. It is acting. In my classes I was always the only one who was against reading, so I’m led to believe there is something wrong with me about this. I just have such a romance with the idea of the intimacy of reading in solitude, how my words can change every time, with every reader. I’m an awkward lonely person and I write, in a way, for awkward lonely people. I don’t want the fact that I am a reasonable looking young woman be why anybody would be  interested in my poetry. Or me for that matter.

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?
Yes absolutely. Poetry is thinking made visible. Not only thinking made visible, but organizing and presenting thought in such a way that the reader takes on the flavour and momentum of thought and wants to go off and write for his or herself because of it. The intersection between poetry and philosophy is not talked about enough. Jan Zwicky does a good job of it. Anne Carson too. Majorly so. I’m constantly taking on philosophical ideas and thinking them through lyrically, conceptually, or straight-up solipsistically. I love to think excessively and heavily and poetry allows me to think through things in my own weird way. And nerdy too, since I derive such pleasure out of it. The current questions are far too heavy and too many to write here. You’ll have to read my subsequent books. The world breaks my heart in the best and worst ways. I’m worried.

7 – What do you see the current role of the writer being in larger culture? Does s/he even have one? What do you think the role of the writer should be?
This sounds dramatic, yet it is a fact: the writing of others has saved my life. On a less dramatic level, the writing of others enriches my life every single day. Writing has frightening exciting power. Basically you either are a writer or you aren’t, and you either do something about it, or you don’t. Writers certainly aren’t respected like they used to be. The currency of the soul used to be far more important. But I like that writers, poets in particular, aren’t obliged to be writing about the soul all the time either. This business about the soul is still a general misconception about poetry though [like my father thinks all poets are prophets]. Not everyone is Rumi or Mary Oliver. The creative possibilities available to a poet are truly exciting. You can be a prophet, a mystic, a humorist, a [post]modernist, a romantic, a dada-ist, an intellectual, a conceptualist, a minimalist, a sentimentalist [but please don’t be], [etc], or a combination of all of them. Yet the lack of a coherent poetic ‘norm,’ or big ‘movement,’ also means a diffused audience. I’m more or less happy for that. Unfortunately, in larger culture, ‘being a writer’ means being a journalist, a script writer, or one of the 0.001 percent of novelists and 0.000000000001 percent of poets who can live off their work. However I’m glad to see how much great poetry is constantly being made – when you’re a poet you simply can’t help it. Because we’re a minority, we support each other. I bet 96% of poetry books bought are bought by poets. I really want our culture to care more about poetry. It’s why I want to teach. Yet. And yet. Really good journalism is poetry to me. A well written script is poetry. A masterful sandwich is pure poetry. The poets are at work, just with different job titles, really. My dad’s a poet/prophet disguised as a postman.

8 - Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?
Essential. Writers write in the dark. I have very low self confidence and I simply need someone I respect to tell me what I’ve done. I fear the day, actually, when I just assume what I’ve done is good. I become blind to my work, I’m not sure what it is, I just know I did it. A good editor’s suggestions are always pretty simple but seem revolutionary, because they solve this problem you’ve been obsessed with and unable to solve, with a single stroke. It’s one of my favourite things, like, ‘Laura cut this last line,’ and I’m staggered by the genius of the suggestion. ‘Kill your babies’ is an old writing maxim, and it is true. Kill your babies, otherwise your editor will. When somebody offers you good editing feedback, you want to kiss their feet. So if there are any foot fetishist editors out there...

9 - What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?
‘Chill Out, Broadbent’ – Everyone

10 - How easy has it been for you to move between genres (poetry to visual art)? What do you see as the appeal?
There is an enormous appeal for me. Genres are borders meant to be moved, as far as I am concerned. I am interested in illustration and design, and I want to oversee the creation of my future books so that the form is absolutely part of the content. My aesthetic sensibilities are somewhat appeased by poetry as I have to pay attention to the actual physicality and space of the page more, that is, the space is part of the poem, or the form the words take on the page can perform themselves, like Mallarmé’s Un coup de dés jamais n'abolira le hazard. I am crazy about Kenneth Patchen’s painting poems. Derek Beaulieu is a different story altogether. Robert Bringhurst is nuts about typography and layout. William Blake. Illuminated manuscripts. It’s been going on since forever and current artists/writers are doing really neat stuff constantly. These intermedial artists have been deemed the ‘blur generation.’ Gets me really excited. Beautiful books, or deconstructed books, or book boxes, odd or well-crafted signs, or paintings with text, such things make me drool. I should care more about the internet, and the great/terrible things it has provided for writers. But I'm old school and I love the tactility of objects, the smell of paper. The smell of paper for me is like the smell of women's panties for a dirty old man.

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 need to write daily. I don’t. It is my biggest frustration. I can’t figure out how to do it, this thing they call ‘discipline.’ Morning writing is productive, night writing is slowly poured. I can’t even choose a time of day. Honestly, if I spent the time writing that I do dying over my love life, I’d have 40 books of poetry written by now.  I also work three jobs.  People advise me to marry rich because then I could sit around, look pretty, and write all I want. Or write on our yacht. No idea disgusts me more, unfortunately.

12 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?
Anne Carson is my version of an anti-anxiety pill. She orders things for me. She makes my brain burn to write. I return to her most frequently. Carson’s ‘The Glass Essay’ is something I’ve read forty times at least. People call her the philosopher of heartbreak. Fernando Pessoa and Clarice Lispector are close seconds. I like to read haiku or Vera Pavlova for example to remember economy. Lydia Davis always inspires and cheers me up – obviously, she’s good for  economy too. I like to read a lot of mystical stuff too – along the lines of Taoism and Buddhism and Jewish Mysticism, and then follow them with these great Western Canon Curmudgeons like Schopenhauer or Seneca. Theorists like Deleuze, Bataille, Bergson, Cixous, really get me going. Simon Weil ignites me and makes me feel guilt for not being hardcore enough. There’s a too-wide spectrum.

13 - What fragrance reminds you of home?
Garlic bread. We were poor and ate spaghetti maybe four days a week. Or maybe Christmas trees.

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?
That’s nuts. I know what he’s saying, but it just obviously sounds insane. Everything influences my work. And everyone. You have to watch life, indeed, stare at it, have a really big staring problem, to write. You’ve got to dive in, which is why I make a bad Buddhist – suffering is really good for writing. I willingly take on pain, I'm not that scared of it, I find it interesting and rewarding. Destruction and rebirth. I’m way too curious. It’s impossible to figure people out, and so fun. It’s hard to figure a bird out, and so fun. It’s hard to figure a memory out, and so fun. What is wine all about? A whole lot.

15 - What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?
I’ll spare you. I am a true book-slut, I work in a bookstore, and my list is unreasonably long. Reading is my life. My apartment is stuffed with books.

16 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
Have enough cash to buy my beautiful mother a house [my ability to hope borders on insanity]. Also, I’d like to calm down and be nicer to myself. I haven’t done that yet. Maybe I'd like to be a mother be the state of the world terrifies me.

17 - If you could pick any other occupation to attempt, what would it be? Or, alternately, what do you think you would have ended up doing had you not been a writer?
A drummer. [Obviously not concerned with being rich.] I would also like to be a dolphin or a sloth. I’d like to be a body of water, like Lake Huron.

18 - What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
I started dictating stories to my mother before I could write. So I began around 2-3 years old. Or I would draw a picture, and tell her the story of it. I just couldn’t not. I still can’t not. I was homeschooled for a bit, but when I started ‘real school’ I was socially inept but made my way by being the default ‘class artist’ or ‘class writer.’ Like, ‘ask Laura to write/draw that for you.’

19 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?
Ariana Reines has been blowing my mind. She is this power-mix of magic [something poetry doesn’t have enough of these days] and intellect [something poetry has too much of these days], grit and grace, craft and mess, courage and vulnerability….read her. She’s got compelling audacity and really big brains.

The Turin Horse is the last movie that really did a number on me for weeks. It was so unbearable, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how great it was after. The understanding came after. Absolutely haunting. Barely any words in it. Less than ten words, I bet. A film that felt like 40 hours. Don’t know how long it was in actuality. Brutal art.

20 - What are you currently working on?
Three things four the next four months: 1. Finish my degree. 2. I’m having an art show in the fall so I need to get painting. 3. Begin writing my next collection of poems [also: 4. Read voraciously. 5. Better myself. 6. Be more social. Oh and 7. Make money.]



March 2012

12 or 20 (second series) questions;