12 or 20 (second series) questions for Danielle Devereaux

Danielle Devereaux's [photo credit: Leona Rockwood] poetry collection The Chrome Chair was published in April 2024 by Riddlefence Debuts. Her chapbook, Cardiogram, was published by Baseline Press (2011). Quelle Affaire, a poem in the chapbook, has been turned into a short film by filmmaker Ruth Lawrence. Danielle's poetry has appeared in Riddle Fence, Arc Poetry Magazine, The Fiddlehead, Newfoundland Quarterly and The Best Canadian Poetry in English 2011. She lives in St. John's NL, with her partner, two cats, and two kids, the eldest of which is currently petitioning hard for a blue-tongued skink; as of July 2024 no skink has been added to the household.

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?
Cardiogram, my first chapbook, was published by Baseline Press in 2011 as part of Baseline's inaugural press run. The Chrome Chair, my first full-length collection, was published with Riddlefence as part of its inaugural run as a book publishing imprint, which is kind of a funny coincidence. How did the first publication change my life? I guess it put me out in the world as a poet in a way that I'd not been very public about prior to that. In some ways it feels like publishing The Chrome Chair will have a similar effect. With Cardiogram there were a couple of launches in Ontario, where Baseline Press is based, and I was invited to read at a couple of festivals in Newfoundland and all of that was quite fun and exciting, and then I got very quiet with my writing again. 2011 was quite a while ago (!) so it feels like publishing The Chrome Chair will put me out in the world as a poet again, and perhaps more so since it's a full-length collection this time. Hopefully, it will be well-received and I'll have the opportunity to do some readings with the full collection in hand.

2 - How did you come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?
I did a creative writing poetry course as part of my BA in English (a million years ago), just to try something different. It was the first time I participated in a workshop style class and honestly, it was just a lot of fun. The course was taught by Marilyn Bowering; I'm pretty sure she was at Memorial University as writer-in-residence at the time. The difference between the poems I submitted to get into the course and the poems that I was writing at the end of it was pretty big -- a very steep learning curve! With poetry, as with all writing I guess, but particularly with poetry, it's a bit like playing with building blocks, but the blocks are words. Maybe that feels more apparent in poetry because the physical form of the poem is also a part of it (e.g. 4 stanzas of 4 lines or whatever) and I guess I like that piece of it. There's something kind of tidy about setting down words in the form of a poem, even if the words in the poem might take you all over the place. Not that I'm a tidy person, quite the opposite, unfortunately, but there's something satisfying about applying order to a mess of words. Also, the first book of poetry I remember reading is Roald Dahls' Dirty Beasts, which is quite funny and dark and kind of wacky, as is a lot of his work. I know Dahl is a problematic figure for a variety of reasons, but I think reading that particular book of his as a kid gave me the freedom to see poetry as a way to have fun with words, even when you're trying to get at or understand something serious or dark. Short answer: writing poems is fun.

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?
It takes a while for me to start any particular project (writing projects and other types of projects too). I procrastinate. Usually too much. As for the drafts, there have been times when a poem has arrived quickly, percolating in my head for a day or two and arriving on the page quite close to its final shape, and times when the first draft is such a mess I feel like I can't string two words together, let alone write a poem.

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?
This particular manuscript started as a pile of poems, and I don't think I spent too much time wondering what was going to become of them in the end. The second half of The Chrome Chair does have a theme -- the life and work of Rachel Carson -- so I was thinking of that as a series of poems. I began the Rachel Carson poems in a creative writing poetry class that I did with Mary Dalton (I was hooked on Memorial University's creative writing classes for a time). In that class Mary had us write and craft our own chapbooks, which was a really lovely, hands-on creative process. I'm not sure if everyone's chapbook had a theme, but I wanted a theme for my chapbook and I had written a couple of Rachel Carson poems, so I decided to try to write more.

5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
I love going to readings. Hearing other people read often makes me want to go home and write. As for doing readings myself, I enjoy it, but it also makes me extremely nervous. Like I can't eat properly for a couple of days before the reading and then when I get to the venue my stomach feels like it might fall out on the floor kind of nervous. I have to prepare and practice what I'm going to say or else I'll either babble on forever or draw a complete blank. But at the same time, it is fun to read my work out loud and witness people's reactions to it, and if the reading goes well and people connect with the work, that connection feels great. It's too bad about my nerves being shot and my wreck of a gut though.

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?
I guess it depends on the project. I don't think I necessarily start out with any theoretical concerns or questions, or not any that I can identify from the get-go. For this particular book I think there are some questions but I'm not sure if I'm answering or asking them, maybe a bit of both. I guess some of these questions would be: what role does gender play in the ways we experience the world? Who gets to become a pop culture icon and who does not? What difference does place, gender, time make? Something about cultural identity narratives...But I don't think I really sat down with the intention of asking or answering any of those questions in the poems, they just happen to be questions that interest me and so they show up in my writing. The current questions? I'm not sure I can even go there. So much about our current world is sad and horrible, maybe it always has been, but these days we can see all that horror and sadness on all our screens in real time every second of the day... I don't know -- how to still see the beauty (because there is still much beauty too), celebrate the beauty without denying the sadness and horror? How to hang on to hope?  

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 writing, or perhaps more specifically the written word, whether that be poetry or fiction or nonfiction, does have the ability to spark connections. When you read a work and it makes you feel something, makes the gears in your brain spin or your heart jump, that's a connection, an "ah yes, I am more than a cog in the wheel of the capitalist patriarchy" kind of moment. I do think these types of connections are important. And pretty wild when you think about the fact that they can take place across time, culture, race, gender, etc. I don't think it's only writing that does that, lots of art forms do, but maybe that's the role of the writer -- to spark connections, or one of the roles anyway.  

8 - Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?
I love working with an editor! Having another set of eyes on work that my eyes can hardly bear to look at anymore is definitely essential.

9 - What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?
You know how people say if something is worth doing, it's worth doing right? Well, I found the following rebuttal helpful in the face of trying to actually finish and let go of this manuscript: if something is worth doing, it's worth doing to the best of your ability at this particular juncture, in the time you have available to you right now. It's never going to be perfect -- the conditions under which you're writing, nor the manuscript, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't do it. Maybe if I'd done more courses, if I'd read more books, if I'd waited for a variety of circumstances to be different, this book would be better, but that could've gone on forever, and none of us get forever.

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?
I don't have a writing routine, which I tend to see as one of my personal flaws. I've never been very good at prioritizing my writing and now that I have two little kids it's pretty easy to let their care and happiness (and my bill-paying day job) take priority. I've been lucky enough to do a couple of stints at the Banff Writing Studio (pre-kiddos), which was amazing and super productive. But my life isn't really set up to spend the majority of my days writing in a hotel room while someone else does all the cooking and makes my bed while I'm out hiking! At present I don't actually have a room of my own to write in, I'm hoping some simple home renos will fix that sooner rather than later and then maybe I'll sort out some semblance of a routine? A gal can dream anyway.

11 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?
If I'm not writing at all, binge-reading, like just reading and reading and reading, usually makes me want to write. Sometimes I re-read books that I know I love, sometimes I go looking for something new. If I am writing, but the writing is stuck and just feels bad, going for a long walk alone often helps.

12 - What fragrance reminds you of home?
Blasty boughs, lilacs, wild roses and toast (but not all at once).

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?
Conversations, or more specifically the turns of phrase people use in conversation, pop culture and the news (when I can stomach it) have all had an influence on my work up to this point.

14 - What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?
Mary Dalton has been very important to my work as a mentor, friend and poet. I love Karen Solie's poetry and Sue Goyette's work; there are so many poets in Canada to admire! I like reading Irish writers too -- Anne Enright, Elaine Feeney, Louise Kennedy. In terms of The Chrome Chair, Stephanie Bolster's collection White Stone: The Alice Poems, which is about Alice Liddle of Alice in Wonderland fame, was definitely part of my inspiration to write Rachel Carson poems. Originally I thought I'd do a whole book of Rachel Carson poems; Bolster's collection is a whole book of Alice poems, but that's not what happened. The Chrome Chair is divided into two sections and the second second section focuses on Carson. Figuring out how to combine the Rachel Carson poems with the non-Rachel Carson poems was a challenge, but my editor, Sandra Ridley was really helpful with that (Sandra is awesome).

15 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
I'd love to go to Iceland. Iceland is sometimes spoken about here as the kind of country Newfoundland could've been if we'd become independent instead of joining Canada. I'm not sure if that's true, but I'd still love to see it for myself.

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 sometimes wish I'd done something more practical and/or helpful, like medicine or nursing: "Here, let me reset that bone/stitch up that wound for you!" Those would be good skills to have. But I don't know if I'd have been good at any of that. I thought I wanted to be an academic for a while, I started but did not complete a PhD in communication studies. Quitting the PhD was a difficult decision, but I don't regret it. Narrating audio books seems like it'd be a good gig. It'd be fun to give that a try.  

17 - What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
I don't think I ever really set out to be a writer, or anything else in particular. I've never been very good at long term planning or goal-setting, it's been more of a "let's try this and see what happens" approach to things, so I'm lucky and I feel grateful that it's worked out that I get to do this, to publish a book of poems.

18 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?
I'll give you two books because I mostly watch kids movies these days and I'm not sure Paddington 2 is really what you're looking for (though I honestly cannot wait for Paddington 3 to come out). The End of the World is a Cul-de-Sac -- isn't that an awesome title? -- a short story collection by the Irish writer Louise Kennedy. It's one of those books that's so good it hurts. And I just finished Vigil, a collection of linked short stories by local writer Susie Taylor, which I read all in one gulp. Also heart-breakingly good and set in contemporary outport Newfoundland.

19- What are you currently working on?
After I signed off on the absolute final, no more changes could possibly be made, page proofs of The Chrome Chair I felt wrung out, like I'd never write another word. I'd been working on the manuscript that became The Chrome Chair off and on for about 17 years and I thought I'd be nothing but relieved to be done with it, and I am happy with how it turned out, but also it feels a bit weird, lonely even, not to have a bunch of poems hanging over my head, so maybe that means I need to find a new writing project. TBD.

12 or 20 (second series) questions;

12 or 20 (second series) questions with K.R. Segriff

K.R. Segriff (she/her) is a poet and filmmaker. She is stunningly awkward but has an excellent game face. Her work has appeared in Greensboro Review, The Malahat Review, Prism International, and Best Canadian Poetry, among others. She won The Edinburgh Story Prize, The London Independent Story Prize, The Bumblebee Prize for Flash Fiction, The Space and Time Magazine Iron Writer Award, and The Connor Prize for Poetry. Her first collection of short stories was published by Riddle Fence Debuts in 2024. She lives in Toronto with her spouse and three children where they are known as ‘those neighbours’ and rarely cut their grass.

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 feel like, "Well, if nothing else, there is a book on my shelf with my name on it." It's like being one step closer to a good death. It also opens up a fantasy world where sometime, 60 years from now, some rando who is not even born yet might happen upon my book, read the stories, have a laugh or some deep thought, and, in that small way, I will have influenced the world from my grave. This is an excellent and creepy thought. I try not to think how there will probably be no books in 60 years. No. That is not part of my fantasy world. Also, it was pretty cool when I was at my book launch with Riddle Fence and, instead of reading off my phone or fumbling around with a stack of crumpled papers, I just pulled out my book, like some suave fox, opened the book to the appropriate page, and read. It felt pretty legit. It was not me who thought of this, though. One of the other authors there who noticed that feature of book-havery. I forget if it was Jennifer Newhook, Tia McLennan, or Danielle Devereaux. Whoever she was, she was a genius, and you should read her book too.

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

I do write poetry, but it's hard to do it sometimes without feeling a little pretentious. I have an unreasonable poetry prejudice that was drilled into my head at an early age by my poetry-hating dad. So perhaps, in that way, I write poetry as a form of adolescent rebellion. Actually, I have a book of poetry that I am currently shopping around, so maybe I should stop talking so much crap about poetry. Non-fiction is just off for me. I hate to be constrained by the truth. 

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?

It usually starts with a quote or a line. Then, I build a mind map around it. I write lots of emails to myself about random thoughts, and I put the word "Miliza" in the subject line. That is my secret code that the email is about a story. So when I am ready to write, I search all the "Miliza Mail" for my idea threads. Miliza is my grandmother's childhood nickname. I don't know why I chose that. She was not much of a writer. She let me read her diary once. It was mainly about the weather and the people she met in town. Super boring. Anyways. Once a Miliza thread gets too long, I start to get stressed out, so I get out these colored cue cards and write out the ideas. Then I arrange them on the dining room table into some sort of order. Then, I type that into my laptop as an outline. Then I fill in the gaps. That's the hardest part. Filling in those damn gaps. The easy part is the cue cards. The glue that holds them together? That's the real challenge. But the cue card thing is for longer projects. For flash fiction and shorter pieces,  I have been known to sit down and bang it out in one sitting. I guess I am smart enough to keep track of all the moving pieces for shorter pieces, but I'm lost for anything over 1500 words. That's when cue cards hit the scene. 

4 - Where does a work of fiction 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 am also a filmmaker, so most of my stories start with an image or a line of dialogue, and I build the story around it. I commute to my day job on my bike, and during that time, I can think. I suck on stories like hard candy, dissolving them slowly over days in my mind. I often stop on the side of the road and type little fragments into my phone. The problem is that sometimes, they are hard to decode later. I have learned to write out my thoughts like I am spelling them for an 8-year-old. Otherwise, I return to them and think, ‘WTF is this?’  I still have something on my phone that says, "Moon lungs crash teeth." Sometimes, I still wonder what I was thinking when I wrote that. 

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

I went to an arts high school. I love performance. Much of the stuff I write is meant to be read aloud on a stage, by a campfire, or alone in my living room. I perform everything for myself early in the edits. Bouncing it off the walls gives me a different perspective. It lets me see the holes and the laggy bits. I think the best writing sounds as good as it looks. I also enjoy the experience of sharing stories live. It's timeless. It's lizard-brain stuff. I think, on some level, live storytelling is a human need. To be honest, a lot of why I write stuff is so I can have an excuse to get together in some sticky-floored, dimly lit space and legitimately hang out with other weirdos, just sharing our words and letting it all hang out. 

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?

I think, ironically, fiction writing is a search for what is real. It's about trying to dig into the heart of our existence and discover what is truly common to all of us, even if we express it in disparate ways. It's trying to figure out what drives characters, trying to understand them by putting them into novel situations. Fiction is a thought experiment of the human experience. The fantasy teaches us about reality. For me, it's driving toward some universal acceptance. A lot of my characters are rough around the edges. But understanding what motivates them makes me love them even when they misbehave. It also makes me forgive myself, in a way, for times I have personally misbehaved. When I understand my characters, I understand my most hated neighbors a little better. Sometimes, I am my own most hated neighbor. So, it can be therapeutic.

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 writers need to be aware of what they are reinforcing or countering. Some of the bravest writers challenge the status quo; they are those who bring a fresh perspective and break apart the literary bird-wires that the other parrots stand on. Art drives thought. It influences public opinion and politics. By presenting fictional situations, you can make folks consider things they might be resistant to thinking about in reality because when it’s "just fiction," it's safe. But you can't un-think a thought. Once you've had it, it's there forever. You can't help but apply it to your real life. What I mean to say is, if racist lady-haters read my fiction and my crafty literary guiles trick them into liking it, slowly but surely, things can change.

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

I love working with outside editors. I feel like once I have submitted a story to someone, it is no longer mine. It becomes collaborative. It belongs to everyone who touches it. So I don't feel defensive when I see my drafts changing. The original story is always in the original draft if I want to visit it. What happens after is it becomes a different animal. Outside eyes are essential to making a story strong, for giving it teeth so it can protect itself from the discerning eyes of readers.  Editors fill in the story’s cracks, make it resilient and fierce.   

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

Just put it out there. Let someone else read it. But tell yourself you don't care what they think. You can take their opinion or leave it. Once your work is out there, there it is. The world officially knows you are not typical. Your secret is revealed. You are free.

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

Very easy. I have switched genres frequently. I have entirely rewritten many pieces in a different genre because the new medium was better for the story. I wrote a flash fiction about this fisherman who was dying but wanted to buy a new truck. It was called "The Long Haul". Many editors passed over it, and I had pretty much shelved it, but then I rewrote it into a short screenplay, and it won all sorts of awards. The screen was just a better home for that story; it was just waiting for me to realize it.

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 no routine. My life is too chaotic. I have a day job with rotating hours and a family full of folks with ADD. Trying to maintain order and routine is a recipe for disappointment. I think my routine is just giving myself blanket permission to stop what I am doing at any given point in the day to write down an idea and email it to myself. When I find time, I open the email and run with it. Also, I have a very supportive family that can distract themselves quite effectively if I disappear to write things down. I also sign up for those online one-time generative workshops, just to get something granular in a file with its own name on my computer. Because once that is there, I want to complete it. I find the time in the margins because my mind will not rest otherwise.

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

I sign up for one of those contests where they give you a prompt and a time limit. There have been many times that I have become convinced my creative well has finally run dry, and then one of those contests kicked my ass back into gear. It’s true what they say. Writing crap is better than writing nothing. I think a lot of writer's block is just anxiety. Like there’s this blinking cursor in front of you that's just whispering, "yousuck-yousuck-yousuck," and you start to believe it. But if you can push that little demon down the page, it loses its hold over you. And the next thing you know, you have a draft. And that draft might suck rocks, but it's something. And once there's something on the page, the anxiety ends. All you have to do is edit. I find editing way less stressful because by the time I’m editing, I already feel like a writer again.  

13 - What fragrance reminds you of home?

Lilacs. They used to grow outside my window. And mildew. From my grandpa's books. 

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?

Defiantly music. I often play music while I am writing. I don't listen to what I like. I listen to what my characters like or something that sets the mood of the scene I am trying to conjure. I guess it's the filmmaker in me again. Every story needs a soundtrack. There have been times when I'm writing something, and its falling flat. I'll put on a song and, voila, there it is, the jewel I was looking for. Music lets your associations go loose. It enables you to spin around the way required to be creative. A lot of creativity is the ability to be disjointed in an interesting way. Music puts you into that space if you are the kind of person who is not super into drugs.

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

I am a Miriam Toews fangirl. She is a total inspiration to me because she threads that needle between comedy and tragedy so elegantly. I wish I could write a book as epic as All My Puny Sorrows. Also, I appreciate the friendship of other writers. When I was in St. John’s for my book launch, I met many great writers. One was Susie Taylor, who wrote a fantastic cover blurb for me. We were sitting with Tia, Jennifer, and Danielle in The Battery Café talking about writing and life, and it was like we were all buds from way back, even though we had just met. It was a perfect afternoon, the kind of thing you carry in your pocket for a future grey day. Then, a week later, Susy sent me a picture of all our books together in the bookstore.  What a perfect visual metaphor! Right now, I am reading Susy's book, which is awesome. You should also read her book. 

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

Get interviewed by some super top-drawer literary program and shake things up a little. They would ask me some subtly brilliant questions, and I would be “this close” to using f-words at all times, and then afterward, they would tell me how "refreshing" my take was, and I would smile because, at that moment, I would be able to read their thoughts and their thoughts would be "Woah. This gal is messed up. Somebody get me a latte with Margaret Atwood, stat!”

Also, I would like to be famous enough to be disrespected by Eminem. Bring it, Slim!

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 be a heavy metal rock star in my dream parallel life. Big bangs, ripped jeans, and rocking on forever. I would never sell out to some reality show. I would never get plastic surgery. I would go full Robert Smith (from The Cure) and become the visual representation of the demon I had always implied was inside of me. When my popularity declined, I would go to political conventions and yell all sorts of inappropriate/idealistic stuff until I got arrested on misdemeanors, and People Magazine would do a “fall from grace” piece featuring my mugshot. "Sources close to me” would speculate that I had finally gone off the edge, but little would they know I was living happily on a giant houseboat on the shores of Lake Superior with my partner and kids and all sorts of exotic reptiles, cackling with the knowledge that I had invested wisely in the 90s and could ride the rest of my life on the coattails of my prudent financial choices.

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

Loneliness. I think writing fiction comes naturally because I am an only child who lived rurally and had busy parents. For most of my early life, I needed elaborate fantasies for company. I made stories in my head as a means of survival so I wouldn't feel so isolated.

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

I am currently enjoying the hell out of Susie Taylor's book Vigil. It's funny. It's crafty. It's just the right amount of bizarre.   The last great film I watched was Wim Wenders' Perfect Days. It was a meditative film with stunning cinematography about a reflective guy who cleans Tokyo toilets. I convinced my teenage son to see it with me. He was like, "OMG.  Do I have to? It's just gonna be one of those crap adult films where literally nothing happens, and you will want to talk to me for 10 hours straight about the symbolism." But he came with me because he is basically a good human and also I told him, "It’s going to be awesome! It was nominated for an Oscar!" My son was absolutely correct in his summary. Still, the film was a multisensory triumph. 10/10.  The best part of it, though, was the experience of seeing it with a dis-impressed teen. At the film's beginning, they have to set up the protagonist's routine as he cleans eight successive toilets in silence. In the midst of this, my son leans over and whispers in my ear, "You're right, Mom. This s**t is riveting," in the snarkiest tone imaginable. Then I started seeing the film through his eyes, accompanied by his sarcastic soundtrack, and I started laughing my ass off in the theatre. This caused my son to be absolutely mortified, which made it all the more funny. Art is a beautiful, beautiful, feed-forward cycle of joy.

20 - What are you currently working on?

A novel! My cue card ring overfloweth! I started drafting it in a little house on Middle Battery Road right after my book launch. The protagonist is loosely based on my great aunt Georgina who lived on the edge of things in Detroit. It concerns her complicated friendship with the bad-assed dude who did her nails and their quest for a red 1968 Cadillac. 

12 or 20 (second series) questions;

12 or 20 (second series) questions with Jennifer May Newhook

Jennifer May Newhook’s first published short story was longlisted for the Writer’s Trust Journey Prize, and most recently her first novel, The Gulch, was longlisted for the NLCU Fresh Fish Award for Best Unpublished First Manuscript. Jennifer published her first poem at seventeen and in the years since has received recognition for her work in this genre by the Atlantic Writing Competition, the Newfoundland and Labrador Arts and Letters Awards, the Gregory J. Power Poetry Award, and the Riddle Fence Poetry Prize. Her poetry and short stories have been anthologized and published nationally and internationally in literary journals and magazines including Riddle Fence, The Newfoundland Quarterly, and The Pottersfield Portfolio. She took an extended hiatus from writing to raise small children and has now risen blinking from the rubble, eager to embrace her status as a debut author. Jennifer’s first full-length poetry collection, Last Hours, was published by Riddle Fence in Spring 2024. Jennifer works as a writer and editor in downtown St. John’s, Ktaqmkuk (Newfoundland) where she lives with her partner, three teens, one tween, and two cats. She can be found on social media under the handles @Jennifer May Newhook (Facebook) and @jennymayrunaway (Instagram).

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

Well, Last Hours is only a few days old, so I can’t say that much has changed, yet! I would say that my most recent work, in terms of poetry, is definitely looser than my early stuff.

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

I published my first piece of writing when I was seventeen; it was a poem. That first publication certainly gave me the motivation to pursue poetry. I had a book when I was quite young—a collection of writing by children that contained all kinds of funny and thoughtful verse—that made the idea of writing poetry and having it appear in a book or magazine quite real for me, very early on. I was always a voracious reader of fiction and certainly wrote lots of that as well, but in terms of completing a piece, poetry definitely seemed more realistic and achievable.

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 subscribe to the “clock of the long now” school of creative thought! I need to ruminate and mull on things a great deal before the various strata of whatever I am working on are revealed to me. I do tend to produce rough first drafts quite quickly when I am inspired, but they are messy. I am not a note taker or planner. Part of the joy of writing for me is the element of surprise—I love surprising myself!

4 - Where does a poem or 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?

A poem for me almost invariably starts in a flash: a moment where a number of feelings and thoughts and images suddenly coalesce into “a thing.” For the most part, I would have to say that my poetry generally gets whittled into something smaller and more defined from a larger amorphous mass. There are exceptions: one of the longest poems in Last Hours, “Atwood Machine,” came from a very emotional place that I greatly expanded on with some research, and there are a couple of others in there like that as well. My first novel, The Gulch, came from a series of short stories that I just couldn’t seem to stop writing.

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

I love going to public readings but am less a fan of doing them. I read my own work out loud to myself all the time, though!

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?

I have a very dark bent. I see the shadows in everything and in all my work (poetry, short fiction, long-form narrative) I am definitely trying to see into that grey space. What’s in there? How does it affect us? How do we affect it? In terms of technical concerns, I do struggle with the parameters of genre writing, in particular. It is a difficult balance to produce original work that still adheres to the word counts and plot movements that publishers and agents are looking for. Mostly, I want to write what excites me. If I am laughing diabolically at my desk, I feel that is a good sign.

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?

Oh my gosh. Well, the writer provides the seeds for all kinds of invention and creation. The writer is out there describing things and experiences from a very specific viewpoint that is so personal and therefore always novel, and the hope is (as a reader as well as from a writerly perspective) that a chime of understanding and emotional growth can come from that, that will connect us as a society. I do know that the role of writer should NOT be to simply provide data for machine learning.

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

I love working with an editor! It is so easy to get buried in your own work. A good editor can really help you see what’s going on in there and pull the guts of the work out to examine it. Between the two of you, it should go back together more neatly meshed, greased up, and ready to run smoothly. I work as an editor myself, so it has really been illuminating to see and experience both sides of that process. My skin is pretty thick when it comes to receiving editorial advice, but I am very tender hearted when it comes to delivering that advice to someone else!

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

Well, the first piece of advice that I received at large—and actually attempted to follow—was to write daily. You learn so much about your own process, and it’s good to maximize your productivity once you understand what the best writing times are for you … but it’s not always possible. That’s an ideal situation to aspire to.

The best piece of advice I’ve received recently came from the editor of this collection, poet, and novelist Sue Goyette. When we first met virtually, I was nervous about what was expected of me. She said: “Your orders are to prepare to do the work. Get yourself in the right headspace. Spend some time clearing your mind.” I don’t think anybody had ever given me permission to do that before! To just take some walks, dabble in reading, relax, and ponder. Very helpful advice.

And my own advice is: Keep those scraps! Every bit of writing that actually makes it onto paper or into the screen has some value. You wrote it down for a reason! Last Hours was very much conjured from literal scraps of paper, accumulated during a hectic time of raising young children. I tried so hard to “write,” but the time just wasn’t there. Those scraps and fragments ended up holding so much beauty and meaning, and I feel very proud that I fought to get them recorded, whatever way I could—I think there were even some words written in eyeliner on a band aid wrapper!

10 - How easy has it been for you to move between genres (poetry to form narrative fiction to dramatic script)? What do you see as the appeal?

I find artistic genres to be quite fluid and mutually informative. One of my favorite projects I’ve worked on was writing a short film script based solely on an already-composed musical score. I would love to see that script animated some day! For me, poetry is the ultimate doorway to all writing. The way I think when I am writing poetry is simultaneously expansive and extremely focused. It benefits my short fiction and my long-form narrative. Whenever I get stuck, I return to poetry. I feel like if I can’t write poetry, I can’t write anything!

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?

Unless I am lucky enough to having funding for a specific project, my workday is usually spent trying to balance my paid work with my current writing projects, which at the moment are a collection of speculative short fiction and a new novel. I have a twenty-year-old, two teens, and tween who need transporting to school every morning, so by the time all that is done, it’s usually 9:30 or 10 a.m. If I’m really organized, I’ll do a bit of housework, go for my walk, and aim to be sitting at my desk by 11 a.m., where I’ll usually work until 2:30 or so when my youngest gets out of elementary school. If they have after school plans, I might head back to the studio and continue working until supper time. I have had periods of time where I was motivated enough to get up early and get an hour or two in before morning routines start at 7:30 a.m., but that is not the norm for me.

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

Well, during a time when I was fortunate to receive funding to pursue a project as well as a daily writing practice, I learned very quickly that my episodes of writer’s block—which used to frustrate me terribly and scare me away from my desk for weeks—actually only last a few days. If I’m really stuck, I’ll head out to the vegetable garden behind my studio and do some garden work. If my mind drifts in the right way while I’m occupied by a physical task, often the solution will just present itself! A walk will sometimes create the same opportunity. And moving into the headspace to write poems and getting some of that type of writing on the page will often unlock a narrative block for me.

13 - What fragrance reminds you of home?

In the larger sense of “home,” as in my region of the world, I would have to say wild rose, spruce forest, salt water, and wet bog. As in “my own personal home,” I would say wood smoke, cooking, and bath products. I take a lot of baths!

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?

Well, obviously dreams. Dream imagery sneaks its way into almost all of my projects. Research of any type can certainly send me off on different tangents and will inform my work, whether I intend it to or not. My short fiction skews toward the speculative, so science and politics often sneak in there. I’ve also written several ekphrastic poems based on visual art by David Blackwood and John Hartman—one of those, a series called “After Viewing” actually won some component of the Atlantic Poetry Prize a zillion years ago.

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

I am very much an omnivorous consumer of writing—I am intrigued by anything that can sweep me away regardless of genre, subject matter, story structure, or expertise. I am definitely drawn by the dark side, so I do enjoy contemporary horror and ghost stories. I am just finishing up my first novel, The Gulch, which is a ghost story and definitely horror adjacent, so I am always on the look out for the creep factor. I’m not into guts and gore at all, but I live for ideas, images, and experiences that really raise the hairs on the back of my neck. If I’m writing prose, I’ll often gravitate towards short stories and literary fiction. If I’m looking to just tap out and relax, my go to is always historical fiction—I love Tudor-era and medieval settings.

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

I would love to take a family vacation somewhere warm in the dead of winter. For our twentieth anniversary my husband and I took a “honeymoon” in Montreal this past year—it was the first time we had ever been on a plane together! I would love to expand on that sometime with a trip to the Mediterranean with him.

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 have always joked that I didn’t care what I got paid to do and that I’d be happy to get paid to sort colored pieces of string. Then I started working as an editor, and I realized … that kind of is my job now—except with words! Whether or not I pursued writing, I would have ended up somewhere in the literary world for sure. I’ve spent many an hour working in independent bookstores which is a fabulous gig, except the pay is absolute shite.

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

I couldn’t not do it. According to my mother, my first word was “book,” and I’ve been obsessed with writing and reading my entire life.

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

I really enjoyed Motherthing by Ainslie Hogarth and Lindsay Wong’s book of short stories, Tell Me Pleasant Things About Immortality. They were both off the hook in completely different ways, which is something I aspire to!

20 - What are you currently working on?

Many things that I liken to pushing a boulder up a hill are coming to pass—myself and my partner are entering the end stages of a massive home renovation that has taken place over the past decade on a shoestring budget, engineered with blood, sweat, and tears. All four kids are now in the double digits and require less hands-on daily care—one of them even has a driver’s license, which has been great. I’ve just released my first poetry collection, Last Hours. I am finishing the final draft of my first novel, The Gulch and hopefully finding a home for that manuscript, as well. I am gathering the internal fortitude to begin my second novel, Maggot Beach, which I am in the process of researching. It is partially inspired by the journals and writings of my great aunt who was hearing impaired and spent a great deal of time unjustly incarcerated in psychiatric institutions. I am eager to dig into that project, but I think I need to recharge a bit—I should probably take a minute and clean my house!

12 or 20 (second series) questions;

 

Jennifer May Newhook, Last Hours

my review of St. John’s, Newfoundland writer Jennifer May Newhook’s Last Hours (St. John’s NL: Riddle Fence Publishing, 2024) is now up at The Woodlot.

Tia McLennan, Familiar Monsters of the Flood

 

Undertaker

No sign, just a small brick
building. I ring the doorbell, a slight
man answers. His hello has no greeting.
He wears an argyle sweater. I say my father’s
name. He gestures and I follow
through the narrow, carpeted hallway
to some hard-backed chairs where I must
wait. His sweater disappears around
a corner, and I’m left facing a heavy red
curtain—but there’s a gap. Between
curtain and wall, I see a white-socked
ankle and the grey pant cuff of a man
who’s no longer his body. The undertaker
returns, snaps the curtain closed, keeping
the living from the dead. He holds out
a small white box with my father’s name
typed on the label. I need both hands. I thank him,
then hear my voice ask, How hot does it get
to bring a body to ash? When he speaks,
he looks past me. On the drive home
I try to remember his answer.

I was curious to see the full-length poetry debut by Pender Harbour, British Columbia-based poet Tia McLennan, Familiar Monsters of the Flood (St. John’s NL: Riddle Fence Publishing, 2024), part of a trio of poetry debuts produced through St. John’s, Newfoundland literary journal Riddle Fence, as it slowly moves to branch out into book publishing. And no, Tia McLennan isn’t, as far as we are aware, any relation to myself, although her family did also emerge from Glengarry County, her particular line leaving Eastern Ontario long before I did, originally landing that way some fifty or sixty years before my own McLennan lineage made those Lancaster docks. Familiar Monsters of the Flood is a collection composed of small lyric scenes across a tapestry of family moments, writing a dream-scape around the loss of her father (my immediate namesake, incidentally). “To think of leaving / as if it were a train station / to move through and we are / always late.” she writes, as part of the poem “Late Letter to Dad.” The narratives of her poems are shaped, often shaved down to a single thought, a single thought-line, such as the short poem “Hungry,” as the first half of such reads: “Driving around the gravel bend / in Dream Valley and catching / a slim coyote gliding down / the middle of the road toward / me. I slowed, hoping to get a closer / look at something wild.” The poems are contained as small moments or scenes, held together across a soft cadence of sentences and line-breaks. There is an unease through these poems, one intertwined with memory, loss and grief, all of which are rendered in relation to that dream-scape, whether aside or from deep within. “I have updated your address / and added your darkest thoughts to the file.” she writes, to open the poem “Now You Have Full Access,” “You must fill out the forms / using only spit and moonlight. // If you forget your password, / press your face to the earth in springtime.”