Amanda Earl, of course, is a stellar reader, and her new book is grand. DS Stymeist [above], also read from a new book, and, akin to Monty Reid, was also debuting as a VERSeFest reader, having spent time as President of the VERSe Ottawa board (and thus, unable to read until after he stepped down). MaryLee Bragg read from her own newly-published book, but the highlight of the entire event (sorry, everyone else) had to be Ottawa poet IAN MARTIN [left] (yes, the upper case is deliberate), who really did provide surreal humour and a quiet, odd warmth through their set. You should be paying attention.
Happy World Poetry Day! Our fourteenth annual edition of VERSeFest, Ottawa's International Poetry Festival, begins tonight, running through until Sunday. See the full schedule here. In case you hadn't caught, a variety of interviews with readers for this year's festival have been posting over the past couple of weeks over at periodicities: a journal of poetry and poetics. Conyer Clayton : 2024 VERSeFest interviews: Chris Turnbull ; rob mclennan : 2024 VERSeFest interviews: Klara du Plessis ; Manahil Bandukwala : 2024 VERSeFest interviews: Laila Malik ; rob mclennan : 2024 VERSeFest interviews: Jason Christie ; Margo LaPierre : 2024 VERSeFest interviews : Sandra Ridley ; rob mclennan : 2024 VERSeFest interviews: Khashayar “Kess” Mohammadi ; Amanda Earl : 2024 VERSeFest interviews: AJ Dolman ; we are hoping to see you! Of the four nights, be aware that the Saturday night show is ticketed, and bring cash for books! All books/chapbooks will be supplied by the authors. Huzzah!
And you know the above poem from Robert Kroetsch, don’t you? Strange for me to consider that I am now at the age where he was then, part of his Letters to Salonika (Toronto ON: Grand Union Press, 1983) (an edition gifted by dear half-sister a couple of years back), the poem-sequence he wrote about his then-wife, Smaro Kamboureli, being away, while Smaro was away and working on her in the second person (Edmonton ON: longspoon press, 1985). Not a solo birthday, but they leave soon enough: Christine and our young ladies head to hang out with father-in-law and his wife in Boca Raton, Florida for four days, starting Sunday. I remain here, working on festival publicity and other such details. We hadn’t been to father-in-law’s condo there since 2015, attempting an annual February/March trip that we haven’t managed since Aoife was born [see my report on that 2015 trip]. Had a different timing been possible, perhaps. I shall be home.
And, regarding Kroetsch: I’m still amused at the book he wrote about Smaro being away, as Smaro wrote a book about Smaro being away. While Christine was attending her two weeks at Banff Writing Studio in January of last year, I played my version of same, writing a poem sequence via Kroetsch’s own structure of dailyness about Christine being away, which I produced last summer as a chapbook, edgeless : letters, (2023). Be aware that the book she was working to finish during that period (the same project she turned from mound of paper to manuscript during her time at Sage Hill in 2019), Toxemia (Book*hug Press), is out this fall, and already up for pre-order.
Distracted enough these days, that I’ve so far been unable to even consider a potential birthday poem this year. Might this be the first year I skip? We shall see what next week brings, hoping to get a couple of afternoons in a tavern somewhere, with notebook and pen and mound of books, attempting to catch my breath a bit. Perhaps the option remains. But let’s get through the weekend. Although, really, there have been little to no poems for quite some time, focusing the past eighteen months on larger prose (fiction and non-fiction) projects; still, there were pages upon pages upon sketched-out notebook pages from our Florida jaunt last fall [see my report on such here], but none of which I’ve been (as yet) able to return to. One project prompted by the work of Laynie Browne, another prompted by the work of Barry McKinnon. I keep hoping: soon.
I work to further dismantle my home office, what I’ve been a month already working on, moving myself into the finished basements. Our young ladies have become too big to share a bedroom anymore. I’ve already moved multiple bookcases and at least fifty to sixty boxes of books out of my office either downstairs or into storage. The fact that neither child has even noticed what I’m doing yet might say something of them, but just as much the state of my office, I suppose. It would be nice to have completed this task by the time they land home. I’m not sure such might be possible, but we shall see. I only started this process on February 6th.
Birthday, a check-in: in my note last year I mentioned an extended period of breathlessness, currently feeling I’ve been in a version of same since, what, last July? Pushing edits on my short stories, working on my genealogical creative non-fiction project, “the genealogy book” [posting excerpts to substack, naturally], the household taking turns across two weeks with flu at Christmas (every day a new cancellation of social gatherings, and a Christmas dinner at least four days late) and now my copy edits, which are actually due today. On my birthday? Come on.
Hoping once the non-fiction a bit further along or even completed I can return to the novel I began during the onset of Covid; a handful of short stories-in-progress, as well as further essays on fiction writers. At least three poetry projects begun but on hold (as I said), including one that I’ve excerpted for the tenth anniversary issue of Touch the Donkey [a small poetry journal], which lands in another month. And don’t I have a chapbook soon with Montreal poet James Hawes’ Turret Press? And another full-length poetry title en route as well, recently accepted for most likely 2026 publication (but we aren’t talking about that yet).
check out our website for further information, including full author biographies.
for information/queries: rob_mclennan@hotmail.com
Be aware that there are only two weeks left in the VERSeFest fundraiser, as part of the grand rebuilding year for VERSeFest: Ottawa’s International Poetry Festival! It’s amazing to realize we’re already at seventy percent of our target, and we’ve received an enormous amount of support and assistance, which is very much appreciated. Thank you to everyone who has offered support!
There are still plenty of poetry manuscript consultations available, including with Madeleine Stratford, Otoniya J. Okot Bitek, rob mclennan, Jérôme Melançon (in English/French), ryan fitzpatrick (for a chapbook-length work) and Stephen Collis (for a full-length poetry manuscript!). Here is your chance to get manuscript consultations some of the best working poets in Canada!
A number of book perks have already gone, but we’ve just added two copies of Nicole Markotić latest poetry collection (signed), books by Ottawa poet Frances Boyle and Vancouver poet Renée Sarojini Saklikar, and there are still signed copies of a limited edition hardcover by Montreal poet and critic Erín Moure! As well, there are numerous book bundles of donated titles by Metatron Press, Book*hug Press, Apt. 9 Press (including a very cool William Hawkins Bundle), Nightwood Editions, Gordon Hill Press, Véhicule Press, Coach House, Invisible Publishing, New Star Books, Anstruther Press and a set of the Arc Poetry Magazine ArcAngels (broadsides by Sylvia Legris, Susan Musgrave and Monty Reid, produced for Arc patrons; designed and produced for Arc Poetry Magazine by Christine McNair).
And watch for information soon on our spring festival : March 21-24, 2024! Some of
the poets confirmed include Anita Lahey, Monty Reid, nina jane drystek, MayaSpoken, Amanda Earl,
DS Stymiest, Madeleine Stratford, Sneha Madhaven-Reese, Jaclyn Pudiuk, Chris
Turnbull, Mark Goldstein, Sandra Ridley, AJ Dolman, Myriam Legault-Beauregard,
Nduka Otiono, Klara du Plessis and Khashayar Mohammadi. That sounds pretty cool, doesn’t
it?
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 was THE COMPLEMENT AND ANTAGONIST OF BLACK (OR, THE DEFINITION OF ALL VISIBLE WAVELENGTHS) with above/ground press. I’m a private person so beneath the excitement and appreciation, I’ve always felt a degree of vulnerability when publishing, especially now that I’m a mother and live in a smaller city. Releasing my words in a more formal way made me (and makes me) reflect on these things.
Publishing my book, The Sleep Orchard, was a lot different from my other (shorter) publications, because although the book consistently considers the life and artwork of Arshile Gorky in some way, my personal responses range over a considerable breadth of time – dating back ten years to where I am now, a mother of two beautiful little boys, about to get remarried, post pandemic. When I started the collection, I was in the middle of completing my PhD and getting married for the first time. Midway through writing the book, I endured the heartbreak of several lost pregnancies, an international move, and separation. The more recent poems in the collection, interwoven throughout, reflect where I am now, having come out the other side, likely as a different person. The last poem in the book is so sad; I wish I could go back and tell myself there will be peace and hope again after such loss, and so much love too.
2 - How did you come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?
I think in images and my mind tries to make sense of things by framing them metaphorically, so I guess poetry is a natural fit. I experience synesthesia at particular times, which is probably linked with a more poetic sensibility.
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?
One or two fragmented sentences come quickly, allowing me to feel a pulse connected with what I want to convey. If there’s enough of a vibration, I can stay focused. After this initial flurry, the writing slows and approaching the rest of the poem feels like watching a snow globe and waiting for the flakes settle. My space (inward and outward) has to be completely quiet or else I can’t build walls around the poem’s heart; I need those walls because without them, there can’t be a door. I always do several drafts.
I haven’t written for a while now because my energy has gone into financially supporting my family and being as present as I can with my kids.
4 - Where does a poem or 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?
My response to Arshile Gorky in The Sleep Orchard was the first time I had a larger and more cohesive collection in mind from the start. I saw his painting “One Day the Milkweed” and was hooked. I first stumbled across the image online while living in England, and less than two hours later, I was on a train to the Tate Modern in London to see the Gorky exhibition. The pull I felt was incredible, especially with his later work. I felt a simultaneous distance too – because our worlds were so far apart and that made the dynamic complex. I found small entryways to help with my understanding, such as how much he loved his mother. At times, I tried to take on the first person perspective/voice of those close to him – always women, such as his wives and daughter.
Familiarizing myself with every angle of Gorky’s life and artwork through research created a mental space I could effortlessly slip into during the writing process. Even though the figurative rooms I entered were always too dark to see clearly in full, I began to sense where I could find cracks in the (embroidered) curtains.
5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
I love to do readings!
Attending readings and workshopping poems with others is a gift that I long for and hope to find again. When aligned with literary communities in Hamilton, Toronto, and Vancouver, my creative process felt more energized. (I love the literary vibe in Ottawa too, but I’ve never lived there; I wish I did!) For the last five or so years, there just hasn’t been time to seek out or connect with a community in this creative/artistic way.
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?
There’s always the old question whether one can or should separate an artist from his work. More and more, I began to empathize with his wife, Mogouch (Agnes Fielding) and actually felt quite a loss when she died not too long ago. The book experiments with these different vantage points, and intersections.
Also – when writing ekphrastic poetry, the presence of artwork can act as a buffer between the writer and uncomfortable subject matter, as well as a buffer between the writer and the reader. To what extent does this lessen a poem’s immediacy and authenticity? Or, does the presence of artwork as a buffer provide a kind of breathing space that is beneficial for both the reader and writer? What tips the scales one way or another?
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?
Writers in general cover such a huge expanse, but I think poets, in particular, encourage readers to pay attention if they can stay still enough while reading. Paul Bowles, in his book Sheltering Sky, says:
Because we don't know when we will die, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens only a certain number of times, and a very small number really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, an afternoon that is so deeply a part of your being that you can't even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four, five times more, perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps 20. And yet it all seems limitless.
8 - Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?
Instructors/mentors/editors have been essential and never difficult to work with. I love collaborating creatively with others after a bit of time spent percolating alone, and don’t feel defensive against criticism, probably because emotional distance from my work comes easily once I’m past a certain stage. It’s never good to agree to edits as a blind reflex, but almost always, those I trust offering feedback have been right. Sentimentality or too many burlesque-flavoured words can come with a cost, so I try to “kill those [self-indulgent] darlings” when they slip below my radar. I do need the help at times, although I’d like to think I’m getting better.
9 - What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?
I was told recently that I need to give others more credit in their ability to discern. Another person told me it was time I took up more room.
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?
When I did have a writing routine, it started at night when the house was still and I wrote into the early hours.
A typical good day includes coffee and/or Leonard Cohen on my way to work. Every single day without fail, my fiancé sends me the sweetest morning messages while he’s away on the ship.
11 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return (for lack of a better word) for inspiration?
I’ll echo another writer’s technique as an exercise to propel myself forward. For example, I’ll study and then try to pivot like Ashbery does in Self-Portrait in a Convex Mirror, or try to move subtly and seamlessly through observation and introspection like Jane Hirshfield – examining how she does it. Sometimes, I’ll paint or work with mixed media before returning to poetry.
12 - What fragrance reminds you of home?
When I was little, my mom used to kneel in front of a stained-glass window we had in our living room. On a towel laid out over the cream carpet, she’d iron various shapes of fabric before sewing them onto church banners. The fabric adhesive she used had a particular scent that lasted for a few seconds after she lifted the hot iron.
Also, growing up, I had a fox terrier, and I liked the way her paws smelled after coming in from the freshly mowed lawn. I know: too sentimental but alas, it’s true.
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?
For me, abstract or non-representational art is a great springboard. I like the challenge of seeing myself or bits of my life within in a work of art; sometimes, it’s instantaneous and inescapable.
Also, my dear friend, Dick Capling just published a book of poetry called Fleeting Breath and I feel inspired by his response to nature, particularly his meditations on a butterfly garden in Tobermory.
14 - What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?
I named my youngest son Rilke, and I want to go back to Rainer Maria Rilke now that some years have passed; I have a feeling he’ll speak differently to me now. I’m entering a new stage in my life, and it means starting to reconcile with Rilke’s words:
Sometimes a man stands up
during supper
and walks outdoors, and keeps on walking,
because of a church that stands somewhere in the East.
And his children say blessings on him as if he were dead.
Other times, he remains
inside his own house,
stays there, inside the dishes and in the glasses,
so that his children have to go far out into the world
toward that same church, which he forgot.
15 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
I’d like to find an artistic community in my surrounding area that I resonate with, feel comfortable and settled with, unjudged. I’d also like to make writing a more consistent part of my life, and find that sweet balance.
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 was a docent at an art gallery long ago, and oh, how I loved it; it would be rewarding to link my love of teaching and writing with art and/or museums. I want to create a course on the expressive arts. For a few years, I taught an “Understanding Art” course at Georgian College and would love the opportunity to teach it again. It’s amazing to see how students come alive in response to art, discovering things when they look inward, into corners.
17 - What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
I’ve been writing poetry for as long as I can remember. I’m also drawn to writing for children and plan to start that up again, although it satisfies an entirely different part of me, creativity and artistically.
18 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?
Currently, I’m reading All Good Things by Toronto writer, publisher, and public speaker Erin Paterson. It is available through Lemonade Press, a newer publishing company that provides a voice to underrepresented medical communities. It’s a brilliant memoir about genetic testing, Huntington’s disease, infertility, human connection, bravery, and believing happiness is within reach. I recommend it. https://lemonadecommunity.com/about/
19 - What are you currently working on?
I have three completed manuscripts just sitting on a shelf that I haven’t tried, in earnest, to publish; I plan to revisit at least one of them and respond in a polyphonic way now that years have passed, playing around with layers and peeking into chasms.
Join us Saturday, March 4, 2023 (6:30 door/7pm reading) at Cooper's Creative Kitchen, Embassy Hotel & Suites, 25 Cartier Street, Ottawa, for an evening of poetry and drinks on us! (Yeah, we said drinks). Every year, VERSeFest is a huge success because of the tireless work and effort of our amazing volunteers. We couldn’t do it without you. This is our way of giving back and saying thanks for all that you do, you incredible beings you!
lovingly
hosted by rob mclennan
With
readings by:
current
Ottawa poets laureate Gilles Latour and Albert Dumont
and
poets Kimberly Quiogue Andrews and Leslie Roach
Now
thirteen years old, our 2023 festival runs from March 18 to 26!
(details to appear on the website soon)
Win PRIZES! Books, tickets, and more…
Why volunteer for VERSeFest? Not only will you get to attend the planet’s most exciting poetry festival FREE on nights you volunteer, but you also get to meet your favourite writers, work with a fun crew, and attend awesome events like this one. Oh, and if you volunteer at more than one event, you get a free pass to the ENTIRE festival. Sweet, right?
We're looking for people who are willing to help out during the reading, tend bar, (wo)man the door and merch table, etc.
Bring your friends! Bring your flatmates! Bring your loved ones!
Author biographies:
Franco-Ontarian poet Gilles Latour was born in Cornwall (Ontario), grew up in Ottawa, Montreal and Paris, and studied literature and linguistics at the Université de Montréal and at McGill University. He has spent most of his working life with humanitarian and international development organizations in Africa, Asia and Latin America, but he has also worked as a teacher, a consultant in humanitarian affairs, a technical translator and writer and, briefly, as an oil refinery operator, a café dishwasher and a taxi driver. He has lived in Ottawa for four decades, where he was poetry editor for Les Éditions L’Interligne for a few years. During the 70s, 80s and 90s his poems appeared in Quebec Literary journals such as Revue Éther and Revue Trois. His first collection, Maya partir ou Amputer, was published by Les Éditions L'Interligne in 2011, followed by Mon univers est un lapsus in 2014, Mots qu’elle a faits terre in 2015 (nominated for the Trillium Poetry Prize, the City of Ottawa Book Award and the Prix Le Droit), as well as À la merci de l’étoile in 2018 (finalist for the Trillium Prize) and, most recently, Débris du sillage in 2020 (finalist for the Ottawa Book Award), and Feux du naufrage in 2022, all published by Les Éditions L’Interligne. His poems have also appeared in several collective publications and anthologies, most notably in : Poèmes de la Cité (Éditions David, 2020), Poèmes de la résisance (Éditions Prise de parole, 2019), and Cohues (Éditions Cohues, Paris, 2014). He is currently Ottawa’s Francophone Poet Laureate (2021-2023).
As a lawyer, she previously worked for the United Nations for 10 years in law and HR, specializing in conduct and discipline related to sexual, physical and psychological abuse.
She started writing and journaling at a young age as a form of therapy to process the racist experiences she had growing up.
In 2020, she released her debut book Finish this Sentence, a collection of poetry about healing from the effects of racism, finding one’s voice and power, and claiming your human right to be happy. She has been featured on major media platforms, including CBC and CBC Books, and has partnered with national brands like DeSerres.
Today, she is an advocate for finding your power through practicing mindfulness, both at work and at home, as a way to respond effectively to situations. She is also a workshop facilitator on journaling and mindfulness at work, and journaling to find one’s true calling and purpose.
[Mohammadi will be presenting a lecture online this Saturday, alongside Amish Trivedi from 1-2pm Eastern, as part of The Factory Lecture Series at Ottawa’s annual VERSeFest Poetry Festival; click here to register to attend via zoom]
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 had already published 4 chapbooks before my debut, but there was something so definite and final about having a full length book published. It taught me organization and coherence on a larger scale, taught me how to manage concept and tone throughout various poems, and how to chisel a book out of a manuscript with the help of my editor.
2 - How did you come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?
I grew up in a fiercely literary family, but I have to admit I didn’t read or write any poetry until my late teens. At the time I was getting into poetry Rupi Kaur was getting quite popular, so I picked up Milk and Honey and realized I like the format. I moved on from her to Warsan Shire and Deborah Landau, then slowly William Carlos Williams and Rilke. My first encounter with Canadian Poetry was Phil Hall and BP Nichol, and after getting into the local scene, I picked up every book I could find and read everything that came out vehemently until I got to where I am.
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 always have different projects of different genres going at the same time. The Low and Slow gets accumulated over time and in a different work frame, and there are times when I feel I just need to produce work, so I translate, or write an essay. Depending on which type of piece I’m writing, the amount of editing varies. But I’d say my poems emerge quite close to how they get published. I write relentlessly so I’d call myself an overall fast writer.
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?
even though different poems always start differently, my favorite way of beginning a poem is taking a line usually taken from misheard and misused words in conversations I hear during the day, e.g. when I misheard “Dressed to go” as “Dressed for a poem” and treating it as a kernel or seed for an entire poem to take shape around it.
5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
I am incredibly social and I’ve always loved readings and interacting with my audience, whether virtual or in person!
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’ve written quite a lot about language and what it means to write across cultures through writing across languages and linguistic disciplines, but I’d also say recently I’ve been quite heavily gravitating towards Islamic mysticism and Islamic culture and the Arab Conquest in general. I’m trying to explore questions like “what does Islam mean in the Diaspora as opposed to Islamic nations?” and trying to demystify the monolithic Islam of North American media into its intricate working parts.
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?
well I was quite lost when I came to poetry. I had no sense of belonging, no sense of purpose or self-respect. Poetry gave me a warm place in a corner of this cruel world where I could comfortably express who I am. And my expression will hopefully provide a new home for another estranged soul. I believe in the power of poetry and have no interest in anyone who devalues and deems it inessential.
8 - Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?
writing is often quite lonely, and its solitude can drown one in one’s own ego. Its absolutely essential to have one’s work looked over and altered to the point of comprehension. poets can be too precious about their own lines and wordplays that may not be relevant or Jermaine to the point. I’ve never taken a piece to an editor and emerged with an inferior poem. to me poems are always improved by a second pair of eyes.
9 - What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?
“never underestimate how little people care about your work”.
may sound harsh, but it’s the single most motivating thought in my mind whenever I feel too invested in my own poetry
10 - How easy has it been for you to move between genres (your own work vs. translation or collaboration)? What do you see as the appeal?
to me the appeal is mainly the fact that I can switch my workflow when I need to. There are times when I just don’t feel innovative enough to begin a thought from scratch, and translation can tone my poetry muscles without straining my intellect too much.
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?
lots of walking, lots of reading, very little writing. I believe the more time I spend thinking and reading, the better I can work and the more efficient my words become. my personal recommendation to a new poet is always to read more and to think more. giving your body time to process reading is as important as giving yourself time to read. so I usually read for an hour or so, walk for an hour or so, and then begin my writing only after.
12 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?
the answer is always translation. I love how many possibilities translation poses, while not being so overwhelmingly open as to paralyze me intellectually. translation is immensely creative but its beauty is its limitations, and limitations are always what makes one create the most clever tools for comprehension and conveyance; which later come in handy while writing your own material!
13 - What fragrance reminds you of home?
Orange Blossoms. that is all.
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?
I love many art forms and I’ve written in great length on, about and influenced by Cinema, but I have to admit that nothing inspires my work more than Standup comedy. I listen to an ungodly amount of standup comedy every day and the tricks comics use in their language, in performance, in tricking the audience’s perception; nothing ever comes close to it.
15 - What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?
At the moment I think my biggest influences for my work are great Sufi thinkers like Ibn ‘Arabi, Rumi, Ghazali and Hafez; but overall my greatest influence is always what I’m reading at the moment, especially books by my friends.
16 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
make more music. I wanna make some spoken word, Hip-Hop, experimental album and it is the next item on my list.
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?
well… I’m a chef by profession and I absolutely love cooking so I’ll always have that going for me!
18 - What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
necessity.
19 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?
Ooh! my favorite question! last great film I watched was Pedro Almodovar’s latest film Pain and Glory. I’ve since watched it more than 5 times. It’s a true delight. Midsommar and Portrait of a Lady On Fire round up the top 3.
my favorite books I read this year have been Hoa Nguyen’s A Thousand Times You Lose Your Treasure, Bardia Sinaee’s Intruder and Amanda Berenguer’s Materia Prima
20 - What are you currently working on?
So much… but
mainly some more translations of some of the great modernist poets of Iran as
well as writing more poetry on Diasporic West Asian culture.
12 or 20 (second series) questions;
