Wanda Praamsma is a poet and writer based in Kingston, Ontario. Her works include a thin line between (Book*hug, 2014) and aversions // nothing special (above/ground press, 2022). Wanda’s poems, non-fiction, and reviews have appeared in literary journals and newspapers in Canada and the U.S. She is the founder and organizer of drift/line, a poetry and music series in Kingston.
An excerpt from her “how clear” appears in the forty-second issue of Touch the Donkey.
Q: Tell me about the work-in-progress “how clear.”
A: In short, how clear is about exploration & transformation of self. It’s about the unmooring, the disintegration, experienced through birthing & mothering. It’s about breakage, on & off the page. It’s about detachment, releasing the clinging, & the possibilities that emerge through that process (much of it explored through the Buddhist concept of not-self).
Q: How does this piece compare to some of the other work you’ve been doing lately?
A: There is definitely continuity here from my chapbook, aversions // nothing special (above/ground, 2022). The nothing special section of that chapbook was note-poems from the first two years of mothering, & I spring from there in how clear. But this work is much more improvisational, & the fragmentation of language, & rhythm & breath, are out in front.
Q: You suggest there may have been a shift in your work since you first became a parent. Has the fragmentation of your work become more prevalent, or is it something else, something other?
A: Certainly, yes, more fragmentation as I entered motherhood. Time, lack of it, may have precipitated some of this. Writing in smaller snippets was/is the only way, & so the work does easily get stripped down, broken up. But there is something else. I used to be more interested in the story, now I am more deliberate about language. The words are more heated, the link to linear narrative has broken, & I want to ignite certain edges. I am more clear.
Q: I understand that entirely, how parenting forces a focus of sorts. You have only the time that you have, so you’d better get to it. Do you find you hold your work as a singular project, as opposed to multiple, smaller projects, across such multiple attentions? How do you keep writing in your head with small children?
A: Lots of notebooks, all around the house, in my various bags. The problem is there are so many now, & so many threads to bring together & apart. There are a few projects going at the same time in these notebooks. But when I get to the collage part, I do need to work on just one, zero in.
Q: With a published debut and a chapbook under your belt, as well as your current work-in-progress, how do you feel your work has progressed? Where do you see your work headed?
A: I feel like it’s been slow since having my children, but I’m also happy there has been space between works to find new ground, to read deeply & widely. My work-in-progress is almost finished & it’s been an exciting departure from my first book. I mentioned to another poet that I am feeling called to sentences lately & so that may be the next thing, a hybrid memoir of sorts.
Q: I like the idea of being “called to sentences.” What prompted that particular shift, and how is it showing itself?
A: Grief, mostly, I think. My dad died last year & immediately after I knew I would work next on prose that circled around death, & the question of what makes up a life, his & others’. I had already started with an essay on death & illness before my dad died (published in the Queen’s Quarterly in 2022) & I think the next work will build on that. But it’s showing itself slowly, still in all the notes, but hopefully soon I can sit with it a little more.
Q: Have you had any models for the kinds of work you’ve been attempting?
A: I can’t say that I have any models that are pushing me strongly one way or another. I have read many good memoirs, or versions of, over the past years – by Sabrina Orah Mark, Sarah Manguso, Kate Zambreno, Sina Queyras, Kyo Maclear, Anne Boyer, among others. But the hybrid memoir I seem to be angling towards, not so sure, & I am at the beginning of this search. (Definitely want to read Christine’s Toxemia!)
Q: Finally, who do you read to reenergize your own work? What particular works can’t you help but return to?
A: Laynie Browne’s The Desires of Letters has been very important to me, especially for the work-in-progress, as well as Fred Wah’s Music at the Heart of Thinking. Daphne Marlatt’s What Matters, & many other works of hers. Phil Hall’s Killdeer, and others. And Lisa Robertson, Boat & The Baudelaire Fractal in particular.