Vannessa Barnier : part one

Vannessa Barnier is a creative project instigator and facilitator. She is the owner and host of Legible Intelligibles, a summer open mic poetry reading series in the park. On weekends, she is a bookseller at House of Anansi's brick and mortar store. She feels strongly and often.

She currently resides in the west end of Toronto.

https://www.facebook.com/litoronto/

How does a poem begin?

For me, a poem begins with a singular, particular instance. It starts with something said, something witnessed, or a long-form experience that caught on something inside of you like a hook, and you have no choice but to open it up, lay it out and build around it.

Lenea Grace : part two

How did you first engage with poetry?

I had some outstanding teachers who first exposed me to great writing – I would say both my sixth grade language arts teacher Mr. Levine and my AP English teacher Mrs. Langston profoundly influenced my literary sphere.  Then, at McGill, I took a modern Canadian poetry course and discovered Michael Ondaatje, painted his poem “White Dwarfs” on the bathroom wall in my apartment (embarrassing, but true, and definitely without the landlord’s permission), and you know, felt things deeply. Or rather, learned you could feel things deeply without exceedingly flowery language or vague metaphors or empty abstracts.  All that said, I didn’t start writing my own poems until I was about 24. It’s amazing what heartbreak and living by yourself in rural Nova Scotia can do for untapped creativity!

Heather Sweeney : part three

What do you feel poetry can accomplish that other forms can’t?

I find that I write poetry to understand myself.  I cannot express myself the same way in fiction or other genres.  It feels so full of possibilities.  You catch yourself inside a line of poetry and are transported.  A poem is a constellation.  A poem is a fractal.  A seed.  A cell.

Eric Schmaltz : part four

What do you find most difficult about writing poetry?

The most difficult part of writing poetry is not writing poetry. A poem first arrives as a phone call from an unknown number with poor reception; it is a voice that is difficult to decipher. I listen and feel an urgency and longing to know the voice that presents itself. I desire to fulfill the demands of the poem but I must sit, listen, and wait on the line before the static clears and the poem begins to emerge. Sitting and waiting can be the most difficult part.

Gillian Sze : part one

Gillian Sze is the author of nine poetry collections, including Peeling Rambutan, Redrafting Winter, and Panicle, which were finalists for the QWF A. M. Klein Prize for Poetry. She studied Creative Writing and English Literature at Concordia University and received a Ph.D. in Études anglaises from Université de Montréal. Gillian has served as a judge for various writing competitions including This Magazine’s Great Canadian Literary Hunt, the National Magazine Awards, and the bpNichol Chapbook Award. Her current project, a book of essays, is supported by a grant from the Conseil des arts et des lettres du Québec. Originally from Winnipeg, she now resides in Montreal where she teaches creative writing and literature. www.gilliansze.com

Photo credit: Christian Lee

What are you working on?

I just finished making Rice Krispies squares and I’m waiting for them to cool here on the counter. I’m wearing my sleeping four-month-old daughter in the kitchen. This is when I can squeeze in my reading and writing. I have opened on my Mac a doc with an unfinished essay, another doc with an unfinished long poem, proofs of my article, and the completed draft of my friend’s novel (of which I am thoroughly enjoying being a first reader!).

Elizabeth Robinson : part four

What poets changed the way you thought about writing?

Of course, poets continue to do this all the time, which is why poetry is a constantly meaningful and renewing practice.  Earliest was Dickinson and the bible.  In high school, I heard Gwendolyn Brooks give a reading.  Never will forget that.  Denise Levertov’s “Stepping Westward” is still enormously meaningful to me, both in terms of content and cadence.  Then I discovered Robert Creeley and his economy, his intensity, his necessary but unshowy innovation. So many miracles have followed: Sappho, Lorine Niedecker, Jack Spicer, Beverly Dahlen, Barbara Guest, Keith and Rosmarie Waldrop, Jean Valentine.  Lately, I am deeply moved and catalyzed by Gabrielle Calvocoressi’s Rocket Fantastic.

Frances Boyle : part three

What do you find most difficult about writing poetry?

What I find difficult is being intentional about the poems I write. I have never been terribly successful in sitting down to write ‘about’ any situation or topic. It’s as though I need to trick my subconscious into letting things out. That’s why I find the timed writing we do in our poetry group so valuable. A prompt or a phrase from a poem may take me to some incident in my life that I’ve never thought to write about, or I may go to pure play with images or sound. And I’ve surprised myself by writing around or about a character, some kind of incantatory everywoman, whose experiences are very different from my own. As process, that can be effective. However, I have a handful of ideas that I’d very much like to put into poems and I’ve been frustrated that my efforts so far have felt forced or stilted. The other thing I find hard is to actually get around to writing poetry; I can be like a squirmy kid in a classroom desk, allowing myself to be distracted by all manner of other compelling activities.