A friend of mine tagged me to do this writing exercise—the sort of thing that I seldom respond to gladly. But the timing was right and the need was there, so I persisted. I’m glad I did, party because it was good for me to do this, and especially because I tagged two friends of mine whose responses were illuminating.
What am I working on?
I’ve just finished bit of humorous commentary for a local arts quarterly that’s been publishing similar items of mine, seasonally for a year now.
A series of poems about the six summers I spent tree planting in the Canadian hinterland has started to demand some attention.
In the background lurks the young adult novel I won a grant for a few years ago. I work on it as I’m able.
How does my work differ from others of its genre?
As a writer with a strong sense of place, I have a particular voice, and particular concerns.
I try to devote myself to nature. If I am successful my work will differ in being imbued with what is natural and alive.
Why do I write what I do?
I write because words flow fluidly from me. I feel it in my forearms as much as my heart.
I write what I do (humour, commentary, haiku, poetry, short stories, songs, and now long form prose fiction) based on what feels right for the issue at hand—and what opportunities and outlets are available to me at the time.
How does my writing process work?
Ninety per cent, at least, of my writing process is subconscious and in some way, miraculous.
My writing practice is to treat every written thing as a work unto itself, from text messages to marketing materials to birthday greetings. All that editing, composition, and craft counts toward the greater goal of becoming an abler writer.
To become a better writer, I’ve also had to work to become a better observer, a more patient artist, and kinder person.
Beyond that, I simply maintain a commitment to the journey.
And now, to pass the baton on to two friends: