Posts Tagged ‘Women and Writing’
Monday, March 28th, 2011
Thanks to Shawna Lemay for the link to this article, “Literary Haunts,” in The Independent, written by Woolf’s great-niece, Emma Woolf:
“In the end, perhaps it’s best to let the writer’s words speak for them. A century after she went “street-haunting” in London, you can still find Virginia out there. If I choose, I can put down my pen right now and walk to the Cock Tavern on Fleet Street. As newlyweds in 1912, Leonard and Virginia rented rooms at nearby Clifford’s Inn and took their daily meals at the Cock Tavern. The ideal place, then, for a 70th anniversary toast to Virginia Woolf.”
My essay, “Library Haunting,” is an homage of sorts to Woolf’s “Street Haunting.”
Tags: Essayists, Essays, Women and Writing
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Tuesday, January 11th, 2011
Thanks to Jill Margo and Andris Taskans for this list of women essayists. You can add names to the list.
Tags: Essayists, Essays, Women and Writing
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Tuesday, May 25th, 2010
How beautiful a London street is then, with its islands of light, and its long groves of darkness, and on one side of it perhaps some tree-sprinkled, grass-grown space where night is folding herself to sleep naturally, and, as one passes the iron railing, one hears those little cracklings and stirrings of leaf and twig which seem to suppose the silence of fields all round them, an owl hooting, and far away the rattle of a train in the valley. But this is London, we are reminded; high among the bare trees are hung oblong frames of reddish yellow light—windows; there are points of brilliance burning steadily like low stars—lamps; this empty ground, which holds the country in it and its peace, is only a London square, set about by offices and houses where at this hour fierce lights burn over maps, over documents, over desks where clerks sit turning with wetted forefinger the files of endless correspondences; or more suffusedly the firelight wavers and the lamplight falls upon the privacy of some drawing-room, its easy chairs, its papers, its china, its inlaid table, and the figure of a woman, accurately measuring out the precise number of spoons of tea which—She looks at the door as if she heard a ring downstairs and somebody asking, is she in?
—from “Street Haunting”
Tags: Memorable Lines, Women and Writing
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Friday, April 30th, 2010
Several years ago, busy writers Shannon Cowan, Fiona Tinwei Lam, and Cathy Stonehouse joined forces to edit Double Lives: Writing and Motherhood. Although some questioned whether an audience existed for a book like this, their faith in the project never wavered, and they proved the doubters wrong. They talk here about the process of working collaboratively and editing an anthology of essays.
(from left) Fiona Tinwei Lam, Cathy Stonehouse, Shannon Cowan
Q: What sparked the idea for this anthology?
A: Cathy had just had her first child, and was struggling with trying to find time to write. As a writer/parent she wanted to read something other than how-to books that spoke to her experience. Something nonprescriptive, more descriptive and nuanced. She felt she and others would learn better that way—through the poetic and rich, rather than flat and often patronising self-help. As there was a dearth of material on the subject, she envisioned a project that would seek out the experiences of other women writers who had had children that could inspire other women in similar circumstances. We three already knew each other mostly through writing, and were exchanging parenting tips, so working on the project together arose naturally.
Q: Why did you choose an anthology of essays rather than poetry or fiction?
A: Nonfiction seems to speak more directly to our experiences as mothers, with real life events and experiences that readers can relate to. We considered various parameters (other art forms, other countries) but settled on these (creative non-fiction and Canadian) because they defined what we most hungered for. There were other fiction/poetry anthologies on this theme already. We wanted the writers to speak to the readers about their lived lives. Also, given how isolating both mothering and writing can be, we wanted readers to feel part of an ongoing, vibrant community, part of a continuum, irrespective of location, age, or circumstance.
Q: Does the essay genre offer something different to readers? If so, what?
A: It provides real life, honest, unembellished stories that readers can identify with. It provides well-written (and therefore nuanced, complex) versions of people’s realities that readers can return to over and over again. With essays, you can use novelistic techniques or weave in poetry (as some of our contributors did), but the overall effect is one of truth.
Q: Tell us something about the editing process.
A: A number of essays were extensively revised, and some were rewritten. There was a lengthy to and fro process between editor and writer prior to the review by the copy editor. We worked collaboratively on all aspects of the editing, which made the process time-consuming and complex but also rewarding. Having three editors review and edit each piece makes more work overall, but we had high standards and wanted the best deal for our writers. We did most of this work through email and after the kids were in bed. There were many late-night conference calls, because that was often the only time we were all available.
Q: What was the greatest challenge in getting this project off the ground?
A: Although the book didn’t take that long to place, we found ourselves convincing publishers/agents/editors that the project was worthwhile and had a market. There was a real misconception that the book’s readership would be a narrow one—yet when the manuscript came together, editors and reviewers alike chimed in that men, women, parents, and non-parents would all find something inspiring and captivating in the book. The writing spoke for itself, as we always knew it would.
Q: What has been the greatest reward, either in working on this book, or post-publication?
A: Knowing that many women across the country, of varying ages and at varying stages of their writing career, and even non-writers juggling children with work outside the home, have connected to the book, finding solace, wisdom, affirmation, support. We continue to receive many enthusiastic responses, whether in person or through others, and know that the book will have a long shelf-life.
Q: What advice might you offer to someone else who wanted to put together a collection like this?
A: A project like this is deceptively straightforward. It is truly a labour of love—quite time-consuming. (For us, it took us sometimes many hours every week, over about three years.) Personal writing projects might have to go on the back-burner. Tight deadlines can be almost impossible to deal with when one has young kids. Be prepared to work for virtually nothing and make sure you balance maintaining editorial control with finding a publisher earlier rather than later, so the work is not all for naught. Have faith in your writers.
Join Double Lives contributors and editors at:
Mother, Writer: Panel and Reading, Vancouver Public Library, May 5,
2010 at 7:30 pm
This Mother’s Day, celebrate the intersection of creation and
creativity with award-winning authors Catherine Owen, Rachel Rose, Luanne Armstrong, and Dorothy Woodend. Hosted by Cathy Stonehouse (Double Lives: Writers and Motherhood) and Cori Howard (Between Interruptions and The Momoir Project), this event will illuminate the rewards of nurturing children while pursuing the passion to write.
Wednesday, May 5, 7:30 p.m. Peter Kaye Room, Lower Level, Central
Library, 350 West Georgia Street. Admission is free.
Tags: Anthologies, Essays, Memoir, Women and Writing
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Tuesday, February 23rd, 2010
When I met Anne Simpson in 2008 at the Vancouver International Writers Festival, she mentioned to me that she was working on a book of essays. So when a chance to review the book presented itself, I was delighted. (My review is here, at Prairie Fire.) The Marram Grass is a deeply thoughtful and richly textured book - both metaphorically, and literally, thanks to Gaspereau’s beautiful design. Here are some of Anne’s thoughts on writing it.
Q: You’re well-known as a poet and novelist; The Marram Grass is your first book of essays. What attracted you to the form? What, in particular, distinguishes the essay, as a genre, for you? What can it offer to a writer, and to readers?
A: I had questions that I kept circling around, and these questions were complex, and layered with other things that interested me, which is also how my poetry works, I think. To answer the questions, I had to find a way to ground myself, literally, by using the ground of the places near where I live.
And I don’t know if I was attracted to the form of the essay: it was more that the form chose me. And then it invited me to move around, so I could explore various avenues. But I don’t know if I understand what distinguishes the essay. Everyone who writes an essay reveals something different; its magic is that it is so flexible a form. A person can fool around within it.
But all I know is that my questions wouldn’t leave me alone—and, of course, I’m not done with the questions just because I finished the book. The curious thing is that I didn’t structure this book: I didn’t have an idea that one essay would lead to another essay. It was as if the questions kept leading me and leading me, until, finally, I came to the issue of empathy at the end. Every writer comes to this idea, I think, in one way or another. What I didn’t know is that the book was forming itself unbeknownst to me, and that, in fact, this was exactly where it was supposed to end up. The book opened out into the idea of community.
What can the essay offer to a reader? Well, I don’t know, exactly, but I know the writing of an essay is a way of thinking something through, and so the reading of an essay must be a similar process. However the writer expresses his or her ideas in an essay, it is an invitation to the reader to accompany the writer. It’s the beginning of a conversation.
Q: The range of reference in these essays is extremely wide and rich. Can you tell us something about the reading you did? Was it different from or similar to the kind of reading you do when you’re writing poetry or fiction?
A: The reading for this book was very different than it has been for other books I’ve written. When I do research for fiction or poetry, I’m something of a scavenger (I need to know one or two things and go back to writing, and then I surface again, and find out another couple of things, and so on). In the case of Marram Grass, I not only read widely to try to figure out my answers, which were never really answers, I also audited a course – one term in length – through which I could study the philosophy of Emmanuel Levinas. At a deeper level, though, I was still living with questions that had come up in two colloquia held at St. Peter’s Abbey in Saskatchewan – on Nature Writing and Wilderness Thought – in which I’d participated. Because the conversations had been so deep and thoughtful in those colloquia, I wanted to respond in kind.
I think if I write another such book – possibly one on creative communities – I may not include as many references to secondary sources. But this book simply voiced itself this way.
Q: The essays in The Marram Grass frequently juxtapose concrete descriptions of nature against more abstract passages of philosophical speculation. Reading them, I felt invited to participate in a sort of balancing that reinforced the central premise of the book – that metaphor schools us in the ability to hover between apparent binaries, to tolerate ambiguity and the unresolved, and in doing so, to deepen our understanding of “the other.” Thoughts?
A: I know I do this in my long poems: I have to move between one thing and another, and this oscillation is the way I find out what I’m trying to say. So, too, with Marram Grass, I guess.
And I’ve been influenced by Jan Zwicky’s Wisdom & Metaphor. The very form of her book is married to its content. Throughout that book, the left page of the text poses a challenge to the right page of the text. It’s not that the right page answers to the left page, it’s that meaning springs between the pages as the reader reads. Zwicky is actually giving evidence of the metaphor at work. But I didn’t know I had done something similar until you asked me this question.
I think that I also wanted to show that the operation of metaphor reflects the possible, and that this can indeed operate in the world: we can open our imaginations, foster empathy, and develop and enrich community. So I wanted to move back and forth between fiction and reality, as in the essay, “The Dark Side of Fiction’s Moon,” in order to reveal this.
Q: The line drawings in the book are fresh and lovely. For me, they echoed and reinforced its arguments and are integral to the whole. At what point did you decide to include them?
simpson1 [Note: if you press the link, you'll see one of Anne's images.]
A: I suggested to Andrew Steeves, one of the publishers at Gaspereau Press, that I could do some drawings back at the beginning of this project. Then I promptly forgot that I had to deliver! So while I had some of the drawings in a little sketch book from times that I’d been away – at the Elizabeth Bishop House in Great Village, NS, for instance – I had to scurry around and do some more right sketches at the last minute. It was a challenge. But Gaspereau is such a wonderful small press: they do a brilliant job of solving design issues, like the incorporation of the drawings with the text.
simpson22
Q: Who were your inspirations or models for this book (if you had inspirations)? What essayists do you admire?
A: Actually, some of them are Gaspereau Press writers. I’ve mentioned Jan Zwicky. And, of course, Don McKay’s essays are very fine. Tim Lilburn. Anne Carson. Robert Bringhurst. Trevor Herriot. I could go on…
Q: What was the biggest challenge in completing the book?
A: Writing to a deadline is always a big challenge for me. Thinking doesn’t fit a schedule. On the other hand, I usually work to a deadline quite well; something about the pressure seems to help me finish a manuscript.
Q: What was the biggest reward?
A: I wrote this book as a kind of homage to my adopted province of Nova Scotia. It has been home for me and for my family, for over twenty years. So it was a labour of love.
Q: What are you reading now?
A: I just finished Half of a Yellow Sun, a novel by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. And I’ve been dipping into Averno, by Louise Glück, along with How to Read a Poem, by Edward Hirsch. I’ve also been doing a little research for a new novel, so I’m reading Les Stroud’s Survive! Essential Skills and Tactics to Get You Out of Anywhere – Alive. I’m never entirely happy unless I have a novel, a book of non-fiction, and a couple of poetry collections on the bedside table.
Q: What is your next project?
A: A novel. But oh—the projects I’d like to do! I think writers all need about nine lives, don’t you?
A winner of the 2004 Griffin Poetry Prize for her second poetry collection, Loop, Anne Simpson has also been nominated for the Governor-General’s Award. Four of her six books have been selected as Globe & Mail Best Books. Her second novel, Falling, won the Dartmouth Fiction Award and was longlisted for the IMPAC Dublic Literary Award. She teaches part-time at St. Francis Xavier University in Antigonish, NS.
Tags: Essayists, Essays, Interviews, Nature Writing, Poetry, Women and Writing
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