Paul Vermeersch’s beautiful new book of poems, Self Defence for the Brave and Happy posits that the 21st century will be through acts of imagination, dreams and daydreams, creativity, and even dissociation. When you can’t trust anything, the poems argue, your imagination becomes the only valid interpreter of reality. To wit, in the poem “Don’t Wait for the Woodsman,” Vermeersch warns, “Only stories want us to live. The wolf will lie in wait/ to devour us. Do not blame it for doing what wolves do.” And in the titular poem, we are advised “Tell yourself that you are beautiful. Listen only/ to songs that insist it.”

Part inspirational tract (borne of a deliciously playful inspiration, not the usual kind), part prophetic revelation, and all crafted with Vermeersch’s signature elan, Self Defence for the Brave and Happy is a generous chocolate box stuffed with bon(-bon) mots, the perfect gift for your inner visionary. Shine on, you crazy zircon.

This editor-at-large RM Vaughan sat down with Vermeersch to talk about the new book.

RM Vaughan: The book moves effortlessly between prophetic pronouncements and intimate, personal observations. Is it a goal of the book to conflate the two in order to make the reader more keenly aware that we live in prophetic times?

Paul Vermeersch: I think all times are equally prophetic and intimate. The lives of individuals unfold along with the cosmos. But the prophets only seem to get at half the picture, only the grand events. Perhaps one of the jobs of a poet is to be a prophet of the small things, too—to prophesy the taste of lobster, the pang of guilt, the fear of darkness. We can’t put small things on hold when big things happen. I think my poems encompass that spectrum: both the landscape and the figure within the landscape, both the star system and the escape pod within the star system.

RMV: The world has not seemed as dangerous as it does now in generations. But at the same time we have never been able to share our thoughts, worries, and joys more easily. It occurs to me that your book attempts to sort out, or at least guide the reader through, this very strange era.

PV: I agree that the world seems dangerous now. I don’t know that it feels more dangerous today than it did in World War II, for example, with the Holocaust unfolding and the atom bomb about to drop on Hiroshima; but it feels like a different kind of dangerous. A hundred years ago, the world was on the brink of slipping into the Great Depression. Today, I think we’re beginning to experience something I call the Great Regression: a time characterized by fear and greed, a time when fascism is resurgent and the institutions of democracy are under constant attack by demagogues, when misinformation is widely disseminated to drown out the truth and to sew discord, when the impulse to compassion is met with derision and the impulse to acceptance is met with bigotry, and amid all this chaos the kelptocratic class is raiding the world economy to fill its coffers. The Great Regression might be the precursor to a neo-feudal dark age ruled by narcissistic robber-baron billionaires. The effort to bring this about is already well underway. And all this is in addition to the mounting environmental catastrophe. If the world seems dangerous today, it’s because we’ve already seen how all this will end.   

RMV: That leads to the next question. You employ classic sci-fi imagery and tropes in the book, but there is no Asimov-like remove on your part, no impartiality—which I love. How have the observational and speculative traditions of sci-fi influenced and/or been discarded in this book?

PV: It’s 2018. Asimov imagined our time, but we are living it. There is no remove because we are already the ghosts haunting someone else’s future. Our era is the dystopian failure of a once hopeful prophecy. We were supposed to inherit Walt Disney’s Tomorrowland or Gene Roddenberry’s post-capitalist utopia. Instead we have a world prophesied by J. G. Ballard and Philip K. Dick. How else can we discuss this? Science fiction has given us the vocabulary to talk about our present era because it has always been about our present era.

RMV: “The future will be old and used. It will leak” is my favourite line. I shouted “Testify!” when I read it. Because, pardon my gloom, but it does feel like we have used up the future. Simone Signoret wrote, “Nostalgia isn’t what it used to be.” Can the same be said of the future?

PV: The used future is an important concept in science fiction. In a lot of science fiction, everything is new and shiny. The idea of the used future is why George Lucas imagined the Millennium Falcon to be a grimy, run-down hunk of junk. Even in the future, there will be old things, broken things. It’s Percy Shelley’s Ozymandias in reverse, the prophecy of future ruins. I wanted to work with that idea for precisely the same reason people want to renovate their kitchen or buy a new car: because we didn’t inherit Walt Disney’s Tomorrowland, because we’re in a race against time, and we’re desperately trying to save whatever shiny parts of the future we possibly can.

RMV: The section titled “Nu Rhymes for Nuclear Children” is a selection of nursery rhymes imagined from a post-nuclear war childhood. They are blunt and scary, and almost read like placards or protest songs.

PV: I started writing these nursery rhymes in 1995, and they never really fit in with anything I wrote until now. I think they were waiting for this book. They’re all about 20th-century tragedies like the Kennedy assassination or the election of Ronald Reagan. I wanted to update the concept of traditional nursery rhymes that were about horrible things like tyrants and plagues. When the rhymes were redacted with thick black lines to hide parts of the text, they were finally ready for the 21st century.

RMV: The poem “The Prophets Want to Know if They Were Close” is, for me, the cornerstone of the book. We all want to know the future, but it is arguable that only prophets want to actually live in that future. In an era when everything can, and often does, shift overnight, in a heartbeat, what is the role of the prophet? Can prophecy even operate in such times?

PV: The job of the runner is to run toward the finish line, but what is the runner’s job when she reaches the finish line? Just so, the job of the prophet is to tell the future, but what is the prophet’s job now that we are in the future? I imagine the prophets lying on the ground, exhausted, wrapped in thermal blankets. The blankets are cocoons—the prophets must metamorphose into something else. When they emerge, they will have become poets. Then, instead of predicting the future, we can create it.

RMV: The book is being positioned as both a warning and a tonic, as something marking where we are and at the same time offering a helping hand. And there is a lot of joyful noise in this book! How do you keep your own spirits up?

PV: When my last book came out, one reviewer called me “the prophetic, post-apocalyptic poet,” and as flattering as that might be, I have no desire to be a prophet of doom. The 24-hour news cycle has perfected that job, and I can’t compete with it. It was a conscious decision to inject a bit of hope into this book, not only as a tonic—an antidote to the 24-hour news cycle—but also as an admonishment. Our imaginations are the key to a new future. We can’t create a better world unless we first imagine it. I wanted that idea to come through. I wonder, are we now living in a dystopian world because we’ve spent the last half-century imagining one? Has it all been a self-fulfilling prophecy? What if we return to Tomorrowland, to Gene Roddenberry’s undiscovered country? What if we spend the next half-century imagining a better society, a better world? What prophecy will we fulfill then?

Meet and hear Paul Vermeersch at the following:

OCTOBER 28, 2018 
Ottawa
PLAN 99 READING SERIES/OTTAWA WRITERS FESTIVAL
5:00 pm at The Manx Pub

NOVEMBER 3, 2018
Waterloo, Ont.
WILD WRITERS FESTIVAL
Poetry Workshop Master Class
More details TBA.

JANUARY 19, 2019
TORONTO
SPEAKEASY READING SERIES
More details TBA.

Photo courtesy of Ryerson University.

Kenneth Moffatt is the 2018 Jack Layton Chair of Social Justice. That sounds fancy, and it is. Appointed across the Faculty of Arts and Faculty of Community Services, the Chair emphasizes the causes of the late NDP leader, and works “to effect progressive social change.” But to many Torontonians, especially those of us in the queer arts worlds, Moffatt is simply Kenny, the Ryerson University social work professor who curates and contributes to art exhibitions: shows (to list a few) about troublesome masculinities, punk rock graphics, the unreliability of institutions, fatherhood, and bears-and-moose Canadiana (deeply queered Canadiana). And by “curate,” I mean he actually hangs the work himself and brings a box of wine for the opening. When Moffatt finds himself in an ivory tower, he burns it down.

As the Layton Chair’s first artist-curator, Moffatt has given himself a challenging task. He plans to support artistic endeavours that highlight the lives and struggles of marginalized peoples. So far, so sociologically/Community Art standard. Except, Moffatt wants the works to be both about and—here’s the important part—driven by the subjects. As he told me recently, “I’m tired of going to social work art shows where the people actually in the photos or who made the work are invisible. Curators, people like me, we get plenty of air time.”

His first project was a sponsored screening of Hugh Gibson’s documentary The Stairs, a film about addiction harm-reduction strategies and how they are applied in marginalized communities. The talk after the screening was lead by the people portrayed, not outside experts. That’s Moffatt in a nutshell.

This Magazine spoke to Moffatt about his new role and his plans for it.

How did you become the Layton Chair, and what did you understand about it before you took the position? 

I am thrilled to be in this position! I highly respect the two previous chairs for their sharp social critique and interest in supporting others’ voices. I understood the position to be aspirational in nature—that is, to encourage students in social justice to re-imagine the interface between community and university. And of course, the Chair recognizes the legacy of Jack Layton, who taught politics at Ryerson and was a very dynamic, engaged educator.

Your focus so far has been to let people who are involved with/clients of social work to speak for themselves. Isn’t it weird that we’ve come to the point where having actual clients speak is considered unusual?

This is still very much a struggle. In the stranglehold of neoliberalism, the voice of service users is obscured. There is a move in social work to [become akin to] managerial duties, thus leading to “outcome measures” and data collection. There is a push to technologize measurements of a person’s worth, which leads to reductive measuring of the service user’s life. More than ever, we need to figure out how to free up and hear service-users voices.

You have been involved with projects that entwine art and social justice work/social work for years. What have you learned from these projects, and how will that learning inform what you do with the Layton Chair?

I’ve learned there is a lot of intelligent and interesting art made in community and in non-profit, and, at times, elusive spaces. You need to reach out, search for space that exists without a profit motive. Often people are not noticed or are silenced because of class, race, gender sexuality and ability. Avoid always looking for experts or “big names,” because, honestly, that can be stultifying.

Contemporary art is notorious for being disconnected from contemporary problems, issues, society, etc. But Community Art can sometimes feel condescending and simplistic. How can people interested in both the arts and helping others bridge this gap?

Academics and people tied to big institutions get caught up at times in ontological loops proving their worth to each other. Contemporary art is at its best when it ruptures disconnected abstract thought and politics. Rather than be preoccupied with innovation and entrepreneurship, guiding principles [in art] could be literacy, listening, humility, and confidence in the local. Mix it up. Rather than merely facilitate voice, let it queer your perceptions.

CORRECTION (03/21/2018): A previous version of this story incorrectly stated that Moffatt was a professor of sociology, not social work. This regrets the error.

This article has also been updated to provide more detail into the role of Jack Layton Chair at Ryerson.

Photo by Javid Suleman.

In January, U.S. President Donald Trump signed an executive order that restricted immigration from seven Muslim-majority countries for 90 days, stopped refugee admission for 120 days, and banned all Syrian refugees indefinitely. Days later, a federal judge blocked the ban. That didn’t stop Trump, who unveiled a revised ban in March that continued to prevent immigration from six of the seven countries; two more federal judges have since blocked parts of it.

As the situation continues to unfold, many are calling on the Canadian government to suspend a U.S.-Canada pact called the Safe Third Country Agreement, which stops refugees who arrived in the U.S. first from claiming status in Canada, and vice versa. Zool Suleman, a Vancouver-based immigration, refugee, and citizenship lawyer and advocate against racial profiling and Islamophobia, explains.

Was the Safe Third Country Agreement ever an issue before Trump’s executive order?

There have been studies that show Canada’s immigration and refugee system is much more generous than America’s, that our system allows for much more due process and justice rights, and that our definitions of social groups and refugee conventions are broader. The effect of the agreement was that those who arrived in America first were disadvantaged in the type of refugee claims they could make. So, there was some disquiet before the latest presidential changes in the U.S., but there wasn’t any large galvanized movement.

Do you think Canada should change the agreement?

I think Canada should definitely consider suspending the agreement until it has verifiable guarantees from the U.S. that refugees will get full and fair hearings, access to legal counsel, it will not detail children, it will not separate families. It’s not to say to America that there should never be a Safe Third Country Agreement; it is to say that the current conditions of asylum processing in America are of concern to Canada, and therefore Canada wants to be sure that those individuals who make claims in America and are barred from making claims in Canada, are receiving a full, fair hearing with all of the procedural and legal safeguards that are necessary.

Do you see that suspension happening in the near future?

I am doubtful, because I think the current American administration can be vengeful, and Canada is aware of the economic consequences of seeking a suspension.

What else could Canada be doing to improve the situation?

Canada could take a more liberal view of the exemptions to the agreement. So for instance, if there are individuals who aren’t minors or don’t have family in Canada that perhaps fit into a more a needy exemption—they’re escaping from torture, or they’re escaping from certain kinds of abuse, or they’re escaping or seeking asylum from predominantly Muslim majority countries. Canada could set up additional categories of exemptions. But of course, it would need American co-operation.

Have you been hearing from people in the U.S. looking to come here?

Yes. I would suggest most established refugee and immigration law practitioners have been getting a significant increase in inquiries, but they fall into different groupings. There are people who are in America for a short time, who perhaps initiated a refugee claim, but after the change in administration, fear they will not get a fair hearing. There is a second group that has made refugee claims, has not been successful, and are not feeling like they will get a fair immigration processing. There’s also a group who are undocumented in the sense that they’ve lived there for a very long time and might have American family members, but are feeling like they cannot count on a fair system for immigration determination. These are nationals from Mexico, Central America, India, Asia. We’re seeing more and more of those people, who the Trump administration refers to as the illegal immigrants. That group would be blocked because they would have been in America for a long time.

How big of a role do you think public opinion plays here?

I think the government of the day can help form public opinion, but I don’t think it can overcome public opinion. I am becoming concerned by the number of polls that seem to suggest that Canadians are hitting a point where their generosity is feeling overextended. The government should be having a conversation with Canadians rather than projecting that it is some kind of leader in refugee and immigrant protection, but then not being able to follow through.

What do you think is driving those concerns?

We can’t discount issues of Islamophobia and race. There’s also a sense that to share means there’s less. And a lot of people are too scared about their day-today economic security to get into that dialogue.

CORRECTION: The previous headline for this story incorrectly referred to the Safe Third Country Agreement as the Third Safe Country Agreement. This regrets the error.

How did the legal system come about?

The civil court has always been the elected council, falling under the Indian Act. But the people said: well what about Akwesasne laws? We have 33 laws on the books that include the needs of the community. The community said they want a court law to fall back on but more particular to what our practices are here, so the Council decided to use Mohawk values along with Canadian ideals in order to create the laws.

What makes it different than in the past?

It was ratified by the community itself. It is not under any Canadian statute. The people appointed to the court, the justices especially, aren’t through any statute or law of the Canadian government, making it very unique. The Council used their customary rules and created the court so that it meets the needs of the community.

What kinds of things does the court deal with? 

Often traffic law or peace bonds: we’re calling them skén:nen orders (skén:nen means peace). It also deals with tobacco regulations, sanitation, property, and wildlife conservation laws. Criminal matters are still settled in federal or provincial courts.

Do you have any stories from court you can share that illustrate the council’s way of handling violations?

One person was coming in for a traffic violation because he was driving without a licence. Instead of giving him a fine, the court worked with him and ordered him to get his driver’s licence, which is a solution I don’t think anyone else can say they would give. But here, you get your licence and if everything’s well then that violation will be lifted and things are put back in balance with the community, because then you have somebody who can legally drive and follow the rules of the road.

How were disputes handled beforehand?

Well it stems back from how we used to resolve disputes before. You would make sure there was a balance in the community. If somebody did something wrong, you ask: what would it take to rectify the situation? In Canadian law, you have your list of offences and your list of penalties. There’s hardly any room to maneuver, to say: you know, we need to send this person to rehabilitation. For example, if you’re caught shoplifting you pay a fine, but here if you’re caught shoplifting, we ask: what’s behind it? Is it an addiction problem? Is it you need food for your family? The court can inspect these things and see what we can do to make this person better.

How did these types of resolutions work traditionally?

In the community we always had a way of resolving disputes. You didn’t need a judge to tell you how to fix things. In our community, you would talk to the neighbours and see what they can do to resolve it. If they have to come to court, then how can we resolve it for the community? It all follows restorative justice practices, and I think that’s a better practice than somebody just getting a fine and you’re on your merry way until you get caught again.

What does this mean for the community?

Well they’ve always wanted it. We wanted to be able to use our people we want to be able to use our practices. We want to resolve our disputes internally and and be able to work with the families and with the offender to resolve our issues rather than it go outside.

What are your hopes for the outcomes of this new legal system?

We hope things are different because we want to be able to incorporate that sense of security in the community. Meaning that when people go to court, their issues will be addressed. I’ll give you an example: Imagine a person who might have written graffiti on the wall at a school—he would be given a $50 fine. But here, the Justice can say, “I know you’re a good lacrosse player, why don’t you teach the kids that go to that school lacrosse?” So that person will start building a relationship with the children and when he walks to the school to teach them he will see the graffiti and realize what they are seeing every day. So hopefully there’s some responsibility and the person will realize they did something wrong to those children. There are about 12,000 people in the community so we know the families here pretty well. If someone is trying to say something like, “My parents don’t care,” then the Justice will say, “I know your parents and they do care.” We’re small enough so that we know everyone and their situation and that will only make the system better.

How did Femifesto and the idea for the Use the Right Words guide come about?

We’re a Toronto-based collective that was formed in order to work on shifting the culture to consent culture. So our first project was the Use the Right Words guide. It began because we were seeing more conversations about sexual assault in the media during a time of really high-profile cases. We were inspired by similar work in the U.S.—media guides that helped journalists report on issues like sexual violence or domestic violence against women in a way that’s supportive and that won’t be seen as blaming survivors of violence. We started the Use the Right Words project to create something that was applicable to the Canadian context.

Who worked on the guide and decided what to include?

We first started crowdsourcing feedback in 2013. We tried to get as many people involved as possible and were really surprised at the number of journalists who were willing to speak with us. The version that we have now is the finalized version. We wanted to make it as inclusive and all-encompassing as we could. It started out as being about language, but became a lot more comprehensive. It was the advisory committee that really informed this guide, particularly lawyers, journalists, journalism professors, students, abuse survivors, sexual violence advocates, and activists. They all had really diverse experiences and knowledge that helped in terms of figuring out what journalists are able to say, the culture of newsrooms, and what survivors would prefer.

What kind of response has the guide got from the public?

It’s been really positive. When we published the guide we also simultaneously launched the Use the Right Words campaign on social media. We encouraged people to share when they saw any type of news article that is using harmful language in terms of survivor shaming or survivor blaming and to fix the headline. If you take a look at the hashtag you’ll see lots of people calling out different instances of this—when using different language would be just as accurate, but much less harmful. It’s really amazing to see others really taking it on.

What is your long-term goal for the guide?

Our vision would be to have this guide in every single newsroom in Canada because it is such an important resource and one that is so informed by journalists. We have often been told that it’s not necessarily that journalists are trying to be harmful towards survivors or that they are inherently promoting rape culture; it’s that they don’t necessarily always have the tools. A lot of the language that media uses is ingrained into the traditions of journalism. That’s why it’s such an important goal of ours to have journalists, editors, and key players in media organizations engage in these conversations and talk about these stories.

Can you explain what the harm can be in using the victim narrative?

People have the right to define how they want to identify. So for some people the word victim will really resonate with them because they feel that they’ve been victimized. It’s often the first word that we use when we describe those who have experienced sexual violence. At the same time, many people feel that the word victim has negative connotations. It can denote a really tragic person who is defined by the violence that they’ve experienced. In reality, people who have had violence perpetrated against them are full people with complicated lives; the violence is just one thing that happened to them. This is why many prefer the word survivor. It acknowledges they survived a violent event, but it does not define who they are. It’s important to let each person decide for themselves.

Leslie Vryenhoek is a writer, poet and communication consultant based out of Newfoundland. Her work has appeared in various Canadian and international publications. Leslie has received numerous awards for her poetry, fiction and memoirs including the Winston-Collins Descant Best Canadian Poem 2010 prize, two provincial Arts and Letters Awards, the Eden Mills Festival Literary Competition and the Dalton Camp Award. Her two books Scrabble Lessons (fiction) and Gulf (poetry), both published by Oolichan Books, received a great deal of praise from the literary community. We recently spoke with Leslie about her work, literary contests, and the idea of plot versus character.

This Magazine: You took second place in our Great Canadian Literary Hunt back in 2009 as well as third in 2006, how has that helped your career?

Leslie Vryenhoek: The 2006 showing was one of my first published poems, so it was a real shot in the arm. Both poems—Stuck and My Parents’ Past—were published last year in a collection called Gulf (Oolichan Books).

LV: Since Gulf was published, I’ve been working on finishing and revising a novel—my first attempt at the interminable form—but I keep getting distracted by ideas for screenplays that keep appearing out of nowhere. So a lot of sketching out ideas, and then wading back in to wrestle the beast I’ve tentatively titled Doubtful Accounts.

LV: At the very least, they usually come with a subscription to a good publication, which it is important to read. And maybe if you win, a few bucks. But most importantly, literary contests have deadlines—they make you finish something. Also, they help up and coming writers get used to soul-crushing disappointment. It’s never too soon to start on those callouses.

LV: Write the best thing you can write, not what you think the judges might want. That said, read the damn rules and follow them.

LV: Whoa, that’s like asking What’s more important: arms or legs, love or sex, coffee or vodka … Character is essential for driving a plot, but the things that happen, plotwise. necessarily develop the character. They are equally crucial.

Jennifer and her bird Antonia

Jennifer Lovegrove is the author of two collections of poetry, I Should Have Never Fired the Sentinel (2005) and The Dagger Between Her Teeth (2002). Her work has been featured in a number of Canadian publications including Taddle Creek, The Fiddlehead, Sub-Terrain and This Magazine. We recently sat down with the former Great Canadian Literary Hunt judge to discuss her work, writing contest and workshops.

This Magazine: You recently had a couple poems published in This Magazine (Jan/Feb 2012), what else have you been working on lately?

Jennifer Lovegrove: Yes, This Magazine recently published my poems “Squall” and “Stove,” which was an honour; This is my favourite magazine and has been for a long time. Those two are from a batch of poems that I’ve been working on for the last year or so. It didn’t start out as a series or anything, but I see some thematic and aesthetic links in the poems now, and now I’d say they’re part of a manuscript in progress. My novel – Watch How We Walk – is coming out next year, and I’m on the verge of another rewrite – the last one before I hand it over to my editor. I promise! There are a few other bits and pieces of projects that may or may not evolve into other forms; too soon to say. Also, I am resurrecting my lit-zine dig. – 2013 will see its thirteenth issue, so writers, send me your poems and stories.

JL: Well, it was a few years ago, so I don’t remember all the details, but yes, it was tough, but an enjoyable challenge. My fellow judges (David O’Meara and Mark Truscott) and I narrowed it down to a shortlist we agreed upon and then via email, we discussed and debated the top few and eventually settled on winners. We had great discussions about our poetic values and priorities and preoccupations and how these fit into the process.

Terence Young in Ciutadella

Terence Young was the poetry winner in our first ever Great Canadian Literary Hunt back in 1996. Since then, he has gone on to publish a number of boo,ks and poetry including The Island in Winter which was shortlisted for the Governor General’s Literary Award for Poetry in 1999. Currently living in Victoria B.C., Young teaches English and creative writing at St. Michaels University School. He is also the co-founder of the Clearmont Review, an international literary journal for young writers. We recently spoke with Terence about literary contests, teaching and the Canadian literary scene.

This Magazine: It has been awhile since you were featured in This Magazine, so could you let us know what you’ve been up to recently?

Terence Young:It’s only natural to look at the fate of the music industry (why would anyone ever put those two words together?) and apply it to issues current in publishing. Books are going the way of the CD, some say. There are ongoing cuts to periodicals – witness the changes to the Canadian Magazine Fund – and, while e-books are really handy, their links to large corporate distributors also represent a threat to independent book stores and, consequently, to small presses whose works probably don’t appear as e-books.  Recently, author Seth Godin advised new writers not to expect to make a living as a writer, that they had no right to, not unless they were prepared to market themselves and their books seriously in a variety of social media, even to the point of giving their books away for free. So, we’re in for some interestingly rough weather, I think, in the coming decade, in Canada and elsewhere, while we all try to sort these things out. That doesn’t mean there aren’t talented, ambitious Canadian writers, dedicated to their craft and eager to find readers. I’d name a few, but I just know I would neglect some people in my list, and I would hate them to think I didn’t consider them among the vanguard of new voices. That said, the real test of most committed writers is whether they allow all the gloom and doom to discourage them, or learn to ignore it and just get about doing the business they love, which is to write. In that regard, the Canadian literary scene is doing fine, in BC, the prairies and in the East. Just pick up a copy of The Fiddlehead, The Malahat Review Event, The New Quarterly, Grain, Prism, This Magazine, or any of a dozen other journals to see how vibrant and vital Canadian writing is.

This: You were the winner of the first annual Great Canadian Literary Hunt for poetry in 1996, what did that do for your career?

TY: I don’t really have a “career,” or at least not one as a writer who supports himself from his work. But winning the contest for poetry certainly inspired me to continue assembling my first collection of poems, which I submitted the following year to Signal Editions in Montreal. I was happy to see it nominated for the Governor General’s award in 1999, but it’s always nice to remember that This Magazine saw merit in my writing a few years before. This Magazine’s enthusiasm for the poem I submitted, and later for my fiction, is a strong contributing factor to my confidence as a writer and my faith that, every once in a while, I can get it right.

This: I understand you teach English and creative writing, what advice do you give to students trying to find their way onto the literary scene?

TY: Times are changing for young writers these days. Now, there are many good online literary magazines like Dragnetmag.net, to which they can send there work, as well as to the veterans of the publishing scene like This Magazine and even my own periodical, The Claremont Review, now in its 21^st year. These venues are vital to cultivating the “farm league” of writers, who will become Canada’s literary establishment in the years to come. So, my best piece of advice to young writers is to study the periodicals to which they want to send their work and to read widely and voraciously as well. The only really consistently strong writing teacher is the literature itself, and any aspiring writer who isn’t interested in reading other writers is probably not going to be successful.

This: What’s your take on the current literary scene in Canada?

TY: It’s only natural to look at the fate of the music industry (why would anyone ever put those two words together?) and apply it to issues current in publishing. Books are going the way of the CD, some say. There are ongoing cuts to periodicals—witness the changes to the Canadian Magazine Fund—and, while e-books are really handy, their links to large corporate distributors also represent a threat to independent book stores and, consequently, to small presses whose works probably don’t appear as e-books.

Recently, author Seth Godin advised new writers not to expect to make a living as a writer, that they had no right to, not unless they were prepared to market themselves and their books seriously in a variety of social media, even to the point of giving their books away for free. So, we’re in for some interestingly rough weather, I think, in the coming decade, in Canada and elsewhere, while we all try to sort these things out.

That doesn’t mean there aren’t talented, ambitious Canadian writers, dedicated to their craft and eager to find readers. I’d name a few, but I just know I would neglect some people in my list, and I would hate them to think I didn’t consider them among the vanguard of new voices. That said, the real test of most committed writers is whether they allow all the gloom and doom to discourage them, or learn to ignore it and just get about doing the business they love, which is to write. In that regard, the Canadian literary scene is doing fine, in B.C., the prairies and in the East. Just pick up a copy of The Fiddlehead, The Malahat Review Event, The New Quarterly, Grain, Prism, This Magazine, or any of a dozen other journals to see how vibrant and vital Canadian writing is.

This: What value do you put on literary contest for young writers?

TY: I’m all for contests, especially now that the revenues generated from many contests help to support our community of small magazines. I know from my own experience with The Claremont Review that a contest is indispensable with regard to our survival. Contests also generate a buzz about writing, and, especially if the contest is genuinely “blind,” they can bring to light new voices. Every contest is a kind of yardstick, one that conforms to the tastes and aesthetic preferences of the judges, but it is my experience from having judged a few contests, myself, that serious consideration is always given to the quality of the writing, no matter what style it is written in.

Photo credit: Chris Buck

Sheila Heti currently has five books to her name. Most recently, she released How Should A Person Be?: A Novel from Life in 2012. Last year, her novel  The Chairs Are Where the People Go, was selected by The New Yorker as one of its Best Books of 2011. Aside from writing novels, Heti works as the interviews editor with the Believer and has had her work featured in a number of publications including, The New York Times, n+1 and Mcsweeney’s. We recently caught up with Sheila Heti to talk about her work and get some insight into what it takes to be a writer.

This Magazine: It’s been a while since you were featured in This Magazine, could you let our readers know what you’ve been up to lately?

Sheila Heti: I’ve been writing and living in Toronto. Over the past seven years I worked on three books, one with my friend Misha Glouberman—sort of spoken essays— and a novel, and a children’s book. These past two years much my time was taken up with publishing them—publishing takes up a lot of time. I’ve also been working at The Believer as its interviews editor, and conducting interviews with writers and artists.

This: You’ve had your work featured in some amazing publications such as McSweeney’s, Geist, Maisonneuve and The New York Times—just to name a few. What’s the secret to getting published?

SH: I don’t think there’s a secret. But I think it’s useful to keep in mind what people who get what they want look like. For instance, think about people who want to get married. Those who approach it with a kind of all-or-nothing desperation, tend to not end up married, or if they do, it doesn’t look quite right. But those who know what they want but are preoccupied with other things—who want what they want but are also able to leave it alone—those end up being the people to whom desired things come. Nothing and no one likes being hunted. At the same time, don’t be shy. I accept pitches from unpublished or unknown writers all the time at The Believer. And don’t get bitter about rejections, ever. Transform whatever bad feelings you might have into useful feelings; you should never feel ashamed about a rejection.

This: What is your take on the current literary scene here in Canada?

SH: I have no answer. I haven’t been paying that much attention. My reading is all over the place, not centered on contemporary Canadian writing, and I don’t follow what’s happening with the book prizes or book gossip.

This: What advice would you give to the young writers out there trying to make it in such a tough industry?

First of all, the industry is none of your business. If someone starts talking about the book business, walk away. Focus your attention on reading and writing. And be serious about it. It’s not such a tough industry that no books are being published.

Also, a writer doesn’t need fifty editors to like their stuff—so don’t go around frantically collecting supporters. It’s almost better if you can find one or two or three editors who are genuinely passionate about you and your work. Then, if you find those people, hang on to those relationships. Even if it’s the editor of a tiny magazine that no one really reads, if that’s an intelligent person, either one day people will read that magazine, or that person will end up working somewhere where they can publish your work to a bigger audience. Take care of these relationships—don’t always be looking over their shoulder like you’re at a party. If a few times a year, these people tell you that your work is meaningful and good, that can go a long way, and these people can push you to write better. It’s beneficial for them, too, to be able to feel like they nurtured you. That’s something editors want to do.

This: We are currently running our 16^th annual Great Canadian Literary Contest. What value would you put on literary contests for a young writer?

SH: Probably it doesn’t hurt and may bring you money and some attention. But it’s much more important to cultivate relationships with a few people who are really smart, who can be honest and kind and critical of your work.

To learn more about Sheila Heti and her work you can check out her website at www.sheilaheti.net.

Illustration by Ethan Rilly.

Chester Brown, 51, is an accomplished graphic novelist whose new book, Paying for It, depicts his decision in 1999 to abandon romantic relationships in favour of paying prostitutes for sex. Along the way, however, he still seemed to find a version, unconventional though it may be, of true love.

This: How long did it take to do the book?

Brown: One year to write the script and four years to draw it.

This: The primary trigger for going to sex workers was when your romantic relationship with Sook Yin-Lee [the actor and CBC journalist] ended in 1999. When she had a new boyfriend move in with the two of you.

Brown: Right. But we’re still very close friends.

This: Why were you through with romantic love?

Brown: It brings people more misery than happiness, in a nutshell.

This: Haven’t I read that the most miserable creatures around are men who don’t have a relationship?

Brown: I think in large part that’s because of romantic love. They have this ideal in the mind and they’re failing to bring that into their life. If they didn’t want romantic love they then wouldn’t be miserable. It’s the ideal that’s the problem.

This: How many prostitutes did you go to over the years?

Brown: Twenty-three. Some I saw multiple times. Every single experience is in the book.

This: How much did you spend on them?

Brown: I’m not sure. I’ve never been asked that before. At roughly $200 each time…hmmm. I guess we could do the math.

This: In January 2003 you saw a sex worker you call Denise. Since then you have been monogamous with her and she’s been monogamous with you for the last four years. What is different about her?

Brown: She seemed more open. As time went on the connection between us seemed to grow. There were other things that happened to help establish a bond that unfortunately I can’t get into.

This: Because she doesn’t want her personal information revealed?

Brown: She told me to put her in my book as little as possible. I will say she’s an amazing person. Really wonderful and extremely trustworthy.

This: But you still pay her.

Brown: We have sex about every two weeks and, yeah, I pay her.

This: How do you define your relationship with her?

Brown: Hmmm. It’s not a boyfriend/girlfriend relationship. It’s not a romantic relationship.

This: You must have feelings for her.

Brown: I admit I have romantic feelings for her. And when you feel that way about a woman you want to talk about her. I wish I could blab away about her wonderful qualities.

This: Do you double date with friends?

Brown: No. Never.

This: Share holidays, like Christmas, together?

Brown: No.

This: What if she wanted you to stop paying her.

Brown: All of a sudden it would be like every other relationship. I think romantic relationships tend to fail. I’m happy with things the way they’re working.

This: Have you ever asked her to move in with you?

Brown: No.

This: It would ruin things?

Brown: Oh yeah. I think so.

This: Don’t many men who go to sex workers want the talking, the touching, the cuddling even more than the sex? Was that the case with you?

Brown: I definitely know that’s true of a lot of men. But I did want the sex.

This: They want the intimacy, even if it’s forced.

Brown: Yeah. Most of the prostitutes I saw would jump up and go to the shower after [we had sex]. Denise was one of the few who seemed to like to cuddle afterwards.

This: Was the intimacy you felt with her what was missing with the other sex workers?

Brown: Probably.

This: Which suggests that’s what you were looking for all along.

Brown: I hadn’t known that that’s what I was looking for but, sure, yeah.

This: Isn’t that what we’re all looking for?

Brown: Hmmm. I guess so.

This: You still down on romantic love?

Brown: I do change my mind at the end of the book. I come to think of it in a different way and I decide what I have a problem with isn’t romantic love but what I call possessive monogamy.

This: Where do you think your relationship is headed?

Brown: I’m pretty sure Denise is fine with the way it is right now. She doesn’t want me to be a conventional boyfriend. I think everyone else wants there to be a Pretty Woman type of story where we end up in a conventional marriage. But we don’t. No.