How did you first come to poetry? What is it about the form that resonates?
I’ve been reading poetry since my earliest memories and never stopped. I find that my thoughts unfold as poetry more so than as linear prose, which is to say associatively, like rough ’n’ tumble but with unexpected connections. Reading a poem might be the closest thing to mind reading. Poems are like a splash of water spilled onto a flat surface; you often see the entire form at once of a single piece. It can be messy and there may be no visible direction, but it flows outward, expands, seeking an edge, like the mind itself does.
How did publishing your first book change your writing? What have the differences been since?
My first book—a collection of poetry, slim and dense—doubtfully had any substantial impact on anyone but myself. What an impact that was, though. It was accepted for publication in 2014 and that changed my trajectory. Going through the acquisition and editing process introduced me to the inner workings of publishing, and inspired me to get my professional post-graduate certificate in publishing and fulfill my long-time aspiration of becoming a book editor. Now as an editor who is also a published author, I feel I’m better able to navigate the emotional side of being a debut author and to anticipate and tend to the common anxieties and assumptions about publishing.
How does a poem begin?
One of the things that I hear about a lot lately (on TikTok mostly, where my algorithm sends me cute animal videos, aesthetic morning videos, and relationship advice) has to do with the mechanisms of sexual desire: there’s spontaneous desire and responsive desire. Spontaneous folks walk around in a state of emergent arousal, like a sexy disposition. The fire’s always firing. Responsive folks on the other hand require more context and prodding for their desire to crest. As a younger woman, I was more spontaneous in my poetry writing. In earlier years, I kept a poetry journal and wrote lines daily as they came to me. These days, however, a poem might begin as a prompt, or a looming literary deadline, or as part of a workshop, or communal writing session. There may be specific experience or medical phenomenon I want to write about. I may be moved by a poem I read, and want to respond to it. The cool thing, though, is that while responsive writing may feel less “inspired” than spontaneous writing, I’m actually more consistent with it, and my writing practice is more deeply connected to other writers and community than it ever was in my youth.
Have you a daily schedule by which you work, or are you working to fit this in between other activities?
Writing and editing are my toast and avocado. These two things are how I make money to buy more books, among all the other things. As a bipolar person with a tendency to cram my days full, I have never been a natural for having a schedule and always had to wrestle to maintain routine.
Now that I have a puppy, a six-month-old goldendoodle named Bogey, the timing of my day revolves around him. I wake up at 7, feed the dog and let him out, maybe have a visit with my neighbours in the backyard (they own Bogey’s twin brother, Bruce), and complete my morning routine, which comprises the following: (1) kiss my lucky rock; (2) spritz my face with rosewater; (3) take my vitamins; (4) read a poem; (5) exercise; (6) wash my face and brush my teeth; and (7) have breakfast. Then I start work for the day.
Today, Monday, this interview was the first thing on my to-do list. After this, I will be writing a structural outline for the novel of one of my editing clients, then working on a comics assignment for my Creative Writing MFA graphics form course with Sarah Leavitt, then reading and providing feedback for a story in one of my writers’ groups, then emails and admin, then line-editing a novel for another client, then working on my own novel, for which I’m planning to write a new scene from my outline. And I have plans with a good friend to go to the gym at 3:30.
What are your favourite print or online literary journals?
Arc (where I’m newsletter editor—I’m biased but this magazine is absolutely wonderful inside and out), Room, subTerrain, Canthius, long con mag, The Temz Review.
Who are some of the writers you are reading lately that most excite you?
Alice Munro (I’m finally reading her for the first time and
just finished reading her short story collection Runaway), novelists Debra
Jo Immergut and Erica McKeen, poet-novelist Noor Naga, poets (also friends and
collaborators) Conyer Clayton and Manahil Bandukwala. I’m going to add to this
a couple must-read historical novels by two phenomenal women that I edited in
the pre-acquisition stage and that are available for pre-order: Gilded Mountain
by Kate Manning (Simon & Schuster, 2022) and Hester (St.
Martin’s, 2022) by Laurie Lico Albanese.
Margo LaPierre is a freelance literary editor and author of Washing Off the Raccoon Eyes (Guernica Editions, 2017). She serves as newsletter editor of Arc Magazine and is a member of poetry collective VII. She is the winner of the 2021 Room Poetry Contest and the 2020 subTerrain Lush Triumphant Award for Fiction. Her work has appeared in Arc, filling Station, CAROUSEL, PRISM, carte blanche and elsewhere. She is a Creative Writing MFA candidate at UBC. Find her on Twitter @margolapierre.