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Writers Spotlight

The Revisitation Process

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Revisiting personal experiences for the purpose of fictionalizing them was painful at times. I had to pace myself in writing some of the heavier sections of the novel. I realized that my ideal of “writing everyday” had to be set aside sometimes.

My writing process depended on where I was at in the novel. When I was constructing the story, I tried to write every day or as frequently as possible juggling employment and other commitments. The revision process was more fluid (for better or for worse). It was also good to put the manuscript away for a while and come back to it with fresh eyes.

An imperfect world seems like the best world for a writer. If we didn’t struggle or have any challenges what would we write about? Too much struggle however means no energy remains to imagine, dream or create.

Ten years from now I hope to feel more confident in my craft. I will have a strong community of colleagues and others in the writing community. I will continue to facilitate writing workshops for communities who do not have many opportunities to share their stories. The lowest point will be the familiar low point of balancing earning an income with living a creative life. The high point will be more opportunities to share my stories with those who see their lives reflected in my words.

Zany fact about me: I love puppets! Probably one of my favourite shows (still) is Sesame Street. I own several puppets and hope to incorporate this quirk into my writing/teaching and or some other area of my life.

Making the Story Possible

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Prior to the Diaspora Dialogues’ long-form mentorship, I had a mentorship during university, where I met a writer/editor several times. The format was more of an informational interview rather than working on a manuscript. I was also less familiar with the field then. Compared to that mentorship, the DD program was more targeted towards what I was specifically seeking: critical feedback on my writing.

My mentor Elizabeth Ruth and I sent material back and forth every few weeks. We did not have a set schedule or deadline for submissions until shortly before the end of the program. I expected some of the feedback that I received: comments on what was and wasn’t working, line edits, confusing passages. Elizabeth also asked broader, more open-ended questions on my intentions for the story, characterization, and developing and completing stories. Elizabeth was very warm at our meeting; it was great to meet her and hear about her experiences publishing her novels. I do really appreciate her feedback, especially critiques. She was very encouraging as well; I tend to focus on critical comments more because that’s what I need to work on.

Title of Work: (Untitled Story Collection)
Genre: Short Story
Mentor: Elizabeth Ruth

Between the first draft of the collection and submission to the program, most of the stories in the collection were read by my writers’ group. I then edited until I was completely sick of them. My second drafts had a bit of expansion and line revisions, but they don’t look significantly different. No major changes. (I did and am still considering them, however!) Perhaps this is because I didn’t have ready answers to some of Elizabeth’s questions, or because I tend to fall on the too-brief side of the divide rather than the too-obvious.

What I’ve noticed from writing this collection is that I write instinctively and focus heavily on lines and figurative language. I see that I need to pay attention to the big-picture elements, such as pacing and momentum.

Writing can be an isolating process. To have a mentor is to open up the echo chamber. Their experience, support, and critical eye can be crucial for a new writer. My suggestion for future mentees is to set up a schedule with due dates and expected return dates. (One of my emails fell through the cracks and it took us a while to realize this.) Since the end of the mentorship, I’ve been rewriting and sending stories to magazines. Slow going so far.

Of my stories, “English” is a favourite. I know the main character well: her strength reminds me of women I know and admire. People are cast into these awful, ridiculous predicaments, but there’s also dignity and humour within.

Personal or family experiences are embedded in the stories and have shaped some altogether. I would say that the personal is often the seed for writing, not the target.

When a story is not anchored to a place, it then happens in a fantastic setting where anything can happen. Places give context to characters; they make the story possible. I haven’t written characters based on people I know; I model settings exclusively on places I know. This has nothing to do with whether the place is named in the story. An anytown that is truly anonymous to me might as well be the Twilight Zone, and whatever happens there takes on surreal qualities.

Success and morality are recurring themes in my writing. There is no winning without losing, both in the sense of others losing out on limited resources and oneself losing particular values, experiences, fears. I’ve met very few people who feel safe, no matter their level of success. I mean success in whatever way people define it for themselves, whether it is career advancement, material gains, self-actualization, acknowledgement by one’s peers, etc. My characters are arguably ascending in their respective settings, and they’re getting the opportunity to make decisions that betray the values they hold (or were taught to hold). They’re challenged to consider what makes a good life and what they’re willing to sacrifice for the good life.

I’m also interested in how structural innovation can shape stories. I may have an underlying map in mind for a story. In one story, it’s the river that flows onward and becomes greater until it meets the sea, as the protagonist leaves her village, her city, her country.

When I say “innovation,” I am thinking in particular of John McPhee’s take on structure. He works from outlines, where roman numerals or capital letters stand for major sections, and index cards, with one component per card. I did learn this system in high school, like he did, though I’ve not applied it often. I loosely outline at times and plan to try more rigorous outlining. Plus, one way to solve the constant problem of how to end a story is to know the end before you get to writing.

In terms of other writing projects I have on the go, there are a few story ideas that have been biding their time. I’m also triaging the notes that have amassed in the past few years, to develop into essays.

My Audience Is Any Reader

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Nostalgia for the Future has expanded in size considerably, from its original form as a short story into a full novel. When I began the Diaspora Dialogues long-form mentorship program, Nostalgia was written as a first-person narrative, but my mentor encouraged me to experiment with the third person. This was the biggest change.

I had worked with other mentors on earlier drafts of the manuscript. I learnt something different from each of my mentors. I was very fortunate to work with Martin Mordecai since he believed fully in the importance of the story I was trying to tell and took the time to read and comment on several drafts. I would send him sections of my work to read every two to three weeks, and he would normally respond within a week with comments. We also met in person a number of times, but not just to discuss my work: he was very generous in talking to me about the process of bringing a novel to completion and sharing his own experiences as a writer. It is invaluable to receive feedback from someone with more experience. Since writing is inevitably a solitary task, working with someone who was both critical and also nurturing was a privilege.

Title of work: Nostalgia for the Future
Genre: Novel
Mentor: Martin Mordecai

I would say what you can get out of the mentorship process really depends on how much you put into it yourself. The more you push yourself, and also consider honestly the criticism you receive, the more you will benefit. Based on the feedback I received, I am working on some further revisions and expansions of the manuscript before I begin to approach agents or publishers.

The end is the section that I have found most challenging to write so far. The scenes set in cottage country came easiest to me. As for characters, I would say that Christina’s cat, Bustopher Jones, is the most intriguing because we never know what he makes of his reading of Proust.

I understand “nostalgia” as a wistful longing for something better in the past, and I see the novel as, among other things, embodying a similar kind of longing for a possible future. We live in a world where cultural boundaries are increasingly porous, and my own experiences have, in some form or another, included many of the elements that play a part in my novel. I felt that it is important not just to write about a single culture that might superficially appear to be “my own,” but rather about the mix of cultures we inhabit, and the problems, as well as the promise, that such border crossings within the space of Toronto bring with them. I honestly believe that empathy with others is the only way to overcome conflict and coexist in a world made increasingly complex by the closer interactions of cultures.

My audience is any reader. I am not trying to convey any specific point, I just hope that my readers will find the story I have to tell engaging and thought-provoking.

Shade in Bloom

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One of the first scenes from Shade, the novel I’m working on, emerged from an independent reflection exercise I did during a writing retreat at the Tatamagouche Centre in Nova Scotia. That piece became the start of a travel memoir, which I took to the Humber College School for Writers in 2011. Sandra Birdsell, my mentor, helped me realize that my travelogue was actually a novel. After that mentorship ended, I continued polishing parts of the novel into short stories. One such story, titled Next Time, was accepted for the 2011 Diaspora Dialogues Short-Form Mentorship Program and published in TOK 7: Writing the New Toronto. I submitted Shade in its current form to the 2013 Diaspora Dialogues Long-Form Mentorship Program.

My mentor David Layton created a personal and tailored mentorship experience. He met with me in person to discuss my edits and made it clear that he was always available via phone or email if I needed help. He had questions for me that forced me to think of my work in new and difficult ways. I always left my meetings with David feeling invigorated and inspired to develop my work.

Title of Work: Shade
Genre: Novel
Mentor: David Layton

My first contact with David was via email, after which we set a date/time to talk on the phone so we could choose a date (about six weeks from the time we chatted) for me to send him my novel in its entirety. After that, David took about three to four weeks to read and review my work before we met in person to discuss and set future deadlines. David and I met about four times throughout the program following this schedule.

David helped me increase the stakes for each character, making the novel more compelling overall. He helped me realize where I should begin the story in order to create a more cohesive work. Sometimes I can hardly tell if the Shade I have now is the same book I thought of in 2009. Its structure, focus and pretty much entire cast are different. It feels like it will take me a lifetime to get it right, but I’ve tried my best to stay true to the questions and themes at the core of the novel.

After my mentorship with David was over, I took about three months to do a final round of edits before sending my book to Diaspora Dialogues for review. The Diaspora Dialogues team then took about six months to gather notes from multiple readers before I was invited back for a one-on-one meeting with DD President Helen Walsh to discuss next steps. This post-mentorship communication encouraged me to take my book as far as possible in the writing and publication process and has made the process seem far less daunting.

DD has been amazing in creating a community for writers and helping me to believe in myself and my work. Each of my previous mentorships has been useful in its own way, but DD is unique in the support group and community it creates. Diaspora Dialogues also regularly invites mentees to readings, shares good news, and hosts events so we can stay in touch with the writing community.

I originally chose the title Shade as placeholder text for my novel. I needed to think of a title quickly when sending my work to the Diaspora Dialogues Long-Form Mentorship Program. Shade came to me in a flash—who knows why—and gained significance later on. It was one of those subconscious choices that your conscious mind needs time to understand. Now, I can’t imagine another title for the book. The title Shade captures the sense of mystery and secretiveness of the protagonist’s family life while also indicating her (and her loved ones’) general fear of facing reality.

The most challenging section of Shade to write was, and remains, the introduction. I suspect this is because I’ve been using the intro to “write” myself into the characters. The least challenging section was the climax. I think I spent the entire novel trying to write to that point. It is the heart of the novel and, I suspect, the whole reason why I needed to write the book. One of the main scenes, a scene with the protagonist Benni and her father Ned at a bar, is actually a revision of the reflection piece I wrote at Tatamagouche. It was originally a recap of a night my siblings, cousins, and I spent at a bar in Boracay.

Journaling my personal experiences of visiting the Philippines for the first time served as the seed for Shade because many of these experiences were vivid and memorable. My initial visit to the Philippines was also significant for me because I was always curious about where my parents came from. It was easy for me to draw on these memories and feelings to fuel the novel.

I grew up in Markham—an extremely diverse place—but went to a school where people hung out mainly with those of the same race. I don’t think this was a conscious decision, but just happened because people of the same race have more in common. There is a scene early in Shade where someone yells Benni, “Go back to the dragon centre, chink.” This phrase was taken verbatim from something someone yelled at me in the halls of my high school. I always find it bizarre when I am the target of misdirected racism, most of the time coming from a fellow visible minority. As I mention in Shade, I believe these may just be the growing pains of a quickly diversifying place. Everyone comes from unique backgrounds and world views, often influenced by lifetimes of history and strife. I am eager to see how these world views and ways of interacting will change for our children and our children’s children as we become more established as a diverse, multicultural country.

Writing Shade has been therapeutic. I feel like I had a lot of questions that I had to write through. Now that it’s done, I see Shade as a snippet of my life at a period of time. I don’t think I’m in that place any longer, but I am glad to have written through it.

I never pictured an audience when writing Shade. It’s such a personal book that thinking of people reading it can still sometimes makes me cringe. My grandmother passed away just last year though, and she was the one who always told me to pursue my dream of writing. Since she’s been gone, I’ve been even more motivated to see Shade through. Finishing it has been my way of saying thank you, I love you, and goodbye.

For now, I want to focus on finding a home and a publisher for Shade. I have one more major rewrite that I’d like to finish before autumn, then there are a few publishers I’d like to send my novel to. Who knows if what will happen, but I’m hopeful. After that, I think there’s another stage in my life I need to write through, and I’m planning on doing just that.

My advice for future mentees is to give it your all while you have your mentor, then keep on giving it. It’ll be hard, but it’s totally worth it.

Dream State

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Before the Diaspora Dialogues long-form program, I hadn’t had previous mentorships but had taken courses and shared stories with others. I think one of the best parts of the DD program is that the mentor looks at your entire manuscript and not just an individual story or excerpt. It was especially helpful for me because I was writing a linked collection.

The advice I have for future mentees is to do the best you can to take advantage of the opportunity. I remember those 6 months being stressful as I had a lot of other things going on at the same time, but also remember it being very rewarding and productive.

Since the end of the program, I (finally) finished a Certificate in Creative Writing at University of Toronto Continuing Studies, which was a process similar to the DD program.Movie Fifty Shades Darker (2017)

I chose Coconut Dreams as a title for the collection fairly early on. Culturally, coconuts hold certain significance, and personally, ever since I was told stories of climbing coconut trees they’ve held certain mysticism. I think being born in one place and having a connection to another is an important theme, and one many Canadians can relate to. While straddling cultures can come with struggles with identity and other problems, I think there’s also something amazing about it—being able to take the best of cultures and make something your own should be celebrated.

In Coconut Dreams, there are some anecdotes from real life that were too good not to include in some form, and it is set in the world my siblings and I grew up in; however, the stories are fiction. I think if I knew where the stories were going I don’t think it would be as fun to write. There’s a sense of discovery that I love about writing fiction—I don’t know for certain how the story is going to end when I start.

The story So Far Away, which won the 2012 Random House Student Award in Writing, is one of the few stories that came out fairly easily. I wrote it not too long after reading an Alice Munro story called Vandals, in a class taught by Alissa York. Needless to say, I was just floored by that story. The pace of revelation is brilliant and I wanted to attempt to do something similar.

I chose to tell the stories in Coconut Dreams from the perspective of the two kids because everything just seems to matter more for children. Actions and consequences are magnified because of the innocence they hold, and the potential impact on their lives is that much greater. Writing from a child’s point of view can be enjoyable at times, as you get to go back into the world of a child, but you also quickly realize how difficult it is because you’re restricted by vocabulary and scope of knowledge.

I don’t have a favourite story within the collection. The most challenging stories were probably Small Things and The Call of the Bell; the first because it switches between multiple points of view and timelines, and the last because it is set in Goa in the 1950s. That one was inspired by my great aunt who told me a ghost story about a haunted house. I’d heard other stories and visited Goa, but there were so many random things I had to research. I probably have the weirdest Google searches.

Backpacking across six continents has, at the very least, given me perspective. You realize how completely different many places are from Canada and from each other. But you also realize there are some things about human nature that are universal. You get into situations and see things that challenge you and force you to think differently. Living in Goa gave me so much more confidence writing a story set there. I know one day, among others, I’ll write a story set in Nepal, Colombia, and Australia . . . hopefully this list keeps growing.

A good part of my travelling in India was spent at an orphanage called Bal Ashram. It’s such a special place that I knew I would one day have to write about. It’s too early to tell, but I think it’s leaning to towards some kind of magic realism story. What I know for sure is it will be a novel—it’s just too big a story. I always have a few short story ideas kicking around that I’d like to also get to.

Step Lightly

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Writing Walking through Glass has been a long journey. It began as a novel but it has since become clear that it needs to be a memoir. The DD mentorship helped me to know what I really needed to write. David Layton was a fantastic, incredibly insightful mentor. A friend of mine who is also a writer, Diane Terrana, was also instrumental in reading and rereading and giving notes, as well as a beloved friend, Sharon Simone.

Starting out, I just had a vision of writing a book with the issues I explore in Walking through Glass, and didn’t know how I was going to get to the finished product. David was my first mentor and the first person to read more than one draft of my work. I needed someone who could ask me deep questions and get me to go further into the relationships and the heart of the story. I was very open to comment and criticism. I think that really helps, especially as a first time writer. David gave me great notes and I trusted his notes and dove into the rewrites, staying on schedule because I really wanted to make the most of the time frame of the mentorship. It’s not easy to get someone in the world who will willingly read two or three drafts and continue to give feedback. So, for new mentees, go for it. Even if you do an entire rewrite, save your previous drafts and be willing to challenge yourself on the new draft while you have access to a mentor. Be committed to the process, willing to make changes and open to rewrites or even entire genre shifts if the story demands it. Having a caring mentor to work with without having to pay is a great and rare gift. Thank you DD!

A profile series of DD’s emerging writers sharing their experiences with writing and their participation in the DD mentorship program. Title of work: Walking through Glass
Genre: Memoir
Mentor: David Layton

I just finished my rewrite of the now memoir. I will submit it to a few agents and a junior editor and keep my fingers crossed. If that doesn’t work out, then I will keep pushing until I find someone who believes in the writing and the purpose and is willing to support it.

Finding a title that worked was very hard, but Walking through Glass just seemed right. There are layers to it. It was a good metaphor for strength and survival, and . . . I was silly enough to do it when I was a child!

The beginning section about my childhood is proving to be the hardest to write even now, because I am trying not to bore people with the perspective of the child, and yet try to expose the reality of my childhood so that by the time my memoir reaches the teenage years and adult years the story and choices, the root, make sense. The prologue, which in a way “explains” the mother, might not remain in the memoir. I thought it might be a good way to provide history without going into great detail and would set up the idea of generations of experience . . . but the jury is still out on that.

Carly, the central character in Walking, is me. I believe all humans have choices. When we are grown, we can choose to love, work on ourselves, and treat each other with dignity, or we can choose to repeat what we were taught by our parents. This principle can be seen at play all over the world, in relationships, in families where there might be violence or abuse, or in countries and systems of oppression or war, sexism, homophobia, racism, etc. We can choose the opposite of hate and violence, and it starts with ourselves and in our own families.

The voice in Walking is a personification of the negative aspect of Carly’s/my psyche which internalized the message to think negatively of myself. Homophobia is everywhere, and gay marriage does not erase deep-seated homophobic ideology of a culture. It’s not surprising that most young people have a negative internal voice. Mine was trained to believe that being female meant looking a certain way and that heterosexuality was “normal” and being LGBT meant being mostly invisible. It is changing, but slowly. We need only look to countries where being gay is still criminalized, people are tortured, murdered and imprisoned simply for existing. It’s horrific. But the voice also acted as an internal protector. It is connected to the messaging about body image and body weight, but you will have to read the book to understand it!

I do feel personally changed by having written Walking. At first I was afraid to write the story and chose the novel form as a way to distance and protect myself, but I am not afraid anymore and have come to terms with the fact that it truly is a memoir. I have made significant changes to remove the fictional sections.

I am hoping to reach a wide range of readers. I want them to come away with a deeper understanding of certain relationships, the politic of art, of the body and relationships, LGBT issues and family violence. There are multiple stories and still many taboos in our culture. I hope people in film, women, LGBT communities, educators, therapists, young adults, and anyone, really, relate or take away something new or see themselves reflected. It’s a unique book and I hope people from all walks will be willing to read it! If it inspires dialogue or a shift in thinking, then that’s good!

Next, I am working on a book about the lives of LGBT talent. I am compiling lists of LGBT performers to interview about what it’s been like to succeed, or try to, as LGBT actors or comedians, how the culture has responded, what it’s been like to be performers or political figures in a time of homophobia, and what defines success. It’s not an easy culture especially if you don’t “pass” as heterosexual or choose not to. I feel like we haven’t really heard enough of these voices. There are pioneer performers that few people know about, dating back to the Stonewall years in the ’60s. And I’m also playing a small part in a movie about Stonewall by Roland Emmerich that is shooting in Montreal this summer, which feels very right and in sync with the rest of my life.

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