the ottawa small press book fair : home edition #10 : Christian McPherson,

Christian McPherson is a poet, novelist, and cartoonist. He lives in Ottawa with his wife and their two kids. He has written a bunch of books including, The Cube People, Saving Her, and My Life in Pictures. His new book of poetry is being released this fall from At Bay Press, Walking on the Beaches of Temporal Candy.

Q: Tell me about your writing. How long have you been publishing, and what got you started?

My first book, Six Ways to Sunday, came out in 2007 from Canadian small press publisher Nightwood Editions; they are in Gibsons, BC. It was a collection of short stories I had been working on for close to a decade. My second book was a book of poetry Poems that swim from my brain like rats leaving a sinking ship published by Bayeux Arts out of Calgary. I did two novels with Nightwood, The Cube People and Cube Squared. Then I had a long run with Now or Never Publishing out of Vancouver BC. Now Or Never published three books of poetry (The Sun Has Forgotten Where I Live, My Life in Pictures, and One Poem), one novel (Saving Her), and my second collection of short fiction (Going Fly). My most recent book is a double book of poetry entitled Walking on the Beaches of Temporal Candy and is published by At Bay Press out of Winnipeg.

Q: How many times have you exhibited at the ottawa small press fair? How do you find the experience?

I have been coming since 2008, twice a year, I do believe. I think I only missed one. So around 20 times. It a nice way to meet fellow authors and publishers and I get to meet strangers I would normally never get to meet. It’s a hard to find place, so the traffic can be light at times. Overall, rob makes it a very welcoming place to be – he needs to work on the coffee! Ha.

Q: Would you have made something specific for this spring’s fair? Are you still doing that? How does the lack of spring fair this year effect how or what you might be producing?

It doesn’t slow me down in the least, however the pandemic I heard was very tough on small publishers because the distribution through Amazon and Chapters came grinding to a halt as I understand it. So not to have a fair to exhibit their work is tough.

Q: How are you, as literary writer, approaching the myriad shut-downs? Is everything on hold, or are you pushing against the silences, whether in similar or alternate ways than you might have prior to the pandemic? How are you getting your publications out into the world?

I was recently invited to do a Zoom poetry reading. That was a first for me. My new book Walking on the Beaches of Temporal Candy is supposed to launch this fall. I may do a virtual launch on Zoom. I’ve seen some different online events by way of Zoom. I’m also promoting as I normally do by way of Facebook and Instagram and email. Now that stores are reopening, I’m hoping that people will find it in actual stores.

Q: Have you done anything in terms of online or virtual launches since the pandemic began? Have you attended or participated in others? How are you attempting to connect to the larger literary community?

Like I mentioned in the last question above, I’ve participated in a reading and I’ve seen the launch of Brad Smith’s new novel The Goliath Run by way of Zoom. Hopefully this won’t last forever and we can get back to in-person readings and launches.

Q: What is your most recent book or chapbook? How might folk be able to order copies?

Walking of the Beaches of Temporal Candy is a double book of poetry from At Bay Press and you can order your copy here: https://atbaypress.com/books/detail/walking-on-the-beaches-of-temporal-candy

It’s my first hardcover book and it also has an illustrated walking cycle so when you flip the pages, my little astronaut avatar walks across the page – it’s super cool!

Get it straight from the publisher! At Bay Press.

Q: What are you working on now?

I’m working on more poetry and I’m drawing what I call, demented doodles. I really want to do a book of illustrations – maybe a poetry/drawing combo book. Sometimes my drawings come out as political cartoons, other times they are just weird images that my brain comes up with. I tend to invoke the zeitgeist of the 1960s in my artwork. Artists like Rick Griffin, Ralph Steadman, Tomi Ungerer, Mati Klarwein, and so on. I’m really having fun doing it.

Talking Poetics #23 : Conyer Clayton

Something sharp I want to make soft

A man and two kids were walking down the sidewalk. They found two large kitchen knives nestled in a crumbling nook of the concrete wall that separates the street from the train-tracks. One of the kids saw first and went to grab them. He grabbed her wrist, as gently as possible. As the children lost interest and pedalled away, the man approached me, sitting on my front porch, and asked, "Do you know why these knives are here?" I didn't. I don't. We agreed we couldn't just leave them there. He set them on my lawn, and I placed them in a plastic bag, then directly in the garbage. Knives in a landfill. Their purpose unknown.

If I had buried them in my garden instead, maybe near the garlic, would microscopic hints of blood have seeded and spread through me while I braided in late summer? I don't know how malice germinates. If garlic flowers, you've let it go too long. A knife in a wall like a premature harvest. Maybe this is to stop destruction from pooling.

So, plant the knives to over-winter then! A butter knife for insubordination. A steak knife to encourage flowers. A bread knife will do nothing but crumble when you try to repot it and won't do better indoors anyway. Leave it alone to sharpen and develop flavor. A paring knife is your best bet for consistent company, so prune then pluck and choose the wall carefully. Someone will touch it. Just wait.

I don't know this knife's intention. I don't know what my poems are trying to say. It's something sharp I want to make soft. To compost and till for sustenance, but I hate to put this pressure on a man-made tool, on a grouping of words. Metal may be forged but it's still elemental. Every once in a while, I choose the right soil mixture — sheep manure, mushroom compost, peat moss, dry leaves. Mixing this with metal makes a memory, cuts a feeling. Maybe there'll be a plant one day. Maybe someone can eat it. Maybe someone will just leave it on a wall near some train tracks, and it will look like a knife again. What else can they really do with it?

When a child finds this, I can grab their wrist, as gently as possible, and take it away. Wrap it in plastic, pretending it's not mine, and trash it. Once in the landfill it will settle beyond me — and a few thousand years from now, the humans that survive our garbage piling society might find it in a wholly different form. Its original components dissected to create something more fertile than I was ever able to. Or better yet, no one will find it. A beetle will roll it into a ball and push it up a hill. A bird will carve a nest from paper.

Conyer Clayton is an Ottawa-based artist and gymnastics coach, originally from Louisville, Kentucky. She has 7 chapbooks (one forthcoming with Collusion Books, Fall 2020, in collaboration with Manahil Bandukwala), and 2 albums. She is the winner of Arc's 2017 Diana Brebner Prize and The Capilano Review's 2019 Robin Blaser Poetry Contest, and writes reviews for Canthius. Her debut full-length collection of poetry is We Shed Our Skin Like Dynamite (Guernica Editions, 2020). Stay updated on her endeavours at conyerclayton.com.