Kim Fahner lives and writes in
Sudbury, Ontario. She was the fourth poet laureate for the City of Greater
Sudbury (2016-18). Her latest book of poems is These Wings (Pedlar Press,
2019). Kim is a member of the League of Canadian Poets and is the Ontario
Representative for The Writers' Union of Canada (2020-22), as well as a
supporting member of the Playwrights' Guild of Canada. She may be reached via
her author website at www.kimfahner.com
How did you begin writing, and what keeps you going?
I’ve been writing since I was very young, but began to
write more seriously in high school and in university. I don’t know if this is
true of other writers, but I don’t think you have a choice as to how you
‘begin,’ really. If you’re a writer, you likely already have a big imagination
and a lot of ideas. You also likely read a lot. Those ideas just need to come
out somewhere. Telling stories is something I love to do. Writing is something
I’ve always loved.
What keeps me going is my curiosity about people and
places, I think. I’m always drawn to new ideas and I always have questions
about the world, so that often directs me towards new writing projects. There
is always another story to listen to, or to write and tell. Writers never stop,
or at least all of the ones I know don’t stop.
What poets have influenced the ways in which you
write?
Two of my most important poetic influences are Seamus
Heaney and Mary Oliver. I spend a lot of time out in the natural world, so
their work is rooted in landscapes that I can relate to, even if I’ve never
really been to some of the places they’ve written about. Lately, though, I read
very widely—mostly contemporary Canadian poetry—and love writing poetry book
reviews for a variety of literary journals. I’m keen on seeing what new and
emerging poets are doing, but I also love to read and study the work of veteran
poets because I can learn from their work.
Have you noticed a difference in the ways in which you
approach the individual poem after you began publishing full-length
collections?
To be honest, I don’t write collections to a central
theme or question to be answered. I know this is the more common with poets these
days, but I have always just written poems as they come to me. Having said
this, they tend to come in waves—thematically and stylistically—so grouping
them into an arc within a collection always seems to work. I’m not really into
creating numbered or titled sections within a book of poems. I like a more
holistic approach, with the connections of poems being a bit organic in
nature.
My poetic style has changed over the years. When I was
in my 20s, I wrote very long poems. Now, in my late 40s, my poems tend to be
more succinct and crystalline. This is not always true, but it seems to be
happening more often, certainly. I play with various poetic forms a bit more
frequently now, and I’m largely focused on eco poetry and ekphrasis. These are
things I’ve always been fascinated by, but now they tend to be my poetic
touchstones.
I like that I’m at an age where I can see such a large
chunk of my writing career behind me, and then I can trace what’s changed and
evolved in my work. It’s interesting, to look back, and then to wonder where
your work will take you next.
How important has mentorship been to your work? Is
there anyone who specifically assisted your development as a writer?
Mentorship has been key to my development as a writer.
I live in Sudbury, which is in Northern Ontario. It can, at times, feel at a
great geographic distance from more urban centres where there tend to be larger
writing communities and connections. I’ve spent time away at writing
retreats—during my holidays from teaching English at the secondary level—to
further my own work. I learn from being around—and workshopping my work
with—other writers.
When I was in my twenties, I was mentored by Timothy
Findley through the Humber School for Writers for my short stories. We sent
letters back and forth in the late 1990s. He was the person who first made me
realize that I could write in a variety of genres. Prior to working with him as
a mentor, I really only saw myself as a poet.
Since then, I’ve been lucky to have been mentored by
Lawrence Hill, Ken Babstock, John Glenday, Jen Hadfield, Tanis MacDonald, and
Marnie Woodrow. I don’t have an MFA in creative writing, so I’ve made a
purposeful choice to apply to short writing retreats through places like the Sage
Hill Writing Experience, Moniack Mhor (in Scotland), and the Banff Centre for
Arts and Creativity. It’s also helped me to create a community of writers and
friends from around the country, with quite a few of them living in England,
Scotland, and America.
I hope I’m of help as a mentor to newer, emerging
writers, but I don’t think I’ll know that until much later in my life. I do
believe that we need to lift one another up, though, in the writing community
across Canada. If we can support one another’s work, and encourage one another,
I think we’ll end up building a stronger community of writers.
You were poet laureate of Sudbury. How did you
approach that role, and what did you learn from the experience?
For me, being Poet Laureate was a great honour. My
goal was to make poetry more accessible. I got out into schools and worked with
students and teachers, using visual art to inspire poetry. I also just really
wanted to put poetry in places where it isn’t often found. I called it ‘poetic
graffiti,’ for lack of a better phrase. I created projects where I called for
local poets to submit poems. Mostly, I wanted people to see that they could
write poetry, even if they didn’t actually think they were able to. I worked
closely with Jessica Watts at the Greater Sudbury Public Library, who was a
huge help to me throughout my term. She helped me to bring my ideas to life in
tangible ways.
With the Street Poetry Project, poems were placed on vinyl
posters and put up in windows of local small businesses (mostly in the city’s downtown
core). The Rain Poetry Project was fun because it meant using special
biodegradable paint on sidewalks, so that stanzas by six local poets only
appeared when it rained. It was a bit of magic because the actual project only lasted
about a month or so—dependent mostly on weather— and it really got people
excited about looking down to find and then read the poetry on the sidewalks while
they were walking downtown.
I’m most proud of putting up poems in the windows of
Health Sciences North (HSN), though, in the palliative and oncology wards. I
believe that seeing poetry in places where you wouldn’t normally expect to see
it—especially in places like hospitals, where you often have to wait for difficult
news—can allow people to briefly escape their realities for a bit.
Sometimes, we need a break, and sometimes poetry
serves as a doorway into a different way of thinking or being in the world.
Can you name a poet you think should be receiving more
attention?
Over the last year or so of reading and reviewing poetry
books, I was really impressed with a number of collections by Canadian poets.
Some of the ones that are in my head and heart lately include Conyer Clayton’s We
Shed Our Skin Like Dynamite (Guernica Press), David Ly’s Mythical Man, M.
Travis Lane’s A Tent, A Lantern, An Empty Bowl (Palimpsest Press), rob
mclennan’s a halt, which is empty (Mansfield Press), Jane Munro’s Glass
Float (Brick Books), and Betsy Warland’s Lost Lagoon/lost in
thought (Caitlin Press). The list in my head of other poets is long, though,
because I’ve read and reviewed so many books of poetry this year. I feel lucky,
too, to be living in a country where the poetic community is so strongly
woven—even despite our vast geographic distances.
