Jacqueline (she/her) was interviewed for an hour in the early afternoon on September 26th, 2024. This interview occurred in East Hall at Bowling Green State University, just a few hours before Jacqueline read at Prout Chapel for our reading series. We were thrilled to sit down with Vogtman and talk behind the scenes of life as a writer. This interview is split into two parts; the second part will be posted next week.
Jacqueline Vogtman received the New Jersey State Council on the Arts Fellowship, awarded earlier this year, 2024. Jacqueline graduated from BGSU’s MFA program in 2010. She currently teaches composition at Mercer County Community College in New Jersey. Vogtman’s short story collection, Girl Country, won the 2021 Dzanc Books Short Story Collection Prize and was published by Dzanc Books in May 2023. Vogtman’s book Girl Country is available for purchase with the following link:https://www.dzancbooks.org/all-titles/p/girl-country
Interviewer:
You were recently in the woods as part of your fellowship. Could you tell us a little bit more about that experience?
Jacqueline Vogtman:
I used some of my fellowship funds to book a cabin in the woods for a week as a DIY writing retreat. I went alone, with my dog, to this nice, little cabin. What was really amazing was returning to a solitude that I hadn’t experienced in so long. I normally dedicate so much time to being a mother, caring for family, and my students. The silence and the solitude were really refreshing, and they helped me have headspace to think through my novel and begin working on it.
The first part of my writing process is on paper: brainstorms, scribbles, mapping things out. I did some of that, and then I was able to begin actually writing. I did a decent amount while there. Being out in nature is inspiring to me. I took a lot of walks while there. I find walking to be meditative and a good way to let ideas flow. The combination of solitude, silence, and just being surrounded by nature helped me get started on this novel.
Interviewer:
Has it always been your natural inclination to go to secluded spaces or natural spaces when you’re in the writing process?
Jacqueline Vogtman:
Absolutely! For me, it’s helpful to have a private space to write; I’ve never been one to do my best work in a crowded coffee shop. I find so much inspiration in nature, being surrounded by woods, or being in the countryside, even in a suburban backyard visited by birds and deer. These are things that help my creative process.
Interviewer:
Can you tell us more about the moment you realized that you had a collection of short stories that would eventually be Girl Country?
Jacqueline Vogtman:
I can’t recall an exact moment—but after writing several of the stories, I realized that they were all fitting together thematically and that my short story “Girl Country” was kind of the thematic thread holding them together. From there, I was writing new stories with these themes in mind—that they’d all somehow have something to do with girlhood, womanhood, motherhood, the body, nature, magic, and finding light in the darkness.
Interviewer:
Is nature integral to your writing? How do you not go crazy being alone in the woods for so long?
Jacqueline Vogtman:
I’m definitely inspired by nature. I feel like I am at home in the woods. I have more of a fertile imagination when I’m out there. I know some people thrive in a city but that doesn’t do it for me. It was nice being alone in the woods because I constantly have stuff to do: teaching, mothering. I like stepping away from all that to be alone in silence. Silence makes me the opposite of crazy. Silence gave me clarity for the first time in a long time.
Interviewer:
I can see how that would be a relief. How do you feel about being back at BGSU? We read in one recent interview that your cohort had great rapport.
Jacqueline Vogtman:
Yes! It feels surreal being here. On the one hand, everything looks the same. On the other, things feel different. It’s all such a long time ago but feels like yesterday. I would say some of the best years of my life were at BGSU.
I don’t know if everyone feels this way, but when I came here and met everyone, I felt like I was finally meeting my people. When I was growing up, I felt like a bit of a weirdo. Probably a lot of writers do, so getting to the MFA and meeting people who are on the same wavelength and interested in the same things was eye opening. I finally found myself.
Interviewer:
That’s awesome. Do you keep in touch with your cohort?
Jacqueline Vogtman:
Yeah, I made some great relationships. Now, we’re all sort of scattered around the country. It’s nice because we still have those connections. This past summer, a few of us had a mini workshop via Zoom because we’re all in different parts of the country. It was so nice to reconnect. I felt like I lost my writing community after leaving the MFA.
Interviewer:
We are scared to graduate! Thank you for the wise words. So you live in New Jersey now. How did you go about making a literary community where you are?
Jacqueline Vogtman:
The sad and short answer is I haven’t really. I find a lot of inspiration in non-writing communities and through my kid. She’s a kid, you know? Kids are imaginative. For my own adult writing community, I don’t really have one aside from sporadic mini workshops with my old BG friends. I don’t want to sell myself short though. I advise a creative writing club on campus where I teach. Obviously, the club is more focused on students, but it still gives me a sense of being a part of that world.
I was also the editor of this literary journal called the Kelsey Review that has been running for a really long time. We focus specifically on the county. It’s not a national literary journal; it’s for people in Mercer County, NJ to submit their work. I felt lucky when I got the job as Editor-in-Chief. That’s another writing community I was a part of. It was really nice to see work from the community.
Interviewer:
So you were the Editor-in-Chief of the Kelsey Review, you aren’t anymore? Do you still have a role on the masthead?
Jacqueline Vogtman:
Yeah, I recently handed it over. I’m no longer the editor. Some of my colleagues took over. I was the Editor-in-Chief for nine years. That was nice. But at this point, my main involvement is helping the new editors transition into their roles.
Interviewer:
How did you make that decision to give it up?
Jacqueline Vogtman:
It was difficult. On one hand, it was such a nice part of my job that was a refreshing break from grading research papers. It was also very time-consuming, and there was a lot of red tape, working with the administration on money things. I don’t have a head for money. I don’t want to. I don’t want anything to do with money.
Running the Kelsey Review took a lot of time and headspace. At times, it became stressful. That all played a part in my decision to move on. I also wanted to step away from helping others publish, so I could focus on my own work. After publishing Girl Country, I am working on a novel now. I want to focus on that now.
Interviewer:
When you were in the MFA, was your thesis a short story collection?
Jacqueline Vogtman:
Yes. I worked on short stories. Actually, three of the short stories from thesis ended up in the book. I wrote a whole thesis here. At the time, I was happy with it. When I left Bowling Green, I tried submitting the manuscript to a few places.
I wasn’t very aggressive about it. It wasn’t picked up. As time went on, I was not super happy with it. I basically put the whole project aside for a long time. Years later, I sat down and wrote a few, new stories that are in the book. One day, I realized that I have a collection here. I looked back at my thesis; some of my short stories fit into the new collection. It was a matter of taking those three old stories and somehow fitting them into the collection.
Interviewer:
Did you ever consider taking your thesis in a novel direction?
Jacqueline Vogtman:
Not really. I didn’t feel ready to write a novel. It’s such a different beast than a short story collection. I didn’t feel ready, and I wasn’t that interested at the time.
Interviewer:
What changed to make you feel that you’re ready to write a novel?
Jacqueline Vogtman:
I finished this project of short stories, Girl Country. I figured I’d written all the short stories that I wanted to write. Sure, I still have ideas jotted down for a few new ones. But I’m not as interested in writing them right now. I want to try something new, the novel. I’ve had these thoughts of a novel for so long. Maybe there’s some maturity that’s happened like I can handle it now. Back then, the novel felt like a beast.
Interviewer:
Is the novel not a beast now?
Jacqueline Vogtman:
It still is just not as big of a beast. I think it will always be a beast. With a novel, it’s so big. There is more structure, more to plot out. In general, there’s lots of pieces to put together with the novel. And that was the most challenging part.
Interviewer:
Have you heard the hypothetical: would you rather fight like ten horses, or thirty duck-sized horses, or one horse-sized duck? Would you say that is accurate to short stories versus a novel?
Jacqueline Vogtman:
Oh, I haven’t heard of that. It’s an interesting hypothetical to be sure. Short stories are more of a fight with a bunch of duck-sized horses, while novels are more of a fight with a horse-sized duck. A huge duck is one solid thing. So that feels right.
Short stories feel more manageable. Arranging the collection was putting pieces where I wanted them. Right now, I’m still in the thick of the novel, and there are lots of pieces. I’m trying to figure out how to create and mold the huge duck.
Interviewer
That’s awesome. It’s interesting how a writer’s voice changes over time. I’m at the stage now where I’ll look back at my previous writing and not like what I was writing a few months ago. Does that stage end?
Jacqueline Vogtman:
You mean that feeling where you’ll look back on something you wrote like six months ago and go “Oh that’s such utter shit?”
Interviewer
Haha. Yes.
Jacqueline Vogtman:
It has changed a little for me. There’s always going to be shitty first drafts. It’s always going to be messy in the beginning. I think what I write now, like even the stories that I wrote for this collection, a lot of them came not fully formed. Obviously, there had to be a lot of revision, but I didn’t look back on them six months later and think “Oh god that’s so awful I’m so ashamed I don’t want to show this to anyone.” That does change. As you navigate this steep growth curve, it sort of levels out. Again, the first things you write are going to be messy for the most part, and once in a while, you’ll get a gem that just comes out and it’s like “oh my god I wrote this almost perfect thing and I don’t even have to do much to it”. That’s very very rare, but it might happen.
Interviewer
Thank you for your time.
The final part of this interview will be posted on Wednesday, 11/21/2024.
Abigail Cloud and Haley Souders were interviewed on October 30th, 2024. This interview took place almost 1.5 months after the first interview with Souders and Cloud. Abigail Cloud is the Editor-in-Chief of MAR, and Haley Souders is serving as the Winter Wheat Coordinator this year. During this interview, we discussed preparing for the festival and advice for attendees. Winter Wheat 2024 starts tomorrow Thursday, November 7th. We hope to see you there!
Winter Wheat, created in 2001, is a festival celebrating writers and readers, produced by Mid-American Review and hosted on the campus of Bowling Green State University. In workshops, students, faculty, and guests from the Bowling Green community and beyond come to learn, discuss, read, and most importantly write. Through “keynote” readings, special guest authors read their work, sign books, and talk with Winter Wheat participants. Winter Wheat creates the ideal environment for graduate and undergraduate students, faculty and staff, community writers, and those from other states to mingle and create new work, effectively planting the seeds of new writings for future harvest. There is no fee to attend Winter Wheat. The festival is sponsored by MAR, the BGSU Ethnic and Cultural Arts Program, the Creative Writing Program at BGSU, Prairie Margins, the Graduate Writers Club, the Creative Writing Alumni Fund, and donations from attendees. The festival would not be possible without donors! Donations for Winter Wheat and MAR can be made online, or through checks made out to BGSU Foundation, with Mid-American Review in the Memo line. Donations may also be made onsite, with cash, check, or credit card. Thank you for your support. Now, please see the interview below.
Interviewer:
What advice would you give a first-time attendee for the Winter Wheat writing festival?
Haley Souders:
Last year was the first writing conference of any kind that I’d been to. I remember when I went to AWP later, I was really overwhelmed, but I think since Winter Wheat is only two days, I didn’t feel as overwhelmed. It’s good to plan one workshop period where you don’t go to any sessions and just take a break for your mind. I remember after some of the workshops I just wanted to sit down and write afterwards because it’s a very fun environment to be in where everyone is talking about writing. You get to write in the workshop, and it just makes you want to write more.
Abigail Cloud:
That’s true. You’ve got to have a good notebook, a couple pens & some pencils. When you’re thinking about coming for the first time and wondering what it’s going to be like, we don’t know either. We know to some extent, but it’s a little different every year. We don’t know who all is going to show up. It’s never really chaotic (I need some wood to knock on), but it’s flurried at some points and then super quiet at other times. So it’s good to be ready for that ebb and flow of traffic and flip traffic. And, understanding your role in it is as a creator. We’re in charge of the festival as staff members of Mid-American Review, but we’re also creators, and we need to take advantage of that. And that’s the same thing with AWP. You never do get a chance to settle down at AWP, not really. At Winter Wheat, you have the opportunity to talk to presenters. We do our own book fair table where our presenters can bring their own books and we sell their books for them. So you can actually meet those people onsite. And it’s a nice opportunity to support authors directly because we’re not ordering the books from the presses or through a bookstore; they’re bringing the books, so that money goes directly back to them. That’s a great way to support them and also to have an immediate reminder of the types of things that you were working on in their workshop.
Interviewer:
You mentioned every year being a little different. What’s new this year?
Abigail Cloud:
DnD! So we had Dungeons and Dragons a few years ago–an organization called Tales of Initiative did some one-shots and it was really fun. There were a whole bunch of people who were interested in learning about DnD. So this year we’re doing a little workshop ahead of time using Dungeons and Dragons character sheets to talk about characters, the brainstorming that goes into storytelling, and how that practice can help you write your own fiction. We’re doing the one-shots again, and we’ll have an experienced table and a beginner’s table so people can learn how to play. People can also spectate if they so choose. A couple people two years ago just wanted to spectate, which I thought was amazing because I like doing that too, just doing some work while people are joyfully coming up with all manner of magical excitement. So it’s a fun little thing that embraces the ability to tell a story on the spot well as collaboratively. Also, Jennifer Pullen is coming for the Saturday keynote reading/craft talk, and she’s also giving a workshop on fantasy fiction. And since we don’t have fantasy fiction here as a class, this will be a good opportunity for students to embrace that side of writing. We certainly have many students who are writing fantasy fiction and we want to give them the opportunity to learn and grow. Also, this year our Saturday night open mic is at Juniper downtown. We’ve had a couple different locations over the years and Juniper happened to be available this year. So I’m greatly looking forward to fair fries.
Interviewer:
Are there any other workshops or readings that you’re especially excited about?
Abigail Cloud:
I typically do not get to go to stuff. I’ll make Haley go to stuff. It’s so easy to get distracted by the business side of things and everything else that’s going on constantly, people with questions, and so on. But as much as possible, it’s important for us to also show up and to be there as participants. Haley, which ones are you excited about?
Haley Souders:
I’m excited for the “Walking with(out) Purpose” workshop with Brad Aaron Modlin. It seems like it’ll be really interesting and different. I think getting that movement in during the workshop will be fun. And Sydney Koeplin’s Workshop, “Dreamweaver,” which is about writing from your dreams. I’m excited for that one because in the past I used to write from an idea I’d get from a dream but I don’t think I’ve really done that much recently. So I’m curious to see if going there will start that back up again for me.
Abigail Cloud:
We also have a couple specific workshops that are about finding your own voice and your own craft. Sophfronia Scott is doing one called, “Almost Straight to the Heart,” on the self-discovery process, using self-discovery as a way to unpack ideas and thoughts. And Naomi North, who is an alum, is doing one called “You Can Tell Me Anything” about finding your own authentic writing voice. They’re both framed almost in terms of an adventure (just as the walking one is), that challenge of digging into your internal self. We also have a couple that are based on family history or using history in your own writing. We see this sometimes in trends, a trend toward wanting to find authenticity and wanting to uncover memories and use them regardless of genre, not just in creative non-fiction or memoir, going deeper into that and seeing what it can spark. So that’s great and it’s feeling very organic in that way.
Interviewer:
I think I’m going to Jessica Manack’s “Writing Your Family Tree” and Naomi North’s workshop, so I’m really excited for those.
Abigail Cloud:
It might feel a little bit like we’re on a retreat. It just sort of has that vibe right now, and I’m not mad about it. I love that.
Interviewer:
Shifting over a little bit, do you have any advice for starting up a regional conference like Winter Wheat?
Abigail Cloud:
When you’re dealing with a festival or conference that’s part of a university, your rules are so much different than when you’re doing it yourself, when you’re doing it independently or as part of an organization that is non-university. You have rules at a university but you also have resources. Technology for instance–it’s in the classrooms already. We have the educational buildings available. If we need it, there’s catering. If we need tech services, there’s tech services. So all of that is built in but there’s also the need to follow policies. So just little bits and pieces like that. And being aware of those types of things. I think the main thing that most people face is just getting people to go, getting people interested, using social media and other forms effectively to build up your base. We have a base that’s been built up over twenty years of people, of past participants and contacts. We’re constantly updating the contact list, adding more ideas, things like that. But as an independent organization, getting all of that work done, in addition to all the infrastructure, there’s just extra to do. So, I think it’s good to know whether you want to do it as part of a joint project with a university or an organization, or if it’s something you’re going alone. And then figuring out who your base is going to be. Especially because we’re not out here giving each other our participants list, which I know is a common business thing, but it’s not something that we do. I’m also very stingy with subscriber lists. I’m not into just making those available to people. So I think having some idea of costs and some idea of your base is kind of your go-to, but also just deciding on your vibe. They’re all different. AWP has a very AWP vibe. I don’t even know how to explain it. It’s more scholarly, less craft. There is some focus craft but it’s more about writing than doing the writing, at least on the spot. We’re about doing the writing on the spot. I also think it’s important to think about what you need in your area. What is your area missing? That’s not easy to do sometimes. You really have to be plugged in with the community in order to know what’s missing and what people want. It’s good to do that ahead of time and that also helps if you then go for grants. Arts council grants want to know what your goals are and who your constituents are and what those people have said and what they’re interested in. Having feedback and community involvement increases your panel score generally, so that’s good to utilize.
Interviewer:
Sounds like there’s a lot of networking going on. And a lot of moving parts.
Abigail Cloud:
So much networking and a lot of moving parts. And there’s planning that you can do ahead, but you also just have to let things happen in their own time. I have trouble with that sometimes but Winter Wheat has helped teach me not to over-manage. It’s going to happen regardless. It’s happening. We have the things done. Haley’s been working so hard and getting the word out. People are registered. So I just need to not flip out about it all the time. And that’s probably my best advice for someone starting a writing conference. Get some help you trust and then don’t flip out.
Interviewer:
Haley, any big lessons from doing the Winter Wheat assistantship this semester?
Haley Souders:
I think the biggest thing I’ve learned is the importance of having a spreadsheet. I feel like there are so many things to keep track of for something like this and with me doing it for the first time, it would be really easy for me to get overwhelmed. But because of the way that everything has been organized where we have the list of things that need to get done and we have specific spreadsheets for the book fair and for workshops, there was never a moment where I wasn’t sure what I needed to do or where something was, or where to find information about anything. It was very well organized by Abby.
Abigail Cloud:
Well, by legions of past Winter Wheat people. This stuff grows up over time and we change the duties and the plans list every year. It has to change as new things come up or as policies change, as venues change, and whatnot. But it does at least give you a completion timeline and helps you understand what the direct lineup is. Here we are in one to two weeks before and we’re seeing the list gradually getting italicized as things get done. Even looking at it, I’m just like, ‘yep, okay, got some things that we need to do.’ This list gets longer and longer the closer we get, but again, it’s coming and it’s time. It’s happening as it needs to happen.
Interviewer:
How do you expect or hope Winter Wheat to evolve over the next few years?
Abigail Cloud:
I always like to hear from our participants about what they want even though getting feedback is really difficult. It’s hard to get people to fill out the feedback forms. I think hearing those ideas and seeing how our student population looks and what they’re interested in has always been a guiding force. And understanding that part of our job with a festival is to bring something to the community that it doesn’t already have. So whatever we don’t have, that’s what we do. For instance, we have Jessica Zinz who does collage poetry. She and Amanda McGuire Rzicznek do graphic novels and comics and they’ve worked on the word and image combination, which is why we now have the minor here at the University that students can do. They’ve really brought that to the forefront. That’s just not a thing that we had 10 years ago. So looking ahead, testing out new things like the D&D event, and knowing what our participants are interested in. It’s hard to predict where the writing world’s going to go but we do know that there are things that people are interested in more than they used to be, and we can bring those things to Winter Wheat. Bringing in different types of writers for the keynote is a great one that helps us keep pace with that. I’m also curious to know if we’re going to continue doing the hybrid sessions and how that might evolve. We do have some sessions on Zoom so people can participate and present from all over. So if that’s going to remain popular, we’ll try to do more with it. When we were all online the one year, I didn’t love it because part of Winter Wheat is the on-site community. But having some things hybridized still brings in the wider community. And being able to bring back people who have been here like alums and past participants is still important. I just didn’t like how it worked out with the open mics and receptions. Nobody really loves those online. So, finding new ways to make the online component work I think is going to be a challenge continuing forward.
Interviewer:
What about you, Haley? Any thoughts about the future of Winter Wheat?
Haley Souders:
I hope that I’m able to keep going in person and can see future Winter Wheats. I’ll definitely keep trying to attend online wherever I am, but I hope I can still make the trip back sometimes.
Abigail Cloud:
That’s one of our favorite things, having alums back. And seeing how their writing has changed and grown, and giving them the opportunities for further professional development and continuing that education. It’s nice to keep building those relationships and keep those people close.
Interviewer:
What are you most proud of about Winter Wheat and/or your involvement in it?
Haley Souders:
This is a weird thing to be proud of, but the social media part of it. I’m not a big social media person, and I feel like that is one skill I’ve directly learned from this job. I don’t know if I want to do marketing or social media things in the future, but it’s now a skill that I possess and can say that I have done and know how to do.
Abigail Cloud:
We have concrete examples to add to your portfolio. I’ve been pushing that really hard on my students lately, having a portfolio of the work we’ve done. Because when you’re applying for jobs or further schooling, you have that already there. You can already point to it and say, ‘this is a thing that I have achieved.’
Haley Souders:
Also, anytime I’ve directly answered an email from someone and I’ve gotten to see the excitement from people who are getting to attend, especially if it’s someone who is not currently affiliated with Bowling Green in any way. It’s just exciting to see how far Winter Wheat can reach.
Abigail Cloud:
Yeah, and it’s always nice when you see new people, new faces. As I’m looking at the registrations coming in, there are a lot of familiar names on there, which I love, but I also love seeing the new folks, ones who have identified that they haven’t attended before. And then sometimes we have alums and friends teaching elsewhere and they bring their students, which I love. I think having something that people feel comfortable coming back to is one of the things that I feel most proud of. It’s a comfortable environment. There’s a lot of camaraderie, there’s a lot of face-to-face conversation. One of the things we’re going to do this year is bring a large collection of our out-of-date literary journals and let people go through them and talk about submission strategies. And that’s how we’re going to start. We’re inviting people into the mess of submitting work right away, giving each other advice and so on. And I hope that that’ll spark conversation. Let’s face it–writers, we don’t always want to be perceived or out there talking to people. It’s not really what we do. It’s kind of literally the opposite of what we do. But Winter Wheat is our opportunity to be in a safe environment to do those things, to talk to people, to be perceived, and to make something new. That’s the spirit in which Winter Wheat was created, and continuing in that vein and representing, in a larger aspect, the spirit of Mid-American Review, is really important to me. I feel really good about that. And also my registration spreadsheet.
Interviewer:
If you had to describe Winter Wheat using only food metaphors, how would you describe it?
Abigail Cloud:
Mashed potatoes. I’m a potato person. I like potatoes, potatoes are part of my regular diet. They are my safe food. I find them comforting. I always want them. I’m always excited about them and you can do so many cool things with them.
Haley Souders:
My first thought was a bowl of Lucky Charms.
Interviewer:
Are you the kind of person who eats the charms mixed in, or who saves the charms for last?
Haley Souders:
I save the charms for last and have a bowl of marshmallows.
Abigail Cloud:
Lucky Charms is such a great answer because if you eat them straight from the box like I do, you can’t really see ahead of time what you’re about to consume–you just know it’s going to be delicious.
Haley Souders:
Thank you for validating my metaphor.
Interviewer:
If you could invite one of your favorite authors, dead or alive, to Winter Wheat, who would you choose and what do you think they’d be most excited about?
Haley Souders:
That’s so tough. My first thought is Charles Yu just because I was talking to Jane Wageman (MAR’s Managing Editor for 2024-2025) when we went to package everything to ship about how whenever I recognized a writer’s name, I was so excited and I was like, ‘oh my gosh, I’m touching this person’s mail right now.’ One of those people was Charles Yu. I don’t know what he would get most from it though.
Abigail Cloud:
We’ve published his story “Class Three Superhero” in Mid-American Review. He would come. If we could afford him we’d bring him. As for what he’d get from it, he would mostly receive our adoring eyeballs because we love him so much. I was going to say Brenda Hillman because she’s always my answer, but Dana Levin would be super great here. She is one of my poetry fairy godmothers. I love her enthusiasm and her dig-in mentality. I feel like she would be a really good reader but I also think she would in turn enjoy the generative workshops. I think she would like to create.
Interviewer:
Awesome. So we’ve covered a lot of ground. Anything else you’d like to add before we wrap up?
Abigail Cloud:
Everyone should come to Winter Wheat. It happens every year–put it in your calendar. It’s such a good opportunity because during the year we tend to get distracted from our writing. We’re doing all these other things, we’re wearing many different hats, and it’s so nice to be able to say, ‘this weekend, I’m going to write and that’s it. I’m going be with my own kind. I’m going to be with my people.’
Haley Souders:
Yeah, I’ll just just a second that. I feel like anytime I’m in a place where everyone is really interested in writing and we’re also talking about writing, it always makes me so much more excited to write than I am when it’s just me and my mind thinking about how I haven’t been writing.
Abigail Cloud and Haley Souders were interviewed on September 11th, 2024. This interview took place in East Hall at Bowling Green State University. Abigail Cloud is the Editor-in-Chief of MAR, and Haley Souders is serving as the Winter Wheat Coordinator this year.
During this interview, we discussed preparing for Winter Wheat 2024. We talked about the festival’s history, favorite memories, and all the work that goes into making Winter Wheat.
Interviewer:
Okay, then. Let’s get started. So my first question is: Where did the idea of Winter Wheat come from? This is my first time here at Bowling Green and it’s my first time being involved in these things. So, I don’t really know a lot of the background of this event.
Abigail Cloud:
Winter Wheat started in 2001. It was actually my first year here as a grad student back then … The idea was to create a community-based writing event because there weren’t any around here. You know we have the ginormous AWP conference. We have other sort of regional conferences but there wasn’t any variety in like smaller festivals that were not gonna cost people a lot to go to. So the idea was to create something that had readings, that had sort of camaraderie among writers, which is what Mid-American Review is all about. And then also to generate new work beacuse a lot of conferences don’t involve creating new work at all. Like that’s not something that exists at most conferences and festivals so that was really the focus from the start. And that’s why the name ultimately became Winter Wheat because we’re planting the seeds for future harvest, essentially. And it speaks to our Midwestern status and everything, but in point of fact the alternate name was Wheat Stalk. So like Woodstock. But ‘stalk,’ like stalk of wheat, and you know that’s, we’re very clever. But it was mainly to create an event that the area was lacking and that didn’t really exist in the landscape anyway.
Interviewer:
Okay. Anything you want to add, Haley Souders?
Haley Souders:
No, Abby knows the history way more than I do so.
Interviewer:
Okay then so I didn’t know you were here when Winter Wheat started.
Abigail Cloud:
Yes.
Interviewer:
You got to watch that process.
Abigail Cloud:
I did. I was very involved in that process as a grad student. Karen Craigo and Michael Czyzniejewski involved all us grad students in the planning and the creating. We were all on sort of micro committees to get things done because it was our first time, too, with that big of an event. And it was still small, but it was, you know, learning the planning at a university. Like learning the offices and people that you need to talk to. And figuring out what the structure was going to be like, you know, getting, getting the guests locked down. All that kind of stuff. So it was, it was pretty detailed, pretty intense.
Interviewer:
Wow.
Abigail Cloud:
Good couple months.
Interviewer:
Okay then. So you had a very extensive history with Winter Wheat. What is one of your favorite Winter Wheat memories?
Abigail Cloud:
(to Haley) Do you have a favorite Winter Wheat memory from last year?
Haley Souders:
I don’t know. The thing I’m just thinking about right now is when me and Caleb were bringing in all the food from your car. I don’t know why that’s sticking in my head. Just like setting up all the snacks and the coffee station. And then Mays (Kuhail, 2023 coordinator) coming in and saying, “Actually you should put the pastries by the coffee.” And it was being, her being really aware of the flow of everything.
Abigail Cloud:
Yeah, yeah. It’s been interesting having that ability of, we have our own sort of coffee corner and coffee and snack corner, which we do now instead of getting catering. And it’s nice because we can have exactly what we want. No more, no less. It just, it does make things really nice.
Haley Souders:
Yeah.
Abigail Cloud:
I think most of my favorite memories from Winter Wheat are from years where I wasn’t in charge. Because I was able to go to workshops. And so, the one that I always use as an example is going to Mary Biddinger’s workshop on Organizing a Poetry Manuscript, a full-length collection. And I went because I had a manuscript and after I came out and I sat down. And I didn’t go to anything else. I sat down with, you know, my list of poems and all my poems. And I reorganized the whole manuscript, or started to, under an entirely different principle that I had gotten while in that workshop. And that is essentially the form in which that book eventually got published. So it changed everything, right on the, right on the spot, which was really incredible.
Interviewer:
So you got to experience what the purpose of Winter Wheat was.
Abigail Cloud:
I did. I did. It fulfilled its goals. And we love Mary anyway. I mean she’s an alum from here too. And is over at Akron and runs the poetry press there. So it was especially neat. It was special to have that from her with whom we’ve already had a connection.
Interviewer:
Okay. Awesome.
Haley Souders:
Yeah, in terms of workshops. I remember there were two people who came in from some other university and they, it was essentially like Hermit flash, I think is what it was.
Abigail Cloud:
Oh yeah. Yeah.
Haley Souders:
Where they were–they would give us two note cards and one was like a weird topic and then one was like a weird format to write on. So some were literally like a concert ticket was the format, or academic essay is I think one that I got. And that one was like a really fun intensive workshop.
Abigail Cloud:
Yeah, getting exposed to new forms and new ways of doing things that other people have tried and that’s always an exciting moment, I think, at Winter Wheat.
Haley Souders:
Yeah.
Interviewer:
Cool. So what does the planning process for this event look like?
Abigail Cloud:
So, we have an extensive to-do list between us. And it is organized essentially by how far ahead of Winter Wheat it is. So it’s kind of monthly and then it becomes every few weeks and so on. And we kind of divide up where we are and the duties for Haley Souders or whoever is in that position are dependent on what that person wants to learn and what they might be good at. But also it’s a lot of that outside communication. And then for me it’s dealing with the university offices. So, you know, working with event planning, emailing parking services, things like that. So, the nice thing is that Winter Wheat has been around long enough that we know what we need to do. Like there aren’t usually big surprises. It’s always possible. But not common. So, we usually are planning far enough in advance that we know who the guests are. We’re calling for proposals and so on. But even that doesn’t happen as far in advance as a lot of conferences because we know what we need. And enough people are repeat Winter Wheat attendees that they also know, they know what to do. So a lot of web mastering and updating and a lot of kind of back end stuff preparing the various spreadsheets that we need. But, but yeah. (to Haley) What has it been looking like for you?
Haley Souders:
Yeah, I mean I think for me it’s at least a little bit less stressful just because you have done this a decent amount of times. And like you were saying with the responsibilities it’s laid out on a sheet, on a Google doc. It’s like you know everything that needs to get done. There’s nothing that’s going to fall through the cracks. So there isn’t anything that I’m having to stress out about it not getting done.
Abigail Cloud:
Yeah. Yeah. We have all the contact lists already made. They need to be updated but they’re already made so you know it’s just stuff that needs to be done. But also has a time already assigned to do it.
Interviewer:
Okay then. How do you organize the workshop schedule?
Abigail Cloud:
I actually changed how we do that.
Interviewer:
Okay.
Abigail Cloud:
Usually, it is the coordinator and I sitting down with slips of paper that have the workshop title, genre, and preferred date on it. Last year, I gave those slips to the (Mid-American Review editorial) class and said here you go everybody. Make a schedule. And I had input and everything but I let everyone else puzzle it out. And figure out what would be the best arrangement. And I had to make changes, of course, but honestly it was kind of interesting to watch that puzzling process.
Haley Souders:
Interesting. I know I haven’t gone through that scheduling yet but one of the things that I have done so far is starting to make a spreadsheet of those different proposals. And what you’re saying with like the date, preferences, and genres.
Abigail Cloud:
Yeah, and there are fewer preferences than there used to be. Like we used to have to ask people for their, whether they wanted the projector and screen in their rooms or not. And now they’re in all the rooms that we’re in so we don’t have to ask about that anymore. We used to have to get a certain number of laptops from the union which was horrible. And then remember all the logins and everything. It was awful.
Interviewer:
Where is Winter Wheat held, by the way?
Abigail Cloud:
Education Building. Yup. Right there. So it’s right close to our parking lot, our preferred parking lot. And so it’s good for accessibility reasons. They also have those rooms often set up with active learning desks. So we can move them around really easily. … But it is nice to have a stable setting. We used to be in the union. It was in the union every year for the longest time but it’s pretty expensive. And we also can only have the university catering if we’re in that building. So I can’t, like, bring the Keurigs and set them up. They won’t let us do that. So, it’s nice to have the Education Building. It could be, there are things that could be better about it. But, you know. And it’s better than having it here in East Hall, which we did the first year. That was, this was where it was. There were only about 40-60 people anyway. So we fit. But, but I don’t want to do that with like 200 people.
Interviewer:
So 200 is what we’re expecting to get this year?
Abigail Cloud:
Anywhere between 200 and 300. And that counts the audience at the Thursday night reading which the Prout students are required to go to. So usually we are tapping out around 300.
Interviewer:
Okay, I noticed there’s going to be a book fair. Can you tell me about the process of getting books, reaching out to writers, literary journals?
Haley Souders:
Yeah, I mean that was part of what I was doing in August. There’s a list of different contacts for different presses and journals that has been used for a while now, I’m guessing.
Abigail Cloud:
Yeah.
Haley Souders:
So I basically reached out to those emails. And there was a pre-used template that Mays and the other Winter Wheat coordinators have used that is kind of just advertising the book fair and asking if they want to be part of it again to fill out a certain form so that we know. I know later on we’ll have to start asking about like logos and marketing materials that they’ll use at the book fair. Yeah.
Abigail Cloud:
We make a good, a logo handout and on the website so that people know who’s going to be there. We also, so it could be journals, could be creative writing programs, could be writer groups, could be presses. And then, we also have a table where we sell the presenters’ books. So not just the guest readers but also anyone who’s presenting a workshop if they have a book we will sell it for them. They bring us copies and we of course make a spreadsheet and everything. How many do we have? How much are we selling them for? And that’s an important part of the book fair too because we don’t pay our presenters. It’s a free festival so we want to at least be able to offer them something.
Interviewer:
How many writers and presenters do you have planned for this year?
Haley Souders:
I think so far in the spreadsheet there’s about 15 people.
Interviewer:
15?
Haley Souders:
15. And then I know that you guys will also be doing workshops. So that’s like 10 more. Unless you pair up.
Abigail Cloud:
It’ll be up to like 30 to 35, I would say.
Interviewer:
Okay.
Abigail Cloud:
Yeah. Yeah. That’s the total that we would normally have. We had been up to like 60 different workshops a couple of years, which was bonkers. We don’t do that. That’s, that was like 10 running at a time.
Interviewer:
Wow.
Abigail Cloud:
Yeah, and that was too many. So having closer, anywhere between 30 and 40 is much more manageable.
Interviewer:
Okay then. What would you say is your favorite part of the process of working on Winter Wheat?
Haley Souders:
So far, I’ve really enjoyed getting to see the proposals before they’re released. And just getting to see everyone’s descriptions of what they want to do. And the workshops that they want to lead especially if it’s more unique and something that I would never have thought of for my own writing.
Interviewer:
Cool.
Abigail Cloud:
My answer is, is strange but it, it’s kind of in keeping with my personality. I really like as registrations are coming in, getting them logged. And seeing what people are going to and getting the counts of who’s signing up for what.
Haley Souders:
Oh yeah.
Abigail Cloud:
Yeah, I have a special spreadsheet setup that does lookups. So all I have to do is change a number and it’ll look up the person who’s registered and then print a schedule of everything they’re registered for. And it’s one of my favorite things. I love this thing. It’s so interesting to have that and to be able. I could even set it up to do merge list or like a mail merge. And to just run down the list, but that’s a little too intensive because I need to be able to check it. But it’s just nice to have been doing something so long that we do have a little bit of automation available. Which seems really strange but it’s true. It’s super true.
Interviewer:
Can you describe a challenge that you’ve had during the preparation process?
Abigail Cloud:
Rooms. Having rooms. So, the last couple of years we’ve really gotten lucky because Veterans Day has fallen on one of the days that we have Winter Wheat. So it, getting enough rooms on a weekday hasn’t been a problem. But this year it is because they’re classes in the Education Building up until a certain time on Friday. So we’re going to have to mess with the schedule a little bit to make sure that we have enough space. I think it’s going to work but it is sort of that type of thing that it’s going to hang over our heads because we can’t solve that problem until we know what workshops we have and when they’re going to be. So it’s kind of on pause, like it has to be on the back burner. And that is not an uncommon problem. But it is an issue that shows up almost every year so it’s solvable. But it is annoying. It is a nuisance, for sure.
Haley Souders:
Yeah, I think that’s probably the biggest issue there is. I know that one thing I ran into when contacting people for the book fair is just like journals going defunct and being on the list still. Which is just kind of sad to see. More so than it being like a problem.
Abigail Cloud:
Yeah. Yeah.
Haley Souders:
Like, oh, I can’t send them an email, and more of like, oh, this is sad that this journal that has probably been pretty important to the community is now not there.
Abigail Cloud:
Yeah. And it’s really kind of in some ways a sign of the times too. It’s just, you know, it’s not unusual to find journals going defunct but fortunately, there are others being created. So we just …
Haley Souders:
Yeah.
Abigail Cloud:
Swap in some information. …
Interviewer:
Is there anyone you’re looking forward to working with during this year’s Winter Wheat?
Abigail Cloud:
I’m stoked to have Jennifer Pullen coming. She teaches at Ohio Northern. And just had a fantasy fiction craft text come out. Craft text, text and anthology. So she’s going to read from her own work and talk a little about that book at the keynote. But then she’s also going to lead a craft workshop on Fantasy fiction. So I’m stoked about that because it’s nice to have sort of something that we don’t offer our students here in the program. We don’t have a fantasy expert. And that’s really what we try to do with that keynote spot, bring in someone doing something different than what we do here. Or someone who has a different perspective or experience. And plus I just, I’ve known her for a long time so I’m just excited that I get to feature her this year. It’s just fun.
Interviewer:
Cool.
Haley Souders:
Yeah. Jessica Dawn Zinz-Cheresnick. She’s doing, I think, a workshop on found images in poetry which seems like it’ll be interesting. I don’t know if I go to workshops or not.
Abigail Cloud:
You do. You do. If we can possibly make it happen. Then you do for sure.
Haley Souders:
Yeah. That seems like it’ll be an interesting one.
Interviewer:
What is it like working with graduate and undergraduate students for Winter Wheat?
Abigail Cloud:
Fun. I think it’s fun.
Haley Souders:
I think you work more with the undergraduates and graduates so far than I have.
Abigail Cloud:
It’s hard to wrangle a lot of people to do, you know to, for the volunteer work thing, which does fall on you eventually.
Haley Souders:
Oh yeah.
Abigail Cloud:
But it can be hard wrangling volunteers. You know what’s hard: It’s getting people to understand that when they’re volunteering for Winter Wheat they might be sitting and doing nothing for a while. And that’s okay because they are still monitoring. Like, your presence is the volunteering, like you’re monitoring a table or, you know, you’re a person who is present and that someone could ask questions of. But when people volunteer a lot of times they get a little sticky about it. Because it’s just like, oh, I really want to do something. Like sometimes sitting is doing something. Or a lot of times I’ll send them to a workshop to fill a space to, you know, be another presence. So it’s always a little bit funny trying to coordinate that. And help them understand what’s expected, which sometimes is nothing.
Interviewer:
Interesting.
Haley Souders:
Yeah, I don’t have anything to add to that.
Abigail Cloud:
Yet.
Haley Souders:
Yet.
Abigail Cloud:
You will. You will though.
Interviewer:
Okay, here’s my final question. Is there anything about preparing for Winter Wheat that we haven’t discussed that you would like to mention?
Abigail Cloud:
I want people to come with an interest in doing something a little bit new. Something that’s a little bit outside what they’ve done before. And be prepared to create on-site, on the spot. It’s nice to go somewhere where you don’t feel like you have to do a lot of studying or research or, you know, prewriting or anything like that before you come. You can just come and be. Be a creator. And give yourself that time to be a creator. I think that’s really important. I also really want people who sign up to come. Sometimes we get a lot of registrants who don’t come then, and you know there are appropriate reasons for something like that happening. But also, sometimes I think people get tired and whatever and you know the, the inertia. The energy requirement to overcome the inertia can be a lot. But most people find it really relaxing and really renewing. And I want people to feel that and be prepared for that.
Interviewer:
Well, thank you both for allowing me to interview you.
Abigail Cloud:
Of course. Thank you.
Interviewer:
And I hope that you have a successful Winter Wheat.
Jay Grummel (they/them) was interviewed on September 4th, 2024, for about an hour in the early afternoon. This interview took place in East Hall at Bowling Green State University, in between the rush of classes, in our office (aka the MAR blog editor office). The office is just a short walk from the MAR office, where Jay interned a few months ago.
During this interview, we spoke with Jay about their summer mentorship with Iain Bell. Jay was awarded the Hoskins Global Scholarship for their mentorship. We were amazed by Jay’s ambition and humble nature, which will be incredibly evident in the interview below.
Interviewer:
This is Jay. Senior at BGSU. One of MAR’s previous interns. They were just in London, correct?
Jay Grummel:
Mm-hmm.
Interviewer:
Awesome. My first question is, can you tell me a little bit about your mentorship over the summer?
Jay Grummel:
OK. I applied for the Honors Hoskins Global Scholarship. I was given the scholarship to study writing opera in Europe, specifically London, with the composer Iain Bell. Bell was helping me write a libretto. He is a London-based composer who’s written a couple of his own librettos for his operas. I was emailing a lot of English composers. Iain knows Bowling Green, so he responded.
Interviewer:
So you were just emailing as many composers as possible?
Jay Grummel:
Yeah.
Interviewer:
That is so cool.
Jay Grummel:
Yeah. So, Iain agreed to work with me for July. We would meet up about twice a week for about one to two hours each time. We worked together for about a month. We went through and wrote a few different drafts of a libretto. The project was writing and experiencing opera and musical theater in London instead of the U.S., mainly interpreting the differences between how they treat art over there compared to how the U.S. does. That’s the very best summary of what I did, so I wrote a completed libretto for an opera.
Interviewer:
What you just said was very interesting. What differences were you able to discern between opera and musical theater here versus in London?
Jay Grummel:
London has the Royal Opera House, which is comparable to the MET in New York. And they also have the West End, which is comparable to Broadway in New York. In both instances, tickets were extremely affordable for someone who doesn’t make a lot of income. The audience in the shows was different. Sometimes, in the opera… yeah, you’d get a lot of older people, but it was a lot of young people and young couples on dates. There’s a lot of younger people in the crowd.
Interviewer:
OK.
Jay Grummel:
When I talked to people in London about what I was doing, they understood what I was doing.
Interviewer:
Yeah.
Jay Grummel:
Here, I say, oh, I’m writing a libretto. They’re like, what’s a libretto? Or, what’s opera? Or, isn’t opera dead? In London, you get a very different response when you talk about opera. London tends to really care about art and heritage. It’s not just artists. All around London, they have blue heritage plaques at places where artists, politicians, or people of importance live. Even if the vast majority don’t know them, if they are important to their field, they get a historical plaque where they lived or worked. They save everything, so that’s part of it.
Interviewer:
Is there almost more appreciation for history (in London)?
Jay Grummel:
More appreciation for history, the arts, and culture. Yeah. Anytime I went to see a musical, it was mostly college students or teenagers, both excited. I think art is more ingrained into their culture, and it’s easy to access. All museums are free. I even noticed which is again an observational thing. Kids, especially in Europe, up to high school age were still going on field trips. They’re always on field trips. They were always at museums. They were always outside doing something: seeing shows, seeing plays. I think part of it is that too because we (in the States) don’t normally get out of the classroom too much.
There were really big student discounts on everything too. Overall, it was more affordable too. Even with the currency difference, I would say it’s way more affordable to be in London doing artistic stuff. A lot of artists that I met live on their art.
Interviewer:
Really?
Jay Grummel:
Yeah. I mean, Iain’s a very well-known composer, but, him and his husband, they live on their art. His husband is a playwright and an actor. They live on that in London, and the rent’s really expensive.
Interviewer:
That’s so interesting. I mean, I don’t want to make generalizations, but I don’t know if that’s common in the States at all.
Jay Grummel:
I don’t think it is unless you’re very famous.
Interviewer:
Uh-huh.
Jay Grummel:
I would say Iain’s quite well known, but he’s still working in a field that’s not necessarily super well known. Well, I guess, in Europe, it is different. Everyone kind of knows opera, so maybe that’s the difference.
Interviewer:
So Iain agreed to work with you and do this mentorship with you over the summer. Does he teach classes?
Photo caption: Iain Bell and Jay Grummel
Jay Grummel:
No, he’ll mentor people occasionally. He’s mentored a couple other composers, but he’s never mentored a librettist (before Jay). He’s written libretto before, but he’s never mentored a librettist. I was that first for him, but, no, he doesn’t teach at a university or anything.
Interviewer:
OK.
Jay Grummel:
He didn’t go to university at all. He doesn’t have an undergrad or anything. I think he believes more in the untraditional sense of learning.
Interviewer:
That is so interesting.
Jay Grummel:
Yeah. I know he’s working on more operatic projects than anything else, but I don’t know if he does orchestral or chamber.
Interviewer:
OK. One second. You just said, this is also not the next question, but you just said orchestra, chamber and opera. Are those different things?
Jay Grummel:
Yeah. Orchestra is a piece for an orchestra. Chamber is a piece for a smaller ensemble, I guess. So, the orchestra usually is more than 60 people. I don’t know what the average number is. I’m trying to think of what the BG orchestra is. The chamber is normally five to 10 people. They’re all different things, but they’re musical terms. They get a little complicated.
Interviewer:
Opera is just singing, right? Or not?
Jay Grummel:
No. It’s similar to acting. Have you seen Phantom of the Opera?
Interviewer:
No…
Jay Grummel:
OK. Musical theater is derived from opera. The difference between what people will say about musical theater and opera is… opera has a specific type of singing and tends to not have dialogue. Some operas have lines where they’re speaking, and some don’t. So, for example, older operas tend to not include dialogue. Usually, in an opera, the entire time they’re singing. Instead of musical theater, you’ll get dances. Dialogue and stuff. Not a lot of operas do dances. There’ll be some scenes where there’s dancing, but it’s very specific.
Interviewer:
I am sorry. I tried to look at some of the terms beforehand just so I wouldn’t be so…
Jay Grummel:
You’re fine. I’m also not amazing with the terms, so I don’t really… You don’t have to hold yourself back. It’s, they’re tricky though. They are tricky. They’re almost purposely complicated because, yeah. Classical arts and music and stuff to me are a little pretentious. Some of the terms you don’t really need to know because they’re a little… Even saying libretto instead of text to me really annoys me. Because you say libretto to someone in America and they’re like, what the fuck is that?
Interviewer:
I see.
Jay Grummel:
But, if I say, I write the lyrics. Yeah. Then, they know. In the context of the opera, people know what you are talking about. But, people in the opera world for some reason are really anti the idea of calling it lyrics.
Interviewer:
Interesting. So, really keeping to tradition.
Jay Grummel:
Yeah. It’s a very traditional art form. I know people are trying to break out of tradition. A lot of new composers and new librettists are writing about things that are a little bit non-traditional. The one I wrote about is LGBTQ+ based.
Interviewer:
Yeah.
Jay Grummel:
In older opera, you were way more likely to have just men instead of women like you’ll have one woman to five men. That kind of thing on the stage. In my opera, I wrote it split 50/50, but the main characters are all women. I know a lot of people are trying to break tradition, and a lot of opera houses are trying to take on things that are breaking tradition. I know rural opera houses are trying to become less pretentious, but it’s still there. I know Americans view it as way more pretentious than Europeans do because Americans view it as almost a European export for some reason.
Interviewer:
Do you think that is influenced by the sort of romanticized view that most Americans have of Europe?
Jay Grummel:
I think so, and it’s also because when opera migrated to America, it was an upper-class thing, which is why any professional opera house is expensive to go to. Maybe, Americans know opera came from Europe, so we knew it as this higher-class thing brought over by higher class people.
Interviewer:
I see.
Jay Grummel:
Yeah. My partner, he’s a cellist, and he mentioned because a lot of these small towns in America would have opera houses, but they didn’t actually have the funding for opera singers or to put on the opera. So, a lot of these small towns have the opera house to be viewed as higher class even though it wasn’t being used for traditional opera. Sometimes, (the opera houses) they’re used for community theater. BG used to have one.
Interviewer:
Oh wow! I didn’t know BG had an opera house.
Jay Grummel:
Yeah, in Europe, there are a lot of older opera houses still in use. I went to the Deutschland opera house in Germany, which is really old. But, people can afford to go there. It’s not like the way that America has viewed it for so long. In America, the genre has just become a hollow symbol of class.
Interviewer:
Really?
Jay Grummel:
People in New York will literally buy Met tickets and only be there for an hour or 30 minutes to make face. The socialites of New York for some reason do that, and it has become really ingrained into the culture. However, in Germany, if tickets haven’t been sold before an opera, then two to three hours for the show, they’ll decrease the price to 5 euros for people under thirty.
Interviewer:
Wow, would you say art’s almost (in Europe) treated as a necessity?
Jay Grummel:
Yeah, I would say that.
Interviewer:
How did the mentorship contribute to your personal and professional growth?
Jay Grummel:
Well, I got the mentorship by finding composers online and emailing them. I explained in the emails what I wanted to do, and why I wanted to do it. I also offered to pay them for their time, which I did with the Hoskins Global Scholars Fund offered by BGSU. Honestly, not a lot of people responded. Very few people responded, but Iain did. Iain was the one that worked out the best. Now, I’m very close to this composer. It’s like name drop whenever you want. Networking was really helpful for the professional side.
Interviewer:
Wow, OK. How did you decide that, if we can really go back, how did you decide you wanted to be a librettist?
Jay Grummel:
My partner’s a cellist, and he loves opera. We were watching The Met on Demand when I started to think I don’t know, I was interested in the poetry of the text, at least the English versions. You can hear the poetry of the text. It’s interesting, I thought I could put something that I had already done which is poetry to a narrative, a stage, and form with music, which is kind of a lot going on. But, I liked the idea of collaborative art because poetry is very solitary. Poetry is very intimate. Even with readers, they’re reading it by themselves most of the time, it’s a very one-on-one kind of work that you do outside of workshops. But, with opera, you have singers. You have directors. You have composers. You have the orchestra. You have all these artists in one thing. All these artists in one thing making it what it is and I thought that was interesting and that’s what I wanted to do. I wanted a collaborative community, and I enjoy hearing different people’s opinions on how things are interpreted. A lot of my research before Hoskins was how music adds to the story. Like, the example of Harry Potter was the easiest one that everyone knows. In the beginning of the movie, you know you’re in a different world because of the fantastical music, right?
Interviewer:
I do know that one.
Jay Grummel:
You’re watching a bird fly around, and nothing about that’s super magical, but the music in the background is immersing you into this fantastical feeling. I had an example from Tosca, but it’s really hard to explain. Yeah, I like to use the Harry Potter example because it’s super easy, and I show a video of Tosca because I’m like here’s how it works with opera, right? In Tosca, she’s realizing that the person she thought was alive is dead. You feel it from the music before anything is said. The music goes silent and then it starts slowly back up intensely, and you feel the grief happening before she even realizes that the grief is happening. It’s a way to immerse people into the art at an almost subconscious level.
Interviewer:
In a dramatic irony way?
Jay Grummel:
Yes. Then, you have to think about how the composer took the story and then did that with it. I think that’s really interesting, but that’s basically it. I kind of joked around about it being my honors project with Abby, and Abby said, I mean, you can do that… and I said, oh, OK!
(Abby = Abigail Cloud, Editor-in-Chief of MAR)
Interviewer:
Wow! When I first heard about you going to Europe, I really thought, these Handshake jobs are getting crazy. But, it’s so much more than that. It’s incredible and shows so much ambition that you really created an opportunity for yourself. That’s amazing.
Jay Grummel:
It was yeah. It was hard because it was lonely because it wasn’t like school or anything. I had to sublease an apartment, and I had never been to Europe prior to this. I just showed up in London by myself. I had no idea how the train system worked. My credit card stopped working… It was a whole thing.
Interviewer:
How do you feel about the tubes now?
Jay Grummel:
I love the convenience, but there are too many damn people in that city. I unfortunately flew in and got to the tube station at 8 a.m., which is rush hour for work. I was just there with this giant suitcase. People would just touch you. Like, you’re there, it’s just packed. There is nowhere to go, and people are mean.
Interviewer:
They don’t have that midwestern kindness. This is just a tidbit question, but what is the thing you miss most about Europe now that you’re back? And, what did you miss most while you were there?
Jay Grummel:
Mexican food. There’s no Mexican food in Europe. It’s horrible and really sad. I’m not a Tex-Mex person all right, I’m a Lupita’s person. I like traditional Mexican food. When I was there, I just wanted a burrito that didn’t taste like shit. I’m going to think of an actually good answer.
Interviewer:
I also love Lupita’s. (For anyone reading that’s not from BG, Lupita’s is a staple.)
Jay Grummel:
I also miss the appreciation that people have for heritage. In London when you tell people that you’re a writer, they’re like, Oh my god, that’s so cool. I’m so happy for you. You tell people you’re a writer in the States, and they say, what the heck are you gonna do with that? How do you make money?
Interviewer:
Oh, yeah!
Jay Grummel:
Yeah… But, I miss the birds.
Interviewer:
Can you share any accomplishments or contributions you’re particularly proud of from your mentorship?
Jay Grummel:
I also get to work with Griffin Candey. He’s a composer and advocate for LGBTQ+ voices. Griffin is nice and cares about new opera. He was also a resident artist at the Cleveland Opera House. And, Iain and Griffin are friends. Iain was actually Griffin’s mentor as well for composition which is different from libretti. I felt like I got to bring a fresh American perspective to the table. Iain said something along the lines of admiring American determination. He said something like, a European wouldn’t have emailed me randomly and been like hey please work with me.
Interviewer:
Well, I don’t think most Americans would do that either.
Jay Grummel:
Hm. Well, Iain said something about how he loves that Americans will do anything for art. I think he may have met some really nice Americans. But, I guess, coming from a place like America that views opera as unreachable or untouchable… I’m trying to put my voice into this space, especially as someone who comes from a lower-class family. I’m not necessarily the kind of person or from the kind of family where someone would find themselves in opera or even in Europe at all.
Interviewer:
OK. I just want to go back to that one thing you said. Do you feel making that community or building community was a big accomplishment?
Jay Grummel:
Yeah. I felt like I finally found a community of people and artists that understood what I really wanted to do.
Interviewer:
Do you think with writing an LGBTQ+ focused, woman-focused opera, do you think that it was important that your mentors were also advocates?
Jay Grummel:
Yeah. I think with Iain being LGBTQ+ and an advocate for more women in opera that helped a lot with his understanding of what I wanted to do with the piece. I thought it was important. Like, if it had been a mentorship with a more traditional composer or librettist, it would be a little bit of a different conversation. So, Both Iain and Griffin are really focused on LGBTQ+ stories and women’s voices. Iain wrote a Jack the Ripper operawith no Jack in it. It’s about the victims.
Interviewer:
Wow, that’s incredible.
Jay Grummel:
Iain also wrote for the New York Opera a Stonewall commissioned opera about the Stonewall era. He’s been a very big voice for women and LGBTQ+ in opera for a very long time. Iain was understanding the direction I wanted to go in. Like, you know how sometimes you can get a teacher whose more pushy with the direction they want things to be written?
Interviewer:
Mm-hmm.
Jay Grummel:
Iain was more like a therapist, almost. He was asking me very vague questions, and I’m answering them, and then, suddenly, I realized, oh, that’s what I want it to be. But, he was not pushing me in any direction which I thought was really helpful.
Interviewer:
You’ve written a lot of poetry, right?
Jay Grummel:
Mm-hmm.
Interviewer:
Let me ask about voice. Do you feel this experience, this mentorship, helped you find your voice as an artist?
Jay Grummel:
I would say yes. This mentorship helped me find my voice as an artist, but it also kind of helped me find my voice as a person. For example, when I came back, a lot of people mentioned how I became a bit more confident. I think with opera, finding your voice as an Artist is different from in poetry where it’s strictly your voice in a poem. But, in opera, you’re finding your voice hidden within the layers of the characters, and I think that’s really pretty.
Interviewer:
That’s gorgeous.
Jay Grummel:
Opera is a kind of combination of two understandings: lyric and narrative. As a poet, you are already kind of thinking about the bounds of the English language and what would sound well musically. As a poet, I’m big on the musical sound of a poem.
Interviewer:
Yeah, that’s really interesting, so kind of going back to what you said about finding your voice hidden within the layers of the characters that you’re writing. You’re writing these characters in the libretti, right?
Jay Grummel:
Yeah.
Interviewer:
Do you think that looking back at your poetry or even poetry you’re writing now with the knowledge of opera bleeds into your poetry? Can you find your voice hidden in the layers of the poems you write, or is it less?
Jay Grummel:
Yeah, I would think so. I tend to write poetry that’s a little bit less direct. My poetic voice kind of rests in this weird, surrealistic kind of feeling. But, even in poems where I’m not consciously thinking about its meaning while writing, I find parts of myself layered throughout the poem. If somebody reads my poetry, it feels to me, at least, that it’s distinguishable as my poetry. You could pick it out of a lineup.
Interviewer:
It seems these experiences are building on themselves for you as an artist. You’re sort of in this funnel, and everything is culminating.
Jay Grummel:
Well, it started freshman year. These things (experiences as an artist) keep tumbling into a bigger & bigger thing. It’s kind of become a tumbleweed at this point.
Interviewer:
So, you’ve already thought a lot about your love for these two things, right? How are you able to balance these two fields of art? That also leads to our last question. Has your work in opera/music impacted your creative writing?
Jay Grummel:
I think so because before I started really messing with opera, my poetry tended to be more, I don’t want to say self-centered, but… descriptive, direct experiences about my life. Then after starting opera, my poetry became more like I was writing from a third-person perspective where I’m watching a character and writing that way. And, now, I focus a bit more on the music of poetry as I mentioned. I focus on how the lines sound out loud more than anything else or I think, how would this sound if there was a background sound to it? I think I’ve kind of hybridized the two art forms together in my brain unconsciously.
Interviewer:
Yeah.
Jay Grummel:
I love it. I think poetry and music should be combined more. Not even necessarily written together. When someone writes a poem, and the same person takes it and writes it to music which is something that composers have been doing for a long time. I think it would be way more interesting if done collaboratively. A lot of times a composer would find a poem and say, I like that, and I’m going to put it to music, and the poet doesn’t get a say in any of it.
Interviewer:
Yeah. Yeah. That’s so interesting. But it’s got to rhyme.
Jay Grummel:
No.
Interviewer:
Oh!
Jay Grummel:
No! Opera barely rhymes.
Interviewer:
What?
Jay Grummel:
Yeah, that is the difference between musical theater and opera. Musical theater does rhyme, because it’s more based on the American version of songs.
Interviewer:
Songs over there don’t rhyme?
Jay Grummel:
I mean, they do now. I don’t know about other languages. But, operas barely rhyme, most of them don’t rhyme. They just sound good and make words sound good together without necessarily rhyming. At least, not end-stopped rhymes. A lot of opera doesn’t do end-stop rhymes. Sometimes there are slant rhymes, but when that appears, I think it’s a more natural thing.
Interviewer:
OK, and this will be my last question. I think. You just mentioned opera barely rhyming. That reminds me of craft terms because a lot of older poetry would rhyme and use meters. So, with librettis, are there craft concepts that you go back to? Does libretti have its own craft terms?
Jay Grummel:
Yes, I think so, but in a more narrative way. For example, they choose to do, people singing over each other in a duet. That would not be a traditional duet. Like, in a musical where they’re singing at each other. In an opera, two characters singing over each other could create a large amount of tension or emotion. I would say the craft elements, at least, that I learned for libretti is more the script. It’s more the structure of how people are singing and when they’re singing. Or, where the composer places the Aria or solo, either at the end or the climax. Sometimes, people start an opera with an aria. Some people have feelings about starting an opera with an aria. Craft in opera tends to be more focused on the structure of whose singing, when, and how they’re singing it. It’s all important for the emotional timing of it.
Interviewer:
OK. Thank you! Well, that was our last question. Could you send along some photos of your experience for the blog?
Jay Grummel:
Yeah, I do have a photo at the opera house with Iain. I have a lot of photos of birds. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I love the birds more than anything else.
O-Jeremiah Agbaakin, a Nigerian poet, recently published his poem chapbook The Sign of the Ram in the New-Generation African Poets Chapbook Box Set series, Tisa, — an African Poet Fund (APFB) project set up for “poets who have not yet published their first full-length book of poetry.” Agbaakin, alongside ten other poets, features in the 2023 limited-edition box set. You can purchase The Sign of the Ramhere.
In early days of writing poetry as a law student at the University of Ibadan, Nigeria, Agbaakin had not initially considered himself a ‘poet,’ even when he found his works in the pages of blooming literary platforms springing up here and there. Thinking about his journey of what he considers “self-confidence,” he’s thankful to have been nourished by the kind and warm support of friends and family. When he set out with publishing his poems first on social media like every other writer of his time, he had his “impressionable” non-writer friends and family believing he’s “the next Wole Soyinka and that the Nobel prize is finally coming home,” an endeavor that labors under the burden of great expectations.
When I first stumbled upon his poems published in the “World Rhyme and Rhythm–an anthology through their Briggite Poirson Poetry in 2016,” I was immediately smitten by his keen eye for detail and profound understanding of theology, human relationships, and behavior, and they weave together with such empathy and insight that make his poems feel destined, imbued with an almost prophetic quality. From “Isaac’s confession,” “Tenebrae,” “A thesis on language,” the speakers in Agbaakin’s poem are often on quests for self-discovery, not through outward ambition but through a deep desire to understand their social standing. They yearn to understand their place in the world, engaging in a constant dialogue with society and its reflections.
His poems are published in The Tems Review, Beloit Poetry Journal, Cincinnati Review, Colorado Review, Denver Quarterly, EPOCH magazine, Guernica, Kenyon Review, POETRY Magazine, Harvard University’s TRANSITION magazine, Poetry Daily, Poetry Society of America, and “places where my favorite poets at the time have been published.” Agbaakin is currently pursuing a PhD in English with Creative Writing concentration at the University of Georgia.
I recently talked to Agbaakin over the email about his new chapbook, the story behind his poetry, and how he knew writing was the one after a string of trials with his lawyerly dream. Our conversation has been edited for length and clarity.
Photo credit: O-Jeremiah Agbaakin
This interview was conducted over email by MAR Assistant Editor Aishat Babatunde.
Interviewer
Congratulations on your first published collection! How do you find the experience?
O-Jeremiah Agbaakin:
Thank you, Aishat. The experience has been cathartic for two reasons. One: it was a kind of release from some anger about a familial crisis which coincided with the period I was becoming more aware of my artistic vision. Two: it was a dream come true. I will focus on the second reason right away. I would say the feeling of both excitement and catharsis is no longer as familiar, like a vivid dream fades away upon full waking. When Siwar Masannat, the managing editor, reached out in January 2022 that Chris Abani and Kwame Dawes had selected the chapbook for publication, I couldn’t believe it. I’ve always wanted to be a part of the African Poetry Book Fund family. I had read many of the chapbooks from the series such as Warsan Shire’s Our Fathers do not belong to us, Gbenga Adesina’s Painter of Water, Ejiofor Ugwu’s The Book of God, Leila Chatti’s Ebb (among others); and even the full-length poetry collections like Clifton Gachagua’s Cartographer of Water. APBF has been and is doing a vital project of publishing, archiving, and promoting contemporary African poetry. Who wouldn’t want to be a part of that, right? Thanks to the generosity of previous authors under the series, I was nominated to submit a short manuscript sometime in 2018. I had no quality body of poems I was working on at the time. They rejected the manuscript. I think it was a karma for submitting such a mediocre work that they didn’t nominate me the following year! It was the year I wrote “Good Friday” , the poem which I think is very important (unknown to me at the time) to The Sign of the Ram. I emailed APBF to ask if they had nominated me but their email didn’t reach me (haha) but seriously my submission/contact email address had been deactivated by the University of Ibadan. They said they had not nominated me! The following year, they nominated me. I submitted; they rejected it! They asked me if I was interested in being nominated the following year. I said yes and submitted and they accepted it! I’m saying all these to express my gratitude to Kwame Dawes and Chris Abani for the trust and support they gave the tiny book. I don’t want to take my blessings for granted. They helped promote the chapbook boxset extensively with readings at the Africa Center in NYC and a virtual reading with Woodland Pattern book center. It is not often in the literary industry that publishers organize that level of publicity for a chapbook. Today, I don’t feel that way (elation) about the chapbook anymore. I feel like the speaker in The Sign of the Ram is now alien to me. It is a 2018 version of the speaker in my current poems; which means sometimes I am embarrassed by his audacity and vulnerability despite the mask of the persona of Isaac that I used! I am focusing whatever energies on my first full length poetry collection. One wonders what and how a future version of the speaker is going to look at the current speaker in my poems!
Interviewer
How has your experience in the US influenced your writing, if at all?
O-Jeremiah Agbaakin
This is an important question, one that I have mooted a response to so many times informally and formally. It’s also a tricky question because it assumes that the place (one moves to) automatically influences the art that’s produced; and therefore, if a Nigerian writer were to leave and start living outside of the country, their writing ceases to be Nigerian. While these assumptions are valid, it reduces influence to a cannibalistic process where the artist consumes everything in his immediate environment and the environment consumes the artist, spits out the artistic vomit to something alien or at worst, amorphous, all to the chagrin of the fundamentalist bemoaning the loss of an authentic native (substitute for Nigerian/African) writing. There has been much thought-provoking critical writing against the death of Nigerian literature. To their hubris, they believe their jeremiad is original; but its’ not. As long as people will not stop migrating (regardless of the motives), the discourse surrounding the authenticity of native art will not cease. All this to say this didn’t start today. Pius Adesanmi wrote about this issue in 2005, almost the same time the idea/movement of Afropolitanism was taking roots in African literature. It’s a deja vu for those that know history. Interestingly, this is what happens to the creatives who leave home. In a bid to stay ‘original’, the writer turns inward to nostalgia and memory. But that memory is fraught. It is unreliable in its recollection. The place called home doesn’t wait; it changes, such that memory as a literary expression is now foreign to the experience. Anyway, my short answer is that America has influenced my writing in the way that I hope I have described. Yet, it has allowed me to stop taking things for granted. Critics have not examined the problem of books and access to books back at home and how that limits the wide range of influence available to new creatives. Here, it is easier to obtain both historically important works and contemporary African books here than back home. Also, the themes that I didn’t pay attention to in Nigeria are starting to force their way into my creative interests.
Interviewer:
You have a background in law. When did you realize you fell in love with poetry more? Did your legal background influence your poetry in any way? Are there surprising connections between law and creative writing?
O-Jeremiah Agbaakin:
How bold of you to imply that I fell out of love with law! Haha. The last time someone asked me last year– I think it was Maggie Graber during a poetry reading in Oxford, Mississippi– I told her that I didn’t have an answer for the question and if I found one I would reach out to her. I said that because it was a live interview and I couldn’t think on my feet for an appropriate and honest response. With you, I have an advantage of mulling over the question longer (Gotcha!). But really, this goes back to the previous question on influence. No experience is immaterial to any artist. One of the ways by which I determine the maturity of a poem I am working is by asking myself: has it, i.e. the speaker and the poem undergone an experience (vicariously through me of course) commensurate with the ambition of abstract language? Does it possess any wisdom that one often gains through a process by which the experience is aware of (and even documents) its own prior inexperiece? You need to go through the fire to be able to have a language for some kinds of writings. I am in that stage where the experience of being trained as a lawyer (without one year of Nigerian law school and call-to-bar experience that I am sure you know about!) has yet to present itself as a conscious material in my work, as a project; or even where it may exert some influence, I am unaware of it; which means that it doesn’t matter what I say now. The influence may just be outside the threshold of perception, but it is potentially there or not. I don’t think my writing would have been different if I had studied English or architecture or anatomy! But maybe in the future, I would produce a work that explores that intersection between law and art or raid all the knowledge I have gained from studying law for five years, the way M. NourbeSe Philip, the Canadian writer and poet used her training as a lawyer to write the haunting book, Zong! about the Zong massacre. I knew I always wanted to do creative writing even before I started studying law at the University of Ibadan. If you remember correctly in our last interview with Tell! Magazine I have always inhabited the world of story-creation (and later on, poetry) since I was very young. Do you remember our interview on Tell? And to what degree do you think you have grown as a journalist and brilliant book and culture commentator?
Interviewer:
Absolutely! It’s fantastic to hear from someone who remembers our chat on Tell. I may not recall the specifics after so many interviews, I do appreciate our interview on Tell! magazine.
O-Jeremiah Agbaakin:
As for how I’ve grown, well, I think anyone with a curious mind keeps evolving, you know? I think the more I delve into different stories and the more I’m let in on people’s personal experiences, the richer my understanding of the world has become. Maybe my writing has matured a bit, hopefully in a way that keeps things interesting!
Interviewer:
Earlier, you argued against the idea that a writer who leaves Nigeria loses the ability to write authentically Nigerian literature. What are your thoughts on the counterargument that perhaps a writer’s physical distance from their home country can lead to a more critical or objective perspective on their society, in a different way that enriches their work?
O-Jeremiah Agbaakin:
I think I started taking my writing more seriously after that interview! It’s like “look I made it” moment for me at the time (haha). Growth is scary. It is unpredictable. You think you know it all now; wait for a couple of years! That is my guiding principle whenever I try to express an opinion on something. But the fear of growth shouldn’t stop one from sharing an opinion or thoughts. It is better that one has the opportunity to be wrong now and grow through it than one to have no opinion at all. This is a good counterargument. My opinion on the idea of alienation of the Nigerian writer both physically and psychologically is that it is inevitable, as inevitable as migration. The writer must do with it whatever they see fit with their condition. One’s work will not automatically enjoy the benefits of distance (such as clarity, foresight, objective perspective, and so on) by that virtue of removing oneself alone. It’s like going to the mountain, doing nothing, and expecting the rewards. The ascent is only an element of the process. You must scream at/on the mountain to test the timbre of your own echo and carve a voice out of it; you must sit and pray before transfiguration can happen. You must be disciplined to not be carried away by the relative ease you have now found and forget the condition of your life, which although is now past and lost (lost because it’s severed from place, time and one’s psyche). You must also climb down from the mountain. Contrary to conventional wisdom, the descent is harder than the ascent. You need patience unless one may be stuck on a plateau to find that the landscape has changed. It reminds me of the speaker in Safia Elhillo’s ”origin story” from her January Children collection whose grandmother upon her physical return to the homeland tells her to “shred dill / by hand she means to teach me patience she calls it length of mind”. Afterwards the grandfather reminds her ”it is time to come home”. I guess I’m speaking too much in metaphors but that’s the best way I can respond. Staying away from home can create a disconnect between the writer and the temporal realities of home, yet it gives the alienated writer the opportunity to be free from the clock(work) of the society’s psyche. I think it was Charles Simic that quipped that it is the ambition of lyric poetry to stop time. If that is true, then the alienated poet can hold on longer to that momentary pause.
Interviewer:
In your poem “towing // or the book of isaac I” (published in The Temz Review), there are elements that seem both personal and observational. Can you talk about how you navigate the tension between memory and observation in your writing, particularly when it comes to capturing the speaker’s blackness?
O-Jeremiah Agbaakin:
This one is tough because that’s a really old poem (written in 2018 and published 2019 I believe) And your question suggests that I still navigate the tension between memory and observation the way I navigated it “Towing…”. Talking about growth, that will not be the case! At the time that I wrote the poem– and this is true for all the poems I was writing at the time– I wasn’t aware that there’s tension between memory and observation in writing that poem. But the very nature and the relationship between memory and observation is fraught with tension. One deals with sensory data captured instantaneously while the other is a matter of data retrieval and the subsequent iteration and reiteration of data. One lives in the moment, the other lives in the past and desperately wants to live in the moment. But the moment even the present is reproduced in words or strokes of color, it ceases to merely be a matter of observation. Now that I am more grown, I try to play the role of a mediator between the two. I honor memory; I remind the present it, too is a vapor. So there really is no tension. Because the moment will also become a vapor, I must live in it. I must write about my immediate environment . I have written about Oxford, Mississippi. During a hang out with one of my professors, Beth Ann Fenelly and other new students in January 2021, I shared the fact that James Meredith, the first Black student to attend the University of Mississippi, travelled to Nigeria to continue his education in Political Science at our alma mater, University of Ibadan. Seeing the reverse-parallel between us, she challenged me to write about that. I didn’t! (In my defence, she didn’t state in what genre I should write it!) Instead I wrote about the 14-year old black boy, George Stinney jr., the youngest person to be executed by the electric chair in the United States, in my poem, “Devotion” , one of the poems in The Sign of the Ram. What tension can possibly exist in writing a poem like “Towing”? I was not Black at the time in Nigeria the way I would now be considered black in America. The speaker in the poem is Isaac, who is an object of near-sacrifice the way black bodies are in the history of civilization. By using the persona of Isaac, it becomes easy to collapse collective memory of a cult figure in Abrahamic tradition and a racialized body/site of violence with an active observation of an event of being on the road at the time I wrote the poem.
Photo caption: Agbaakin reads from his newly published chapbook to an audience at the University of Georgia.
Interviewer:
Do you see a role for African writers in the diaspora to bridge this gap in access to books back home? Perhaps through advocating for increased literary resources or even incorporating those limitations into their work?
O-Jeremiah Agbaakin:
I think it will be unfair to task the nomadists with solving all the problems with our literature. The problem of the dearth of literary resources is on an institutional scale, and requires an institutional solution. I think this is one of the innovations of the African Poetry Book Fund Libraries. Currently, they have libraries in six African countries. That is a huge stride! Despite the pessimism of many critics about the death of Nigerian literature, there has been a renaissance in the system of support. I think Kanyinsola Olorunnisola (whom we both know) wrote about this in his essay, “Our Literature has died again” where he declared himself among other japa writers the nomadist movement. This is a more interesting term than Afropolitanism. Anyway, he lists the plethora of prizes, journals, editorial fellowships, grants, seminars and so on that are actively promoting Nigerian and African literature at large. Like I have mentioned, the government has to involve someone. The scale of the solution must match the scale of the problem. I have chosen to be optimistic. We, writers in the diaspora and at home can be the impulse that sets the wheel in motion. If not us, who will?
Interviewer:
Given your experience living in liminal spaces, how do you define your relationship to Nigeria?
O-Jeremiah Agbaakin:
It depends on the time of the day, seriously! (Haha). It’s a frustrating relationship, really. I hate that the country has created and sustained the conditions that would make a majority of its youth want to leave in droves every year. Now my generation may want to think that they are in exile, but that is not entirely true. I think it was in Teju Cole’s Open City where Julius in his interaction with Farouq said something along the line that we are not in exile if we can always return. To quote directly, Farouq says: “To be a writer in exile is a great thing. But what is exile now, when everyone goes and comes freely?” If I am in no exile, then what/where am I? The question is important because what I am defines my relationship with my native land. Clearly, I still don’t have the mobility capital of the Afropolitan; which is why I don’t identify as an Afropolitan, to answer your previous question. Yet, I (this is true for many of us) have a unique set of circumstances that is close to being in a state of exile. If I have to travel outside of the United States (to Nigeria of course), I have to renew my expired VISA; to go through the humiliating immigration process again. You are reminded that you’re an ‘alien’ anytime you apply for an opportunity that requires an American residency. I have defined my relationship to Nigeria as that of being a Nigerian. For all the respect that Nigerians command worldwide, the country itself commands none. Therefore, I am proudly Nigerian but feel nothing for the country itself beyond the feeling of frustration. I am not sure if I have experience living in liminal spaces. Some days, you feel fully Nigerian, Your voice comes to you unchanged. Other days, there is a great sense of spatial disorientation that you even feel it physically in your body. I guess it’s the same experience as speaking English. English is our language. Where we are right now (the place, the culture, the history) is a kind of home. If not? Then what is it?
Interviewer:
What is your writing process like? Do you have a specific routine or preferred environment for writing poems?
O-Jeremiah Agbaakin:
I am a very slow writer. I envy many of my friends who are able to write a poem at a go. I write lines that add up over time and when I have a coherent draft, I take forever to revise it. Writing is like planting for me. My best planting season is sentimentally in April where I have a better structure. I write a poem a day for the whole month, then trash like a half or three quarter of the poems and revise the rest for the rest of the year. Outside of this ritual, I don’t write a routine. I prefer writing while on the bus or while I am walking. In the past, this is what I did during the revision stage: I take the poem on a walk until it’s forced to say something of its own accord, not what I have written into its medium. Now, I walk to get the writing out.
Photo Caption: A copy of The Sign of the Ram.
Interviewer:
Can you share a poem from your collection that resonates with you personally, and tell us a bit about its inspiration?
O-Jeremiah Agbaakin:
All the poems in the chapbook resonate with me personally because I poured my heart into them. It is a collection about being vulnerable and confronting the alienation between a father and a son, told through the lens of the sacrifice of Isaac. The story has been told many times in Christianity and Islam as a testament to the faith(fulness) of Abraham. It is a story of man-divine relationship, while largely devaluing the man-man dimension of the story. Talking of liminal spaces, it is a story of the liminal space of awkward silence between a father and a son on their way back from the foiled sacrifice. If the two patriarchs were to talk as one mortal to another, what would their conversation be about? There is the subject of forgiveness, which inscribes itself as a divine virtue. Another question is that what about the conversation between Isaac and God during the whole episode, without the appositive insertion of Abraham? Was Abraham God in that moment he took full control of his life and the language used to mediate or excuse the exercise of tyrannical power? In what ways do men in patriarchal societies embody the voice of God to abuse their own power and cause violence? I think that is the broader question I was asking in The Sign of the Ram.
Anyway, if this chapbook had only one poem in it, that poem would be “Good Friday”. I feel that is my most authentic poem ever. I have not been able to reproduce the moves I made into my other poems, especially the compact structure, the wirework of allusion, personal history and communal memory embedded, and so on. It starts with a dialogue with a divine son and a divine father who sucks at snake charming; father as in God. The snake as in the serpent. It takes the risk of being iconoclastic but (let me tell you) it becomes less irreverent when I tell you that the father is also a physical father and the speaker is a physical son. One day, a spitting cobra (Sebe) entered our living room while my brother and I were watching a movie at midnight. The electricity had been coming in a low current for a few days. One midnight, the bulbs shone brighter (because people were sleeping and not using their home gadgets) so my brother and I decided to watch a movie that we’ve been burning to watch. I think the title is Sekeseke (boundage), Yomi Ogunmola was the main character. You can guess where this anecdote is going: if we weren’t watching the movie that night, there’s no telling what the snake would have done undetected. Anyway, the snake slithered away when it saw that it was exposed. My father said we should leave the snake. That it was not coming back! The other men in the house (it was a family house) insisted that we hunted the snake down. Lo and behold, the snake was slithering back into the house again. I don’t remember much else from that night but my father’s psyche was interesting. If we had listened to him… yet, maybe he could have been too tired after a hard day’s job, or maybe he’s just pro-animal rights (haha). We never had this conversation till date so we are still living in a liminal space about that incident.
Interviewer:
What are some of your favorite things about being a poet? What are some of the challenges?
O-Jeremiah Agbaakin:
Easy one. I use a mask, to cast the shadow of a truth! The truth is difficult, too bright and stark to look at so sometimes it is better to look at it at an angle (Dickison’s tell the truth slightly?) or wear goggles, or like me, wear a mask! By mask, I mean the persona of other mythological (and often Biblical stories). That is my signature move that finds antecedence in my beloved Peter Weltner, among many other poets. The mask allows me to blend private ethos with a more universal mythos. Which is why I love it when other poets go into their poems with a raw face. How do you do that? I don’t consider myself too interesting to expose myself in my poetry. Yet, there are moments I feel naked when I read my poems and I get it. The feeling comes with a sense of satisfaction that I am the only one privy to a fact in the poem, and that comes with its own catharsis as well. The most important thing is that my language must take control of the poem. This reminds me of what Jessie Nathan said of Richie Hoffman’s: ““All technique, no passion, a critic said” of Canadian pianist Louis Lortie, “but,” writes Richie Hofmann, “that was what I liked.” It’s as if what moves the poet is not the feeling directly, but the way that feeling emanates from the completeness of its subordination to the craft.” At the end of the day, we are not special. At the end of the day, our suffering is not special but it is ours. The greatest pleasure I get as a poet is when a revision goes well. It is when the poem finally speaks! Another favorite thing is when I am able to finally document a childhood experience, a haunting into an artistic language that doesn’t call attention to the experience itself but ruptures the temporal prison where they used to be. It was not that I forgot those things, but that before I knew I was a poet, I didn’t know what to do with them. Thank God I am a poet. The greatest challenge of being a poet is how do you live outside of the impulse to literalize every single experience that’s happening now? How do you live in the moment without trying to make meaning out of it? It is almost like going to a vacation in paradise with a camera. If you don’t capture it, you can’t remember and write it as it was; but if you write it, you are not enjoying the beauty viscerally. It’s hard! But sometimes, I deliberately forget that I am a poet. That helps.
