Month: February 2015

Symon Jory Stevens-Guille’s Writing Space

This week we asked Symon Jory Stevens-Guille, author of “Weight, Wood, Heft, Brass: In Conversation with Peter Sanger” in Issue 133 and past TNQ intern, to share his (dream?) writing space with us! Here’s what he had to say.

Symon Jory Stevens-Guille writing spaces

“I actually have a desk. My desk faces a window and my partner Char’s desk faces a wall. Mine gets very little use, hers much more. I am queasy often. Consequently I spend a lot of time in the very small bathroom of my apartment. Consequently I do most of my writing while visiting the loo. I had hoped this was common but a quick google search of ‘famous writers toilet’ or ‘famous writers on toilets’ returned nothing to write home about. Consequently I have no learned quotes to make my office choice appear more palatable. The lack of famous company is not really a problem for me, however, as the bathroom is very small.

I suspect this is not a particularly useful answer to your request. Instead I am attaching a picture of the desk that I would like to sit in if I could sit at a desk anywhere in the whole world. (But with more books.) This is quite a sentimental gesture since I doubt there is anything interesting about the place in itself aside from its connotations. The interesting feature it has to me is the coincidental property of being Ludwig Wittgenstein’s desk at Cambridge.”

Photo taken by Patrick Lakey and originally found here.

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On Digital Publishing (And Unicorns!)

As I mentioned in my first blog post, I consider myself a bit of a spy at TNQ and through me, you all get to be spies as well! (You’re welcome.) Since a spy (I mean… a co-op student) is necessarily transient—here for four months, then back at school, then off to work in some other foreign land—I can’t help but feel that I should experience as many facets of TNQ as possible. I thus jumped at the chance to attend a discussion on digital publishing with Jess Ross, a consultant for Magazines Canada. (I also live-tweeted the second half of the discussion; if you want to check out my immediate thoughts, they’re all here!)

One of the reasons consultancies are good for small magazines like TNQ is because they allow us to garner ideas from sources that we might otherwise not have access to, and to hear about marketing and publishing strategies from other magazines. This is a process that TNQ has taken part in before; a previous Circulation Assistant attended a similar discussion in 2012, which she described here.

In both discussions, one thing has been particularly clear: the contrast between large magazines, such as Elle Canada, and small magazines, such as TNQ and other literary journals. We’re a niche market. They aren’t. (Note that I’m writing “we”… I’m slowly but surely being converted to the publishing side of things rather than only being interested in writing.) Where many subscribers to “regular” magazines have a wider focus and are interested in various types of articles provided, most subscribers to TNQ are writers themselves. This begs the question: how to reach out to the contingent of readers who just like literature, and don’t want to create it?

Even more elusive and difficult to access than these readers are “The Youth”. (Capital letters required.) As someone who is a member of “The Youth,” it was peculiar to hear my age group discussed as though we are some mythical cohort whom magazines must chase. (Like unicorns. Am I allowed to compare myself to a unicorn? I would love to be a unicorn.)

Plus, unlike larger magazines that are actually for-profit organizations, TNQ is a registered charity. Since we’re largely subsidized by grants and donations (feel free to send us a cheque right now…hint hint), we don’t have the same wiggle room to try out new strategies and new technology that commercial magazines do. (Turns out the world of CanLit is not madly profitable. There go my dreams of becoming a millionaire author…)

This point lead to another discussion: the medium of print, which is TNQ’s primary focus, is slowly beginning to be considered a luxury as digital is becoming the more convenient medium. This requires both an adaptation in tools used (hence the concerns about budget) and in the interpretation of our readership. How do readers choose which one to read? Is it a matter of personal preference? Convenience? Or demographics? (As a member of the “youth unicorn” demographic, commonly considered to be the main digital readers, my vote goes perhaps against the majority; I hate reading digital anything.)

So, what did we take away from this consultancy? Following these discussions, we’re even more committed to enhancing our publishing and publicizing strategies to reach the widest audience possible. (CanLit deserves it.) Does this mean changes to the TNQ you know and love? Maybe. Does this mean Twitter-length stories in TNQ? No. (Please, no.) Does it mean a more readable digital edition? We’ll keep you posted.

Don’t worry, though; whatever happens, we’re still dedicated to finding and sharing the best of CanLit with you! (Especially if it involves unicorns. Or spies.)

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Jay Ruzesky’s Writing Space

This week we asked Jay Ruzesky, author of “The Narvarian Treaty” in Issue 133, to show us his writing space. Here’s what he decided to share!

“I can’t tell you where I write; let’s just say it’s a secret location on Vancouver Island and it’s just a little more discreet than the bat cave. If I showed it to you, you would have to ‘disappear into the witness protection program’. I can, however, show you the floor-to-ceiling, double-sided bookshelves that are the wall between my living room and my wife’s office. It’s not the shelves I couldn’t write without, but they hold the books I keep coming back to and which are food for my own work. I can’t do without a good pair of walking shoes – walking is thinking for me. And coffee, but that should go without saying.”

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Leah Jane Esau’s Writing Space

This week we asked Leah Jane Esau, author of “The Painting” in Issue 133, to share her writing space… and now we desperately want coffee.

“Writers told me for years that I needed routine, and only until recently have I been so disciplined. My routine is to write by hand every morning, first thing, just to get going. Then I walk to a café in Montréal called Café St. Henri, because the walking is good for thinking. (And, let’s be honest, the house is too hard. There are always dishes to do, or books to read. Distractions.) They roast their own coffee and it’s exceptional: probably one of the best places in Montréal. I’ve been working there every day for about three years, since they opened, and now I’m pretty good friends with the staff. Once there, I do a few hours of work and then work (for money) in the afternoons and evenings.

The three things I can’t write without are time, anger, and courage.”

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