On Thursday, February 29 poet and essayist Ariel Gordon of Winnipeg and I motored to Brandon, Manitoba to present workshops and readings at the Western Manitoba Regional Library downtown branch. We represented our mutual publisher, At Bay Press.
It was an outstanding event, well-attended by an enthusiastic group. Both Ariel and I have posted about it on Facebook, Instagram (prosebytoews), X, and elsewhere. Ariel did a poetry workshop on urban ecosystems and I introduced my break-out session on “Writing Your Culture.” Both of these programs had full classrooms and the reading was also—collectively speaking—pleasingly plump.
We had a Q & A at the “end of regulation time.” (In my imagination, Brian Propp scored the winner, assisted by Ralph Krentz. . . For all you Wheat Kings hockey fans out there.) I really enjoyed the conversation.
One of the questions was concerning “advice for young writers.” Ariel made some valuable suggestions in response. When it was my turn, I held back on expressing my immediate reaction to the embedded inference that all emerging writers are “young.” Of course, many are, but just as we no longer use ONLY male pronouns when discussing a group. . . “If a writer wants to succeed, he must blah-blah-blah,” I find it inappropriate and incorrect to add the fuzzy modifier, “young.” Presumptive gender-fixing (he-him-his) now sounds foreign and antiquated to our ears, and I long for the time when “young” and “emerging” are not used as synonyms for early career artists.
Hot air rises. Heat travels in any direction. When we say “heat rises” in an assured, generalizing, scientific-sounding manner, we become General Wrong of the Wrongsville Army.
Okay, mini-rant over.
I gave several points of advice and I was pleased with the repartee, as John Prine might sing. This morning, over a cup of familiar, at-home coffee, I thought of another way to answer, and it goes a little sumpin’ like this <guitar lead-in>:
“On a business trip to the Green Building Conference in Chicago about 15 Marches ago, my colleague and I stopped in at a pizza restaurant. The place was packed and full of loud hubbub and stratified layers of cigar smoke. We opted for outdoor seating, under the radiant red glare of heaters.
As we waited, we watched a local resident at work. A fat, filthy Norway Rat was trying to free a pizza carton that was wedged beneath a car tire. Grunting, sniffing, scurrying, its pink tail waved and curled and flexed with intense determination.
Pausing for breath, it sat on thick hanches and pondered. Whiskers twitched in a nature-copies-Pixar way. Abruptly, it went to the loose end of the box and, clamping down with white canines, tugged repeatedly like a tow truck trying to jerk a car out of the ditch. Snarling with effort, the noisy activity attracted one of its swarmmates to the scene of the pie.
Without hesitation, Rat Due, as we named the newcomer, immediately joined Rat Uno and in seconds they were pulling in perfect unison, a rodent duet. Outmatched at last, the box lid gave way in ripping surrender. Rats Uno and Due plundered the contents and made good their tail-waving getaway.
My advice to emerging artists: Sometimes you are Rat Uno, and sometimes you are Rat Due, but don’t just sit in the comfort of the mischief and watch.“
CHEERS to playwright and English & Creative Writing Asst. Prof. Dale Lakevold. He brought along a swarm of talented students from Brandon University, and like the Marino’s Pizza he supplied before the event, his contribution made our day. Thanks too to WMRL Mgr. of Programming & Community Svcs., Alex Rogowsky who prepped and managed our twinkly evening.
Here are some thoughts about class and gender conflict with quotes from a variety of observers.
Mitchell Toews 