Festival Abstract

Posted on by Mitchell Toews

My attendance at literary meetings is rewarding (and nerve-wracking). From a coffee shop tête-à-tête, a living room get-together, a workshop, or a formal literary festival, I advocate these gatherings despite their introvert-daunting nature. 🙂 The blend of writers, published authors, publishers, readers, editors, librarians, booksellers, critics, literary academics, and educators can take many forms, all invigorating,

Here is a summary of my experiences based on my professional journey and what I can offer as a literary speaker, panelist, or workshop presenter for literary events.

(March 30, 2024) Parable Addendum: “An enterprising individual is on a Trans-Atlantic ocean crossing, heading for Halifax. The ship strikes an iceberg and sinks. The entrepreneur survives by floating atop a wooden grand piano lid and immediately upon being rescued and reaching Canada, opens a grand piano lid floatation device manufacturing company. . . “

What I’m saying is that my experiences are just that: my experiences. I am—like raccoons, cockroaches, and many entrepreneurs—a born survivor. Survival instincts ain’t always pretty and depend on circumstances: what you encounter and the resources you can use to overcome your challenges. As in the story of the piano lid, I’m not advocating you follow my specific path. I’m only saying that I did what I felt was best at the time and in my circumstances. I sought as much, and the best professional assistance I could get. Craft is not everything but it is a huge component. The way I approached my literary career as a writer was—and is—constrained by, among many things, talent, location, my age, time, and financial resources.

(Thanks to writer-friend Doug Hawley for his note reminding me to explain the underlying truths of my “curriculum.”)

Mitchell Toews: A Grass Roots POV

  • Background in advertising and corporate communications. Persuasion, copywriting, ad copy, marcom: a perspective on the differences and the similarities vis à vis creative writing and fiction.
  • Writing practice grounded in Canada, small towns, the prairies, the boreal, and the Canadian Mennonite community.
  • Bootstrap artistic journey: shifting from corporate and marketing communications to creative writing—keeping the good, identifying the irrelevant (and the problematic).
  • Returning to early ambitions to write professionally and facing the difficulties of an “Act II” existence.
  • Overcoming ageism and the bias against older emerging writers in CanLit: staying positive and stoic in a challenging environment and resisting the slide into victimhood.
  • Journeyman’s approach: over 800 submissions to the “slush piles” of literary periodicals, contests, and anthologies. (With over 120 resultant publications.)
  • Self-promotion within the context of the small press and independent (non-agented) landscape within Canadian literature.
  • The importance of independent bookstores, libraries, and museums.
  • The Open Mic for writers: more than just a chance to hang out with musicians.
  • Book launches, readings, panel discussions, and book club author nights.
  • Workshops and critique groups.
  • Working with freelance editors (*see Sidebar), press editors, publishers, and publicists.
  • Working with Writers in Residence.
  • Social Media vs. “Shut up and write.”
  • Acquiring blurbs and reviews.
  • Literary and Arts organizations: Guilds, Unions, Councils.
  • Grant writing. Keep it short.
  • Professional development for the rural writer.
  • Creating a personalized workshop topic: seeing your strength. (Mine is “Writing your Culture.”)
  • Paying it forward: building your allyhood, being an artistic comrade.
  • AI: the dog that bites its owner.
  • Wealth: the unspoken truth.
  • Thoughts on “tarnishment” and the personal authorial voice.

*Sidebar. Early on, I was introduced to a young, male author from England with an impressive resume. We struck a deal and he instructed, mentored, and edited me for two years. I invested over $2000 in our online interactions (about 900 emails!!) and this was a transformational step for me—both the commitment and the results.

The right person and work arrangement are critical; James Mcknight was the appropriate choice for me. After our engagement ended, I extended my reach to study with other instructors and mentors, but James was a true lifesaver in my case.

Mitchell Toews: Proud member of The Writers’ Union of Canada

Advice from an Emerging Artist

Posted on by Mitchell Toews

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.