rob mclennan : an interview with Ellen Chang-Richardson, : Ottawa 200

, Ottawa 200

 

 

 

Ellen Chang-Richardson [photo credit: Nicolai P Gregory] is the author of Blood Belies (Wolsak & Wynn, 2024) and five solo poetry chapbooks including the moleskin coat (above/ground press, 2025). Their second trade collection, Through the Eyes of Another, is forthcoming Spring 2027. They write to shine a light.

You and I recently participated in a ‘poetry crawl’ around Centretown, organized and curated by Amanda Earl. What was the process of working Ottawa research for that project? What were you hoping to find?

Great question. When I first began, I had wanted to explore the ghostly themes of Amanda’s “real surreal” poetry crawl. I had an idea that I would find past queer East-Asian poets who may have been working in Ottawa throughout its history as a municipality and pay homage to them through a series of either golden shovels or centos. What I quickly discovered, however, is that records related to such writers are near nonexistent. Unsurprisingly, if there were any queer East-Asian poets writing in the early days of Bytown, they were writing in the margins.

It would be interesting to keep digging, to find those margins. Vancouver writer Joy Kogawa lived here through most of the 1970s, and it would be curious to understand how much of her novel Obasan (1981) might have been written here. The late Toronto writer Priscila Uppal was from Ottawa, and Asoka Weerasinghe is still in the east end of the city. What were you able to find, if anything, and how did that impact the pieces you composed for Amanda’s project?

While Joy Kogawa, Priscila Uppal, and Asoka Weerasinghe are all writers who popped up throughout the course of my research, they were the only ones that did. As you and I discussed – that can’t be right! So it definitely would be interesting for someone to keep digging; to find those margins, and to bring any lost names back into the light. A literary historian or archivist, maybe (if there are any of you out there reading this, I encourage you to consider rob’s proposed project). As for the pieces I ended up composing for Amanda’s project: I pivoted. Because going with my first concept was not possible, I turned instead to the history of the neighbourhood(s) and the building(s) themselves. Echoes, as a concept, interests me quite deeply – physical locales and the metaphysical questions of what came before, what exists now, and what is lost or found in the spaces.

As you say, your work explores physical spaces and the questions of past and present. What brought you to considering such a landscape of layers? And how does that show itself in your work?

I have to pin this on moving around the world throughout my childhood and, subsequently, the interest that arose in me with regard to the discipline of history. I have lived in Oakville, São Paulo, Shanghai, Toronto, and now Ottawa. Moving through various places and cultures makes one think about the intersections – how events that take place on the scale of time affect the landscape(s) they take place within. It’s all very philosophical but it can be wondrous too.

When it comes to my work, these layers take form by way of visual and sonic elements. On the page: my poetry is visual. It takes into account the boundaries of the physical page, and text can appear in both black and grey font (colour variance implying layered voices). Read out loud: words are literally looped upon themselves and spaces translate into bated breath, creating soundscapes upon which the main poem is then overlaid.

What I’ve appreciated about your work for some time is precisely that attention to visual and sonic elements. You suggest the “main poem” is overlaid across these created soundscapes. Is the music of your lyric how your compositions begin? Do you begin with sound and then attempt to layer meaning and narrative overtop that music?

Perhaps the term is less “main poem” and more “entire poem” – this question made me revisit my answer to your previous one! I like when that happens. Thank you for saying so regarding my attention to visual and sonic elements. I appreciate that you appreciate that aspect of my work. Sound is actually the last thing that comes into play. Contrarily, I work in the conceptual and visual first. Step one: language and meaning. Step two: visual composition to help drive meaning. Step three: are there any tongue in cheek elements I can apply? Step four: how might this feel read out loud? Step five: edit, edit, edit, edit, edit.

There aren’t so many poets I’m seeing working the lyric that lean as heavily into visual or sonic elements, and your work-to-date maintains a really fine balance between the three. What brought you to this point? Who were you reading that prompted such a layered attention?

Thank you, rob, that’s really kind of you. I’m occasionally told my work is “not lyric enough” so to hear you say that you feel it balances the lyric with visual and sonic elements is nice. I’ve always been interested in hybridity. I firmly believe that art is not created in silos and thereby love seeing, and being an example of, work that braids multiple elements. Unsurprisingly, I read and listen widely – some of my greatest inspirations (and this is not an exhaustive list) include Aristophanes, Italo Calvino, Anne Carson, Cristian Bök, BBNG, Billy-Ray Belcourt, Sandra Ridley, Hala Alyan, Sara Peters, Shazia Hafiz Ramji, M. NourbeSe Philip, and Meeka Walsh.

There does seem a bit of a contemporary lean away from lyric experiments with sound and visual in Canadian writing, so I can get why you’re hearing that, even if I don’t actually agree with any suggestion that your work isn’t lyric “enough” (whatever that means). You mention having lived in a vast array of geographies across your life. Have you relationships with any of those geographies that still hold in your work, or were these more points-on-a-grid, stepping stones to where you currently are?

Another great question, rob. I would have to say my relationships with those geographies is akin to stones collected and held dear. To understand this simile, you have to understand that I love collecting stones (lol) – from the beaches of Newfoundland, Vancouver Island, Greece, and more; to pieces of buildings that once were. To me, these places are iterative; their impact, endless; informing my understanding of the world and the way I move through it.

I had the sense that in your first full-length collection, Blood Belies (2024), you were working to articulate a through-line between some of these geographies and histories. How consciously were you aware of these histories in relation, and composing poems through them?

Quite aware – we’re all related! As much as the powers that be would try to have us believe otherwise.

This reminds me of bpNichol’s idea, especially through books of The Martyrology, that all the writing connects, even if only because it is written by the same hand. Not that this is a simple thing, but can it be as simple as that?

Yes – if only more people saw it this way. We’re one, you know? Meeka Walsh once told me this: “Resonances are good and words belong to everyone.” I happen to agree.

 

 

 

 

 

rob mclennan lives in Ottawa, where he accidentally co-owns a house across the street from where his parents were married, and spent more than twenty years running a reading series two blocks from where he was born. His latest poetry collection is edgeless (Caitlin Press, 2026). His prior collection, the book of sentences (University of Calgary Press, 2025), recently won the 2026 Archibald Lampman Award.

Poet Questionnaire #9 : Michael Mirolla answering Stan Rogal

 

 

 

I don’t know that many writers these days. I mean, on an up-close and personal basis. Blame old age, blame COVID, blame burn-out, blame attrition, blame computer isolation and AI companions, blame… whatever. During the 1990’s there was a wild group I hung out with, partied with, put on events with, published with in often makeshift, short-lived magazines. This group has (sadly) long since dispersed. For some one reason or another that I can no longer recall, I thought it might be worthwhile to try and re-create some semblance of that old-time camaraderie and the interview format seemed a nice, relaxed entry. I also wanted to interview and champion writers who contribute to the literary community in broader ways, not only as writers, but as publishers, editors, event organizers, and such. I have been acquainted with Michael Mirolla for several years, though mainly from a distance. I am aware that he’s a writer who has explored and created work in several genres: poetry, fiction, drama and journalism. I am also aware that he’s served as writer-in-residence in various locations in the world and is also a freelance editor and the publisher and editor-in-chief of Guernica Editions. He’s a person who wears several literary hats and I wondered how he manages to do it all and keep his sanity. I thought others might also be curious, so I thought I’d ask the man himself.

1. Will the real Michael Mirolla please stand up! Meaning, Michael, please give our readers some history and an overview of who you are and what you do why you do what you do as a multi-faceted and creative force in the Ontario (and broader) literary scene.

I’m pretty transparent. After an MFA from the first such program in Canada (UBC), I landed a job in Montreal as a tabloid journalist (where I learned how to write fiction). Then worked at The Montreal Star daily newspaper alongside Doris Giller before she headed off to Toronto – with me following soon after. I’ve been writing most of my life (ever since a high school teacher allowed me to write short fiction pieces in place of John Keats’ essays on English Lit exams): poetry, short stories, novels. I’ve worked as a freelance editor for some five decades. Everything from content for Toyota websites to high-level fiction manuscripts, from technical editing to evaluating Harlequin Romance submissions. In between, a partner and I wrote film scripts and sitcom proposals. We got some nibbles and a couple of grants but were told that, if we wanted to get those scripts produced, we would have to head down to LA. Not possible.

In 2010, my business partner Connie McParland and I went mad and purchased Guernica Editions from its original creator and owner, Antonio D’Alfonso. We’ve been running it ever since and have published more than 500 titles. The hope is that we’re contributing to Canadian culture, featuring its diversity and the voices that might otherwise be marginalized. At least, that’s what we tell ourselves when the lacklustre sales figures show up.

At the same time, I have continued my freelance editing work. And writing and getting published (on occasion). My latest poetry collection, The Second Law of Quantum Complexity, was published last year. A collection of flash fictions, Fragments from a Shorter Work, is coming out in December. I’m currently putting the finishing touches on another poetry collection, Anhedonia. Any offers for publication will be gratefully considered!

2. At an age where many people might be considering retiring or sitting back on their laurels, you decided to take over as publisher of Guernica Editions. Whatever possessed you?

Yeah, at the time, many people said Connie and I were certifiable for taking on the task of running a Canadian publishing house in the early days of the 21^st century. What possessed us to plunk down a hefty chunk of change in what many believed was a dying industry? Like climbing back onto the Titanic after the iceberg of postmodern technologies struck it broadside and administered the fatal blow.

Truth is, when Guernica became available, Connie and I decided to move forward because it was Guernica. Because of what Guernica had stood for during all those decades. Because of what the publishing house had achieved in terms of advancing certain ideas and principles that other publishing houses in Canada had not picked up on – or felt weren’t worth their while. We’re trying to carry that tradition forward into the 21^st century, featuring marginalized and diverse voices.

That brings me back to a question I’m often asked: “So, is it fun, yet?” I don’t know. Was it supposed to be? I tell myself that running Guernica means being at the helm of a significant purveyor of a Canadian culture segment that is all too often marginalized, that we try to give a voice to those who wouldn’t otherwise have one, and that we are making a difference.

Is it true? Well, it’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Besides, as George Bernard Shaw said: “What is life but a series of inspired follies? The difficulty is to find them. Never lose a chance: it doesn’t come every day.”

I found mine. Thank goodness. Otherwise, I might have had to actually contemplate retirement!

3. I’ve noticed in your emails that you identify yourself at bottom as: Editor-at-large, Occasional writer. How has the business of editing and publishing affected your own writing? 

As for the writing and editing part of it, I’ve been at it for so long that it’s hard to do a pre- and post-examination of the effects. I find I have the ability to switch gears very quickly. That allows me to work on some editing and flip to my own writing without the need of some down time. Part of that discipline comes from my time as a daily newspaper editor and having to meet deadlines. As well, it taught me to separate the writing I did at the newspaper with my own writing. That writing was influenced very strongly by the two years I spent at UBC under some of the most fantastic writing instructors this world has seen.

When it came to taking on a publishing business, the work for that just slid alongside the freelance editing and my writing. Between three and four a.m. as I half-jokingly like to say.

4. A few years back I asked if I could submit a manuscript to you. You said yes, just don’t send poetry, Guernica was filled to capacity several years ahead. In fact, the press was cutting back on poetry. Recently, I received a rejection from another press saying it gets over 200 poetry manuscripts a year and only publishes four titles. As a poet yourself, what are your thoughts about both, the poetry industry, and the industry of poetry?

Well, we keep trying to cut back on poetry but I don’t think we’ve succeeded. It just seems too important for us to hack away at it. But, yeah, the number of poetry submissions versus the number of collections that get published is scary. We publish on average seven-eight poetry manuscripts annually and get over 100 submissions during our brief submissions period. The thing that I think is more concerning is the way poetic output is being separated these days. There seems to be an over-emphasis on victimhood chronicles and blame-laying versus more universal concerns as human beings. There is also a generational divide that has made publication somewhat unbalanced. We try to “spread the wealth” as it were, publishing a spectrum of poets from those First Poets to hoary veterans. An attempt to restore the balance.

5. “Hoary veterans,” nice, I like it. Opens an entire plethora of images and interpretations for me. So, okay, what keeps you writing poetry given that publishers are printing fewer poetry books and even fewer poetry books are being sold? Or am I wrong in this evaluation?

Yeah, I’m not sure of the statistics on the number of poetry collections being published and the sales of those collections. But writing poetry has always been somewhat quixotic, a wonderland filled with dreamers (for the most part with the exception of Wallace Stevens and T.S. Elliot, perhaps). I write poetry because I feel that the poetic line is as close as one can get to verbal perfection. I write poetry to try to achieve what I know is not really achievable: the merging of the word with the object, the thing-in-itself. I write poetry in an attempt to create the perfect image, the image that will explode the world. The irony being that this world is of my own creation in the first place. I write poetry because I would sink into total depression if I didn’t.

6. You’ve described your writing as a mix of magic realism, surrealism, speculative fiction and meta-fiction. You are also not averse to some genre-bending along the way. At a time when a majority of Canadian publishers break out in a rash at anything that even smells of postmodernism, you seem to embrace the genre. In fact, you’ve recently created an imprint for Guernica, 1366 Books, home to works of accessible yet innovative and experimental fiction — works that challenge the conventions of narrative and form — with the inimitable Stuart Ross as editor. What brought this imprint about and how did the name manifest?

Funny you should ask. One day a couple of years ago, Stuart let it out there that he mourned the fact there was no real experimental fiction publisher in Canada. Coincidentally, I had been thinking of perhaps starting up such an imprint (as it suited my own writing preferences). So I contacted Stuart – and the rest is history: two experimental fiction titles annually. The name for the imprint, 1366Books, refers to the year that the village of Guernica was founded.

7. Poets deal in words. What is your favourite word and why? What about another word that maybe strikes your funny bone or makes you feel uneasy/awkward for no particular reason when you say it?

This is one question I never know how to answer. There isn’t any particular word that I can claim as my favourite. Well, maybe “serendipity” because it feels like a dance step. Funny bone word: “catastrophe” because it reminds me of the tragedy of a “cat” suffering a “disaster” and thus losing its back end.

8. What outside sources strongly influence your poetry, i.e.: music, movies, books, sports, travel, nature…?

All of the above so long as they are strained through a book!

9. The big question: Do you feel that poetry has the power to end war, hunger, discrimination and environmental destruction in the world?

No, I don’t. Our society is structured under a capitalist system – and that system doesn’t give a damn about poetry. Poets usually “sing” to other poets. They pass messages along to other poets. Those who have the power to end war, hunger, discrimination and environmental destruction are not very often within that band of poets and poetry lovers. One hope: perhaps poets can influence the activists who in turn might be able to influence the politicians. But I wouldn’t hold my breath.

10. Do you have any advice for anyone who’d like to be(come) a poet?

Well, aside from telling the person to make sure they have either a well-paying job or relatives willing to support them, my advice for someone who wants to be a poet is to: Write Poems! Too simple? Okay, then. How about having faith in yourself and confidence in your abilities? Finding your vision and sticking to it? Devouring the poetry that has come before you? And don’t take critical comments on your poems personally but do take them to heart in terms of learning from them. And never let another person’s pessimism cause you to give up. If the passion, determination, persistence, discipline, (fill in the blank) is there, then a lifetime isn’t enough to bring it all out. In practical terms, find a nice quiet garret, write till you’re ready to explode, and then get out there and promote yourself until everyone’s sick and tired of listening to you.

11. What question is it that you’ve always wished an interviewer would ask, and hasn’t?

Well, I could think of a lot that can’t be made public. But here’s one: Do you write poetry better when you’re sober or when you’re drunk?

12. Add any additional comments of your own choosing. Manifestos included.

A question I struggle with is: How much can be stripped away from a human being before we come to what is essential to remain human? And how does the concept of creation come into the picture? In my poetry, I strive to do away with intermediaries between the person and the objects of the world, to bring the word as close as possible to the thing-as-it-is while realizing it’s an impossible task. The word isn’t enough to capture who we are in the world because, as direct and concrete as poetry can be, no one will ever touch the “thing-as-it-is”. Except perhaps the person actually doing the touching. Here is a poem that I hope tries to get a little of that idea across:

The Poet Confronts the Real

All you can do is stand aside and gawk
as the truck deconstructs before your eyes:
the bolts, the screws, the rods that keep its guts
from tumbling out now placed in numbered bags
to ensure a proper rebirth. The front end
exposed like the jaws of some metallic beast.
Your son fearless in his slow undoing
of a machine that has stuttered and stalled,
that allowed disorder to re-enter
its finely tuned place in the world. This is
the space words cannot pry open. This is
the space where, lacking the proper crowbar,
a poet can but stand twiddling phrases
that, while empowering in their own right,
are no match for the weight of engine parts.

 

 

 

 

 

Michael Mirolla has published more than two dozen novels, plays, film scripts and short story and poetry collections. Awards include the Hamilton Literary Award for the novella, The Last News Vendor, and three Bressani Prizes: the novel Berlin; the poetry collection The House on 14^th Avenue; the short story collection Lessons in Relationship Dyads. Other poetry collections include: At The End of the World and The Second Law of Quantum Complexity. A symposium on Michael’s writing was held in 2023. From September 2024-June 2025, Michael served as the Writer-in-Residence for the Regina Public Library. When not writing, Michael works as a freelance editor and serves as Guernica Editions’ editor-in-chief. Born in Italy and raised in Montreal, Michael makes his home on a 30-acre farm (along with five dogs, a cat, sundry humans, and a shifting number of ravens and coyotes) outside the town of Gananoque in the Thousand Islands area of Ontario.

Michael’s website: https://wwwmichaelmirollacom.articulation.website/

Stan Rogal lives and writes in Toronto along with his artist partner Jacquie Jacobs. His work has appeared almost magically in numerous magazines and anthologies. The author of several books, plus a handful of chapbooks, a 13th poetry collection was published in March 2025 with ecw press. Co-founder of Bald Ego Theatre and former coordinator of the popular Idler Pub Reading Series.