At the time of this writing, I’m a month into my posting as the 2023/24 Mabel Pugh Taylor Writer In Residence at McMaster University and Hamilton Public Library. Every year, this residency invites a Canadian author to mentor new and emerging writers from the university, the wider Hamilton community, and (with the advent of Zoom) beyond. The Writer In Residence spends one day per week at McMaster and one day per week at Hamilton Public Library, where they’re available to consult with writers. On the other days of the week, they work on their own writing projects. Previous WIRs include Amanda Leduc, Pasha Malla, January Rogers, Nilofar Shidmehr and many more, all the way back to 1999.
And now… me!
It would be an understatement to say I was intimidated when I began this new adventure. Now that I’m a few weeks in, I think it’s the perfect time to reflect on my original intentions for this residency, the ways in which I’ve succeeded so far, and the pivots I need to make moving forward.
HOW I GOT HERE
When I saw the call for applications for this residency, my first thought was This is perfect. I’d just completed my MFA – a degree I did at a snail’s pace while caring for my toddler, then preschooler, then school-aged kid – and I was trying to figure out my next steps. Prior to the pandemic, I’d spent five years running writing workshops and mentoring writers in the backs of coffee shops, around my kitchen table, at organizations like the Toronto Rape Crisis Centre/Multicultural Women Against Rape, and at Indigo locations across the GTHA. I have never been the kind of writer who is fulfilled alone at my desk. I like talking about writing and helping people with their work. And you know that thing in movies where dramatic music plays and the math person sees equations swirling around in front of them? That’s what happens when I look at a piece of writing, even for a second. I know which word goes where. And for whatever reason, when I talk to people about their writing lives, I know what needs to be said.
My second thought? There’s no way. I had the minimum number of required publications – two books – and at 33, I felt young and inexperienced in the face of such a prestigious, institution-backed residency. I couldn’t sneakily apply without telling anyone, either. I needed to ask for reference letters. But when I thought about not applying – when I imagined closing my laptop and ignoring the call – I felt a deep sadness. Like an entire timeline was drying up and blowing away. So I had to apply, as embarrassed as I felt. I wrote my application. I requested my letters. I sent it all off by the deadline and hoped.
I have never prepared so hard for an interview. What I was not prepared for was the subject line of the email I got the following week: Good news about the residency! And it was good news. It was some of the best news of my entire life. Is it clear that I wanted this job? I wanted this job. I am still pinching myself that the brilliant, experienced, talented people on the selection committee thought I’d be okay at this.
MY VISION FOR THE RESIDENCY
Right from the beginning, I knew that my primary goal for this residency was to be accessible. Physically, of course – I wanted to offer appointments in accessible locations, and over Zoom – but also emotionally. I didn’t want folks to feel like I was hidden away in some distant, lofty tower. I wanted people to feel comfortable reaching out to me – not only to have their manuscripts reviewed, but to chat about writing in general. About the creative process. About agents and MFAs and writing when you have kids and writing when you have a job and writing when everything in your life is falling apart. Craft is an important part of the work of being a writer, but much trickier is the emotional part. That’s the part that determines whether you’ll keep writing or not, whether you’ll send out your poems or not, whether you’ll reach out for help or not. I wanted people to feel safe talking to me about their actual lives, their actual dreams. Early on in the process of planning the residency, I wrote this framework to help guide my decision-making:
The work of writing and writing education doesn't take place in a vacuum -- it always happens within a larger societal context of racism, ableism, ageism, sexism, classism, and cisheteropatriachy. I aim to create trauma-informed workshops and mentorships that acknowledge writers as expansive human beings with complex responsibilities, histories, and full lives. My heartfelt intention as a facilitator is first to avoid doing harm and causing creative injury. Next, to encourage creative freedom and play. And finally, to help writers develop their craft so that their work can be as effective as possible, with the writer's own intentions always guiding that process.
Meeting with folks from HPL and McMaster over the summer, it quickly became clear that the residency’s stakeholders had faith in my approach and were enthusiastic about my ideas. I’m so grateful to them for that.
One major shift I’ve made is to switch to an online booking system. In previous years, participants have needed to email the WIR directly in order to schedule an appointment. I knew coming into this residency that I wanted to automate as much of the administrata as possible. As a neurodivergent person (autism + ADHD), I only have so many spoons, and I’d rather spend them on writing and talking. But I also suspected that people might feel more comfortable scheduling through an automated system. I can’t be the only person who has selected their dentist based on the availability of online booking.
So over the summer, after writing my ethical framework and consultation guidelines, I built that booking system. And it is a thing of beauty. I cannot tell you how happy it makes me every single day. People can look at my available appointments, choose one, and schedule it themselves. The system ensures that my boundaries are held (for example, appointments are 45 minutes long, I always have a 15 minute buffer between appointments, and I have a lunch hour booked off each day) and that nothing falls through the cracks. 24 hours before their appointment, participants automatically receive a reminder email containing directions or a Zoom link, and 24 hours after their appointment, they automatically receive a feedback form. I’m so delighted that the scheduling robots are organizing all of this for me – I don’t think I’d be able to consult with nearly so many people if I had to do the scheduling and reminding myself.
HOW IT’S GOING SO FAR
The announcement that I would be this year’s WIR was made at the end of August, smack dab in the middle of Mercury retrograde. But luckily, it all went swimmingly, and I was blown away by the positive response. By the end of the day of the announcement, twenty-five people had booked appointments with me. By the end of the next day, September was fully booked. As I’m writing this, on October 6th, the earliest date you can schedule an appointment with me at McMaster is at the end of November, and the earliest date you can meet with me at HPL is in December. I’ve been fully booked on each of my in-office days so far.
Other cool things: I was featured on CHCH news! And in mid-September, we held a welcome celebration at HPL which was packed with attendees. Lit events can be tough – I’ve read in front of my share of empty rooms – so seeing all those faces there was such a delight. My first workshop, a writing circle at HPL, filled up completely before I could even promote it. And on October 17th, I’ll be holding a webinar in partnership with McMaster on a topic that is very close to my heart. It’s called Writing While Exhausted: Creative Writing Strategies for Caregivers. There’s been a lot of excitement online about that.
So far, I’ve received a ton of positive feedback from participants – I got a message today that said Thank you for your time, support and encouragement. It has renewed my belief in myself to complete this project. Messages like this really make me feel like I’m having an impact. I still can’t believe that I get to do this – that this is my actual job.
MOVING FORWARD
A month into this role, I’m feeling proud of how successful the launch has been. And also TIRED. Even though my mind is ready and willing to do everything I possibly want to do in this role – to take advantage of every opportunity – my body doesn’t always agree. I pulled a muscle in my leg the other day after a busy WIR week and a board retreat for the League of Canadian Poets. Hobbling around, unable to put any weight on my left foot, I realized my body was sending me a message. “You want me to slow down,” I said. “Cool. I get it. You can stop hurting me now, please.”
So I’m slowing down. I’ve felt disappointed in myself a few times – there have been events I wanted to attend but couldn’t because I was simply out of spoons. At the same time, I know this role is a marathon, not a sprint. I’m going to be here until the end of April, and I need to take good care of myself. That means I need to say no sometimes – to myself and to others – even though I hate it.
My intentions moving forward: I’d like to schedule one in-office day per month in which I have zero appointments and can focus solely on preparing materials for upcoming seminars and events. My original intention was to do all of my administrata, planning, and social media scheduling on my in-office days so I could focus on writing during the remaining three days a week. (Oh yeah – on top of all the other things, I’m trying to write a novel!) But since I’ve been fully booked on in-office days, that work has been spilling over onto my writing days, making me less productive than I’d like to be. I’d also like to do more social media promotions – I did a ton in the beginning, but that has dropped off a bit as I’ve been settling into the work of consulting with participants. I’d also love to develop some resources I can share with folks – lists of journals to submit to, information about grants, etc. I’ve been pointing participants in the direction of this kind of information, but I have visions of a sparkling online resource library in my head.
Of course, that’s the thing – I have SO many ideas, but only so much time. I’m trying to slow down and focus on my core responsibilities: write, talk, write, talk. I don’t want to burn out. I want to be my brightest, best and most helpful self for everyone who takes the time to meet with me.
Jaclyn Desforges [photo credit: Calvin Thomas] is the 2023/2024 Mabel Pugh Taylor Writer In Residence at McMaster University and Hamilton Public Library. She’s the queer and neurodivergent author of Danger Flower (Palimpsest Press/Anstruther Books), winner of the 2022 Hamilton Literary Award for Poetry and one of CBC's picks for the best Canadian poetry of 2021. She's also the author of Why Are You So Quiet? (Annick Press, 2020), which was shortlisted for a Chocolate Lily Award and selected for the 2023 TD Summer Reading Club. Jaclyn is a Pushcart-nominated writer and the winner of a 2022 City of Hamilton Creator Award, a 2020 Hamilton Emerging Artist Award for Writing, two 2019 Short Works Prizes, and the 2018 RBC/PEN Canada New Voices Award. Jaclyn’s writing has been featured in literary magazines across Canada. She holds an MFA from the University of British Columbia’s School of Creative Writing and lives in Hamilton with her partner and daughter.
