Learning to Let My Instincts Lead: Interview with Molly Cross-Blanchard
Molly Cross-Blanchard is a white and Métis writer and editor born to the Calder clan on Treaty 3 territory (Fort Frances, Ontario), raised on Treaty 6 territory (Prince Albert, Saskatchewan), and living on the unceded territory of the Musqueam, Squamish, and Tsleil-Waututh peoples (Vancouver, British Columbia). She holds an English BA from the University of Winnipeg and a Creative Writing MFA from the University of British Columbia. Molly is the publisher at Room magazine, and her debut collection of poetry, Exhibitionist, will be published by Coach House Books in Spring 2021.
In this interview, Canthius Digital Editor Manahil Bandukwala chats with Molly about her forthcoming collection, coming into an honest voice as a writer, and work that she is excited about these days.
To learn more about Molly, follow her on Twitter @MollyECB and Instagram @mollyecb, and pre-order Exhibitionist.
Manahil: Hi Molly, it’s great to chat with you!
I first encountered your work way back in 2017 when I was just stepping into the waters of “CanLit,” and you submitted your work to In/Words Magazine. I remember going through submissions, and thinking, “wow, holy shit,” when I read your poem. So, it’s pretty exciting going from there to your first chapbook, I Don’t Want to Tell You, and now to your first book!
Your debut collection, Exhibitionist, is coming out with Coach House Books in 2021. Congratulations! Can you tell us a bit about the collection?
Molly: It’s so nice to chat with you, too! And thanks for the ego boost. It’s a small miracle to me that anyone could think “holy shit” about anything I wrote in 2017, so that’s very kind. I was likewise taken by a poem of yours we published at PRISM in 2018 when I was an editor there.
Like the title might suggest, Exhibitionist is essentially me attempting to expose every secret fear and fantasy I’ve had in recent years, and fighting any shame I might have around those secrets. A lot of the poems are about past relationships, and body insecurity, and aloneness, and Indigeneity, and pop culture. I won’t even attempt to refer to a “speaker” because she is me, I am her, and that’s the whole point, really. I want people to know me, and this book is my attempt to get as close to a definition of myself as possible. Not really in an “I want to be famous” kind of way (which would also be rad), but more of an “I want to feel understood” kind of way. I hope readers will laugh—with me or at me—and I hope they’ll feel a kinship with me and all my capital-F “Feelingz.”
I think like a lot of first full-lengths, it’ll feel like a bit of a junk-drawer book, and I hope folks will have fun sifting through the bits and bobs and pocketing whatever holds some truth for them. I’ve tried to lead with truth.
Manahil: I love what you’ve said about not attempting to separate the speaker of the poem and you as the poet!
What was the process of putting together a full-length for you?
Molly: Embarrassing, to be honest. It’s been about three years in the making, most of the poems having been part of my master’s thesis at UBC. When you’re trying to write something sellable and simultaneously learning how to do it better, you end up (thankfully) outgrowing yourself and sneering at poems you wrote six months ago. So I did a lot of slotting poems in and out like marbles in a tube: a new poem goes in the top, and an old one falls out the bottom and into the abyss. There are still some poems in the most recent draft that feel a bit juvenile to me, but I expect that’s something I’ll just have to get used to. If I stop being annoyed by my old writing then I’ve probably stopped getting better, and that’s not the kind of career I want for myself.
Manahil: I think about that all the time, with growing as a poet and feeling far away from older work. I was chatting with Claire Farley (Canthius co-founder!) about how putting poems into a collection, whether it’s a chapbook or a full-length, feels like closure for that body of work. Like when that’s done, it’s ready to move on to new projects and improve as a writer.
I’ve definitely seen my own work continue to change even over the span of the last few months, and I’m curious to hear about how you trace the trajectory of your own work.
Molly: I really haven’t been writing poetry that long, so it’s a short trajectory. But when I started doing it seriously in around 2015 (after a pretty grueling split when all I could write was angsty breakup poetry), I focused on building patterns, and structuring stanzas and lines, and leaning heavily on one metaphor throughout a whole poem. Which was a good exercise in learning the conventions, I suppose, so that I could later understand when to break those conventions in order to create something more surprising and nuanced.
I think the biggest difference, though, is that in my earlier poetry I was really fixated on the reader’s experience of my poem, not whether it felt honest to me. As soon as I started being truthful and, frankly, selfish, that’s when the poems started feeling important. And I needed to let go of the control that I thought was necessary to have over a poem. I learned to let my instincts lead, and trust that all the reading and studying had built enough of a framework of knowledge in me that the poetic merit would show through on its own. And I let my language get simpler and grittier. My friend Sara DeWaal (über talented jack-of-all-trades writer) and I did a manuscript swap this fall, and she made a list of the words that appear multiple times throughout the book; there are 26 fucks, 11 shits, and 9 tits. Letting myself be a little trashy has turned poetry into a vehicle of genuine expression for me, because I am, indeed, a little trashy.
It was at the end of 2017 when I felt like I’d written my first “good” poem, which is the title poem of my new book. I credit any of this growth to the brilliant poetry professors I’ve had through the years: Catherine Hunter, Sheryda Warrener, Ian Williams, and Amber Dawn. Each of them pushed me in some way to get closer to truth.
Manahil: You’re also the Publisher at Room magazine. I’m always in awe of the inspiring and joyful environment of working with Canthius. Can you talk about what being involved with Room is like?
Molly: It’s my dream job! Get in a time machine and tell 19-year-old Molly that she’ll be working at Room freaking magazine someday and she’ll do a literal spit take. I love working so closely with my pal Jessica Johns, and I love our contributors and Roomies, and I love the board. The people are what makes the magazine. But mostly I appreciate working somewhere that just genuinely, inherently wants to do right by people who have been so wronged by this industry for, well, forever. The conversations between staff and volunteers always have the tone of “What can we do for marginalized artists?” rather than “What can we appear to be doing for marginalized artists?” I know Canthius has a similar vibe; we saw your recent drive for donations for the 1492 Land Back Lane Legal Fund and were inspired to do the same.
Manahil: Along with Terese Mason Pierre, you’re guest-editing an issue for CAROUSEL on Indigenous and Afrofuturisms. How did the idea for this theme come about?
Molly: It was CAROUSEL’s idea, actually. They reached out to us with a draft of a call that Terese and I gave some input on. 2020 has been the year of COVID, but it’s also been the year of Black and Indigenous people in the news and on the streets fighting for safety and sovereignty. I think it’s natural for arts organizations to have a bit of whiplash when they realize how much more they could be doing for Black and Indigenous creators. And I also think it’s natural to want to look up from this harsh moment to whatever better world it’s building to.
Manahil: In the call for submissions, it says, “We don’t know what will be lighted when the sun rises on the next millennium, but we know we will be there to see it…and we will be excellent.”
What are some of the things you’re looking forward to as you curate this issue?
Molly: I love that line. I’m really looking forward to the moment when Terese and I come to the Zoom table with all our selections, and get to weave them together and find the common threads. I’m also really looking forward to reading what I’m guessing will be some very imaginative and speculative work as I go through submissions, which I don’t often get to do. And my absolute favourite part of editing an issue is when it’s been released and the writers are sharing it on Twitter, and their friends are feeding them joy and praise. I’ve never edited an online issue before, so I expect that outpouring of love will be even more amplified. Can’t wait!
Manahil: What books are you reading lately?
Molly: Mostly fiction, actually. My one positive COVID takeaway has been having the time to catch up on reading all the books I’ve collected at events and Salvation Armys over the years and never finished. I really want to write a novel once Exhibitionist is ready to be in the world, but I don’t know how to write a novel, so I’m hoping if I just keep consuming really good ones then I’ll learn by proximity.
Recently I’ve read and loved: Such a Fun Age by Kiley Reid, Severance by Ling Ma, The Birth Yard by Mallory Tater, Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng (and watched the show, so good!), Son of a Trickster and Trickster Drift by Eden Robinson (watching the show, SOOOOO GOOOOOD!!!), The Way the Crow Flies by Ann-Marie MacDonald, and the lone but excellent poetry selection, Birding in the Glass Age of Isolation by Curtis LeBlanc. Right now I’m finally reading Heather O’Neill’s Lullabies for Little Criminals and I can't believe it’s taken me this long.
Manahil: These are some awesome recommendations! I second The Birth Yard (and also, the bridge from poetry to fiction that Mallory does so well).
Who are some writers you’re excited about?
Molly: So many! Two of my good friends, Selina Boan and Hannah Green, have stunning poetry collections coming out at the same time as mine, and I just know everyone is going to love them. I have this fantasy where the three of us get to host a launch together and I’m hoping COVID will allow that to happen. And another friend (and the mother of my sweet nephew) Jasmine Sealy just won the UBC HarperCollins Prize and has a multi-generational family novel coming out with HC in Spring 2022, which is going to be a colossal hit. You heard it here first.
Manahil: That’s so exciting to hear! Thank you so much for this conversation, Molly.
Molly: Thank YOU, Manahil!