A reflection on being a poet laureate (and a return to a quieter life)

My time as Poet Laureate for the City of Greater Sudbury has been absolutely brilliant. I’ve loved meeting new people, and other poets and writers, at home, and then away in other places. Since early 2016, I’ve tried to focus on spreading a bit of what I like to call “poetic graffiti” around our town. As part of my work, I’ve put poems up on the glass windows at the airport, and popped poetry posters up on the windows and doors of local businesses, all the while trying to encourage people to think of poetry in a more positive, friendly, and accessible way. People who normally wouldn’t think they were poetic might now think again…or they might just think of poetry more positively. We have some new and emerging poets in town, and that’s lovely too.

I’ve especially loved visiting classes in local elementary and secondary schools, going as far out as French River to speak to kids (and their teachers) about their views of poetry, and speaking about the value of reading and writing creatively, in the classroom and beyond. For some kids, I know as both a writer and a teacher, literature, and writing creatively, can offer an escape and respite from difficult things in life. I’ve seen it lift kids up, given them hope and a greater sense of self-esteem. It’s why I’m so passionate about literacy initiatives, too. (I actually really believe that there should be more writers and artists in our school systems…or at least in terms of training in-service teachers…but that’s a whole other blog on the education system, isn’t it?)

My most favourite memory of visiting schools is of one particular little boy who had autism. He lit up as we talked about a David Blackwood painting from Newfoundland and was full of ideas about what was happening in the painting, and offering up words and snatches of lines for our little group poem. His teacher was surprised that he took such an active role because he normally wasn’t that verbal and didn’t traditionally interact. At the end of the afternoon, he offered me a big hug around the knees and said goodbye. It was a good day.  And then there was the day at Sudbury Secondary, early on in my term, when students actually drew my poems into being. It was an amazing afternoon, talking about how art and literature go together naturally, and I ended up seeing my work as a springboard for student art. That moved me a great deal because I love literature and art in equal bits.

The literary arts are important, I think, in helping people view–and live in–the world in a fuller, more vibrant way. Sometimes, our lives are so busy that we neglect to see the wonder that sits right in front of us, in daily rhythms and encounters with others. Poetry is everywhere, if you are open to seeing it. I think that’s been a fairly clear message in my time as laureate, or I hope so, anyway.

I’ve loved working alongside groups like the National Reading Campaign’s Reading Town/Ville Lecture, Wordstock (Sudbury’s literary festival), the Northern Initiative for Social Action (NISA) and Open Minds Quarterly, the Greater Sudbury Airport, Health Sciences North (HSN), and Project Bookmark Canada. There’s a lot I still wanted to do, but my time has run out, and someone else can take over now because I am—quite honestly—fairly exhausted and a bit burnt out. This job is one that has given me new energy, in terms of realizing how much you can do in one community with poetry and partnerships, but now I’ll look forward to pulling in a bit, rebalancing things, and writing more. I have always led a quiet life, with two dogs, reading and writing, walking out in the woods and near the water, yoga, canoeing, and doing lots of Zumba.

It’s been fantastic, meeting writers from around the world. I took a semester off from teaching last year and met really interesting writers out in Banff last April at a historical fiction writing workshop, and then down on Pelee Island in May, and in Kingsville last August.  Last July, I spent a couple of weeks in Scotland, where I worked alongside British and American poets in the Highlands, tramping over long roads in my running shoes and listening to curlews in tall pines. This year, I spent more time down in Southwestern Ontario, near Windsor, writing again on Pelee Island, and realizing that I love how Lake Erie makes me feel inside. I also loved immersing myself in a new kind of natural landscape, as so much of the creative work I do is driven by canoeing, or walking and hiking through the woods. Put me in amidst trees, on my own, or maybe with a dog or two, and I’m happy as a clam. I like the quiet, the birds, the sound of wind in trees, and knowing that there’s water nearby. It reminds me of Mary Oliver’s “Wild Geese.” It makes me feel connected to something.

I’ve been honoured to have been Sudbury’s Poet Laureate for this period of time. I’ve learned so much about myself, and I’ve grown, and I hope I’ve made a positive difference – in some way – to this community in the work I’ve done. I have given up a lot of my privacy, and I suppose I hadn’t really expected that. I’ve been more than present in person and on social media, but in the last little while, it’s felt good to know that I can let go of that and focus on my own writing again.

I’ve tried, too, to create a sense of artistic community via my social media feeds, raising awareness of local art exhibitions, theatre productions, local musicians and visual artists. I like the idea of being a laureate who has raised an awareness of the culture that is so vividly present here in Sudbury, and in Northern Ontario in general. It’s time that we shed some of the old mining town stereotypes, I think, but we need to purposefully elevate one another, offering kind and supportive words whenever and wherever we can. Social media can easily be the place to do that, I believe. If you use it wisely, with purpose, it works well. Some people might disagree, might find it all a bit much, but from what I’ve heard from local artists and writers, it’s worked out all right. Now someone else can do it for a while…

One or two people have told me they are sorry I’m leaving the role of laureate, but I think it’s up to everyone in this community—not just one person—to raise awareness about what is happening here in the arts scene. Anyone can do this, if they truly believe in the value of the arts, and in the artists who work away quietly at creating art. Everyone is replaceable, too, so I know that I am…and I know that the next poet laureate will be fabulous! I know I’ve tried to use the role as a vehicle for promotion of the arts, and especially for poetry and literacy initiatives. I’m sure the next laureate will have their own passions and this will be reflected in the work they choose to do during their term.

I’ve learned a lot about human nature, too, though. For the most part, I’ve been thrilled by how warmly people have welcomed me as poet laureate. No one person or business ever said they wouldn’t take part in a project I set out to undertake. They all let me babble excitedly about my ideas, waving my hands around like a wild woman. One of my literary mentors and friends told me, when I first came into the role, that I should be careful to guard my writing time and privacy, and that I should say ‘no’ when I felt I needed to. He gave me good advice. As usual, I probably didn’t listen as well as I should have, but he still puts up with me.

I have learned that, if you take on a dignitarial role, and you make the most of using that role to raise awareness of social issues like mental health and well-being, palliative care, poetry, and literacy, you have to work hard at balancing parts of your life. You represent your city, so you need to think about what you say and do before you act. You need to be diplomatic. You need to be an ambassador for your city, and for what you love and believe in. I think it helps to stay grounded and genuine, too. As a result of my being in the role, I’ve gone to the Governor General’s Literary Awards (and felt like Cinderella for the first time in my life!), and I’ll be reading in Toronto in February, Calgary in March, and I’ve been invited to Northwords, a literary festival in the Northwest Territories, in late May. All of this, I think, has to do with the laureate work, and it dovetails nicely with my new book having been released by Black Moss Press back in October. I feel blessed. I do.

Suddenly, though, you’re a public figure instead of a private one. It’s weird, and a bit disconcerting if I’m honest about it. You’ll be in the grocery store and someone you don’t know will say hello to you, using your first name, and so you wonder if you’ve had a stroke, because you can’t recall having met them before. You haven’t. They know you, but you don’t know them. That happens more regularly than I would have expected it to in a city of just over 160,000. One person told me, a couple of months ago, in the grocery store: “You must be sick of yourself lately because you’re everywhere in this town…” Another person told me I should “dial it down” a bit or I might scare off potential suitors…even though I wasn’t even worried about suitors…and was more concerned about a revision of a play I’ve been working on!

Yeah. People say things that aren’t necessarily polite, and then you smile, nod, gather up your almond milk and oatmeal in your little metal buggy, and go home and feel a bit downcast.  Usually, I put on the kettle and hug a dog or two, or pick up Wendell Berry or Mary Oliver and try to forget that some people aren’t always nice. (I don’t ever intend to make myself less than who I am because I was very sick a long time ago and, having almost erased myself, well, you never let someone make you feel less than again, because you can recall it all too well in your own head.)

You’ll get weird people who phone you at home, as if they know you very personally, and some who show up to your door even, and then you have to think about changing your phone number and getting an alarm system. You’ll also get other weird people, sometimes men if you’re a woman, who are a bit intimidating and creepy. So, you learn to be warm and friendly, but also protective of your own personal space. Some people only want to be friends because of your role, and hopefully you can spot them right away, but sometimes you can’t, and then you get hurt and you feel stupid for months and months. Some people pretend to be friends just because you have the title of ‘laureate.’ You’ll recognize them because they aren’t in it for the long haul…and that’s okay. Better to have friends who will be present through good and bad times, through titled and non-titled times.

Having dogs helps. Having a few really good friends who understand the demands of the role, though, helps more. As I said at my book launch in October, I have felt spread a bit thin in the last two years, and those very close friends who have stood by me, understanding when I’m super busy or when I’m exhausted, have given me love when I most needed it. They know who they are, and I love them for being patient and supportive of my work and dreams. (They also put up with emails and texts that are excessively wordy, and know that I’m prone to drive-by gifts of Irish soda bread or flowers or books…just because I like to give gifts.)

Over the last two years, I’ve made new friends and acquaintances in the fields of writing, publishing, music, and theatre. For that, I’m extremely grateful. I don’t have a family, so my friends are very important to me. I’ve lost a few friends in the last two years, though, perhaps because I’ve given myself too fully to the work I’m doing, both as a teacher and a writer. I tend to be a workaholic in that I commit myself to whatever I take on in my life. I’ll write more on this in my end-of-year blog next week. It’s much too big of a revelation to talk about here.

I’m most proud of the work I’ve done with Health Sciences North, in putting up bits of poetry in the oncology, long term care, and palliative care units. That’s a selfish undertaking, I think. It’s all in memory of my father, for all the times when I had to sit next to him as he was dying, wishing there was something I could look at while we sat together talking, while he struggled with having to let go of his life when he didn’t really want to. I hope the poems on those windows at HSN distract one patient or family member from pain…especially at this difficult time of year.

Whoever gets this job next is lucky. It’s the kind of role that you can use to elevate poetry and, if you’re a poet, it’s the best (unpaid) job ever. I wish the next laureate great success and personal growth…

…and I just really want to thank the fine people of this city for the way in which they’ve embraced me, and supported me in all of my poetic projects. Your kindnesses have meant the world to me and I’ll never forget them.

Oh…and notes of thanks to a few places and people who have helped me make the two years of my laureateship more creative. For Melanie Marttila, my oldest and most steadfast friend, with thanks for your kind, calm voice and heart; for my dear friend, my soul sister, Jen Geddes, who introduced me to canoeing and hiking this summer…now I’m happily addicted; for Dawn Kresan of Kingsville, who first introduced me to Pelee Island and Point Pelee National Park in May and August of 2016, likely knowing I’d fall in love with both places for the birds and their murmurations, the sky, the water, and the trees; for Sandy Crawley at National Reading Campaign, who is a steadfast friend and mentor, and who is also great fun at evening literary soirees in Ottawa; for Larry Hill, for his mentorship and friendship, & for the Banff Centre and those glorious mountains; for Miranda Hill and Laurie Murphy of Project Bookmark Canada; for David and Denise Young of Bobcaygeon and Kawartha Lakes; for Marnie Woodrow, who helped me to believe in myself in a writer, and convinced me that I could write a novel after all; for Moniack Mhor, Scotland’s Creative Writing Centre; for Grant, Kirk, and Elizabeth Munroe, of Woodbridge Farm and Kingsville; for Marty Gervais, of Black Moss Press; for Lisa O’Connell, from Pat the Dog Theatre Creation; for Tanya Neumeyer, who introduced me to Hugh Barclay, and my first experience setting a poem on a letterpress in Kingston; for Gerry Kingsley, who made me find my own beauty for the first time in my life, in the author photos he took of me back in May; for Sarah Gartshore, Matt Heiti and Trish Stenabaugh, who are my little trinity of close creative sparks, and who encourage me to keep going…and especially for Sarah, who shows up for coffee or tea in her red jacket, and makes me laugh when I most need to, and offers me a hug when she knows I most need one; and for Matt, too, who says he will make me a poet laureate sash out of ‘burlap and Irish moss;’ for Jess Watts, who has made being laureate the loveliest experience, and who never balked when I said, “Let’s try invisible rain paint on sidewalks!” And for Jane Rodrigues, who phones me regularly to make sure I am still myself, taking over from where my Mum was forced to leave off nine years ago when she died. I am most grateful to my Jane…and love her dearly as my “second mama.”

I’m off to the Windsor-Essex area in early March, to spend six solid months working on the first draft of my next novel, to finish up a couple of plays-in-progress, to complete a non-fiction collection of essays, and to write more poems as they come to me. I want to totally retreat to a different area of the province and offer myself up in a committed way to my work as a writer, to see what might come of it. I need to give it, that part of me, the time and space it deserves, without distraction, and so I will.  And then…well…who knows…the Universe will guide and nudge me in the next right direction, I’m sure. It always does…and I follow my heart and intuition more and more often these days…

In terms of social media, you won’t see me at the @SudburyPoet Twitter account after December 31st, 2017, but you can follow me on Instagram or on my personal Twitter account @modernirish  My website is www.kimfahner.com so I’ll be posting up any upcoming readings, signings, or literary festivals that I might be attending. (I mostly Tweet about art, poetry, trees, or my dogs…and I mostly take photos of landscape and trees…so I’m rather bland, I think.  But I’m funny, too, so if you like funny…it’ll be there somewhere in the mix.)

Thanks for the support, Sudbury friends. You are all the best people I know in the whole, wide world. I love this place…where grit reveals beauty when you least expect it. There is so much beauty and poetry here…we are blessed. It’s been more than a pleasure…a real joy for me, to be honest…to have been your poet laureate.

How blessed have I been? How blessed? Amazingly so….

Peace,

k.

 

At the Governor General’s Literary Awards (on my birthday, no less!) November 2017.

Sitting on the floor at Health Sciences North, trying to get a shot of Tom Leduc’s poem on the window!

Hanging out in Kingston in early August with Tanya Neumeyer and Hugh Barclay, typesetting one of my poems.

Giving an ekphrastic poetry workshop at Sudbury Catholic District School Board’s June 2017 PA Day.

Stalking the caterer’s trays at the Mayor’s Celebration of the Arts, at the Sudbury Theatre Centre, with Sarah Gartshore, in May 2017.

Reading at Poetry at the Manor, in Windsor, in October 2017.

Photos of people saying goodbye at the airport, under the poems.

A little one under my poem at the airport.

That time Monique Legault painted something based on a poem I wrote. Fall 2017.

A thank you card from the kids at Walden Public, Fall 2017.

A trail poem about…trees…what else? 🙂 (Thanks to former poet laureate, Tom Leduc, for starting up this project in Sudbury, and for asking me to give him a tree poem!)Reading at One Sky during Wordstock, November 2017.

Hanging out at St. Benedict Catholic Secondary School, in Ms. Hodgins’s Writer’s Craft class, 2016. 

One of Gerry Kingsley’s excellent photos of me.  (I’m pretty sneaky…he caught me.)

Fun at my book launch on October 21, 2017.

A hospital stanza…in Palliative Care at Health Science North.   For my Dad…with love.