Writer in Residence

Tweet Tweet: writing and publishing as acts of resistance: a continuation in three acts

By Chelene Knight

@erica_mojo: “@poetchelene I really appreciated your participation in the closing panel of #BookSummit18. Commanding, empathetic, supportive. Glad I got to hear you speak.”

 @poetchelene: “Thank you! I definitely wish that panel was longer. I think we all had more to say! Haha.”

 @erica_mojo: “We’re all ready to listen whenever you want to pick up that convo again…”

 

Writers defying odds, writers tossing out tradition, writers staying true to how to tell their story—owning it: Writing as an act of resistance.

 

Publishers defending the work they publish, publishers creating a toolbox of support for authors, publishers encouraging others to follow suit: Publishing as an act of resistance.

 

Enter. Stage left

 

An act. An act. An act. I repeated this phrase over and over in my mind as I sat in a chair on a stage in Toronto. As soon as those stage lights hit my face it took about five seconds for me to realize that just having me sit there in that chair, on that stage was already an act of resistance. I was holding space that years ago was never meant for me. Space that would never have been offered to me. It wasn’t equitable space just yet, but I planned to talk about why it wasn’t.

Sitting in that chair was the first act in a three-act play.

So often, when I am on panels I listen so intently to the other panelists that I forget I am there to speak too. I used to kick myself for that. Not chiming in when I should. Not sharing an idea when I should, not “snowballing off of that” when I should. But I realized something pretty important: I was doing something not many people do. I was listening. I was really listening.  

 

Act 1

Listen Authentically

I talk a lot about self-care. Burnout is a real thing. But when I am offered an opportunity to voice my opinions this means there’s a chance that someone on the receiving end of what I have to say may actually want to hear it. There’s a chance that someone is going to truly listen. There’s a chance for the unique structure of my story to be accepted as more than something “experimental.” Accepting invitations to panels in cities that aren’t my own is a risk. It’s a risk because to take one opportunity I have to let another one go. But to be heard I have to take risks. For me, that small chance of gaining just one authentic, active listener surpasses the risk of burnout.

 

 Intermission

“You’re doing too much.” “You don’t have to say yes to everything.”

I am often told this by privileged white folks who don’t always understand why marginalized folks must work so much harder to stay afloat, to stay in the game, to remain a relevant part of the conversation. To really understand that underlying fear of the “expiry date,” that fear that these opportunities may not be there for us tomorrow, you need to come to the table ready to listen and listen intently. We have to demand the space, and that constant clawing out of a ditch … is exhausting. So please stop saying we don’t have to say yes to everything unless you’re willing to listen authentically and willing to appear in acts 2 and 3.

 

Act 2

Publish and Support

Publishers (especially independent small press publishers) have a big opportunity to expand the narrow paths of what’s considered “a good book.” They have the opportunity to change what type of books are considered marketable. They have the opportunity to resist what’s always been done, and share something new with trade publishers. To change the game, you have to first let us play. This “act” goes above and beyond just publishing something and then leaving the author and the work to fend for themselves. In my experience, the best support comes from asking the author what they need to let their work thrive.. To me, this publish and support act is a really simple concept. I have been blessed to be on the receiving end of the best second act.

Not all authors have this experience. Once the work is out there, it’s out there. In my opinion publishers, gatekeepers, allies all have a responsibility to defend the work they publish and support the authors who wrote it. What does this look like? At the end of the panel I was asked “How do you amplify voices?”

 

Act 3

Amplify and Engage

“Place the microphone in front of me. Just don’t forget to plug it in. Then, turn up the volume.” In other words, don’t just create the appearance of making space, knock down some damn walls and let me move my shit in!

 Offering space vs offering equitable space: space is temporary. It fills up. It runs out. People are there for a moment, and then gone. Folks are pushed out when the timer goes off. Equitable space is littered with acts 1, 2, and 3. The timer is turned off and tossed out to sea.

"Those of us who stand outside the circle of this society's definition of acceptable women; those of us who have been forged in the crucibles of difference – those of us who are poor, who are lesbians, who are Black, who are older – know that survival is not an academic skill. It is learning how to take our differences and make them strengths. For the master's tools will never dismantle the master's house. They may allow us temporarily to beat him at his own game, but they will never enable us to bring about genuine change. And this fact is only threatening to those women who still define the master's house as their only source of support."--Audre Lorde

Exit. Stage right

The views expressed in the Writer-in-Residence blogs are those held by the authors and do not necessarily reflect the views of Open Book.


Chelene Knight is the author of the poetry collection Braided Skin and the memoir Dear Current Occupant, winner of the 2018 Vancouver Book Award. Her essays have appeared in multiple Canadian and American literary journals, plus the Globe and Mail and the Toronto Star. Her work is anthologized in Making RoomLove Me TrueSustenanceThe Summer Book, and Black Writers Matter.

The Toronto Star called Knight, “one of the storytellers we need most right now.” In addition to her work as a writer, Knight is managing editor at Room, programming director for the Growing Room Festival, and CEO of #LearnWritingEssentials. She often gives talks about home, belonging and belief, inclusivity, and community building through authentic storytelling. 

Knight is currently working on Junie, a novel set in Vancouver’s Hogan’s Alley, forthcoming in 2020.

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