ON PHONE NOTES, GRIEF, AND DOUBLE MFAs

A conversation with Cassidy McFadzean

CASSIDY MCFADZEAN

is the author of three books of poetry: Crying Dress (House of Anansi, 2024); Drolleries (McClelland & Stewart, 2019), shortlisted for the Raymond Souster Award; and Hacker Packer (McClelland & Stewart, 2015), winner of two Saskatchewan Book Awards and finalist for the Gerald Lampert Award. Her fiction has appeared or is forthcoming in Joyland, The Walrus, Hazlitt, and Dead Writers (Invisible Publishing, 2024). Her chapbook Third State of Being (Gaspereau Press, 2022) was a finalist for the bpNichol Chapbook Award. Cassidy was born in Regina, and currently lives in Toronto.

Tali Voron-Leiderman: Hi Cassidy! It’s an absolute pleasure to get to speak with you today. There are so many ways that we could start this interview, but perhaps it’s best we start with an introduction. You are incredibly accomplished and have already achieved so much in your career. You have published three poetry collections: Hacker Packer (2015), Drolleries (2019), and Crying Dress (2024). Hacker Packer was the winner of two Saskatchewan Book Awards and a finalist for the Gerald Lampert Award and Drolleries was shortlisted for the Raymond Souster Award. You have also published two chapbooks, Dead Writers—a collaborative work of novellas by four writers—is on the way in 2025, and you’ve been published widely across numerous literary magazines. The list of accolades goes on and on! What’s one thing our readers should know about you that they may not already?

Cassidy McFadzean: Thank you so much, Tali. I’m really excited for this interview and I’m so honored to be featured in The Ampersand Review.
I think one thing people might not know about me is I’ve been working as a poetry editor on a freelance basis. I’ve edited for poets like Domenica Martinello, Jacob McArthur Mooney, and Natasha Ramoutar. I’ve also had the exciting experience of editing for a press for the first time, so I worked with Paula Turcotte on her debut chapbook Permutations for Baseline Press, which just came out this summer. I really try to inhabit a poet’s work when I revise and give useful suggestions, and I really enjoy living in the world that they create through their poems.

TVL: That’s amazing. I knew that, but it’s always your work that comes to the forefront although you’re so involved on the editorial side as well.

CM: Yeah, it’s interesting to get outside of my own head and inhabit somebody else’s words and try to contribute in any useful way that I can. I’ve been really fortunate to have some great people in my life like Kevin Connolly, my editor at House of Anansi. He actually edited all three of my books, so if I’m able to do even a fraction of the work that he’s done, I’ll be happy.

TVL: You mentioned that you bring your perspective as a poet to your editing. Would you mind telling me more about that and what that looks like in practice?

CM: I tend to be sort of heavy with line editing, and I look at things like musicality, the particular lines of a poem, as well as form, and how the poem is read aloud. I do try to address larger anxieties the poet may have about the work, but the place I really shine is at the line level. In my role as Writer-in-Residence, that’s what I try to do with Sheridan students when we meet as well.

TVL: Editing is really an art as much as it is a skill. For poetry especially I think that comes through.

CM: I definitely agree with that.

TLV: You really do a little bit of everything. You are a poet. You write fiction and short stories. You’ve dabbled in non-fiction, as well, and you’re an editor, too. Is there a medium that you find comes to you most easily?

CM: Poetry definitely came more naturally to me in the beginning. I think this was due in part to having an incredible teacher, Medrie Purdham, at the University of Regina where I did my undergrad and my MA in English and Creative Writing. She just released her first book, Little Housewolf, and she really taught me about the role that fixed forms and structure can play in a poem as well as musicality. It kind of blew my mind open and I’ve been a poetry addict ever since.

TVL: I wonder, do you find yourself leaning toward either poetry or fiction? What guides you toward one form over the other? Is it dependent on the project that you’re working on, the topics or themes you’re exploring? How does it work for you?

CM: There tends to be a lot of overlap as I write about the same thing but in different forms. I’ve been working on my novel since 2018, and while it’s changed a lot, the current incarnation is a book about grief, displacement, and defamiliarization, which are all ideas that I write about in my poetry as well. Maybe it has to do with mood or working on a particular project, but there tends to be a lot of overlap. Maybe it’s just a different approach to the idea or the theme emerges in my poetry versus my fiction. It’s hard to say!

TVL: That makes a lot of sense. I definitely see that overlap between your poetry and your fiction, as well, but you explore these themes in different ways.

CM: One thing I’d like to do is channel the linguistic playfulness into my fiction. That’s sort of a goal that I’m hoping to explore in future works.

TVL: You’ve published two chapbooks and three poetry collections. How do you approach writing your collections and deciding on the order of the poems? Does your process change depending on whether you’re working on a chapbook or a full-length collection?

CM: It’s very much an intuitive process for me. I do feel a chapbook should be its own distinct work and not just an assortment of poems put together. For example, my first chapbook, Farwell, is a suite of poems set in Revelstoke, B.C., and my recent chapbook, Third State of Being, is a crown of sonnets, so the form really made sense for that project.
In a full-length poetry manuscript, I try to show some sort of arc throughout the book. In terms of what order the poems appear, my editor plays a big role in that. It’s so hard to tell when you’re in the weeds of the collection. Crying Dress was the first time that I played around with having different sections, so prior to that I had tried to build an arc with individual poems. In Crying Dress, I tried to separate the book into the seasons of the year. Even though I don’t think of the book as chronological, it kind of gives this impression of a year in the life or the cyclical transition between seasons, which I really like.

TVL: On the subject of Crying Dress, I wanted to talk a little bit about it next. The back cover blurb of Crying Dress describes the collection as “strikingly original poems [that] revel in musicality (rhyme, beat, and alliteration) while deploying puns, idiom, and other forms of linguistic play to create a dissonance that challenges the expected coherence of a poem.” The way you play with language is striking, sensory, and vivid; the images jump off the page. Do you feel that your craft as a poet has evolved over the course of your collections, and the years between them?

CM: Thank you. My first two books were a lot more structured, and I was playing with fixed forms such as the sestina or the pantoum. In my first book, there’s a lot of old English alliterative verse. I was writing these mock old English riddles that were really fun.
So, in Crying Dress, it’s not like there’s a lack of structure, but I wrote the book at a time when my life felt really chaotic. It was the middle of a global pandemic, my mom had just passed away suddenly, and then I moved to Brooklyn for my MFA, so a lot was going on. It felt like the old forms were no longer serving me and I think this is reflected in the poems, which maybe feel a little more fractured, a little more elliptical. There’s still a sense of playfulness, but I think meaning is obscured, which maybe speaks to the fact that the world felt unintelligible at that time.

TVL: It’s so interesting that you were writing at a time when you were in this moment of great transition and chaos. But then you put that order into the collection by giving it structure through seasons. It’s empowering to feel in control, even if it’s imposing a sense of order after the fact, when the moment you’re living in feels out of control.

CM: That’s a really good point. Even though things felt a little chaotic, the days kept passing and I couldn’t help but give myself over to the changing of seasons, which were maybe the only things I could rely on at that point.
I also want to say that the writing of the poems was also different. For the first two books, I would get an idea for a poem and write it down. In Crying Dress in particular, a lot of poems were actually composed on my phone. I would text myself lines while walking around! So maybe that also speaks to a slight shift in form.

TVL: Do you find that you’re still working in that way now, or has your writing process changed since then?

CM: I haven’t written a lot of poems because I’ve mainly been focusing on fiction, but the new ones I’ve written, yes, they have been composed in that sort of phone-notes-to-myself mode. I don’t know. I tend to write in pairs. I feel like my first two books were really similar and maybe Crying Dress and whatever comes next might have echoes between them as well.

TVL: This feels like a natural point to talk a little bit more about your writing process. You’ve already given some insight with how you have been writing poems on your phone. But I’m also curious if you have any writing rituals or traditions, or anything really specific that you do to get into the right headspace?

CM: I don’t have specific rituals, but right now I’m working on a novel and I try to write as soon as I wake up. First thing in the morning is when I feel most productive, when my brain is closer to that half-awake dream state, and I’m perhaps not quite as self-critical as I might otherwise be. That’s the ideal day. Waking up, having tea, sitting at my computer. Of course, it isn’t always possible, since my partner and I now have a puppy—walking him in the morning sort of takes precedence, but I think it’s important to be flexible as well. I’ve also started writing during my commute. I can usually feel this nagging urge when I haven’t written for a while. If I’m sitting at a coffee shop, maybe I can squeeze in a few moments, or I can work at the airport. Ideally, I love to write first thing in the morning at home. But you know, life takes over and then you find yourself crouched over your laptop on the GO bus.

TVL: I know the feeling. So, you try to write every day, then?

CM: I do. Some days are more productive than others, and definitely on the weekend I do want to spend time with my partner and make room for social time. But when I don’t write every day, I do feel this sort of nagging urge that I should be writing.

TVL: I really relate to that nagging urge that you described. I’m curious, how much time has to pass before you feel it?

CM: Yeah, if I don’t write for the full day, then in the evening I’ll start to feel it. My body forces me to work in the evening when I usually like to read or watch TV, or be a little more relaxed. If I haven’t written in a few days, it will become quite ... dire. That would be the word. And then I’ll have to make room for it.
When I’m travelling, I don’t usually tend to write as much. I haven’t really gone anywhere lately, but when I’m travelling for an event, things tend to shift a little bit.

TVL: Thank you for that. I’m so excited for your forthcoming work of fiction, Dead Writers, which will be published in 2025 by Invisible Publishing. Very briefly, this work is described as a “collaborative omnibus-style fiction project, four writers navigate the protean concept of the “bargain” in novella-length stories.” The novellas are written by you, Jean Marc Ah-Sen, Michael LaPointe, and Naben Ruthnum. How did Dead Writers come to be, and what was it like to work on a collaborative project like this?

CM: I’m really excited for the book. It was born out of Jean Marc’s brilliant and insane mind. He initially had the idea for twelve stand-alone novellas, but that was an immense undertaking, so they morphed into these anthologies, and I’m really excited to be in the one with Jean Marc, Michael, and Naben. I’m really happy that my fiction debut is alongside these three writers that I admire so much. On a practical note, it’s been really useful having three other people to discuss things. like the title or the cover art, which you’re usually navigating on your own or texting your friends about. This way I can consult with the co-authors and I feel like our works speak to each other in an interesting way. It creates this sense of unease in the collection as a whole. I’m excited to hear what readers think.

TVL: I have to ask, when you all came together, did you have the concept and then everybody went off to write a novella based on it, or were there discussions about how everybody was going to approach this? Or did everybody already have a novella that seemed to fit?

CM: It varied. I had a piece that I revisited and revised. Others either wrote it for the project or they already had a piece, but the book came about in an organic way. It’s really a range, but it definitely came about in a very organic way. We realized afterward that all of our pieces spoke to the idea of the bargain in some way. So maybe each of us intuitively were writing stories that trended toward the supernatural or the unknown with a creepy angle.

TVL: That’s pretty amazing. You’ve moved around quite a bit throughout your career. You were born in Regina, lived in Iowa and Brooklyn, and now you’re based in Toronto. I’m curious, how does place inspire, affect, or influence your writing?

CM: Moving around so much has definitely influenced my writing, but it’s only after leaving a place that I can write about it. Part of this has to do with yearning for the past, which isn’t always helpful, but sometimes can be. Ruminating on a place inspires me to write about it.
I definitely miss my family and friends; the longer I’m away from Saskatchewan, the more I’ve started to process childhood and early years, as well as appreciating things about Regina that I didn’t recognize at the time. I hope I can spend more time in Saskatchewan in the future. There’s such an incredible writing community there, which has been really supportive, and I’ve tried to stay in touch. Yeah, in a strange way it’s only after leaving a place that I start to process it through my writing. That being said, I do have a story forthcoming in The Walrus called “Forest Hill Gothic,” which is about a neighbourhood in Toronto that I wrote after coming back from Brooklyn, so maybe my process is starting to change a little.

TVL: Third State of Being, your chapbook published with Gaspereau Press, was a finalist for the bpNichol Chapbook Award. You have also published poems and short stories in various literary magazines like Hazlitt, The Walrus, Joyland, Maisonneuve, and long con to name a few. What role do you think micro presses, chapbooks, and literary magazines play in our literary ecosystem?

CM: Chapbooks, literary magazines, and micropresses play a vital role in serving as sites of experimentation or play. They appear a lot more quickly than books without some of the same constraints. In a lot of ways, they capture the most exciting work that poets and writers are publishing long before it appears in a book form. Working with editors at the magazine to polish them up a little bit, or even seeing who else is being published in the same issue can be really exciting. And oftentimes magazines might have a particular thematic prompt for that issue. It can be generative to write toward that prompt or revise a work that is leaning in that direction and see where it takes you.

TVL: Thank you; I agree! The next couple of questions I have are about your experiences with your MFAs. You have completed an MFA in poetry from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop and an MFA in fiction from Brooklyn College. I’m so intrigued by your decision to pursue not one, but two, MFAs in two different genres. Can you share what that journey was like?

CM: It’s a little embarrassing, but I think in practical terms, I did the second MFA after my mom passed away right after COVID was really at its height. I just needed a change of scenery and what better way than moving to Brooklyn for two years surrounded by new classmates, new professors, and a new environment? My MFA in poetry was earlier on in my career, but I always wanted to write fiction. I never put that dream away, but I also felt like I couldn’t take my fiction to the same level on my own. So the timing was right in 2021 when I moved to Brooklyn to pursue the dream of an MFA in fiction. Immersing myself in that community of fiction writers for two years in the Brooklyn College environment really allowed me to focus on developing my craft in a way that I hadn’t before. So even though it’s a little embarrassing to have two MFAs, I’m grateful for those two experiences.

TVL: I don’t think it’s embarrassing at all; I think it’s incredible. Your commitment to honing your craft in two genres is inspiring. Do you feel that your MFA in poetry then informed how you approached your fiction writing when you were at Brooklyn College, too?

CM: Interesting. I hadn’t thought about that. They were so different. In Iowa, you’re sort of in this small city away from everything from the writing scene in a lot of ways. Whereas in Brooklyn, you’re right at the heart of it. There are so many readings every night and literary parties where you really have to build your work ethic to stay home and write.

TVL: So, they were two distinctly different experiences.

CM: Yeah, definitely. But they’re both studio-focused and focused on craft and on close-reading others’ work and surrounding yourself with really passionate classmates.

TVL: A common question among aspiring writers is whether an MFA is a necessary credential for pursuing a writing career. I’m curious to hear what your thoughts are on this and if you think there are any considerations that a writer should make before pursuing an MFA.

CM: Of course an MFA is not essential. I am aware of financial constraints that might make moving away for two years challenging for an emerging writer or someone with family responsibilities. If a writer wants to pursue an MFA, my advice would be to focus on programs that offer full funding. I think it’s also possible to recreate a DIY MFA environment through taking classes, for example. There are so many Zoom classes on- line or joining a writing group where you can critique one another’s work. And of course, nothing can replace reading widely and voraciously as a way to hack your own MFA. If you’re not able to upend your life for two years, I think there are other ways to devote yourself to your craft.

TVL: Not to put you on the spot, but are there any resources that you can think of off the top of your head that we can point our readers to that could get them started?

CM: The Flying Books School of Reading & Writing is where you can work one-on-one with various mentors in different genres. I was working with them prior to becoming Sheridan’s Writer-in-Residence and I’m hoping to work with them again in the future. There’s also the U of T School of Continuing Studies. I know a lot of great writers offer workshops there and more and more writers are offering classes over Zoom. A lot of my friends will advertise their online workshops on Instagram, like André Babyn is offering a fiction class now, and I’m sure he will again in the future. Poets like Sarah Burgoyne and Jaclyn Deforges also offer Zoom classes, and I have in the past, and maybe one day will again in the future. Also, retreats like the Sage Hill writing experience are incredible. Sage Hill is in Saskatchewan and I attended that twice and it was really important to my development as a poet.

TVL: Thank you so much. So much of writing life happens off the page through readings, festivals, workshops, participating in writing groups and more. Can you speak to the role that community engagement plays in your life as a writer?

CM: Writing can be such a solitary act that these moments of community building are really precious. Attending readings or taking classes allows emerging writers to meet like-minded individuals who are equal- ly passionate about this thing we’re all trying to do, which is write. Even for myself, going to a festival, going to reading, or if you’re able to attend a retreat, I always walk away feeling really inspired and rejuvenated. I think part of being a writer is the solitary moments of actually sitting at your desk and writing. But equally important is meeting other writers and engaging with the community.

TVL: Absolutely. Thank you. Before we get to our last question, I have to throw this in here ... what’s your favourite word at the moment?

CM: I tend to go through phases of using the same word. For a while it was “propulsive,” and recently it’s been “juncture.” I wouldn’t say either of those are my favourites but for whatever reason I can’t stop saying them!

TVL: Lastly, what is the best piece of advice, related to writing or not, that you have ever received?

CM: I don’t know if it was directly stated to me, but the implicit advice is that you can get all the feedback from all the writers in the world, from your classmates, from all these courses that one takes. But it’s really important to hone your own instincts for what you want a piece to say. You want your work to stay true to your vision for a piece of writing. So, of course it’s important to stay flexible and to take the opinions of people that you trust into consideration. But at the end of the day, it’s your story or your poem. Your name is going to be on it. So, honing your instincts is really important.

TVL: I love that. That’s excellent advice, and it is quite empowering. Thank you so much for chatting with me, Cassidy. I have taken so many pearls of wisdom from our conversation. I will leave you with the final word. Is there anything else you would like to share with our readers?

CM: Thank you so much for these thoughtful questions! I’m looking forward to publishing more fiction in 2025, with pieces coming out in Hazlitt, The Walrus, and of course, Dead Writers. Working with Invisible Publishing has been an amazing experience and I’m excited to join their roster.