JAMES STRECKER: Please tell us about one or more projects that you have been working on or have recently completed. Why exactly do they matter to you and why should they matter to us?
ELLEN S. JAFFE: I have just finished my third poetry collection, The Day I Saw Willie Mays, and Other Poems. I started putting the manuscript together in the autumn, helped by a Recommenders Grant for Writers from the Ontario Arts Council (recommended by Guernica Editions, who published my earlier collection, Skinny-Dipping With the Muse.) I was, however, diagnosed in February with esophageal cancer, for which I am still receiving treatment. Not knowing how much (or little) time I had left, I decided to self-publish the book with my colleague Lil Blume, through our occasional publishing company, Pinking Shears Publications.
I included many poems I had been working on for a few years, some of which have been published in journals. Then, in a burst of intense writing, before starting treatment (about six-eight weeks), I wrote a series of new poems, “After the Diagnosis.”I also included several poems written after my move to Toronto in August 2018, as well as a set of poems inspired by photographs by Karin Rosenthal (a photographer I have known since university); Karin and I had been discussing this project for several years and decided now was the time..
It was important to me to create and design this book and see its publication, and to know that these poems are out in the world. It is meaningful to see people’s responses to the poems and to know that these personal words and images also speak to others. The newer poems and many of the older ones deal with the uncertainty in life, what we know and what we don’t know. I felt I took some important risks in this book, in terms of both passion and language.
JS: How did doing these projects change you as a person and as a creator?
ESJ: Writing the poems about my diagnosis and illness, and the fears of dying, it inevitably evoked, helped me cope better with the situation, by putting it into words, and also — in several of the poems — took me to new places of love, courage, and more positive feelings than I would have thought possible when I began writing. For example, the poem “Waiting,” which begins with imaginary news flashes saying “You Are Going to Die” ends with “You Are Here/Now…You Are.”
I also felt that many of these poems, including the more political ones (e.g. “Breaking Boundaries” and “Luggage at Eight Years Old”) came from a more spontaneous and passionate place than I have felt for a while — going back to my earlier writing experience, and this felt good. I was also writing in my new home, which I share with my partner: he has encouraged my writing since we met, and it was good to be able to work in this new space and share my reflections on the creative process with him.
JS: What might others not understand or appreciate about the work you produce or do?
ESJ: That’s an interesting question. I usually hear more about the responses of people who do understand and appreciate the poems. I think I can be more outspoken in writing than in ordinary life, and I sometimes wonder if that disturbs people — but then, good writing should disturb and move people. I also think that some people (often because of educational experiences as children and teens) are wary of poetry because they think it is too abstract, remote, “fancy,” with too many rules; when they hear good modern poetry (by any writer) and see how the words relate to their own lives and feelings, they begin to respond more positively.
JS: What are the most important parts of yourself that you put into your work?
ESJ: 1) Family history, especially my Eastern-European-Jewish background, which connects me to my great-grandmother, whom I knew, and also to her parents and other relatives I was too young to meet. I also feel (and grew up with) the sense that it is important to do something to make the world better. In Judaism, the expression for this is “Tikkun Olam.” In the new book, I also deal with some problematic elements of growing up, including both emotional issues in the family and living a fairly privileged life in New York City while becoming aware of poverty and discrimination around me (and which, as Jews, we would have felt in Europe if my relative had not immigrated to the U.S. around 1900).
2) Love and relationships.
3) Awareness of growing old, illness, dying and grief for family and friends who have passed away.
4) Chance meetings and encounters — being open to these surprises in everyday life.
5) Joys and concerns about nature and our planet dealing with massive climate changes.
JS: What are your biggest challenges as a creative person?
ESJ: Time to do everything (or many things): writing projects to complete, reading to do, readings to attend, as well as live my daily life — cooking, time with friends, long walks, etc. Especially now, later in my life and dealing with illness, it is important to set priorities — and realize you can do some things but not everything. Another challenge, of course, is just the continuing learning, making your writing better — stretching beyond the comfort zone into new territory of content and craft.
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JS: Imagine that you are meeting two or three people, living or dead, whom you admire because of their work in your form of artistic expression. What would you say to them and what would they say to you?
ESJ: 1) Margaret Laurence, although she writes prose, not poetry (I also write fiction, and adapted one of Margaret Laurence’s books for young people, Jason’s Quest, into a play — with permission from her estate): I would ask about her view that writers are a “tribe” who care about and support each other, and about writing from painful and difficult experiences.
2) June Jordan, Afro-American poet who died in 2002; I worked with her in the late 1960s-early 70s in a writing group for kids in Fort Greene, Brooklyn, called “The Voice of the Children” but did not know her well. I would ask how she moved from that work into doing “People’s Poetry” in California, and how she was able to write both strong political/social poetry and strong love poetry. I don’t know what she would say to me; I hope we would have some things in common to talk about. She also wrote prose; I think many writers are multi-genre, finding the form that suits the current work best.
3) John Donne: I fell in love with his poetry when I first read it in high school, and would also like to meet him as he is from a very different time and context. I am not sure what we would say to each other, but I think (perhaps wrongly) he would be charismatic and interesting.
4) Joy Harjo is a Native American poet whom I would love to meet and work with in a workshop — I admire her poems and view of the world.
JS: Please describe at least one major turning point in your life that helped to make you who you are as a creative artist.
ESJ: Two of the major turning points involved change of place: moving from New York to England in 1972, for a year’s fellowship that turned into 7 years, studying child psychotherapy and also writing and beginning to get published. The move took me out of my home country into a very different environment, at a time when the world was in a period of tension and change because of Vietnam and other events.
Then, moving to Canada in 1979, to marry my (then) partner. This turned out to be the move to a country where I feel at home and welcomed. I had my son here in 1980, and soon began to do more writing and become part of a writing community. We lived in Woodstock, Ontario, a fairly limited community; and fortunately bill bissett did a year-long writer-in-residence at the Woodstock Public Library; I was part of his weekly writing group and not only learned a lot about writing, but became friends with bill and this helped me feel part of the larger world of Canadian writing. And moving to Hamilton in 2000 really gave a jump-start to my writing and being published, and connections in Hamilton, Toronto, and across Canada — as well as making many friends there. I have kept up these connections even after moving to Toronto in 2018 to live with my partner, who I have known since 2001 and who has whole-heartedly supported my writing.
JS: What are the hardest things for an outsider to understand about your life as a person in the arts?
ESJ: I think the focus and attention that one has to give to a creative project while you are working on it (my ex-husband, for example, found that difficult to deal with, as well as my growing friendships with other writers, both male and female). My current partner, although writing and art is not his life-work, has done both creative and scientific work and understands the need to “go to my office and write for a while.”
JS: Please tell us what you haven’t attempted as yet that you would like to do in the arts? Why the delay so far?
ESJ: I would like to do more play-writing and work in theatre; this is one of the paths that I didn’t pursue with as much diligence as I could have done. I have written plays, and directed one of my own short plays — that was a wonderful experience, where I learned more about the non-verbal aspects of theatre, something that has always attracted me. I like the communal work in theatre — but I have tended to work more on poetry and fiction, perhaps because it is harder and takes more rigorous time to both write and produce a play than to work on your own (and with editors) on other genres. If I were younger, this is something I would pursue with more energy. I am, however, working on a play about two people who fall in love in a home for seniors — so you never know.
I would also like to do a sequel to my y/a novel, Feast of Lights; I have ideas for it and have started writing a few times, but get side-tracked. Maybe I will go back to this project, in some form.
In my non-writing career, I have worked as a child and adult psychotherapist, and this has given me more insight into how people think, feel, talk, and look. I have also been able to help my clients see their lives as ongoing stories they can write and re-write, and also used literature to help them get some perspective on their lives and situations. If I had had a completely different career, it might have been in biology — like Jane Goodall observing chimpanzees, or understand the workings of the brain.
JS: If you could re-live your life in the arts, how would you change it and why?
ESJ: See some of the comments to the previous question.
JS: Let’s talk about the state of the arts in today’s society, including the forms in which you work. What specifically gives you hope and what specifically do you find depressing?
ESJ: I think it is a good sign that more young people are interested in both writing and performing poetry, and that poetry is becoming more of a spoken as well as written art-form. It does give me pause to see young people reading from their cell-phones during readings, as I still like the feel of paper, but I know they are comfortable with text on the phone. Traditional publishing is changing, with more opportunities for self-publishing and a variety of reading venues. I am also very encouraged by the diversity of writing, especially in Canada, with more opportunities for Indigenous writers and artists as well as people who have chosen to come live in Canada. It is important to hear all these different voices. Managing money and time is still a major issue for artists (as for most of us), and I have been fortunate in having support from my family, not told to “get a real job” (though, as mentioned above, I have worked in other fields).
JS: What exactly do you like about the work you create and/or do?
ESJ: 1) Since childhood, I have loved words, loved putting them together into images, forms, poems, stories, even school reports and writing “assignments.” There is something that nurtures me and makes me feel more whole when I am writing.
2) I love teaching, both adults and children, and find that — despite my doubts about being able to do this — I have an aptitude for helping people find and express their own voices in writing — even (especially) people who felt they had no voice, and no way of talking about their feelings. I love opening these doors for people. One woman told me, “After years of not having a voice, I’m finally finding my voice!” I have also done some projects with students in grades 3-8 (both Jewish and non-Jewish) writing about the Holocaust, and was moved to tears by some of their writing and the way they engaged with the subject.
3) Writers are like con-people in a good way: we create worlds and characters, and ask you to “pay” for them with your time, attention, and caring. We do not promise to cure things, but to open people’s hearts and minds — including our own.
JS: In your creative life thus far, what have been the most helpful comments you have heard about your work?
ESJ: Hard to list specific comments. I have been grateful for the generous support and encouragement from editors who believed in my work (“Just write!”) and who also made helpful specific comments about individual lines or the shape of a poem. I am also touched by the support of the writing community for people like myself going through difficult health and other personal issues, and the sense of an evolving literary community.
JS: Finally, what do you yourself find to be the most intriguing and/or surprising things about you?
ESJ: I am taller when I write, and read my work aloud at readings. (Thanks, Lil Blume, for urging me to “read tall.”)
I love being a mom and would like to be a grandmother. This wish is being fulfilled as my son’s partner has two sons, and the younger one (age 11) is coming to live with them in their new home in B.C. I met this young boy last December and really liked him and the way he and my son get along together. And he asked me about my writing: “Do you use onomatopoeia in your poetry?” I do, I replied — but where did you learn about that? “We studied poetry in school.” So, there is hope for younger poets.
Actually, when I have taught writing in schools, it is often the boys who respond with both emotion and energy, surprising themselves. Another intriguing thing that most people do not know is that I have studied Shamanic healing, and done some healing journeys for people. Like writing, you do not know where these journeys will lead when you start out, but they take you to interesting and amazing places.