Author: Chris

Just over a month ago, The Family Way was shortlisted for the F.G. Bressani Literary Prize—an award that goes to a book written by an Italian-Canadian author. This is the first nomination I’ve received for either of my books, and it feels wonderful to finally be recognized by one’s peers this way.

Literary prizes are anxiety-provoking. If a writer tells you that they pay them no mind, they’re probably lying. We all get swept up in award season. If you have a book out, your antennae go up as you enter the fall. Then, the shortlists come at you fast and hard, one after the other: The Giller, the GG, the Writer’s Trust, Canada Reads. In Quebec, we also have the QWF Literary Awards and the Grand Prix du livre de Montréal. And when you are LGBTQ, you also have the Lambdas and Publishing Triangle to look forward to every summer. So, for about 12 months you’re on your toes.

After Pluto received no nominations back in 2014, I told myself I wasn’t going to pay attention this year. I didn’t want to be as disappointed as I was time, missing out on prizes I thought I had an actual shot at. Well, I failed at that completely. Even though I had removed certain dates in my calendar and unfollowed various social media accounts, I still felt a sense of anticipation. It’s a strange thing to put a book out into the world and wait with bated breath to see how people respond. I wish I could say I’m above it all, but I’m not. Wrapping up your expectations (or your dreams, more likely) in accolades can be dangerous. It can play with your confidence and make you feel like an imposter and a fraud. Sometimes, that’s how I feel.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of my books. And I know how random awards are. For years, I administered the CBC Literary Prizes and chaired dozens of juries. It was something to be a fly on the wall and listen as legendary writers debated the merits of different works of literature. Sometimes great stories ended up off shortlists because jurors had to negotiate and compromise. And the writers of those works will never know how close they came to being feted. Juries can be fickle, and decisions political. Another set of jurors would choose a completely different shortlist. So, what’s the point in getting caught up with the idea of “best” when there’s no such thing?

Still, I do know what winning or even being nominated for a prize can bring. In the case of the CBC Literary Awards, it often brought the interest of agents and further publication. Being able to include that you were shortlisted for a prize can get your next text bumped to the top of the submission pile. And having your book nominated for even the most modest of prizes can mean things like invitations to festivals, more reviews and interviews, offers of translation, additional sales and, of course, new readers.

I don’t know what, if anything, being nominated for the Bressani will bring to my career. I don’t know how competitive the competition was, or if I even have shot at winning. Still, whatever the outcome, I mean it when I say—I am just happy to be nominated.

Earlier this week I was interviewed on stage at the Morrin Centre as part of their Imagination Writers’ Festival. I had a great time unpacking the contents of The Family Way with the event’s host, Luc Mercier. His questions were inspired and fun. It’s always a pleasure when an avid reader engages with your work in such a meaningful way.

As with most literary events, there was time for a book signing at the end. Somehow, I recognized a pair of eyes on a masked person in line. She soon came up and asked if I knew who she was.

“Yes,” I said. “You’re Sarah.”

I hadn’t seen Sarah in maybe 25 years. She and I were peer health educators at Concordia University for a short time back in the 90s. I don’t remember how long we knew each other, maybe a year? Truth be told, there’s not much I remember from that time, or how well we really knew each other. So much has happened between now and then, for both of us.

As we began to catch up, I realized something about Sarah and the book in my hands. She had inspired a part of it.

Let me back up a bit… Earlier in the evening, Luc had asked me about some of the details in my book. He was interested in how I had selected the various bits of minutia about domestic life that I included and where my ideas came from. I had said it was important for me to include the small mundane moments of our lives to give my characters authenticity, and that I often carried a notebook around to jot down anything that stuck out to me as real.

Well, that’s exactly what happened with Sarah. Once, at a party, I remember her telling me—a shine to her eyes—that she had baked a cake for her mother’s birthday. At the time, I remember thinking it odd. I knew Sarah’s family was in Halifax and that she lived alone in Montreal. How could she give this cake to her mother? It was only later that I learned that her mother had passed away years before, and that baking a cake was a way to honour her memory.

I found that act to be so beautiful and loving, and Sarah’s actions stuck with me for decades. So much so, that when it came time to write about my character Paul losing his mother, it was one of the first things I reached for. In the novel, Paul bakes a strawberry pie every year on his mother’s birthday and shares it with the people in his life. It’s not important to the plot, nor is it something I expect most readers to recall after finishing the book, but still, it’s a subtle moment within the pages that gives the reader a deeper sense of who Paul is and what is important to him. And it’s details like this, I believe, that bring characters to life.

“You’re going to make me cry,” Sarah said after I told her. “I’m going to have to sit up all night reading it now.” She then introduced me to her daughter, and after exchanging a few more pleasantries, we said our goodbyes. I’m not sure when I will ever see her again.

I’ve been thinking about this encounter all weekend, how magical it was and how lucky I felt that I got to share this with her. Neither of us knew it back then, but Sarah had given me a gift those many years back, helped me to begin building the outline of a character who would one day become very important to me. And I was fortunate to be able to return the favour, to let her know that the special love she has for her mother had had a ripple effect and had lived on with me for more two decades, making its way into the pages of the book in her hands.

I had such a great time creating a book trailer for The Family Way, I decided to make one for The Geography of Pluto, too. Back when my first novel came out, in 2014, technology wasn’t like what it is today and I’m impressed by all the tools now available for design novices like me.

Although similar in voice, both of my books are very different, with The Geography of Pluto being more dark and emotional. It’s about distance and loneliness, and I wanted to mimic the atmosphere of the novel as best I could with the visuals.

I used a template from Canva to create the bones of the trailer and then sourced images online. The images come from NASA and from Unsplash, which is a great online source of free photos. Big thanks to the photographers whose images I used: Jp Valery, Etienne Delorieux and Robbie Koeck.

Originally, I was nervous about this interview but I’m happy with the way it came out. The Centre de recherche interuniversitaire sur la littérature et la culture québécoises (CRILCQ) asked QWF’s Executive Director Lori Schubert and I if we would interview each other about Quebec’s English-language literary scene, as part of a series they were working on called « ÉCRIRE EN ANGLAIS AU QUÉBEC ». I was flattered that they thought of me/us (how often does a French organization in the province put a spotlight on English writing?), but I was also worried that I wasn’t going to do it justice. Even though I was president of the QWF for several years, I’m not an expert. I never studied Quebec literature. But then I realized I could speak about it as someone who lives in it. Share what my impressions are of this wonderful community I have been fortunate to be a part of for almost two decades.

You can listen to the interview here. There are also three other interviews in the series.

It’s hard to believe that this was only two months ago, but in early December 2021 I hosted my first in-person Violet Hour in almost two years. Fierté littéraire had invited me to present a series of readings for their Salon du livre 2LGBTQIA+, and I was thrilled to once again be onstage with writers with new books.

In this video, you can hear me reading from The Family Way (I finally got to wear my “Free Dad Hugs” shirt that I had bought when I thought I’d be able to do real-world events). Joining me onstage were Sami Basbous (Heal the Boy), Marusya Bociurkiw (Food Was her Country: The Memoir of a Queer Daughter), Helen Chau Bradley (Personal Attention Roleplay), and Eli Tareq El Bechelany Lynch (The Good Arabs). Enjoy!

This was a fun assignment.

Late last year, Xtra asked me if there was a favourite book of mine I’d like to write about for their Queer View Mirror series, which looks at works from the LGBTQ back catalogue from a personal lens. I immediately thought of Andrew Holleran’s 1978 novel, Dancer from the Dance.

No other work has had more of a profound impact on my writing. I re-read the book every two years because, 1) It’s such a delight to read—funny, heartfelt and wise, and 2) I hope to strengthen my craft, and tune my own writing to his pitch. In tribute, I named the two cats in The Family Way after its protagonists, Malone and Sutherland. If he ever reads that copy I sent him, I hope he’s not offended. Those characters are so important to me—as they would be to Paul—and I wanted to communicate that books like Dancer are also an essential part of our queer family.

You can read my essay here: The siren song of Andrew Holleran’s 1978 novel ‘Dancer from the Dance’