Shandi Mitchell is an award-winning Canadian filmmaker and screenwriter. Her short films have screened at numerous international festivals, and she is a recipient of a Canada Council for the Arts endowment. Mitchell spent her childhood on a military base on the prairies and now makes her home in Nova Scotia, on the east coast of Canada, with her husband, Alan, and their dog, Annie. Under This Unbroken Sky is her first novel.
"When I am writing, my subconscious continues to work while I sleep. I often dream about a scene that is still not quite right. It plays like a movie. I can stop it, start again, revise, and then re-play it. I often wake up with a key element revealed. Sometimes the real and dreamed blur. I have been known to wake up mad at my husband for an indiscretion committed only in the dream world. I have fought of assailants with martial arts moves (dangerous for my sleeping partner). I have died in my dreams and kept on dreaming."Feature Interview
In the summer of 2009, Shandi Mitchell took some time out to talk with us about her favorite books, authors, and interests. What was the book that most influenced your life or your career as a writer -- and why?
When I was maybe 14, I read Grapes of Wrath. The plight of the Joad family affected me deeply. Here was a story of social injustice, loss, family, sacrifice and compassion. I was so excited to share this literary discovery that I gave it to my parents as a must read.
My father looked at the last few pages. Then he showed it to my mother who read the last few pages. They were horrified by Rose of Sharon's final actions and the effect such explicit material might have on their daughter's impressionable, young mind. It was deemed inappropriate and banned from the house. This was my first encounter with controversy and censorship. I pleaded with them to read the book; the ending was an act of salvation not pornography. I was a righteous, indignant teenager and my parents were wrong! This was great, truthful writing. I didn't win the argument.
So Grapes of Wrath taught me that words could hold forbidden knowledge; my parents were fallible; no one should ever flip to the back of a book and scan the ending(!); and I would always be my own judge of a book's content. Their intervention spurred me on to chase down other banned books like Lady Chatterley's Lover, Lord of the Flies, The Tin Drum, Slaughterhouse Five,, Ulysses, To Kill A Mockingbird, Call of The Wild, Of Mice and Men... all of which I read far too young, in covert places.
What are your ten favorite books, and what makes them special to you?
How do I choose only ten favorite books from a lifetime of reading? Which child is my favorite? Each book has given me a distinct gift. Sometimes insight into another world, another culture, another species, another life. Sometimes I'm dazzled by the phrasing, the rhythm, the reshaping of form, the precision and play of language, the shattering of convention. My list of favorite books is forever expanding and shifting. If there is a connection between the books that I favor, I think it may be heart. Does the story make me feel? Does it challenge, provoke, take me to unexpected emotional highs and lows? Does it give me characters I want to love, hate, protect, and hold? I appreciate a fearless voice that takes me into the darkest places and surprises me with fragments of brilliant light.
So rather than my top ten books, here are a few of the books that I have lived inside:
Japon by Carlos Reygadas. Mixes non-actors and actors. The landscape of this world is presented unadorned. The viewpoint is not restricted by clearance rights-- people drink Coke, smoke, wear t-shirts with logos, and behave messily... I miss that authenticity in North American films. It feels raw. The film is also fearless in its exchange of love. The camera doesn't look away. There are so many others I could tell you about: All About My Mother, Talk to Her, The Day the Band Visited, Harold and Maude, Children of Heaven, Colour of Paradise, Heavenly Creatures, Walkabout, Goodbye Lenin...
A few American favorites are:
Apocalypse Now, What's Eating Gilbert Grape, African Queen, Days of Heaven, Deerhunter, The Straight Story, The Godfather, Midnight Cowboy, Unforgiven, Little Miss Sunshine, Hamlet 2, Smoke Signals, The Matrix, To Kill a Mockingbird, Raising Arizona, Before Sunset, Hud,...
A few Canadian favorites:
Jesus of Montreal, The Sweet Hereafter, Léola. C.R.A.Z.Y., Decline of the American Empire, Going Down The Road, Nothing, The Last Night, History of Violence, I Heard The Mermaid Singing, The Company of Strangers, My Life Without Me...
What types of music do you like? Is there any particular kind you like to listen to when you're writing?
I don't listen to music when I write. It would be a distraction. But as I write, I am aware of the musical rhythm within each scene or chapter. Sometimes, I listen to music before I begin writing and try to carry its energy into the scene. And there have been occasions, as I moved toward the end of an emotional scene, that I find myself humming a specific tune that has the same color of my scene; a crescendo to accompany me through the final beats. Perhaps it also serves to test the emotional resonance. Once I complete a scene, I will often turn the music up loud and as I listen, play the scene beneath it in my memory to compare the feel.
Even in my musical taste, I'm drawn to master storytellers: Leonard Cohen, Patty Griffin, Tom Waits, Bruce Springsteen, Van Morrison. I'm also drawn to great performers who seem to live inside their music: Jeff Buckley, Eva Cassidy, Buddy Guy, Muddy Waters, Etta James, Carlos Santana, Francine Reed, Janis Joplin, Matt Anderson...
Every now and then I have a You Tube splurge and spend hours tracking songs and legendary performances. I like sourcing contemporary renditions back to the original and I'm also fascinated by daring or brilliant re-interpretation. Sid Vicious ("My Way") kills me every time.
What are your favorite kinds of books to give -- and get -- as gifts?
My family and friends often ask me for my wish list. I supply them with many options and then wait for the surprise of what has been chosen for me. Sometimes, I receive a beautiful hardcover novel, which will be read curled up on the couch in the sunniest window. Sometimes, there will be an array of paperbacks for my bathtub reading sessions. Other times, I receive gift cards. I hoard them until I can have a bookstore day and fill my arms. I love receiving photo collections--images that I can sit with and spend time seeing; unusual books that fuse design, graphics and story; unknown books that friends insist I read; and I have a sweet spot for Far Side and Calvin and Hobbes.
I tailor my book gifts to my friends and family's interests. I try to find a book that reflects something meaningful for them.
Hmmm, my "receive" section is much longer than my "give" section.
Do you have any special writing rituals? For example, what do you have on your desk when you're writing?
I know I'm preparing to write when I begin to manically clean my house. I have a perverse desire to have everything ordered, because I'm about to enter the disorder of my mind. I don't want to think about the real world once I am inside the imagined. However, when I leave my writing world, I want to return to a comforting, real world that has been waiting for me. Unfortunately, for my husband, I don't recognize these 'need to write' symptoms until I've begun to repaint the room or am in the midst of reorganizing all the cupboards or re-positioning all pictures on the walls or moving all the furniture, only to move it back again. I seem to have a desire to make my real world larger. I want the walls back another six feet. Everything is too close. Other pre-writing symptoms include: crankiness, an unwillingness to speak, general restlessness, and a heightened ability to hear but not listen.
Once I have entered the story, the house can fall down, laundry piles up, dishes spill onto the counters, bills forget to be paid, eating becomes a chore, the dog needs to remind me that she needs to pee and a walk certainly would be nice.
Then I get into the rhythm, I carve out the times for work and living. I leave the writing safe on my desk, knowing it will be there when I return. I can function in the real world. No one else can see the characters accompanying me. I can maintain this routine for months, maybe years. I am writing-all is going fabulously. Now my husband only needs to hear my daily summaries -- guess what happened today! But if I stumble, get lost, can't find the word; I will need to pace and mull, stare out windows and that's when I lose the ability to even hear. This is also a time when it is dangerous for me to drive. I miss turn offs, I end up on the opposite side of town, I need to ask for directions back -- but often I return with the next line, the next image, the missing beat. And then comes the push to the end and I am all consumed. Time means nothing. My life for theirs. This is the phase when I need it to end; but every part of my being screams not to let go. This is when the story can get away from me. I fight to stay on, reining it in before we reach the cliff...
And then I finish.
And now come the tears. For a few months there will be mourning, an insatiable need to connect with everyone I know, copious amounts of wine and indulgent meals, traveling to places I've never been, reading books, watching films...
And then I'll notice that the deck needs staining and the ceiling should be painted and I really should build another bookcase and when was the last time the dog was brushed and why can't we move the wall...?
Many writers are hardly "overnight success" stories. How long did it take for you to get where you are today?
My whole life.
It began with my mother reading me books to carry me into my dreams. And my kindergarten teacher who allowed me to sit in the corner where the light spilled under the blind, so I could read while the other children napped. My English teachers who shared their passion for the written word and stuck paper stars on my early, terrible compositions. The booksellers who kept children's books low on the shelves. My parents who knew I wasn't lost and to look for me in the book aisles. The librarians who let me stay until the very last minute. My university professors who introduced me to the writings of the world. Film, which brought me the joy of creation and the glow of an audience's embrace, but also the pain of stories untold. Writing retreats and workshops that encouraged me to play. Friends and peers who said keep going. Real jobs that paid the bills and made me hunger for time. Artist's grants that gave me the time. Writers, filmmakers, poets, sculptors and painters who shared their voice. Those who said no. Those who said yes. The times I gave up. The times I started again. The life I've lived. The people met. The stories shared, the secrets told, secrets kept...all of this has brought me here.
What tips or advice do you have for writers still looking to be discovered?
Writing is hard.
Begin. Write. Edit. Edit. Edit. Read it. Edit. Give to someone you trust and respect. Listen. Give it to someone else. Listen. Write. Edit. Read. Write until nothing twinges in your heart. Don't lie. Finish. Give it to the world. Hope it finds a champion.
If you don't find a champion: maybe the timing is wrong, there are six other similar books being shopped, you are ahead of your time, you are behind your time, maybe you lied, maybe you have more to learn, maybe your champion will find it later, maybe this is not the story you are meant to tell. Set it aside. At this point you are allowed to curse and wallow, don't become bitter. It is the practice of your art that is the reward. Move on. Begin...
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