Q & A with Lindsay Zier-Vogel, Author of LETTERS TO AMELIA

Lindsay Zier-Vogel, author of Letters to Amelia. Photo by Phillipa Croft.

I always love having the chance to get inside the head of another writer — and when that writer is a debut novelist, well, I have to say I find it all the more thrilling. I understand what’s involved in getting a non-fiction book out of your head and into the world, but imagining a novel into being? That seems like sheer magic to me.

I recently had the opportunity to chat with Lindsay Zier-Vogel about her own novel-writing process. I approached her after reading (and loving) her debut novel, Letters to Amelia, a few weeks ago. The novel is warm, kind, and entertaining. I sat down to read it one evening and realized, a couple of hours later, that I’d devoured most of the book in a single sitting and stayed up way past my bedtime. That’s how much I loved this book and I’m pretty sure you’ll love it, too.

Now on with my conversation with Lindsay….

ANN DOUGLAS: I love it when novelists allow themselves to go down research rabbits that transport their characters and their readers to a uniquely interesting place. Letters to Amelia invites the reader to tag along on a journey into the world of Amelia Earhart and the world of rare books. I don’t think I’ve ever read a novel that tackled one of these subjects, let alone both. Could you talk a bit about how these two things found their way into your novel? Were either or both long-standing interests of yours? (I kind of got the sense that they might have be.) By the way: I attended U of T, and I loved having a chance to revisit the Thomas Booker Rare Fish Library (the nickname the Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library had circa 1985 — a nickname that apparently lives on today) via your book!

LINDSAY ZIER-VOGEL: I fell in love with Amelia Earhart’s story many, many years ago after reading a terrible biography about her. I was so taken by the parts of her story that aren’t just her disappearance—that she was a social worker in Boston in the ’20s, that she spent years in Toronto (where she fell in love with flying!), that she started a clothing line. Fast forward a few years and I was travelling by myself for the first time. I was lonely in a way I had never experienced before and didn’t speak much Spanish, so I couldn’t have a meaningful conversation with anyone about it. I didn’t feel like these restless feelings I was having were appropriate for postcards home, so I started writing letters to Amelia Earhart. It was safe—she was clearly never going to write back—and I could explore these new feelings I was having without feeling guilty about them. And then every few years, whenever I was experiencing feelings I didn’t quite understand, I’d write another batch of letters to her. A lot of them were published, and though none of them made it into the book proper, this idea of writing letters to Amelia was something I’d been playing around with since 2005.

I fell in love with the Fisher during grad school, where I’d spend hours researching Dora Mavor Moore for my MA thesis. When the idea of a book began to form, I knew I wanted Grace to be surrounded by boxes of documents and photographs and letters. Selfishly, I wanted to spend more time there, and see the inner workings of the library. I got an incredible backstage tour from the incredibly generous John Shoesmith, and it was even better than I could’ve imagined! There were a lot nerdy rare book scenes about book conservation that ended up on the cutting room floor.

ANN DOUGLAS: This is your debut novel. Could you talk about what writing this novel taught you about the novel-writing process and/or yourself? What did you learn as a result of writing this book?

LINDSAY ZIER-VOGEL: I took a bunch of running starts at novel writing before Letters to Amelia, and though it was hard to shelve these projects I spent so many years on, they were crucial for me to learn how to write a novel. Not a particularly efficient learning curve, but also, it turns out, critical. I’ve realized that my process involves writing really, really terrible drafts—I overwrite like no one’s business—and then I spend a lot of time editing, and finding the story in the scads of Word docs I’ve created. I also started working with a writing group—the Semi-Retired Hens—in the early stages of the novel, and both having their insight and feedback, and also reading and offering feedback on their works-in-progress, has made me such a stronger writer. I don’t know what I’d do without them!

ANN DOUGLAS: You are clearly someone who loves both writing and receiving letters. And you’re also an author who is very gifted when it comes to writing dialogue. Do you think there’s a connection between the two? Do letter writing and dialogue have something in common?

LINDSAY ZIER-VOGEL: What a compliment! Thank you! Letter writing is so internal and private, thoughts made concrete on the page, where dialogue is the opposite—external, and voiced—so I’m not sure they’re directly related for me. Letters are one-sided, where dialogue requires an immediate back-and-forth. But for me, letter writing and writing dialogue share a deep commitment to voice—mine, as the letter writer, or the characters in the case of dialogue. When I receive a letter, I can instantly hear the writer’s voice, and I hope, I can achieve the same thing for readers with my dialogue.

Ann Douglas is the author of numerous books about parenting including, most recently, Happy Parents, Happy Kids and Parenting Through the Storm. These days, she is hard at work on a book for and about women at midlife.

The Joy of Creativity: A Conversation with Creativity Coach Christine Hennebury

Back when I was a kid, I really enjoyed doing crafts, making things with paper plates, obsolete catalogues, wallpaper scraps, and whatever else I could get my hands on. And, at one point, I actually felt confident enough in my own artistic abilities to enter (and win!) a fire safety poster contest at my school. (That was back when I was in Grade 3 and I still have that poster tucked away in one of the many “miscellaneous sentimental papers” boxes stacked in a corner of my office.)

One of the many pieces of digital art I’ve been creating over the course of the pandemic.

But here’s the thing: at some point along the way, I lost confidence in my ability to draw or make other kinds of art. I somehow internalized a message that said that my art wasn’t good enough and that I should focus my energies in areas where I actually excelled, like writing. (This also explains why I stopped doing anything even remotely athletic, but I’ll save that story for another day.)

Anyway, fast forward a couple of decades and I found myself at midlife, living through a pandemic. At a time when there were fewer and fewer options for finding joy in the everyday, I found myself drawn to creative projects, like making digital art. I’m happy that I listened to that voice in my head that kept telling me, “You need to do something creative.” Because the moments I spent making art—either on my own or during a group Zoom call with friends—were some of the most relaxing and joyous experiences in an otherwise really stressful and difficult time.

This experience got me thinking about how common it is for adults to put creative pursuits on the back burner for years, if not decades; and how grateful I am to be stretching my creative muscles once again.

I decided to reach out to my long-time friend, creativity coach and writer Christine Hennebury, to have a conversation about this very thing.

What follows are the highlights of that conversation: my questions and Christine’s answers.

Not all adults are actively engaged in creative activities, including arts and crafts. What causes us to abandon the creative activities, like drawing, that gave us so much joy when we were kids? How do we find our way back to that joy?

There are all kinds of developmental and social reasons why many of us move away from creative activities. We seem to develop the idea that we have to be good at something for it to be worth our time. We become more likely to compare our creative efforts to reality (“This doesn’t look like a horse!”) or to a more experienced artist’s work (“I can’t draw like she does!”) and that frustrates us. Eventually we start thinking of ourselves as someone who can’t draw (or write or dance or whatever.)

Writer and creativity coach Christine Hennebury.

But the joy of creativity isn’t about producing masterpieces. In fact, it is not about producing at all.

Sure, there’s a certain pleasure in completing a piece of art but the lasting satisfaction and joy comes from the experience of creating.

We need to focus on the activity of creating rather than on the results.

Try things like:

• drawing circles and colouring them in

• drawing a few scattered stars and then making lines all over the paper that stop on one side of each star and continue in the other

• writing a description of your cup or your dog or your morning

• tearing up bits of paper and arranging them in a pattern

• taking photos of each of the next four squares (or circles or flowers or shoes) that you see

• choosing family theme songs for the next few days

• creating a little dance to the theme song of your favourite show.

Don’t try to create something good, just stick with the process. If you make a mistake, decide that it is part of the project.

It will feel a bit weird at first because we are used to working toward an end product, but try not to talk yourself out of the process. Good feelings will come from letting go of the expectation to be good and from dismissing the idea of having an end product.

What would you say to an adult who insists, “But I’m not creative/artistic at all!”

Creativity is not just about being an artist.

Creativity belongs to everyone and we all express it differently.

You may not spend time doing specific artistic activities, but I’ll bet you use your creativity all the time.

Perhaps you’re a problem-solver, coming up with solutions by combining old ideas with new ones.

Maybe you rearrange things in your living room so they’ll be more pleasing to the eye.

You might be the person who creates the song parody for a family party.

You could be someone who doodles on your work notes, or who plays with filters on Instagram, or who adds a bit of flair to gift wrapping, or picks the perfect songs for the party.

We all have creative instincts one way or another and we can all choose to develop them in a variety of ways for our own enjoyment.

Creativity for its own sake helps us to weave extra relaxation and satisfaction into our lives. We don’t have to be good at our chosen activities, and we don’t have to have a finished product.

Doing something because we like it and because we like how it makes us feel is always worthwhile.

Start small. Choose something that only takes a few minutes of your time, and no special equipment, and practice it regularly. Notice how it makes you feel. Remember that fun is always the goal.

And if people aren’t sure how to get started?

Search for prompts or challenges on Pinterest or Instagram. Buy or borrow a book of creative prompts. Download a prompts app, or participate in one of these challenges.

To learn more about Christine Hennebury and her latest creative endeavours, please visit her website.

Ann Douglas is the author of numerous books about parenting including, most recently, Happy Parents, Happy Kids and Parenting Through the Storm. These days, she is hard at work on a book for and about women at midlife.

It Takes a Village to Raise a Writer

Today is an exciting day for me.

I am thrilled and honoured to be one of this year’s inductees into the Peterborough Pathway of Fame.

I am grateful that Peterborough has chosen me—just as I chose Peterborough.

My husband Neil and I made a conscious decision to move to the city back in 1988, when we were expecting our first child. We were attracted to Peterborough because of its high quality of life and because it was reasonably affordable for a young family. That way, our mortgage would be a little less crushing—although, to be fair, it still felt pretty crushing at the time!

Having a bit of financial wiggle room proved to be the game changer for me as a writer. I didn’t have to work full-time at a day job and then try to write books in the evening, after the four kids had gone to bed. I could afford to make writing my day job—to see if I actually had what it takes to establish a career as an author.

As it turns out, that gamble paid off. My books have sold over three-quarters of a million copies to date; and I just started work on a brand new book—Book 26, if anyone is keeping track.

But here’s the thing: I worry about the up-and-coming generation of writers. Will they have the same opportunity to pursue their writing dreams here in Peterborough, just as I did?

The math doesn’t seem to add up.

According to The Writers’ Union of Canada—Canadian’s national association for published authors—a typical Canadian author makes just less than $10,000 a year. That’s roughly 75 percent less than it was two decades ago, back when my very first book was being published. It’s never been easy to make a living as a writer in Canada, but in recent years it has become a whole lot harder.

And given that houses in Peterborough are getting more expensive, not less (an average home in the city now sells for well over a half-million dollars), I’m worried that the up-and-coming generation of Canadian writers simply won’t be able to afford to make Peterborough their home, like I did. It’s pretty clear that those sky-high housing prices pose an existential threat to the local arts community.

And so today I want to urge everyone in Peterborough who cares about the arts to understand the need to invest in arts funding and to ensure an adequate supply of artist-friendly housing (in other words, housing that artists can actually afford to live in). The City of Peterborough’s 2012 Municipal Cultural Plan noted that investment in arts, culture, and heritage yields an 18-to-one return on investment. That means that every dollar that a municipality invests in arts, culture, or heritage attracts roughly $18 dollars in added investment. And that’s just considering the impact of the arts in terms of dollars and cents. It’s impossible to calculate what the arts actually contribute to our collective quality of life.

So that, in a nutshell, is my hope for Peterborough—the community where I chose to raise my family and where I had the privilege of being able to establish my career as a writer.

I hope that Peterborough will acknowledge and celebrate its arts community in the very same way that I am being celebrated today.

I may be the writer whose name is being added to the Pathway of Fame, but it truly takes a village to raise a writer.

Thank you for being my village and for continuing to be the village for other writers.

Ann Douglas is the author of numerous books about pregnancy and parenting. She is also the weekend parenting columnist for CBC Radio. She wrote this speech for week’s Peterborough Pathway of Fame ceremony—an event that ended up having to be postponed due to rising COVID-19 numbers. The organizers hope to hold an in-person celebration when that becomes possible again.