Questions by Kyla Jamieson
Photo by Alannah Sawatsky
Get to know writer, PhD candidate and creative organizer Sanchari Sur, whose story, “The Lady and the Beard,” appears in our Dreams issue, 57.1.
What’s happening around you—either right around you or outside of where you are?
It is 12:30am on a Thursday night, a pallor of death in the suburban silence. The world sleeps.
Why do you live where you live?
I have always considered Mississauga a temporary space, a liminal space, a space to leave “soon.” I moved back here from Waterloo a little more than two years ago with this mindset. Now, it is a space I occupy because I have yet to get to where I need to get, and the journey to that next space I will occupy will begin when it has to. Currently, I seem to be powerless about my choice to live where I live.
What are you looking forward to this week?
Finishing and submitting a completed dissertation chapter, and (as a reward) finishing a half written short story from my manuscript over the weekend.
What advice would you give an aspiring or emerging writer?
If you are writing fiction, not everything you write has to be from lived experience. However, write responsibly. Write with self-awareness (of one’s privileges and privileged positions). Write with the openness to constructive criticism. Finally, write with kindness.
What’s your morning routine?
Is it fair to say I don’t have one as I rarely like to wake up in the mornings? I was born a night owl.
What’s the first story or poem you remember writing, and how does it relate to your current work?
When I was twelve or thirteen, I wrote a book length YA thriller on the lines of R.L. Stine’s Fear Street series. Set in an unnamed North American high school, the protagonist was a blue-eyed blonde-haired jock who ends up becoming a target for nasty bullying from an unknown assailant. A lot of people get murdered. In the end, he comes out unscathed with the assailant ending up dead. The work was extremely clichéd, and doesn’t relate at all to my current work. I also don’t write genre fiction anymore, even though sometimes, genre fiction conventions slip into my literary fiction.
What are you most proud of?
To be able to transport myself anywhere I want to, complete with the sights and sounds of that space, and on some occasions, even smells. I developed this ability about two years ago, and it took my breath away. It’s my personal archive of (un)happiness, where I can dive in on most occasions, and pick and choose what I need to aid me in the act of writing/creating.
What’s one risk you’re glad you took?
To write anything and everything without fear. I do not advocate for appropriation or exploitation in writing, but I also do not appreciate the assumption on the part of others of my lived experience. I like engaging critically with my writing, and if I mess up, I am open to listening and learning. In my opinion, writing/creating requires a certain kind of risk taking, and I am glad I am able to take those risks.
Is there any advice you like ignoring?
“Write what you know.” When it comes to writing fiction, if we only write what we know, then we would all be writing memoirs (with photographs, because how else would we prove the experience was our own?). Fiction allows for a space to take risks, to reimagine truths, to create new spaces of discourse. I believe in writing responsibly (and with awareness of the socio-political discourses surrounding my topic/representation). But the idea of hemming myself within what I know, is an extremely limited idea. As a fiction writer, I staunchly ignore this advice.
Is there a public space you’re fond of? Describe it.
It’s the Japanese Buddhist temple nestled in the heart of South Calcutta close to where I spent my first nine years. There is a sense of peace amongst the monks there and their evening prayers. Their rhythmic chants have a way of centering you, and are a haven from the noise/chaos outside the doors of the temple. What I most like about the place is that their doors are open to anyone. Each time I am back in my birth city, I make a point to visit.
Do you have a favourite word? Or, a least favourite word? What is it and why do you like/dislike it?
I dislike “antediluvian”. That’s too many syllables for “ancient”. The word also has a Biblical meaning attached to it, which in my opinion, is more suited to the word. It was one of the first words on SAT word lists, and I have disliked it ever since I encountered it.
“Synchronicity” is my all-time favourite word because I genuinely believe everything happens for a reason. The universe will conspire to give you what you need to become a better version of yourself. All you need to do is believe, and work hard.
Do you have any “vices”? What’s the relationship between your vices and your writing?
Procrastination is one of my major vices– which eventually leads to anxiety. Sometimes the anxiety fuels a lot of writing. But at other times, I end up missing deadlines and opportunities. It’s a double edged sword, one I am constantly trying to negotiate.
Sanchari Sur is a feminist/anti-racist/sex-positive/genderqueer Canadian who was born in Calcutta, India. Her work has been published in Toronto Book Award shortlisted The Unpublished City (BookThug, 2017), Arc Poetry Magazine, Humber Literary Review, Room, and elsewhere. She is a 2018 Lambda Literary Fellow in fiction, PhD candidate in English at Wilfrid Laurier University, and the curator/host/co-founder of Balderdash Reading Series. Currently, she is working on a short story collection on queer identities within a South Asian Canadian context titled, The Lady and the Beard.