Corinna Chong’s first novel, Belinda's Rings, was published by NeWest Press in 2013, and her reviews and short fiction have appeared in magazines across Canada. The Whole Animal, a collection of short stories, was published by Arsenal Pulp Press in 2023, and includes “Kids in Kindergarten,” which won the 2021 CBC Short Story Prize, and “Love/Cream/Heat,” which was selected for The Best Canadian Stories 2024, published by Biblioasis. Bad Land, her second novel, will be released in Fall 2024 with Arsenal Pulp. Corinna lives in Kelowna, BC and teaches English, creative writing, and fine arts at Okanagan College.

On top of writing, you’re a graphic designer. Does this feed your writing in some way? How do you manage your time and make sure you carve out enough time to write between other things? Any tips?

I don’t do a lot of freelance design work these days because of the time constraints you allude to, but I do find that engaging in any other kind of creative work feeds my writing. For me, creating visual art is a more fluid and intuitive process than writing, so it’s always a helpful reminder to me to trust my intuition when I return to the page. One strategy in design that I often think of when I’m struggling with a piece of writing is how useful it can be to do something drastic to get yourself out of a rut. In design, this could mean cropping an image in a severe or unexpected way, deliberately creating imbalance in the composition, or blowing up the scale of the type by 300%. Taking these drastic measures can often unlock something that takes the design from mediocre to striking. When I’m writing, however, I’m not as inclined to trust my gut when it tells me something isn’t working, and more resistant to taking drastic steps, such as cutting a huge chunk off the story or changing point of view. I think this resistance comes from the awareness that it’s much more onerous to do this in writing than it is in design! But I find that thinking about how I can channel my design brain into writing can be really helpful in motivating me.

Your first book, Belinda’s Rings (NeWest Press, 2013), was a novel, and your second, The Whole Animal (Arsenal Pulp, 2023) is a short story collection. This is kind of backwards from the way writers normally “emerge”—usually starting with stories and then putting out novels. Do you feel more comfortable writing in one form over the other or are they equally easy for you in different ways? Also, what made you want to put out a book of stories after having published a novel (did anyone warn you away from this?)?

I adore short stories. They are my favourite form to work in and to read. Ever since I began studying the craft of writing I wanted to someday publish a short story collection, but I think you’re right that story writers have to contend with a set of assumptions in the publishing world, namely that because short story collections don’t typically sell as many copies as novels, they are not as valuable, and therefore writing them is a kind of “warm-up” to writing a novel. To those of us who love short stories, this is, of course, total bullshit, but I think I bought into this idea to some degree, until I went through the experience of writing a novel myself, and found that the process is not superior at all, and in fact not even fairly comparable to the process of writing a story. I find that the two are completely different beasts, and each comes with its own challenges and joys.

I am flattered that you ask whether both forms are “equally easy” for me. Truthfully, I find both forms excruciatingly difficult! But I also revel in the struggle, because when I finally manage to come out the other side, I feel an immense sense of satisfaction, and that feeling is what ultimately drives me to keep writing. I will say, however, that I find writing in the short story form generally less painful than the novel form, which is partly due to the fact that the vast majority of my training in university was focused on short fiction. When I set out to write my first novel, I felt completely lost! Even though I’ve written two novels now, the process for both was very much like feeling my way through the dark, so I think I still have a lot to learn.

I actually finished drafting my second novel before I put together The Whole Animal. That novel went through a round of submissions to publishers and came back with a whole slew of rejections. At that point, my agents, knowing I had a collection of stories in the works, advised that we set the novel aside for a bit and try submitting the short story collection instead. It’s a testament to how wonderful my agents are that they never once expressed doubt or reservations about The Whole Animal; they championed it just as enthusiastically as my novel, and luckily, it found the perfect home with Arsenal Pulp. I kept working on the novel that was rejected, too, and I’m happy to say that it’s now slated for publication, again with Arsenal Pulp Press, for Fall 2024.

And how did your experience of having a book out in the world differ from your first book to your second book? I noticed they are ten years apart—did you learn a lot in terms of how to “be an author” (or handle being an author) in those ten years?

I think I did learn a lot from my first book, although the ten-year gap between the two books made The Whole Animal feel in some ways like a second debut. But I think the most valuable lesson I took with me into the publication of the second book was to set reasonable expectations. When I published my first book, I was twenty-eight and straight out of grad school and I naively believed that publishing a book would be a monumental, life-changing event. To some degree it was, but it didn’t legitimize my sense of worth as a writer in the way I expected it to.

I was, in fact, a bit depressed after all the promotional fanfare had died down, and my book wasn’t nominated for any big awards, and I was left wondering: Now what? I’d poured so much emotional energy into the book, and suddenly, after only a few months, it was all over, and the only thing people seemed to care about was when the next book would come out. That was a lot of pressure for me, which, in combination with the busy-ness of building a career and having a child, caused me to back away from writing for a while. I think in that time, while I wasn’t writing much, I grew as a reader, but even more importantly as a person. Writing is once again closer to the forefront of my life, but I’ve learned not to put as much stock in the reception, and instead treasure the rare gift of having a book out there, with a whole publishing team behind me, putting their precious time and resources and faith into this thing that I’ve created. What a tremendous privilege!

Another way I think I’ve grown with my writing is in my work ethic. I think I have higher standards for myself now than I did ten years ago, and I’m much more willing to work long and hard on a piece of writing, fine-tuning every sentence, and more adept at knowing how to do this, than I used to be. I hope this is reflected in the stories in The Whole Animal!

When you are writing, do you work on only one thing at a time or do you have several projects on the go at once? And how do you spend your writing time (i.e., do you give yourself word-count goals, does sitting and thinking count as “writing time,” does walking and thinking count, etc.)?

To my dismay, imposing word-count goals on myself doesn’t seem to work for me. I’m terrible with that kind of self-discipline! As a result, I am a slow writer, so I’m always working on several things at once. I tend to work in stages on each project. I often begin a story with 500-800 words, and then let it sit for a while so that I can think about what I want to do with it. I absolutely count thinking as writing time! Letting ideas percolate is such a necessary part of my writing process. I used to get anxious about sitting at my desk and thinking away without putting anything down, or labouring over a few sentences for hours. Thanks to the mentors I’ve had over the years, I’ve come to realize that measuring writing in the very capitalistic terms of “productivity” isn’t all that useful. Making progress on a piece of writing isn’t always tangible, and sometimes stepping away from the work to do something physical like taking a walk creates the distance you need to allow your subconscious to work through a problem. I find also that taking time to read is an essential part of writing. I’ve come to realize that reading poetry or non-fiction is more conducive to getting my brain juices flowing when I’m in the throes of a fiction project. While some writers draw inspiration from reading books that are similar in style or subject matter to their own, I find that reading something wildly different from my own gets me out of my head, and thereby unleashes more creative energy.

I think it doesn’t hurt to look at reviews on Goodreads, but only if you are confident you’re not going to take it too much to heart. It can be buoying sometimes to read positive reviews, but the negative ones can be incredibly destructive and are often just plain obtuse. I definitely don’t buy into the idea that writers should spend any significant time or energy on cultivating a profile on Goodreads or catering to its users. I think doing so primes you for being vulnerable to debilitating self-doubt that will only hinder your growth as a writer. At the end of the day, I think most of us could easily live without Goodreads. I personally don’t use it to determine which books to read, and I don’t think it will make or break writers who are truly invested in the craft.

I noticed you are the director of an online literary magazine, ryga. Can you tell me a bit about that? Also, can you talk a little bit about the importance of writing community to you?

ryga is a literary magazine published out of Okanagan College, where I have taught since 2011. We have a Writing and Publishing program at the college that trains students in various facets of the publishing industry, including creative writing, editing, and design. Each summer, we hire three students from this program to take on the roles of Managing Editor, Assistant Editor, and Publisher, and these three students work together to solicit and select submissions and ultimately publish an online issue of the journal.

This student-run iteration of the journal is a more recent development for ryga. It used to be run by faculty, but in 2019 I worked on re-structuring it according to this model. The main reason I wanted to do this is because of how much I appreciated my own experiences working on journals when I was a student. I was lucky enough to be the Managing Editor of Qwerty magazine when I was a grad student at the University of New Brunswick, as well as work as an editorial assistant for The Fiddlehead. I think I learned as much about writing from these editorial experiences as I did from my workshop courses. Getting a glimpse of the other side of the publishing world—evaluating and comparing the work of others, gaining a sense of the literary landscape, and seeing what it takes to rise to the top of the slush pile—was immensely helpful in my evolution as a writer. Now, with ryga, I hope to give a similar experience to the students I am mentoring!

Contributing to the writing community is very important to me. Supporting little magazines and other grassroots literary initiatives not only provides avenues for emerging writers who need a platform, but also keeps all of us continuously evolving in exciting ways. In addition, writing can often be a very lonely endeavour, so I find engaging in literary events and connecting (and commiserating!) with other writers in my community to be necessary fuel for keeping at it.

What are your thoughts on Goodreads? Do you think authors should ignore it, worry about it, engage with it? Do you ever use it to decide whether or not to read a book?

How do you deal with the deflating side of being an author—not being mentioned on lists of books “we’re anticipating,” not being on awards lists, negative reviews, etc.?

I mentioned above that I think I’ve gotten better about not worrying about getting enough of this kind of attention. That said, I certainly haven’t yet gotten to the point where it doesn’t bother me at all. I think the competitive nature of publishing encourages writers to measure their success in a very narrow way. On some level we’re all vying to play out the iconic Sally Field acceptance speech (“You like me!”), so it can be all too easy to feel slighted when your book isn’t included on a list or receives a negative comment. But I think it’s equally damaging to let yourself get too puffed up when your book is selected for a special honour. Having an attitude of entitlement about the attention your work deserves, when there are SO many other great books out there, is just a distraction from what should really matter—the joy inherent in the act of writing itself. I try to remind myself of both sides of the coin whenever these list announcements come out. But at those times when I begin to let the disappointment get the better of me, I think about all the many fantastic books I have read and loved that did not get the attention they deserved, and how this didn’t make me think any less of them.

It's also important to me to contribute to a culture of positivity and allyship in the publishing world. I think there is a lot of toxic competitiveness that is unfortunately still pervasive in many parts of the publishing industry. At the same time, there are some writers who are actively working against this, celebrating and championing their fellow writers rather than treating them as threats. I hope I can follow their example and contribute towards changing the culture into one that is supportive and generative rather than exclusionary.

What would be your number one piece of advice for an emerging author (a) creatively and (b) about the business side of writing?

(a)     Keep writing! Send smaller pieces out to literary magazines, keeping in mind that rejections are inevitable. They don’t always mean the work isn’t good. At the same time, being willing to revise, and continuously working on this skill as much as (or perhaps even more than) writing is absolutely essential.

(b)    Keep writing! Don’t worry about the business side of things (unless, unlike me, this is something you actually enjoy). Ideally you will write something strong enough that others (agents, publishers) who are experts in business matters will be willing to take this on for you!

And finally, are you working on anything new now?

As I mentioned earlier, my third book, a novel called Bad Land, is coming out in the fall, and I’ve just begun working with my editor on polishing up the manuscript. This novel is set in the badlands of Drumheller, Alberta. It’s about a woman named Regina, whose solitary life is upended when her brother shows up unannounced on her doorstep with his six-year-old daughter after seven years of estrangement. I won’t give away too much here, but some of the highlights are a pet bunny named Waldo, animatronic dinosaurs, a terrible secret, and a madcap road trip across the Canadian Rockies. Look out for it in September!

I’m also working on a couple of stories: one about a couple on the brink of divorce, who end up in a love triangle with their marriage counsellor, and another about an artist who makes masks out of epoxied food.