Gratitude Flowing in Both Directions: Interview with Karen Schindler
Karen Schindler has been publishing poetry chapbooks with Baseline Press since 2011. For over ten years she served as the managing director of the Poetry London Reading Series. Prior to that she had a number of careers including chemical engineer, systems analyst, and high-school math teacher. Her poetry and book reviews have appeared in journals including The Fiddlehead, Vallum, The Malahat Review, The Rusty Toque and, most recently, Canthius.
In this interview, Canthius editorial board member Manahil Bandukwala talks to publisher and poet Karen Schindler about Baseline Press, the London poetry community, and the labour that goes into running a small press.
To learn more about Karen, follow her on Twitter @karen_schindler and Instagram @baselinepress.
Canthius: Congratulations on the recent launch of the new Baseline titles! You’ve been running Baseline Press since 2011, producing consistently beautiful chapbooks.
Karen: Thank you! It’s been an amazing year – six titles this season, all by poets working towards their first full-length collections. I’m super proud of each of them. And if I can return the compliment, I want to say that I have such respect for what Canthius is doing: its focus and gorgeous presentation. I happily stumbled upon the very first issue at Toronto’s Likely General store in 2015, and have been singing your praises ever since.
Canthius: What has your journey with the press been like, since its beginning to the newest releases?
Karen: The journey! I really think of my years with Baseline as one segment of a bigger experience over the last two decades. I was rather late coming to poetry. Though swept off my feet by a Canadian Poetry course in high-school, I took a big side-step in my 20’s, pursuing more science-related things – engineering, systems, teaching. But in the early 2000’s I fell back into poetry in a big way – very much a down-the-rabbit-hole experience. (And wow, had things changed since Fifteen Canadian Poets Plus 5.) The next several years saw a long list of opportunities that, as it turns out, were all preparing me for publishing: book reviewing for journals, helping to run a poetry reading series, participating in workshops and studios, attending festivals and bookfairs, corresponding with writers and, of course, reading. By the time I started Baseline in 2011, the passion for poetry had been there for some time, and I was confident about my decision to add publishing to the mix.
In terms of the last nine years, it does feel like they’ve flown by. And I love making chapbooks today as much as I did when I started. I feel so fortunate to have worked with all of the poets I’ve published to date. And I’ve also found this work to be such a ballast in the crazy, emotional mess of life. To be able to turn to the words and immerse myself in the bookmaking (the paper!) has at times been invaluable to me. I admit that in the fall, with the flurry of book launches and bookfairs, the thought of starting all over again in a couple months with a new season of books can feel overwhelming. But then a poet sends me a manuscript for the upcoming year and I’m completely excited to dive back in again. I guess when that stops happening, I’ll know it’s time to move on.
Canthius: I’ve heard a lot from poets on working with their publishers. I’m curious to hear your perspective from the publisher’s side on what working with poets is like.
Karen: Every project is a little different. Some manuscripts seem to arrive fully formed. Other times I’m grateful to be allowed in, to work with the poets on polishing things up. I admit that the most comfortable experiences are probably those where my exuberance over such things as grammatical continuity and punctuation placement line up with the poet’s own inclinations. (As when one recent author wrote: “Karen, your appreciation of commas is exquisite!” Blush.) But the bottom line is that I only accept a manuscript if I know I’ll be content even if we end up publishing it pretty much as is. Because the poet ultimately has the final say. I also know that the poems appearing in the chapbook will likely be submitted down the road to a trade publisher, and worked on with another editor, as part of that poet’s first/next full-length collection. And so my push for the collection to be the best it can be is balanced by the knowledge that the chapbook is a step in a bigger process for the poet. In any event, I can honestly say that, at the end of the day, it’s always felt like gratitude flowing in both directions.
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Canthius: I love how each Baseline chapbook is so artistic. Why is producing chapbooks that are also art objects important to you?
Karen: Thank you for that! The first time I held a chapbook in my hands was at a Banff writing studio back in 2005. Poet Jennifer Still had brought along some Jack Pine titles (which are exceptionally gorgeous, as far as chapbooks go, I have to say), and I was just entranced by them. I hadn’t known such a thing existed. They were so lovely – all that attention to detail, the way the small form brought such beautiful emphasis to the words on the page. And for the next five years, as the idea of a small press was slowly percolating, those Jack Pine books were my reference (a baseline, so to speak!). It gave me something to strive for when I eventually did start up my own press.
Canthius: Each chapbook has a flyleaf in a different type of paper. For example, Canthius team member Chuqiao Yang’s “Reunions in the Year of the Sheep” has a flyleaf of Japanese Momi Tojimbo. Can you talk a bit about why and how you use and find the flyleafs?
Karen: The flyleaf choice is always the last step of the creative process. At that point we’ve chosen the coverstock and other design details. So it’s a final flourish. The decision is certainly colour-based – often something that ties in with the cover image – but it’s also a chance to add additional texture to the project.
My go-to stores are The Paper Place in Toronto, and Wyndham Art in Guelph. Both have on-line stores, but I really enjoy perusing all the paper choices in person. I’ll get a sense from the poet of what they might be envisioning, and I’ll drive in for an afternoon to pick up a ton of samples. Then it’s up to the poet to decide the winner.
The choices always feel like they were meant to be: this year Nisa Malli picked a gorgeous deep-red Ogura Lace flyleaf, which seemed especially appropriate for her illness-themed collection; last year Anne-Marie Turza chose a mustard grid-patterned tissue, that beautifully picked up on the matrix presentation of Loraine Mohar’s cover image; Shelly Harder chose a barely-there sheen paper that added just a wisp of silver to her minimalist all-white cover… It can feel like we’re spending a disproportionate amount of time on this last detail! But I think the poets generally share my appreciation for how the flyleaf really adds to each chapbook’s visual and tactile identity.
Canthius: I know as a reader I definitely appreciate the beauty of the flyleaf.
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Canthius: What is London’s literary community like, and how does Baseline contribute to it?
Karen: London’s literary community is phenomenal! I’ve watched it grow over the last fifteen years to the point where London now has, I believe, one of the best things going. Three excellent poetry reading series: Poetry London, Mykonos Open Mic, and LOMP (London Open Mic Poetry). A strong slam-poetry scene. A literary festival, Words, hosted by our beautiful Museum London. An independent downtown bookstore, Brown & Dickson, where there’s always a bustle of incredible readings and events going on. An exceptional national on-line journal, The /Temz/ Review, run by Amy Mitchell and Aaron Schneider. Other small presses, including Amy and Aaron’s 845 Press. A poet laureate program, recently vacated by the indefatigable Tom Cull. A local arts council that generously supports many of these ventures. A long list of workshop series and writing circles whose participants come and go and overlap. I feel like I’ve left out a dozen things, but I’ll stop there. At Baseline’s fall London launches (held the past two years in partnership with 845 Press), attendance has been unbelievable. When 65 people come downtown to cheer on poets and their chapbooks on a stormy Tuesday fall night, it feels incredibly special. I’m so grateful to be part of and supported by this community.
When poetry first returned to my radar, back in the early 2000’s (something which had a lot to do with meeting west-coast poet Cornelia Hoogland, who had recently moved to London), there wasn’t a lot of organized literary activity in the city. Cornelia saw this, and took it upon herself to start up the Poetry London series. I really believe a lot of what we have now stemmed from the community that grew through that series. It organized the troops, so to speak, giving people a place to gather and connect. So kudos to Cornelia for that – for seeing a lack and doing something about it. It was a big lesson in how one person can make a difference.
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Canthius: Running a small press is a lot of work. Not only are you a publisher/editor, but you’re also a designer, marketer, promoter, and more. Can you talk about these roles and how you manage them?
Karen: My publishing timeline is pretty compartmentalized: edits and book design from January to April; at-home printing and bookbinding in the summer; publicity, launches and bookfairs to complete the season. So it usually feels like I’m only doing one thing at time. Well, sometimes one thing times six!
In terms of the design, as I’ve indicated, Baseline chapbooks are definitely co-designed between poet and publisher. I could never make the books I make without the keen eyes of my poets. I’ve found that I’m really good at giving each poet a curated pool of things to choose from – here are five cover-stocks, here are two fonts that I think would suit your poems, etc. – and I’ve found that the poets are really good at knowing what they want! And honestly, each year the cover designs just seem to happen: one poet has an artist friend who’s game to create something for us… another poet wants to draw a cover image herself… another asks an artist she’s been following on Twitter if they would like to be part of the project… and just like that, we have our covers.
When launch time comes around, I admit that I sometimes wonder if I should be doing more – more publicity, more events, more social media – but our launches always seem to go well, the books always end up selling. And I just trust that the poets walk away feeling like their work has been honoured, and they themselves have been cared for.
Canthius: I’ve heard the phrase, “labour of love” attached to the work involved in running a small press. What are your thoughts on this statement?
Karen: Can it be anything but? This fall, Baseline was invited to contribute a couple of titles to a small-press exhibit at Western’s McIntosh Gallery, curated by local researcher and publisher Ruth Skinner. The title of her show kind of says it all: “Anti-profit: Independent Publishing in London.” Ruth specifically asks: “Why would people put in the time to do something seemingly, on the surface, not financially lucrative?” For any small-press publisher I’ve talked to, the answer is for the love of it. To further quote Ruth: “[Independent publishers] are building communities of like-minded people who can talk about the same things you’re worried about, interested in, what you love and what you hate, politically, or even psychologically. That’s important to be able to make those contacts.” I agree. We love supporting the writers and the writing, and I think we also appreciate the relationships that are generated by this level of publishing. There’s an intimacy and connection that this “small form” seems to encourage, and I believe that’s a big part of what makes it feel so worthwhile.
Canthius: Small presses are intrinsic to the literary ecosystem, and acknowledging the labour of love people put into them is a necessary part of understanding and respecting the work people do (or don’t) do.
Karen: Yes, and if we’re acknowledging that an endeavour is a labour of love, then it’s also important to acknowledge the connection between “anti-profit” work and whose circumstances allow them to do it. I’m able to devote as much time as I do to chapbook publishing in part due to the string of more conventional careers I’ve had leading up to it. I couldn’t have done in my twenties what I’m doing now, and many are never in a position to do it at all. This leads pretty quickly to a conversation about responsibility and diversity, which is as relevant and important in small press publishing as anywhere. I’m still actively learning about the accountability that comes with doing this work.
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Canthius: What are you working on in terms of your personal writing or projects?
Karen: When I started publishing, I made a decision to slow things down with my own writing. It felt like the right thing to do, as I developed my skills in editing and bookmaking. I’ve continued to write at a slower pace, and I’ve continued to share my poems with some peers. I do believe it’s helped me be a better editor – having first-hand experience with the process, and being on the receiving end of critique. In terms of other writing/publishing undertakings, I typically have a book review on the go, or a side-project where someone has asked me to print and bind a personal piece for them. For example, next month I’ll be working on putting together a book of letters for a friend.
Canthius: What are you currently reading?
Karen: In fiction: I’ve just reread Katherena Vermette’s The Break (Anansi, 2016). Because it deserves to be read and read again. Vermette is a master storyteller. And now I’m on to Mona Awad’s Bunny (Penguin, 2019), which I picked up at the Alice Monroe Literary Festival this summer. It’s a follow-up to Awad’s 13 Ways of Looking at a Fat Girl, one of my favourite reads of 2016.
In non-fiction: local author and bookstore owner Vanessa Brown has just published The Forest City Killer (ECW, 2019) – a true-crime book about an unsolved serial killer in London in the 60’s. Compelling, fascinating, horrifying. London was once called the murder capital of Canada? I cannot believe I didn’t know about this.
In poetry: I’m sitting with two collections that I’m perhaps a little late coming to. One is Lisa Pasold’s long-poem book, Any Bright Horse (Frontenac, 2012). It’s the first time in a long time that I’ve copied out two stanzas to carry around in my wallet. The lines begin: “When they open my heart , my neighbour says, / they’ll find this June morning, red as any carnival.” (pg. 36 if you want to read the rest). And the other is Gillian Sze’s Panicle (ECW, 2017). Adèle Barclay describes Gillian’s collection as “an active museum,” and I think that’s perfect. Poems about art, film, music, Paris. The sounds! It has me swooning.
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Thanks so much, Canthius! I remain your number one fan.