Richard Kelly Kemick is a Vancouver-based polymath. To date his resume includes journalist, playwright, poet, podcaster, published non-fiction writer and, most recently, author of the brilliant short story collection Hello, Horse published by Biblioasis earlier this year.

The latter provided such a literary jolt, that we had to know more about the person who conceived and crafted so many unique ideas, characters and stories. In a recent interview with Kemick, he did not disappoint…

First of all, a bit of background: how long have you been living in Vancouver for, and why did you move here to begin with?

I’ve lived here off-and-on for ten years. I moved here originally because I was living in Lethbridge at the time, and Vancouver seemed the antithesis of it (in terms of climate, culture, and rent prices).

What role – directly or indirectly – does the city play in your writing/creative practice?

I live close to Granville Island, and I love being around the tourists, their joy at all the quotidian occurrences; it reminds me that I’m the same way when I travel. A writer I love has a poem that he loves, “The Blue Swallows” by Howard Nemerov, that includes the lines, “O swallows, swallows, poems are not / The point. Finding again the world, / That is the point.” Living among tourists insists that you find the world again and again, as you kneel in genuflected awe at the Aquabus™ arriving at port.

Please describe your writing practice to me.

I write by hand, then I edit on the computer. Then, I spend a good eight to twelve hours burning with envy about the successes of other writers.

Your projects span various mediums – from journalism and podcasting, to playwriting, poetry and short stories. To me, the most obvious commonalities seem to be a general inclination for storytelling, a deep curiosity, and a courageous knack for throwing yourself into a subject/topic of interest. What, in your own opinion and self-reflection, do you think is the common thread through all of your projects, so far?

The common thread in all my writing is a deep and abiding fear of having to get a real job at, like, Bell or something.

If you could explore ANY other medium, which would it be and why does it appeal to you?

I have daydreams about writing a sweeping historical fiction novel, but I know I don’t have it in me yet.

Of all the mediums you’ve explored, what comes to you most naturally and why? Which is the biggest challenge, and why do you persist?

The medium that comes most naturally to me is Angry Letters to Elected Officials. Poetry is the biggest challenge, and that is also the reason I have not persisted at it. I feel like with other mediums, the more I stick with them the better I (slowly) become. With poetry, I feel the opposite: the more I write poetry, the more holes I can see and the more of a distance exists between what I want the poem to be and what it is.

What role did the arts play in your early life?

I often try to hide this ignoble aspect of my early life, but I was very into acting as a child. My mother likes to credit any success I have to my “performing arts background.” I’m not sure how much my traipsing around our community centre’s stage informed my career trajectory (aside from getting me to casually use words like “traipsing” in conversation), but those acting classes did get me reading Shakespeare at a young age, fostering a love that traipses to this day.

Did you have any imaginary friends as a child? If so, please describe them to me.

I was raised Catholic, so my truest and most powerful friend was imaginary.

“What keeps me going is knowing that the euphoric relief of being done awaits me, and an insatiable Catholic guilt that I am not working hard enough.”

What is the earliest memory you have of stepping into other peoples’ heads (real or fictional) to tell their stories?

I used to make a lot of prank phone calls as a kid. At first, the calls were geared exclusively towards a punchline. However, the calls soon became much more elaborate and inventive; eventually, there wasn’t even a joke at all but just some long-winded character study about how my burgeoning real estate career was being cut short by a change in federal banking policy and my floundering same-sex marriage.

What sparks your curiosity in a person or topic? What happens when something fires up your interest? Please fill in the gap between the insemination of an idea (or fixation) and the final creative result.

I am taken into an idea by hearing someone say something in an idiosyncratic way. The novelty of that voice is usually what spurs me into writing a short story. (For example, the first story in Hello, Horse starts with the sentence, “I forgot to tell you this but it’s incredibly important.” I overheard someone at a bar start a story this same way.) The more I write in the voice, the more a plot naturally adheres to it.

It is usually at this point that I deeply regret having started writing the story at all, as the final draft is still eons away but I’ve already sunk too much time in to walk away. What keeps me going is knowing that the euphoric relief of being done awaits me, and an insatiable Catholic guilt that I am not working hard enough.

What is currently occupying your thought space the most these days?

‘Is Quebec sovereignty on the upswing?’

Do you have a favourite place in the city to read and/or write?

I do most of my reading on the couch; I do all of my writing at my desk. (I am repeatedly amazed when I walk by a Starbucks and see the lap-topped masses, clacking away at their manuscripts. To me, it’s the same as thinking — in the midst of life’s most naked and carnal moments — “I wish people were watching me right now.”)

Hello, Horse really impressed me – especially your imaginativeness of plot, and fluidity of writing/voicing such different characters. As a fellow writer, I found it very inspiring and refreshing to read! Can you tell me about another book, character or story in particular that has made a big impact on you and your style?

That is very nice of you to say, Thalia. I love the changes of voice in John Williams’ Augustus; I love the conspiratorial tone of Rebecca Lee’s Bobcat; I love the restraint and daring of Munro. I also adore Amy Hempel’s balance of introspection and humour (’tis an adoration so strong it got me into hot water several years ago).

“Animals force us to cast our imagination into the mind of another being. Good fiction does the same thing.”

I read a promotional interview you did with your publisher, Biblioasis, in which you mention that the stories included in Hello, Horse span about a decade of writing. Why did it take you so long to complete this compilation?

Mostly: failure. I had submitted a short story manuscript to a publisher over ten years ago. They rejected it, so I started a new manuscript. I submitted that one a few years later; it, too, was rejected. This story repeats another two or three times. When Biblioasis solicited a manuscript, I took the best stories from those failed collections and put them into one envelope and mailed it off.

I know that this may be an unfair question, but if you had to choose a favourite character from Hello, Horse, who would you choose and why? Now imagine that you could meet them in “real life” over a meal or drink in Vancouver – where would you go and what would you order? What would you ask them?

My favourite character from the collection is the narrator of the title story. She is based on an ex of fifteen years ago who doesn’t talk to me anymore. In real life, we would go play pinball at that bar beside the Central Library, order happy hour margaritas, and I would apologize for a couple things.

Animals are very present in your writing. What role do animals and the natural world play in your own day-to-day life? What’s your favourite wild animal? Domesticated one?

Animals force us to cast our imagination into the mind of another being. Good fiction does the same thing.

Favourite wild animal: Yves-François Blanchet.

Favourite domesticated one: Andrew Scheer.

I’ve begun to listen to your Natural Life podcast, and it occurs to me that you have a very good narrating voice…but I know that there can often be a disconnect between our speaking voice and the voice in our heads. When you’re writing, what voice do you hear in your head?

When I’m writing fiction, I aim to hear the voice of the narrator clearly and with conviction. I try to answer questions from their perspective — questions that have nothing to do with the plot. (What do you have in your glovebox? Dream job? Do you sing along to the anthem?) The more I can hear that voice, the stronger the story will be.

Lastly, now that you’ve released your first short story collection into the world, how do you feel? Any writing (or other) projects in the works for the near future that you can tease us with?

It was an honour to work with John Metcalf — the storied and illustrious editor of Biblioasis — and I am very grateful to have had the opportunity. I am currently at work on writing my MP a particularly scathing letter about some qualms I have.