Finnian Burnett

Welcome to the 5 Questions Series. Each week, I’ll ask five questions of some of my favorite authors, editors, publishers, and other industry professionals. This week, I’m talking with Kelly Mary McAllister.

Thank you for agreeing to talk with me. You first came to my attention when I saw your spoken word poetry for Toronto Poetry Slam. “I hate that my self-loathing is always lurking just below the surface.” I listened to that about ten times and then stalked your entire page.

How has slam poetry informed your creative process, or your relationship with writing in general?

Like many people, I did so much writing during the pandemic that I was awash in words and bursting to share them. Of course we were all in isolation; like many, I turned to the internet. Took my first foray into the online poetry world and found some truly inspiring communities of writers. From a weekly workshop that I attend to this day based out of El Paso (shout out Tumblewords), to various open mics, to remarkable peers and mentors; it was a creative treasure chest. I quickly noticed that many of my favs were doing Slams.  

Of course I wanted to try it, all the cool kids were doing it. But I wasn’t sure if it would be for me. I was uncertain about the competition aspect, about how it would feel putting something so vulnerable on a stage and than asking strangers to judge it! Turns out I LOVED it. The competition aspect is there, but the Slam community in and around the Greater Toronto Area is just so supportive. The people are welcoming, and kind. Competitors cheer for each other. The audiences are so earnestly invested in the poems. It makes reading one of my pieces into an act of catharsis. I can almost feel the emotions I’ve poured into it dissipating in the stage lights.

I’m so grateful to be a part of that community. It has pushed me to sharpen my skills, as both a writer and a performer, and to recognize which works jump of the page, demanding to be performed, and which nestle in, preferring the intimacy of being read. I’ve learned that, for me at least, winning isn’t the point. Putting a piece I am proud of into the world, performed to the best of my abilities, is my only goal. If I can achieve that? I’m good.

You have a book of poetry out. Can you talk about the process to write and publish that?

I fear it’s not much of a tale… or perhaps too much of one… To start, I didn’t set out to write a book. I didn’t event set out to write a chapbook. I was going through some complicated life events and wrote to make sense of the world and my place in it. I lost a close friend to suicide and then an estranged uncle died after a complicated life. I was losing my mobility to arthritis and dealing with a medical system that is hostile to fat people. I was mentally ill and totally alone during a worldwide pandemic. In short, I was messy.
So, I cleaned and decluttered the only way I knew how: by writing. Ending up with so many pieces on some consistent themes, that I started to put together a few chapbooks to send out. In doing so, I found even more unifying threads in my three favourites. And lo, Dead Weight was born.
A hybrid press that a few of my peers have published through, Read or Green Books, reached out and inquired if I’d be interested in joining their group of poets releasing debut collections. As I wasn’t able to invest in self-publishing and didn’t feel married to the idea of traditional publishing, it was a great model to get my words into the world. It’s been a really wonderful experience so far, and the support has been overwhelming and humbling in the best possible ways.

Would you be willing to talk about the reality of existing as a fat person on the internet, especially in the creative arts?

Firstly, I love that you used the word fat. I’m a big proponent that it’s just a world that describes me accurately. It’s not inherently negative. Do people use it as a weapon? Absolutely. Often and frequently, with little to no provocation. Particularly online. It’s the one size fits all cudgel that anyone can use to hit me where it hurts.

Well, they say write what you know, and I know fatness intimately. Accordingly, many of my poems deal with my size. More specifically, the shame I had spent most my life marinating in. I was convinced if I never pointed it out, if I could just hide inside voluminous clothes and behind my large personality, no one would even notice that I was actually fat. Because I knew how poorly they viewed fat people.

But my size is often the first thing people notice about me. It informs how they interact with me, how they treat me. It’s the cause of most of the casual cruelty to which I am subjected. Shame was eating me up from the inside and the world was hammering away from the outside and no one was coming to save me.

So, I choose to save myself. To actively let go of the shame where I could. To stop hating myself. I started to share my poems. To get in front of a crowd, as a fat person, onstage, with a microphone, loudly proclaiming her own fatness. That yes, I am fat, but I still deserved dignity, and love, and respect. That I am a person first and I am as worthy as any other. It was a selfish act, a braggadocious middle finger to those that liked it when I swallowed their cruelty and judgement and patronizing concern. It was a reclamation of my own pride in a public arena.

But I was surprised by how many people it meant something to. The people who would openly cry in the audience. Who would find me after my set and call me brave. The ones who tell me they saw themselves in my words. It made me feel less alone. It gave me a sense of community, and camaraderie. By owning my size and sharing my shame, I felt lighter. In every sense of the word. Writing the poems was catharsis but sharing them was healing. 

What are you working on now?

Loaded question! Nothing concrete at the moment. Still writing poetry regularly. Tinkering with a YA manuscript I wrote on a lark. Writing is my passion, but not my day job, so I’m careful to not get ahead of myself and burn out.

Do you have any advice for emerging poets on how to find their space in the creative world.

I never feel qualified to give actual advice, but for what it is worth, I’d say to follow the voices that resonate in your soul. Follow the writers that you admire online, subscribe to the journals whose style you like, sign up for random workshops or open mics until you find communities where you feel like you fit. Experiment with different styles, voices, themes. Even if they feel awkward on your pen. Especially then! Try to surprise yourself. Ask for feedback often and authentically. Consider any feedback you are given from as humble a place as you can muster. But ultimately, your voice is your own. Your only real goal should be to craft it, hone it, sharpen it, so you can wield it in the way you want to. So you can tell the stories you feel compelled to tell. So you can share the truths you want known.

Bonus question: Have you ever taken a picture of a weird bird?

One better! There’s Canada Goose that constantly hangs out behind my apartment. This is him watching me, watching him.

Kelly Mary McAllister’s book and more information can be found here.