Poet Interview: Kate Gough on 'Cottage in a Mirror.'
Kate Gough is a Canadian based poet and a member of the online poetry community. Her work modernizes romantic literary sensibilities and explores recovery to trauma and living with chronic illness. She has participated in a community poetry event “Escapril” three times, releasing poetry every day for a month. She has been published in several online journals, including the Latte Edit and Nightingale and Sparrow, as well as in her local community in Disability Pride Alberta, and in the YYC Portraits of People project. She lives a quiet life with her partner and cat, as she has always dreamed of.
Can you tell us a bit about the book you just published with Sunday Mornings at the River?
Cottage in a Mirror is a collection of wistful poems I wrote about healing from trauma, through means of many vices and virtues. Taking inspiration from so-called “tragic heroines”, fairytales, and the human anatomy, I explore themes of lost dreams and perpetual pain, all whilst clinging to the romantic ideal of a sincere life. Through the lives of the fictional and historical women who inspire me, such as Ophelia, Frida Kahlo, and St. Catherine of Alexandria, I explore the way pain and oppression shape our lives and our legacies. Chronic pain is the narrative thread that ties together my story, as it did for the women deemed “mad” by history. How to live on, when the world has beaten me down, time and time again? How to let go of what is expected of me by those who have not lived though my trauma? How to mend a tired heart, when the body is still in shock? These are the questions I ask of myself, and of the world itself.
What inspired you to write this book?
I wrote it to survive. Writing poetry was how I could get through the heartache, and it was inspired by my own personal experiences. The inherent gothic horror of being sick forever, in its isolation and wild temperamental nature, this pain drove me to romantic angst, which became the thread that ties this piece of work together.
After receiving my diagnosis, I found myself unable to cope without expression. At first, it was only a coping mechanism, but after hundreds of poems, I found myself wanting to share what I’ve learned in recovery. This book is a found home, little tokens of recovery that show me how far I’ve come. All I’ve ever wanted is to be seen and understood. To be able to share a piece of my heart, a broken messy piece that is raw and real, but sincere and full of passion, that is what it is to truly be seen.
What does the title mean?
The title “Cottage in a Mirror” refers to finding peace in knowing what you both want and need. I always imagined myself living in a little cottage by the sea, drinking tea, and listening to the cat purring. This dream became an anchor in my recovery, and as I got sicker physically, I began to realize that at the core of the dream, all I wanted was a quiet life. To accept this, I also had to give up many lofty ambitions that I could no longer pursue. This poetry is a reflection of this desire, as well as celebrating letting go of dreams that no longer fit my life. It doesn’t have to be this sad thing to let go. It can actually be incredibly cathartic.
Who are some of your literary or artistic crushes, and did they influence you at all while writing this book?
Greta Gerwig is one of my favourite directors/writers, she inspires me heavily in her naturalistic writing style. I love the way she writes dialogue, the flow and rhythmic elegance, it stuns me every time! Florence Welch as well, I adore her lyrics, I find them so human and bare. For classic literature, William Blake, the Brontë sisters, anything by Kurt Vonnegut. I adore gothic romanticism. The way it is wistful but also grotesque, it can’t get better than that.
What was one of the most surprising things you learned in creating your books?
The most surprising thing I’ve learned about writing is which poems people end up liking. The impact seems so small when you’re writing in your bedroom, and then when you’re done, it feels anticlimactic. But then, months or days later, after it’s released, it’s surprising to realize that something so personal is out there in the world. And when people like it, it’s exhilarating, but it also feels naked. To be known, it’s terrifying. But after so much reflection, it is what I truly want out of life.
What is the key theme and/or message in the book?
Eating the fruit of knowledge, discovering one’s own heart, and letting go of dreams and ambitions that the world had for one’s life.
Do you think someone could be a writer if they don’t feel emotions strongly?
I don’t think you need to feel your feelings particularly strongly in order to write, but you need to be at least in tune with your feelings. If you don’t have anything to write about, then maybe reflect on what bothers you in life, what excites you, what imagery stimulates you, what injustices outrage you. Everyone feels basic needs. Write about primal urges, about what you wish you had said in that argument, about what you wish you could be if you had no limits. You need to be creative and committed, not necessarily strongly emotional.
What’s your favourite under-appreciated novel?
I don’t know if it’s necessarily that underrated, but Mother Night by Kurt Vonnegut is one of my favourite books about identity and accountability. It’s a brilliantly written novel about who you are if you’ve spent your whole life pretending to be someone you’re not. Vonnegut explores the depths of perception of ourselves and others in a tongue-in-cheek delusional state of denial.
What does literary success look like to you?
All I want is to write. If it comes to nothing, I’ll still have expressed myself the best I could at the time. If someone reads it, and connects to the imagery and themes, then I will have tied a thread from my mind to another’s, and that is magic. If someone reads it, and they feel nothing, then I’ll at least have gotten my word in. That’s all I could ever ask for.
What is the most difficult part of your artistic process?
The most difficult part of my artistic process is the “living” part. I could write a thousand poems, but if I haven’t done the living, then they’ll all be lifeless. I don’t want to perpetuate the whole “tortured artist” myth, but to be a good writer, I believe you need to at least be sensitive to life’s hardship. Be in tune with the duality of pain and joy, and let them drive the passion needed to express yourself.