Manahil Bandukwala is a fourth-year English major in the Co-op Program. She enjoys writing and painting. Her chapbook of poetry and illustrations Pipe Rose was published in 2018. She is currently an editor of In/Words, Carleton’s in-house literary magazine. She enjoys crushing friends at Bananagrams, Scattergories, Boggle, and other word games.

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Tuesday, April 23, 2019: Working in web writing is a curse – a goodbye as departmental blogger

I write this as I reach the final week of my co-op work term in a web communications team and struggle to write anything longer than 25 words. I want everything to be short. Fancy vocabulary needs to go. Sentences should have one idea, and one idea only. Want to make a paragraph longer than two sentences? Cute.

This is a problem when I need to write a 15-page paper or a short story. Flash fiction, at 500 words, seems long. I hadn’t written fiction in over a year, but something changed that.

I stumbled upon the English blog archives and read a post by Alicia Haniford. Alicia mentions how everything she writes is long. This is nothing against Alicia, who is a good friend and former co-op supervisor. But most recently, she (along with former English student Paige Pinto) has been the reason why I have broken my fiction hiatus.

Alicia and Paige are co-editing an anthology of romance stories by a group of current and former members of the English Lit. Society’s Emerging Writer’s Circle. This idea formed during a breakfast at Elgin Street Diner. When Alicia said she always wanted to edit a collection of romance stories to two excitable people (Paige and myself), of course this became a reality.

And this is where the title of my blog post manifests. Nevertheless, through the encouragement of a strong and talented group of writers, I managed to write eight pages of scattered prose.

I was terrified of sending it to the group, whose work was surely leaps and bounds beyond mine. Writers like Julia Lye and Megan Waldron seem to have an infinite capacity to write. Or Ren Iwamoto and Cosette Penner-Olivera, whose writing is always so evocative and rich. Or Paige Pinto and Browen Matheson, who overflow with such interesting ideas.

I felt my work paled in comparison. I was ready for a pile of rejections and steeled myself for a full rewrite.

I shouldn’t have worried.

This group of writers knows how to critique. They know how to uplift your work and give suggestions to make it stronger in the same breath. I haven’t written fiction in over a year, but this group of writers makes me want to get back to it.

From the Emerging Writer’s Circle, we have become the Eighteen Eleven Collective. If you’re in the English department at Carleton, I’m sure you can guess at what this means. It’s been a couple of years since this exact group watched the sun set once a week in Dunton Tower, but we have fallen back into the comfortable excitement of surprise Timbits or the continuation of a story. I know characters like Seren and Dominick, or Helen and Mouse, or Jester, Oracle and Mute as though they are intimate friends.

And I don’t think I’ve laughed harder than when Paige introduced a potential title of the anthology (taken from the title of Browen’s story) as You Hit Me With Your Car and Other Love Stories.

After writing all of this, I rescind my titular statement. Web writing makes me a better writer. Instead of writing four-line sentences full of nonsense and hoping the TA will think I know what I’m talking about, I fill my essays with actual thoughts. I don’t bury what I actually want to say under fluff. My co-op work term may not help me write novels the length of Game of Thrones, but it does help me make each word count.

With this said, here is my goodbye as an English blogger. I’m excited to see where the rest of the year goes. Since my first blog post of 2019, most of the things I wrote about have already happened. I’m finishing up my co-op work term, my chapbook, Paper Doll, has launched and is going into its third printing, and the “secret” project I mentioned has a website.

Thank you for following my adventures through university, Ottawa, and even Toronto at times. Have a great summer!

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March was a hard month, with the passing of Prof. Pius Adesanmi. This followed the news of Prof. Marc Hewson’s passing in January, which left much of March with me thinking about the influence professors have and how it’s easy to take what they share with us for granted.

But with the end of March came Versefest, Ottawa’s biggest poetry festival. Versefest brings together poets from across Canada, as well as on an international scale. This year, attending readings, lectures, and talks, as well as meeting literary friends and poets, offered me a chance to think about mentorship and influence.

Living two streets away from the Knox Presbyterian Church (where Versefest takes place) means that my attendance for the poetry festival has greatly increased. I’d like to share some of my festival highlights and recommendations, and maybe convince you to attend next year.

Day 1: Opening Night

Billy-Ray Belcourt read a lot of poems from his forthcoming book, NDN COPING MECHANISMS: Notes from the Field, coming out in September 2019. One thing to say is that September 2019 has something great to look forward to. Belcourt read a line, “poets pledge allegiance to a country I don’t believe in” that stuck with me throughout the night.

While I was already familiar with the work of Billy-Ray Belcourt (thanks to Professor Brenda Vellino’s course on Indigenous Literatures, and the well-deserved success of This Wound is a World), I was also exposed to the brilliant work of t’ai freedom ford. ford read from her books, how to get over and & more black/black-ass sonnets. Her final poem had the audience mesmerized with lines like “the new is skin / the skin is news / the news is brown / the brown is noose / the noose is red.”

Day 2: Sawdust Reading Series

After missing hearing Gillian Sze last April at the Ottawa International Writers Festival, I had the pleasure of hearing her read her chapbook, Fricatives. The last lines of the chapbook were, “and I am surprised to know that something so large can still wander,” and these stuck with me as I settled into bed that night. As a bonus, I was also able to get my own copy of Fricatives at the book table on Day 3.

Day 3: Arc Poetry Magazine’s Reading

What a lineup for Arc’s event at Versefest: David O’Meara, Stephanie Roberts, Jenny Haysom, and Doyali Islam. Here are some of the highlights of lines from poems.

O’Meara, Arc’s poet-in-residence, read a line, “We might have slept for years, extras in each other’s grief.”

Haysom structured her reading around the theme of homes, from the home she lived in for seventeen years at Hopewell Avenue to Van Gogh’s home in Arles. She read, “Hints of nicotine and yesteryear lingered in the fire.”

The reading closed with Islam reading from her just-released book, heft, which Islam described as being largely about fathers. Her poem, “anise tea” has the lines, “When these histories have steeped enough, his right hand bears the weight.”

Day 4: The Ottawa International Writers Festival & the Versefest Invitational Slam

Friday was the first day I attended both the 7 p.m. and 9 p.m. shows. The first event was hosted by the Ottawa International Writers Festival. Renee Sarojini Saklikar read from her books, Children of Air India and Listening to the Bees. Out of all the readings at the festival, her voice (next to Gillian Sze’s) was the nicest to hear. One of the lines she read was, “come spring we braid strands, pulp fibres, wind whispers.”

Dennis Lee, a poet and children’s writer, closed the Writers Festival event. One of my favourite parts from his reading was of “The Notapotamus”, which read like “I thought I saw a potamus, / Asleep upon a cotamus,” and it had the whole audience laughing.

And then was the part I was simultaneously anticipating and dreading: Versefest’s Invitational Slam. This competition, always held at 9 p.m. on the Friday of Versefest, draws the largest crowd. This year, I was invited to participate. It was my first time being part of a slam. As I expected, it was terrifying but also a great experience. It wasn’t being scored that had me at the edge of my seat, as I had expected, but rather it was not knowing when my name was going to be pulled out of the hat to go up and read. I did make it through my reading, and had the chance to share the stage with some amazing poets, including Infinite Mind, Rhube Knox, Shawn K, Shery Alexander Heinis, and Danielle K. L. Gregoire.

Day 5: The Factory Lecture Series, What the Poets Are Doing, & Leanne Betasamosake Simpson

The Saturday shows at Versefest strayed away from poetry readings, which was a nice break from the four consecutive days of poetry.

The Factory Lecture Series, featuring Sennah Yee and Klara du Plessis, was organized by rob mclennan. Yee and du Plessis had space to talk about their work, inspirations, and current projects. Yee focused her lecture on her background in film studies, often citing critic and scholar Laura Mulvey. Having studied Mulvey’s work in several classes, it was interesting hearing Yee’s talk about Mulvey’s observations of how women are depicted as objects to be looked at in film. Yee’s book, How do I look? looks at these depictions of women and racialized bodies in pop culture.

Du Plessis talked about her practice of “deep curation,” in which she compares a literary curator to a curator for a gallery. The literary curator invites readers to perform, but does not usually have a say in what the reader performs. The art curator considers how work is in conversation with other work, and has a comprehensive view of the tone of the exhibition. Du Plessis’s concept of deep curation takes cues from the practice of art curation. She says, “The process of reading and selecting becomes writing.”

After a quick lunch break, I was back at Versefest for a launch of What the poets are doing: Canadian poets in conversation. The book consists of twelve pairs of Canadian poets talking about poetry. The editor of this book, Rob Taylor, described the process as being like “a cat café, except the people who work there are also cats.” Speakers at this event included Armand Ruffo, Linda Besner, and Phoebe Wang. Each read parts of their own conversation, parts of others’ conversations, and poetry from their conversation partners.

Leanne Simpson performed with her band at the 9 p.m. show, and it was wonderful. Simpson performed songs that I had first been introduced to in Indigenous Literatures, such as “How to Steal a Canoe.” She also gave her bandmates, Ansley Simpson and Cris Derkson, space to perform solo. The band closed the night with the song, “This Accident of Being Lost,” which shares a title with Simpson’s book. I have also listened to this song every day since first hearing it.

Day 6: In/Words Magazine & Blue Mondays

The last day of Versefest arrived, and I was hosting an event for In/Words Magazine with UOttawa’s reading series, Blue Mondays. I find something fun about two “rival” universities hosting a literary event together each year. I was also excited to introduce Tess Liem and Ren Iwamoto. Liem’s debut poetry book, Obits, is a phenomenal look at death, obituaries, and mourning. One of the lines she read was, “I write zero to describe grief and to me it means I had more than a pen to begin with.”

Iwamoto’s first chapbook, Travelling Trauma Museum, was the first chapbook I had worked on as an editor with In/Words. Introducing them, as well as hearing new work, was wonderful. They read from a series of poems about Medusa, with one of the lines being, “Helen’s face launched 10,000 ships but yours could have sunk them in a minute.”

Six days of a variety of poetry later, I feel satiated, and also ready to sleep. Versefest is always great for introducing me to new poets, such as from t’ai freedom ford, Stephanie Roberts and Linda Besner, or giving me a chance to meet poets I admire in real life, such as Sennah Yee and Tess Liem.

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The Ontario Science Centre: Science museums are usually the best museums to visit because everything is so hands-on. The Ontario Science Centre takes the prize for best science museum visited so far (sorry, Ottawa). Even my thirteen-year-old sister, who is at that point where her room is the best possible place she can be, thoroughly enjoyed herself.

The exhibits at the museum had lots of games to demonstrate the science. To explain the Schrodinger’s Cat theory, there was a version of the game “Angry Birds.” Instead of launching birds, you launch cats. Each level applied quantum theories to how you could launch the cat. In one level, for example, you launch a cat in a box. While the box is in the air, you tap it, and the cat may come out either dead or alive.

A much-appreciated exhibit in the cold December weather was in “The Living Earth” section. You enter a space that simulates a rainforest, complete with heat and humidity! But one of the highlights is a whimsical display of sculptures made out of found objects. Each sculpture has a wacky name, like “Flying Tea Machine.”

The Aga Khan Museum: This museum opened a few weeks after I moved to Canada, and has been on my go-to list ever since. The free entry was enough to convince my mum to drive me out there.

I felt a sense of familiarity in the Aga Khan Museum. I remembered names like Mahmud of Ghazni, Muhammad bin Qasim, and Avicenna from my history classes in Pakistan. The stunning calligraphy showed how different Arabic scripts developed, including Persian, which influenced Urdu, Pakistan’s national language. Another point of resonance was the Shia and Sufi influences in the calligraphy. My family’s sect of Islam is under Shi’ism, and I’ve never seen the branch in this sort of spotlight before (given that Pakistan has a Sunni majority).

The Aga Khan Museum was an especially cool place to visit because I was seeing things that I had only seen in textbooks on display. One of these artifacts was a standard used in a battle in Islamic history. I had memorized that Hazrat Ali (nephew of the Prophet Muhammad) was renowned for his strength, and his service as standard-bearer was proof of it. I pictured the standard as a lightweight flag, and never questioned why one would need strength to carry one. The standard in the Aga Khan Museum was like a metal sculpture, with intricate calligraphy carved into it.

Almost two months after visiting the Aga Khan Museum, I still can’t forget the awe and wonder of the exhibits I experienced there. The visit has inspired me to start a project involving a study of the Mughals.


The Art Gallery of Ontario: The AGO was the last museum/gallery I visited. I’ve been here before, but the architecture of the place always makes me marvel at its beauty. The gallery’s special exhibition showcases the work of Mickalene Thomas.

Thomas’s paintings include different types of materials. She embeds rhinestones in a lot of her work, making it very striking. The exhibit, titled ‘Femmes noires,’ puts black women in the spotlight.

In Thomas’s “living-room installations,” she arranged couches and piles of books by black authors. I recognized a number of names from classes, including Nervous Conditions by Tsitsi Dangarembga, A Small Place by Jamaica Kincaid, and Washington Black by Esi Edugyan.

This exhibit was a great way to invite people to sit down and absorb the installations while also giving them something to do in the form of reading the books. The common “Do Not Touch” rule in art galleries can also create tentativeness in visitors. Turning this on its head by encouraging people to “touch the artwork” made this a very comfortable space to explore.

These museums are all larger-than-life, and the time needed to go through each one thoroughly surpassed the energy I had each day. I’m still thinking about the exhibits at each museum, and they continue to influence my literary and artistic work.

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Manahil Bandukwala

On December 31st, 2018, I asked my friends, “what are you sure will happen in 2019?” I wanted to celebrate what we knew was happening rather than lament what might (not) happen. For 2019, I am sure that I will start a new co-op work term at the International Research and Development Centre and that I will have my second chapbook published.

I write this blog post at the end of my third day at IDRC. I was quite giddy about this job over the winter break, mostly because you must be a Canadian citizen to work in the position. I was still a permanent resident during the job searches for my last two co-ops, so after getting my citizenship this summer, my job search opened up to the many positions that require Canadian citizenship. Being able to enter this space that I previously couldn’t is exciting.

IDRC funds research in developing countries, with a focus on partnering with local workers. Since working there, I’ve come across work that they do in Pakistan, such as funding women-only spaces on public transit to make navigation easier for women.

Working in web writing and development has a surprising benefit for my poetry – I am far stricter in editing and cutting down unnecessary content. I am a harsher critic, which makes my writing (both technical and creative) focused on the main subject.

As for the workplace itself, I have one lament: the microwave is four floors down from my office. However, the ten-minute walk to my new office from my apartment is a huge plus, and I suppose this makes up for the absent microwave. Copper Branch, the vegan restaurant in the building, is also a significant benefit of the job.

Starting a new job comes with a specific feeling that appears regardless of how many first-days-of-work you have. I felt nervous about the small things. How would I greet new people on my floor? Would I be given any tasks on my first day? How do I politely ask what my lunch break is like? When should I mention that I need to take time off in March to go to Toronto for my chapbook launch?

My second chapbook, Paper Doll, was accepted by Anstruther Press in the summer of 2018 and will be launched this March. I’ve edited and polished the manuscript, invited friends to the March 1st launch in Toronto, and am coming up with ideas for the cover. Anstruther is a pretty big Toronto-based press, and sometimes I’m floored that my work will be joining their impressive line-up of poets, which includes Tess Liem, Klara du Plessis, Shazia Hafiz Ramji, Aaron Boothby, and more.

My first chapbook’s publisher, battleaxe press, is based in Ottawa where I currently live. It’s fitting that my second chapbook’s publisher is in Toronto, a city that I first hated when I moved to Canada but have slowly come to love.

I have another big literary and visual arts project in the works. I’m too superstitious to mention more about the project. I will say that Carleton professors were very helpful and responded promptly to my emails over the winter break.

The new year did come with some sorrowful news. Professor Marc Hewson passed away. I took “Writing an English Essay” with him back in my first year. I’ve continued to use his teachings in my 3rd and 4th year classes. He was a fantastic professor and his passing is shocking and saddening.

2019 has been pretty steady so far. Thanks to co-op extending my degree by a year, I’ve escaped the graduation panic that has set in for many of my friends. The prospect of leaving the world of schooling that marks our entire lives is quite daunting. In addition to the worry of finding a job, we must contend with the loss of our student discount. From grocery shopping to visiting museums and using public transit, our lives are defined by being students. I’m happy to put off this panic for another year. In the meantime, this may be the reason I consider grad school.

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Saturday, October 27th: Halloweekend. With parties happening all over the city, where should one go? To the Ottawa International Writers Festival, of course. The night featured not one, but two powerful authors: Dionne Brand and Vivek Shraya.

Brand read from her new poetry collection, The Blue Clerk, followed by a one-on-one conversation with Adrian Harewood of CBC. The following quote from their exchange sums up how amazing it was to hear Brand speak:

“What do you use language for?”
“To make the next moment different.”

Brand talked about her early education in a post-colonial Trinidadian school where she learned literature by rote. Sitting there, I was taken back to my similar schooling experience in Karachi. I didn’t realize then that literature and writing could be such a powerful tool for change because we focused so much on memorizing content and regurgitating it for the teacher. Now, studying literature in university means that literary analysis goes beyond surface elements of rhyme and meter.

After a poignant and hard-hitting talk by Brand, Vivek Shraya performed her song, “I’m Afraid of Men,” and read from her memoir of the same name. An interrogation of masculinity, the book takes as its point of departure Shraya’s observation that when “you talk about fear, what the oppressors hear is hate.”

Both Brand and Shraya talk about the writer’s responsibility to push readers to think. The world, as Brand puts it, is full of racism, violence, oppression, and hate. Writing might not change that completely, but it can start a conversation. Shraya hopes this will happen with I’m Afraid of Men, a work that seeks to show how we are all complicit in inequality and oppression fostered by assumptions that convene under the ethos of masculinity.

Language is a powerful instrument for change and going to the Writers Festival is always an eye-opening experience. I have a number of deadlines to focus on and tasks to get done, but I often take a few moments each day to think back to what both writers said that night. As Dionne Brand said, “writing is a decision between what is told and what is withheld.”

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