Alison’s office, Buchanan E ft. Great Dane Coffee | February 27, 2020
I met with Alison in her office on the last Thursday of February. It’s incredible how much has changed in roughly a month, now that we’re limiting social interactions, shifting many aspects of life online, and staying indoors as much as we can to fight a global public health crisis.
I truly believe that in these times more than ever, we need good books that nourish the soul. And it is with great pleasure that I get to introduce Alison Acheson here, who has written many books including her memoir Dance Me to the End, and who has made me fall in love with the art of writing for children.
KNOW HAPPY
It was the evening of this past New Years Eve that I started reading Dance Me to the End, in which Alison writes about being a caregiver to her late husband Marty, and their journey since his ALS diagnosis. I only got through the first few pages that evening before getting ready to go over to a friend’s place for a small get-together.
But the very first page of the book ended with the following; it spoke straight to my heart.
Know happy, recognize it, memorize the feeling, sink it
into our bones
articulate, “this is happy”
and let the feeling imprint, allow ourselves
to move
toward it
I’m not really a resolutions-kind-of-girl. But if there’s a resolution for 2020 that I’m sticking to, it is to recognize my happy, celebrate it, pursue it. Know those moments, thank those people.
As I continued reading Dance Me to the End into the new year, I was struck by the candour and vulnerability that made this book such a powerful read.
Dance Me To the End
Alison first started writing about Marty’s ALS and her caregiving in the form of journaling. “At the outset, it was really just trying to feel like I had a hold on what was happening to me, and to us, as a couple and as a family.”
There aren’t many published books about taking care of a spouse with a terminal diagnosis, Alison says. The few that she did find, Alison had a hard time finding honesty and relatability in it. “You’re not a hero when you’re a caregiver. You’re worthy, but you’re not this person with a cape flying around.”
The day-to-day reality of caregiving looked more like changing diapers, showering, and grappling with subtle and drastic changes. “And not like having a child where there’s sense of going somewhere, somewhere good.” She writes honestly about this journey – the rapid pace of progression of ALS, caregiving and experiencing strength, grief, love, agony, courage, hurt, fatigue, grace… all of it.
Since the publication of Dance Me to the End, Alison has received a number of emails and messages from her readers. “People say things like, I’ve been a caregiver for ten years, and I feel like nobody sees me. But when I read your book, I felt seen.
And that means a lot. That makes it worthwhile to have shared stuff that wasn’t easy to share.”
Writing for little people
While Alison’s readership is wide-reaching with her work ranging across genres and age groups, I know her primarily from the context of children’s writing, as the instructor for a creative writing course that I took. And I wanted to know how Alison decided to write for young readers.
“I did’t go to kindergarten. My mom had these ideas about education, that a kid should be home playing out in the yard, learning how to cook and doing other things. And then you put them to school as late as you possibly can. And so I went to school at seven, and I don’t even remember learning to read. I remember learning A the first day, and I remember learning something – a compound word, – and I remember learning how to spell beautiful. And it felt like within weeks, I could read. By grade 2, I was reading so much. And I thought that the only thing that would be more fun than reading would be on the other end of it. And be the person that comes up with the stories in the first place.“
Alison grew up to be an avid reader, and she started writing for adults at the age of 18. And yet, there was something in her that made her want to write for kids. She wanted to pay back all the pleasure she had reading children’s books growing up. But when she tried writing for kids, Alison found that everything she wrote sounded didactic. So she would toss what she’d written, and continue writing for adults.
A light came on
“And then, a light came on after my first son was born.
When I was pregnant with my first child, I remember thinking, especially if this was a boy, there were certain things I could do as a young feminist. I thought, here was my opportunity to have some input in the next generation. I had this idea of children as an empty slate.
And then he was born, three weeks early, as if he had his own agenda. It was a last-minute C-section after almost 48 hours of labour. I remember being wheeled out by the nursery and peering through the window, deep in the middle of the night.
And I swear he opened his eyes and looked at me. I know they’re not supposed to do that, but I swear he did, and it was like this electric shock. I looked at him, and I realized, here was this complete human being who knew exactly who he was, and what he wanted and needed, and that I was going to be spending the rest of my life running after him, figuring it out.
And I had never thought of it that way. I had these grandiose notions, and yet, he knew who he was. And there was something so humbling about that, that it just sort of dropped me into this place of being able to write for children without being didactic. That’s the truth of it, it’s kind of embarrassing!”
Motherhood and being a writer
“We had no intention to have a third child. I was quite happy with two. And when I found out that I was pregnant with a third child, I struggled with it. How am I going to love three people equally? How do I find this elastic heart that stretches to three when I was thinking two?
And yet, he was born, after all my worries and anxieties, it just popped into place. Oh, this is how this happens. It was three people, and I loved three people, as much as I loved two.
I’m always learning stuff from them, even though I’ve spent thousands of hours of my life doing this, [raising children,] instead of writing. You know, many artists opt not to have children because it absorbs a lot of your time and energy. I’ve talked to a lot of artists who struggle with this, especially females. Which should be every bit as much a male thing, a father thing.”
But for Alison, she found that being a mother helped her write for kids. She has come to a place and learned things that she wouldn’t have otherwise. “All of that was more than made up for, if it’s the right term,” says Alison.
In a world where navigating life as a woman often feels like making compromises, choosing between one thing or the other, I find this perspective refreshing and comforting.
Where everybody is truly equal
As for her grandiose notion of instilling feminist values in her writing? Alison still believes in the same values, but approaches them a little differently now.
“I’ve grown up with three brothers and grown old with three sons. I consider myself a feminist, but I also think that ultimately you need to think about all human beings. I’d like to think that feminist values, and valuing women and their contributions to the world, comes through my work.
If you look at things like suicide rates of young males, there’s something going on there that really needs to be looked at. I don’t think we should be holding any one group of people over another. Because the bottom line is we’ve got to get to a point where everybody is truly equal. To shut somebody down to make somebody else higher, ultimately you’re still shutting down somebody. And that causes damage.”
A sense of wonder
One of the things that stuck with me from taking Alison’s creative writing classes is the importance of a sense of wonder, especially when writing for little people.
“If you don’t have that sense of wonder yourself, then it’s not going to be authentic. I find sometimes when I’m hard at work, I lose that sense. I need to go out for a hike, take a dance class, or go hear some music.
When I was going through heavy grieving, I’d get in my car, drive to the city from Ladner four or five times a week to hear live music. There’s something about live music, especially jazz, where musicians have to work with a group of other people. And it only happens in that moment.
There’s art forms that are just in the moment, unlike writing, which we can labour over and over to perfect. The ones that make you go, that just happened right in front of me, that’s freaky! So those get me into that space of healing and wonder. Like, wow, the planet is capable of some amazing things.
I think we first need to build [in children] this sense that the planet is actually a good place, and that we can do something to make it a great place.”
What’s Alison writing and reading?
Alison is currently working on a novel for adults, though she wouldn’t tell me any more than that. “It’s one of those things. I can’t talk about it until the first draft, cause I’ll lose steam.”
Asked if she has a favourite group of audience to write for, the answer is no. “Each project kind of comes out, and I really can’t pinpoint one age group. I rather envy friends whose books are for a certain age group and you can focus on that, and develop that readership. Mine are all over the place. I like to keep every project different.”
Similarly, Alison reads all over the place, across fiction and nonfiction. She doesn’t read as many children’s books as she used to, since her sons have grown into adulthood.
“Right now, I’m reading Kelly Thomson’s Girls Need Not Apply, her memoir about being in the Canadian military. She’s another person who reached out about my book, and I went out and got hers. I’m really enjoying it.”
Secular tithing
“On my website I have a blog post about what I call secular tithing. My dad passed away a little over a year ago. He was a Christian and from his paycheque he would put aside 10% for tithing. He would always do that until he died.
And I thought, what if everybody spent a bit of money on whatever it is that means something to them. You don’t have to be religious. Whatever you want to see continue on in the world, you can spend a bit of extra money on it. It’s the only way we’ll have a music scene in Vancouver.
That means making sure you buy x number of books from independent bookstores once a month. Or going to a live music at a local bar, and having your quota of beer. Whatever art you like partaking in, go and take part and put some dollars into it.
If it means something to you, we’ve got to support it. It’s how you make sure you’ll keep having it.”
For me personally, bookstores are my safe haven. Having a bookstore I can walk into is something I hope I’ll never lose in my lifetime. I go to the bookstore when I want a new book, when I don’t know where to go, when I’m in a new city, when I’m upset and need to hide behind a bookshelf for a good cry.
At this very moment with social distancing measures in place, many of the usual ways that we engage with local arts and culture scenes aren’t accessible in the same way.
If you’re like me and find yourself spending a lot more time indoors than you’re used to, perhaps you’d consider ordering a book or two from a local independent bookstore?
“We collect experience, we connect with others, we build laughter and soul and home – so that when we need a foundation and a shelter, it will be there for us. But if it hasn’t been built, the sand under us will give way.”
Alison Acheson, Dance Me to the End
Alison Acheson | alisonacheson.com
