Read Meet Author: P.F. Potvin

True, being well-read and focused can generate a lot of ideas and stories, but there is a certain spark that travel can produce in a writer. P.F. Potvin knows that speak and utilizes its energy to write poems that are filled with all aspects of life. It is not the he writes exclusively travelogues, but his work is littered with experiences and cultures in an intriguing way. Reading through his debut collection, The Attention Lesson (No Tell Books, 2006), his observations are brief but richly-textured, each poem almost has it's own flavor. Yet, it is all tied together through his eyes and experience. I am not saying you have to travel to write, but the adventure sure his deepened P.F.'s inkwell.

Potvin is also an accomplished runner, but he was able to take a break from training to answer a few of my questions.

Orange Alert (OA): Much of your writing is based on your travels. Do you feel a writer should experience the world before he/she begins to record it?
P.F. Potvin (PP): All peeps have their own styles and drives. And with the internet, you can have so many experiences vicariously. Although I'm a You Tube sucker, I'm really one of those who craves the firsthand. Like munching bullballs at the Montana Testicle Festival before running a 50 mile race or getting my lip split by a fist for dancing with some other guy's girl. From these types of experiences I start the musings. And I've learned that many true events seem beyond the usual. Like walking a deserted highway in southern Argentina with a backpack nearly as tall as me and the sun was setting behind the Patagonia mountains and I should have been dead but I did know it and the snow was falling and out of the past a 1950s stationwagon suddenly fishtailed into view and I was caught in the headlights and they slowed and I huffed up and the back door opened and I peeked in and there were an uncountable number of people packed inside and a boy took my hand and smiled up and he said in his tiny voice, "Hola Che."

OA: What is it about travel that seems to drive your creativity?
PP: In the work-day world I teach and have a tendency to get blunted by all the outward action. On, on, on, says the switch. I call it the operational level. And although I'm in it and with it and digging it, traveling allows me time to put the periscope down, hunker into different planes, and release the kid inside that wants to play, ride bikes to the corner store for candy, and meet up with the monsters that live just on the other side of that there hill.

OA: You are not the first writer that I met that has also had a passion for running. Do you feel there is a connection between running and writing?
PP: For me the body is all rhythm. The breath. The blood. The muscles and bones. The waves of brain. These rhythms are intrinsic in my writing. And apart from the challenge of going further and faster, running is a form of meditation, a stress reliever, and an addiction I've been fueling for nearly 20 years.

OA: What is your role with Drunken Boat and how did you get involved?
PP: The exact details of getting on The Boat are fuzzy (much like other drunken escapades). I do recall, however, I was living in Burlington, VT and teaching at Champlain College and working at Eastern Mountain Sports. I lived in two houses during that stint. First on a first floor (where I slept in a sleeping bag on the carpet between my boxes). And second on the second floor (where I unpacked my boxes and bought the bed, desk, lamp, and carpet from the guy moving out). I remember sitting at the desk and reviewing poetry submissions for
publication. Periodically, I'd get distracted by the Sudanese strolling the sidewalk below in their blazing colors. I still do the same job with D.B., but I'm now in Ann Arbor, looking out at a crazy stump (consult film Little Otik for more details).

OA: As a poet in the small press (see The Attention Lesson, No Tell Books), do you approach a small press publication for a financial perspective? What is your goal in publication?
PP: I dig small presses because they print mainstream, fringe, and blackhole voices that may otherwise go unheard. I chose a small press because of the opportunity to be more than a number, to have creative control, like the Greek numbering and blank pages in The Attention Lesson. Such details would likely have been frowned upon by a major house. Besides, most major houses are closed to unknown poets and unless you've got an agent and a fiction or non-fiction manuscript, your options are usually very limited.

OA: What's next for PF Potvin?
PP: Iceland ahoy! In August my wife and I will be running in the Reykjavik marathon, then backpacking around the island for several weeks. Before that I'll be reworking a novel in progress and shelling out the ready pieces for publication. The fall will bring more teaching at the University of Michigan-Dearborn, a couple ultramarathons, and hopefully a multimedia project.

Bonus Questions:
OA: If you could sit down to coffee with anyone (alive or dead) who would it be?
PP: I would love to sip a cuppa with Haruki Murakami. We'd start by discussing his memoir, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. Then we'd move into the fiction realm and cite our favorite stories by Raymond Carver. After several hours, we'd glance up at the twinkle of bells as Franz Kafka slipped through the front door. He'd saddle up
his chair backwards and we'd talk about his stories. "The shorter the better," he'd say.

OA: What type of music do you enjoy and who are a few of your favorites?
PP: I'm currently digging and revisiting two word artists like Fleet Foxes, Amadou & Miriam* (symbol not included in word count), Modest Mouse, and Bela Fleck. Speaking of Fleck, if you haven't seen the documentary or heard Throw Down Your Heart (the cd from his trip, taking the the banjo back to Africa), cancel your dinner plans and grab a pick. The cinematography is remarkable.

For more information on P.F. Potvin please visit his website.