Ali Bryan is a southern Alberta-based, incredibly prolific writer! She’s published five novels—the fourth (Coq, Freehand Books) and fifth (The Crow Valley Karaoke Championships, Henry Holt) came out this past May and July, respectively—among many other short-form pieces.

Since 2013, you’ve published four novels (Roost, The Figgs, Coq, and The Crow Valley Karaoke Championships), another novel (Takedown) set to be published in spring 2024, you’ve published one YA novel (The Hill) and have another (The City, the second in the series) coming out this fall. I think my first question for you has to be how do you manage your time? What are your amazing secrets? I know you’re a parent, which takes time. Do you also have a day job?

I’ve worked almost exclusively through my writing career in the fields of marketing & communications, fitness/personal training and arts management in addition to raising three kids and managing a home. It’s only been within the last couple of years that most of my time has been spent on my writing or writing-related projects. No “secrets” per se, but I’ve been getting up at 5 a.m. to write for as long as I can remember. I write consistently—not daily—but pretty damn close. I work flexible jobs. I exercise (a critical part of my creative practice!). I write in the spaces in between—at the rink, in the parking lot, on the sidelines, in the hotel bathroom, on the road, in bed, under the bed, in a closet, on a rooftop, in a hole-in-the-wall. In the early years of my career, I was a bit of an art monster when it came to protecting my writing time, but it wasn’t long before I realized that in the grand scheme of things, my work is inconsequential. Not that it doesn’t matter, but that no one is going to drop dead if my next book doesn’t come out or if I never publish again. I’ve learned to give myself grace and accept that the time I spend away from the page to tend to the needs/demands of others, or even my own needs, would never be wasted or regretted. Ultimately, it’s these other “things” that make up a life. I’m more than a writer. So, though I have a lot of discipline when it comes to my craft and writing practice, I’ve come to appreciate the interruptions.

Surely, she knew what it was like? I learned in that moment that just being published and being Canadian did not automatically grant me access to the community I craved. A community I assumed was supportive and like-minded and knew how writing could break your heart. Remember, I was young and naïve and at a formative time in my career. I wanted kumbaya, but what I got was “keep out.”

There were also many times in those early years before I had a community when something would come up and I would find myself thinking, I wish I just had a writer to ask about this. So, with these experiences in mind (although I don’t even think it was a conscious decision at first), I vowed that I’d be there for anyone coming up behind me. Whether that’s writing a letter of recommendation, beta reading, hosting a new author’s book launch, assisting with a grant application, teaching, mentoring, or offering advice, support, an ear, a shoulder, or the best (and my most favourite part)—a congratulations when a writer shares any kind of win (an acceptance, a book deal, a contract, an epiphany).

It’s also a basic human responsibility to give back. Alberta isn’t all pumpjacks, sports teams, Fuck Trudeau stickers and stampede breakfasts. It has a robust, active, innovative, progressive and supportive arts community. I wouldn’t be the author I am today without it. I will always find ways to honour that.

Your books have won the Georges Bugnet Award for Fiction and been shortlisted for the Stephen Leacock Memorial Medal for Humour, and your shorter works have won the Howard O’Hagan Award for Short Story, have been longlisted for the Commonwealth Short Story Prize and the John Whyte Memorial Essay Award. How do you think winning awards help authors to be noticed by agents and publishers, and how do you think winning book awards help a book to be noticed by the reading public? How important would you say awards are to an author?

I suspect my experiences with awards have differed from those of other writers. At no time after winning an award or being shortlisted for a national one did an agent, editor or publisher ever come looking for my next project. I remember specifically after shortlisting for the Leacock Medal for Humour that a previous winner told me “everything is about to change.” It did not. I thought after The Hill longlisted for the 2021 Wilbur Smith Prize for Adventure Writing (I was the only Canadian, only one of three woman and the only YA title on the list) that it might’ve awarded me some recognition in Canada. It did not. I noticed a small uptick in acknowledgment (interest?) after the Commonwealth longlist and a few Pushcart and Best-of-the-Net nominations that a few other writers seemed to take notice. But that’s it.

On the reader side, awards are lovely. Book prizes (even regional ones) are often supported with marketing and promotional campaigns so winning an award or landing on a shortlist can introduce your book to an audience you might not have accessed otherwise. They may also help to secure your participation at a festival. Are awards important? Whether you agree or disagree with them on a philosophical level, they are important, particularly on the business side of writing. Usually, award winners see a post-win bump in sales. In business, sales matter, so by extension, so do awards. Do they matter on a psychological level? Depends entirely on the writer. I’m thrilled to be long or shortlisted for a literary prize or to win an award. I like winning. I’m inherently competitive. Ridiculously so. My soccer teammates will attest to the fact that the first thing I do when I score a goal is turn to the ref to make sure he sees my number so I get credit for said goal. Of course, it’s different when you’re judging art and we all know it. Any time someone wins something: Was it merit? Maybe. What it that writer’s “turn” to win? Possibly. Was it because the writer “does a lot for community”? Could be. Art is subjective and juries are made up of humans so all sorts of human stuff can get in the way—personal biases, politics, emotions, etc. That’s just the way it is and that won’t change. In the end the “why” doesn’t matter. I accept any nomination or award with genuine gratitude. I live it, feel it, celebrate it and then, I detach. The award lives on in my bio, but I move on because I am not my awards or achievements. 

One day, I discovered a random message in my Inbox from a “hard-to-please” reader who raved about Roost. I did the math and realized that the 10th anniversary of its release was coming up, and from a marketing perspective, considered what a perfect time it would be to follow up with Claudia and her family. And just like that, the plot, and more specifically how to start the book came to me. I pitched and sold it on spec with just a single chapter. It was absolutely bananas to write! It was fast, fun, joyful and surprisingly easy to slip back into Claudia’s world. The whole experience reminded me of why I got into writing in the first place—the joy of creating. In the end there is so much you can’t control as a writer (i.e., publishing), but you can love the act. And writing Coq was just that.

What are your thoughts on Goodreads? Do you think authors should ignore it, worry about it, engage with it? Do you ever use it to decide whether or not to read a book?

“This book was amazing! Probably one of my all-time faves. I laughed out loud, I cried. The writing was brilliant.” 2 stars.

Wait, what?

Goodreads is a bit like browsing a Dollar Store. Some items are garbage, some toxic, some poorly made, and some downright baffling, but in the mix, you can also find some real gems. So, I treat Goodreads much like I do the Dollar Store. I keep my expectations low, I don’t go that often, and I’m genuinely grateful when I find something wonderful on the shelves.

You were recently awarded the Queen Elizabeth II Platinum Jubilee Medal in Alberta, in recognition of your exceptional impact and service in advancing Alberta writing. Can you tell me a bit more about the work that you do for emerging writers and why this is important to you?

My debut novel Roost received a review so horrible that it stands all these years later (a decade!) as one of the cruelest reviews I’ve ever read, and not just of my own work, but of anyone’s. It felt mean-spirited and unnecessarily personal. Bad reviews happen, but this one was written by a well-known female Canadian writer and that devastated me.

Your fourth novel, Coq, is a sequel to your first novel, Roost. What led you to want to revisit single-mother Claudia and her family? Did you always plan to write a follow-up to Roost? How did your experience with the characters differ or grow this time as compared to the first?

On a serious note, Goodreads is fascinating and weird and poses some interesting questions about who gets to review a book, and what constitutes a book review. Is a Goodreads review any less honest/reliable/valuable than that of an Instagram influencer’s? Or a BookTokers? Could it actually be more honest, or right, or real? Can you believe any review? And yet with fewer literary critics and formal book reviewers, what or who else do we have?

In the end—whether it’s a Goodreads reviewer, an influencer, or a legitimate literary critic or arts reporter, I’m simply appreciative that they chose one of my books, because the reality is, there are thousands to choose from. Hundreds of thousands. One star or five, someone gave it a chance. They read my book when they could’ve done a million other things. That’s remarkable when you think of it.

What would be your number one piece of advice for an emerging author (a) creatively and (b) about the business side of writing?

(a) Write a really good story. Always, story first. Don’t be in a rush to publish. Study/learn craft in the way that suits you and with the resources you have (take a class, attend a retreat, apply for a mentorship, read a book on writing, etc.). Stay curious. Write as often as you can. Like any skill, writing is a practice. Do it. Hone it. Find a writing community.

How do you deal with the deflating side of being an author—not being mentioned on lists of books “we’re anticipating,” not being on awards lists, negative reviews, etc.?

I deal with it a few ways. Firstly, I have very low expectations. Without sounding melodramatic, I’ve spent my life on the fringes so not appearing on those lists is a familiar place for me. Not that that makes it easy. I think it’s particularly difficult for writers living and writing outside of the Toronto publishing hub, but it’s also an opportunity.

Not being able to “breakthrough” in my own country created opportunities for me outside of it, such as finding a big 5 American publisher for my fifth novel, The Crow Valley Karaoke Championships. I don’t say this braggingly, or pityingly or vengefully. It's just that outside of Freehand (who I owe my career to), it’s been hard for me to publish in Canada and though I think Canadian readers appreciate my work (and I’m incredibly grateful for that), overall, American publishers have consistently shown significantly more interest in my work than Canadian ones.

Secondly, I tag the crap out of institutions and organizations in a “do you see me now?” kind of way and sometimes it works and I magically appear on lists I’d formerly been excluded from. I have no problem advocating for my work, because I’ve always had to.

Thirdly, I’ve adopted the mantra “be so good they can’t ignore you,” (borrowed advice I tell my kids when they’re trying out for a sport or being evaluated for a team), which means I’ve worked really hard on my craft to get better and better as a writer. Growth and mastery are important to me.

Fourthly, my entire identity isn’t wrapped up in being writer. It’s just one thing I do. When your entire identity is “being a writer” and you find yourself one day unable to publish your next book, or you get a string of shitty reviews, or you find yourself award-less, it’s a sure way to crash and burn, because how you can be a “writer” if you’re no longer publishable? Can you continue to be a writer without readers? Without books? By acknowledging that writing is something I do, rather than who I am, I can let go of the deflating side of being an author.

Read. Know that writing is a long game. Live. Know that a writing career is never linear. Play. Know that even if you do everything “right,” you may not “make it” in the way you hope, imagine or expect. Write anyway. Know that you can’t control much of anything other than the writing itself. Know that the industry is constantly changing. Know that publishing is highly competitive. Know that beyond the book signing table, there’s a lot of ego to be found in this business. Don’t indulge it. Know that there isn’t room for everyone (I wish there was). Be gracious if you find success, no matter how you define success. Write from the heart (I know that sounds cliché, but the best stories come from there and less from your head and what you think you should write). Keep learning. Know that getting a book published will only make you happy in the short-term. Do not rely on it as a long-term fix because happiness is inherently fleeting and you’ll soon be looking for the next “fix.” And if that fix doesn’t come? Despair. If writing, (more typically if publishing) makes you nuts, stop. Come back when you’re in a different headspace. Or not. Lots of things are seasonal. Writing might be one of them. Don’t be ashamed if you choose to self-publish or choose an alternate route than traditional publishing. Stop caring what other people think. Know that there are multiple ways to write a book. Know that there are multiple paths to publishing. Few authors share the same path. Know that you’re probably not as good as you think you are, but you’re also probably not as bad as you think you are either. Keep slogging. And lastly, don’t be a dick.  

(b) Consider not prefacing a social media post with a “shameless self-promotion” warning. It’s both okay and necessary to promote your work. It’s expected. People feel more comfortable promoting the sandwich they just ate for lunch than the book they laboured years over. Be leery of any advice that says you have to do BLANK to get published or to be a successful author (however you define “successful”). Pick and choose the methods of promotion that feel comfortable to you. Don’t feel comfortable making an unboxing video? Don’t make one. Can’t fathom a book signing? Don’t do one. Have fun with your marketing and only do what feels “authentic” (as authentic as social media allows). I only do what feels organic for me regardless if anyone else is doing it. You don’t have to do all the things. Spend your time intentionally and remember that most people (except for a few outliers) will enjoy a greater return on investment for the time spent on actual writing and honing their craft than they’ll ever get dancing on TikTok or lurking on Twitter.

And finally, what are you working on now? (I’m guessing there must be about five things!)

All the things! Novels, essays, screenplays, trying to be a better human.