Having known Jen Currin for more than 10 years, most of that time as their partner, I see every day that writing, being a writer, is just an essential part of Jen as a person. Not the only part, or even necessarily the most important, but essential. They are a storyteller, a collector of stories, a finder and weaver of poetic fragments, someone who uses a story as a lens through which to make sense of life. They are often writing or thinking about writing or revising or refashioning a story or a poem. As someone who loves to read but doesn’t write much, I find this way into the world fascinating. I am now very familiar with the notebook that goes everywhere with them and gets filled and replaced with a speed that is a testament to this dedicated practice.
I know now that Jen would still write even if no work had ever been published. But I am glad for them that many of their books have been, and through publication have found an audience. The readers matter to Jen, as does the larger writing community. The readings, and literary events, the teaching and mentoring, the showing up for book launches of friends and colleagues are all ways that Jen builds and holds community. Being a writer among other writers (and readers) feeds Jen in many ways and brings additional layers of satisfaction and meaning to the work.
For me, one of the most interesting aspects of being partnered with a writer like Jen is that I can see the traces of them, their personality and preoccupations, in their books. Although they are not a memoirist or autobiographical writer, Jen is still somehow there on every page. They have a huge heart, a strong sense of social justice, a mystical and spiritual side, a strong loyalty to friendship and family, a playful, quirky sense of humour and all of these parts of them come out on the page. And the care and love they have for the writing also makes itself seen in the words. Sometimes when Jen is away, I pull a book from our shelf and read one of their stories or a few poems. I feel in that moment close to them through their words. A strange delight in having a writer as a partner.
-Written by Karen Smith – partner, reader, and friend
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Which neighbourhood are you in?
I live on the traditional, ancestral, and unceded territories of the Halkomelem-speaking peoples, including the Qayqayt, Musqueam, Kwikwetlem, and Kwantlen Nations, in a small city known colonially as New Westminster. I live in downtown New West, right next to the Stó:lō River, which I walk along often. I often see seals, herons, seagulls, and hummingbirds, and sometimes beavers and otters. I recently saw a seal feasting on a salmon! Always an exciting sight.
What do you do?
I’m a poet, fiction writer, and teacher of creative writing and English at Kwantlen Polytechnic University. I’m currently the LGBTQ+ curator for Word Vancouver 2024. My most recent books are the story collection Disembark (2024) and the poetry collection Trinity Street (2023), both published by House of Anansi.
What are you currently working on?
I´m always working away at short stories—they take me a long time to write, and I’m currently in the middle of several. I’m also gathering material for and tinkering away at poems. For years, I’ve been working on a collection of poems in form—ghazals, sonnets, glosas, haiku—and I hope to finish it in the next year.
Where can we find your work?
My books can be found at Wildfires Bookshop here in New West and in Vancouver at Massy Books, Upstart and Crow, Paper Hound, Iron Dog Books, and Book Warehouse. Pulp Fiction has carried my books in the past but I’m not sure if my recent two titles are currently available there. I also do a lot of readings in and around Vancouver, and you can catch me on Saturday, October 26 at the Vancouver Writers Fest on a panel called “Less Is More: Celebrating Short Stories” with Billy Ray Belcourt and Amanda Peters.
