Traci Skuce rocks the virtual reading

Traci Skuce currently lives in social isolation in Cumberland, B.C. with husband, two grown sons and son’s girlfriend, and new dog, Molly. She has a brand-new collection of short stories called Hunger Moon, released by NeWest press. She wishes she could go on her book-tour, but for now will offer readings on Facebook and Instagram. Follow her on IG @traciskuce.thewritingjourney or check out her website at www.traciskuce.com.

Hunger Moon, your first collection of short stories, was launched on April 15, 2020.  Was there any discussion with your publisher about delaying the launch?  The gamble for those who take this option is that things will improve or return to normal by fall, but there’s no guarantee that will happen.

No, there really wasn’t. Right up until mid-March we were hopeful that I’d have an in-person, real writer, book launch. And then, it immediately switched up to an online event. The book had already been printed, pre-order copies had been sent out. I really have no idea if that’s why, but it seemed like we should still launch it and make it available. Holding strong to the idea of real life readings when the pandemic passes–which will happen one day, right?

Is your publisher using any new or unusual methods to promote your book in the current pandemic conditions?

Not that I’m aware of. They post on regular social media routes and host a podcast where they interview their authors. They’ve been really good about forwarding me applications to do things like Canada Performs and a special Launch Pad feature by 49th Shelf for writers with books launched in pandemic times. Also, a woman I went to high school with is a #bookfairy and she’s really been awesome spreading the word, encouraging me to post a video reading and tagging me in all sorts of Instagram stories. 

What kind of prep work did you do to ensure there would be an audience for your virtual launch?  Viewership reached a peak of around 85 during the launch, which seemed very healthy.  Were you happy with the number of participants?  Did it exceed your expectations?

Actually, the whole experience exceeded my expectations. I was heartbroken that I had to do the event virtually. I wanted the in-person, community experience. However, I posted it on all my social media sites, I sent out newsletters to my current writing student base, plus my former yoga student base. One of my dear friends in Toronto sent out an email to people there, and my mother, who’s a great networker, spread the word amongst her web of friends. And people showed up! I loved seeing who came, too. That was the cool thing about it, really, that people who wouldn’t make an in-person launch could tune into the Facebook Live venue.

You launched at 6:00PM Pacific Daylight Time. Were you calculating the optimum time for a variety of different time zones to accommodate your international guests?

Initially, I had a 7 pm PT time, but my publisher suggested we move it back an hour for the Eastern folks. And I think that was wise.

A reading in the real world provides instant feedback from the audience.  At first I thought that staring at the tiny camera at the top of your monitor would be a poor substitute, but when you came on, I saw the right side of the screen light up with comments, questions, and a barrage of flying hearts.  Was the virtual reading as good or better than ones you’ve had IRL?

I guess it was just different. And I really did ‘feel the love’. I couldn’t see the numbers, I only knew about them later because my husband and kids were watching upstairs, but I really did feel the presence of people watching and actually engaging with the reading. Sure, I didn’t get an immediate reaction to the excerpts I read in the way of applause or whatever, but it did feel different than if I’d just filmed a video. The questions helped, and the comments. People who I haven’t seen in years (decades?) showed up and that was really sweet.

You know, I did a reading in January, and I stood at a podium and couldn’t see the audience at all. I didn’t really say anything before I read, and I didn’t speak after, mostly because I’d been told to keep it short and so I did. The story was intense, and I was up there, reading it to the lights, or so it felt, and then when I was done there was an awkward pause, and then some applause and the next reader came up. So, if I had to rank and evaluate, I’d say the Facebook Live reading was better than that. More relaxed (even though I was nervous), plus I felt honoured that so many people were willing to stay with me. To listen and ask questions and listen again.

Are you planning an in-person event for later in the year?

Planning seems a fickle word at this point in the current pandemic reality. I have crossed so many plans off my 2020 day planner, and I’m reluctant to feel that anything solid will happen in the next few months. When things clear up and travel is possible, and people aren’t afraid to gather, then, yes, absolutely, I will do an in-person event, or many events. I’m hoping the bookstores and event coordinators my publisher spoke to will still be willing to host me.

Back in 2017, you said you’d never self-publish because you didn’t want to be a sales person. I’ve pushed my book aggressively—perhaps too aggressively—but it seems necessary for anyone launching a book in this downright scary and completely unpredictable April.  Bragging, announcing, asking, promoting.  These are not fun verbs for someone who would rather burrow into a manuscript or read a book.  Have you become a bit of a sales person even though you went the traditional publisher route?  What have you done to promote the book, and which actions have been most effective?

You’re right. You do need to be ‘loud’ in this already noisy world of distractions and many many books. I don’t know if I’d call myself a salesperson–maybe more of a marketing person. I’ve been learning a lot about that! 

And, I have to say, I’m really blessed to know a lot of wonderful people who are willing to spread the word. Basically, anyone who got a pre-order copy, or bought one off me before the launch, I’ve (shamelessly) asked them to share pictures of my book on social media. Posting pictures of the book, mini-reviews, etc. Has that been effective? I don’t know. But I really do think the more support you have in friends and people you know, the more the word can spread, especially in these crazy times.

I do think the virtual launch was helpful too. I’m doing another reading through #CanadaPerforms (National Arts Centre). So we’ll see what that does. Some days I’m tempted to just let it all sort itself out–leave it to fate. But really, I don’t think backing down is a good idea at this point. And now Canada Council has announced funding to support artists with digital versions of their projects, and I’ve got a really cool collaboration idea brewing to turn one of my stories into a short animated “reading”. So, in a way, this pandemic is pushing me to be creative, to figure out new ways of getting the work out there. 

I feel like I’m on a roller coaster with my book.  An early review in Publishers Weekly was a high point, but that was followed by the bug.  I was up there on the Amazon.ca ranking for a while, but that fades fast.  I was enjoying the bump in traffic on my website until my web mistress informed me that half of that was a naughty referral bot.  Up, down, up, down, side to side, then down a corkscrew funnel.  Thrills with a chance of vomit.  What have been some of your ups and downs?  Do you make an attempt to keep things level, or do you get carried away with each new event?

This whole pandemic is a bit up, down, don’t you think? I finished writing this collection over two years ago, and the in-between acceptance and publication seemed almost excruciating. And I was like, “I hope there’s not an apocalypse when it finally releases”. Which sounds weird, but it’s taken me so long to actualize this book, this dream, and I didn’t want the end of the world to come in and ruin it! It’s childish thinking, I fully recognize that, and yet, an apocalypse did come. Only it’s not as ruinous as I’d imagined (not to undermine the true suffering going on), people are still able to read and appreciate my book.

However, one of the real things I think is a drag, my most recent ‘down’, is access to the book. People are having a hard time buying it from some sources. And that breaks my heart a little. I worry that they’ll get swept on to the new thing before my book has a chance. But what control do I have? Oh yeah, none. 

What’s next for Traci?

I’m always working on stories. I’ve got a few cooking right now, a few that are done and are out in Submittable-land. I’m thinking about planetary grief and weaving it into my narratives. Not hardcore, but it’s happening.

I keep wondering if I’ll write a novel. But I’m not sure what I want to think about for years, because that seems to me what you’re committing to when you embark on a novel. Maybe that’s just an excuse.

I’m also in the process of building a writing school. Teaching online and (before Covid) in-house workshops. I love teaching creative writing and talking about craft, and I’ve run into challenges with trying to get a position at the local college, so I’m setting out to do it as a business.

Are there linkages between your stories, or do they stand alone? 

Most of the stories stand alone. Though two of the stories, the opening story and the second last story, are linked in that they’re about the same characters. They’re loosely based on me and my sister growing up, and I imagined more of them. I don’t know if there’ll be more, but for now these two stand together. The other stories are thematically connected. Threaded with characters longing or hunger for something deeper and more fulfilling than what their worlds are offering.

How many years of creative production do these stories cover?  Is it a long enough period that your style has changed between the first written and the last?

I wrote two or three of these stories before I did my MFA, as early as 2008. The last one written (aka finished) in 2017. I’d say the biggest change is my willingness now to go deeper and wider with a story. In those first days of figuring them out, I was afraid to take up space and sort of rushed towards an ending. Not that those early stories feel like that as you read them, but I certainly didn’t sit with them as long as I do now, waiting for underlayers to reveal themselves. Some of these stories were with me, in progress, for over four years. Which is why I’m terrified to write a novel. It might take me twenty years!