An Anishinaabe writer and journalist, Waubgeshig Rice is a member of the Wasauksing First Nation who graduated from Toronto Metropolitan University in 2002.
A video journalist and radio host with CBC, he left the news industry in 2020 to focus on his writing. Rice has authored four works of fiction, including his latest novel Moon of the Turning Leaves, the second in a three-part series.
Along with his highly-acclaimed literary work, he’s a sought-after public speaker and podcaster.
Rice lives in Sudbury with his wife and three sons.
He’s the first Indigenous voice for the popular Milton Public Library's One Book One Milton campaign and will be visiting town for an evening presentation and conversation with fans on Wednesday, Nov. 20 at the FirstOntario Arts Centre Milton (Mattamy Theatre). Click here for tickets or more information.
Milton Today recently sat down with the author to discuss Moon of the Turning Leaves, his thoughts on Indigenous voices in literature and the world of storytelling.
How does being selected for the One Book One Milton campaign compare to some of your other accolades/achievements?
It’s right up there for sure. Having an entire community select your book to read and discuss together is a pretty huge honour. Making connections with everyday people through stories is some of the most meaningful work I’ve ever been a part of, so I’m very grateful to the entire reading community in Milton for joining me on this journey and welcoming me this fall. I’m really looking forward to it!
Moon of the Turning Leaves offers a lot of insight into Indigenous life in terms of community and connection to the land, etc? How challenging is it to enlighten while striving to entertain, or do the two pursuits naturally go hand-in-hand?
I think they go hand-in-hand. Ultimately, any good story should both enlighten and entertain. You want to make people turn the pages, and you want them to absorb experiences and insights they maybe hadn’t considered before. The challenge, of course, is striking a good balance between the two. You can’t spend too long on context without moving the story along somehow. That’s where good pacing is crucial, and that’s something I’ve been very fortunate to learn from some great editors and fellow writers and storytellers.
What’s the key to making a sequel stand on its own? What’s tougher, getting the reader initially invested in the principle characters or maintaining that loyalty?
That’s a really good question. In terms of a narrative timeline, I didn’t want Moon of the Turning Leaves to pick up right after Moon of the Crusted Snow. To me, that felt more like a “here’s what happened the next day” kind of vibe. In that way, the story would have been very similar in atmosphere, stakes and setting, and that didn’t really interest me. So that’s why I decided on the 10-year time jump between novels. That would allow for the characters to further develop, and even for some of them to mature into adulthood. Most importantly, it opened the door for a different kind of plot other than basic survival and response to crisis, as in the first one. I think readers can maintain that character loyalty in the second one, while finding new ways to get invested in them and those that changed and the others that have been newly introduced.
Did you have enough relatable literary inspirations growing up?
Not really, at first. I enjoyed reading and engaging with novels in different ways, but there was nothing truly relatable in anything I read as a teen. As a high schooler in Ontario in the 1990s, the provincial English curriculum was pretty much entirely devoid of diversity. Thankfully I had an aunt who knew of my passion for reading and my budding interest in creative writing, and she gave me books by Indigenous authors that she knew I wasn’t learning about in high school: people like Richard Wagamese, Louise Erdrich, Lee Maracle, Jordan Wheeler, Basil Johnston, and more. For the first time I saw experiences like mine authentically captured in the pages of books. It changed my life and started me on the path I’m on today.
How important is it to have more Indigenous voices in fiction as well as sharing real-life experiences? Does imagination need more nurturing to complete the storytelling spectrum?
It’s absolutely crucial. I’ve been fortunate to work in both fiction and journalism for a long time now, and I’ve seen how Indigenous stories in both have changed Canada. Journalism is vital in communicating the real life experiences of Indigenous people to vast audiences, while fiction is a way to further contextualize those experiences through different methods of expression and humanization. And there’s a great degree of imagination in all storytelling mediums that absolutely needs to be nurtured from a young age all the way through to elderly years.
How, if at all, did your journalism career aid in your fiction writing?
Shortly before I left CBC I did a rough calculation and figured I did about 10,000 interviews in some 20 years of journalism. When you’re talking to that many people on a daily basis about all kinds of situations imaginable, it’s essentially a front row seat to the human experience. I was very fortunate and privileged to witness people of all backgrounds reacting to all that life has to offer. So when I’m dreaming up fictional characters in imagined situations, I can recall various human reactions and write about them. That’s been the biggest benefit from journalism on my fiction writing, I think. And also the ability to make a deadline!
How was your initial foray into fiction writing, humbling or encouraging?
Both for sure. It was hugely encouraging to work with an Indigenous publisher, Theytus Books, to bring my first book Midnight Sweatlodge to the world. They partnered me with Cree editor Jordan Wheeler, who was essentially like a big brother helping me learn about the craft of writing fiction and the publishing industry in Canada. But it was also humbling to see how the industry operated and didn’t really value diversity back then – and this was only 15 or so years ago! I definitely felt tokenized at times as an Indigenous writer when I was out at events and festivals. But thankfully things have changed for the better.
Your book jacket says you enjoy listening to loud music. Does that provide a stress relief from the challenges of writing or does it serve as creative inspiration? What’s your favourite pump-up-the-volume tune?
I have very precisely curated playlists for every situation from research and development to writing to editing. We unfortunately don’t have enough space for me to go through all those songs and artists and genres! I prefer loud and lyrically thematic for getting ready to write, and more ambient and instrumental for actual writing. One song that was in constant rotation for both of the last books was Alexisonfire’s cover of Midnight Oil’s ‘The Dead Heart.’ If you listen to the lyrics it touches on the spirit I was trying to convey especially in Moon of the Turning Leaves.
What fellow author past or present, Indigenous or otherwise, would you most like to have coffee with?
Ralph Ellison. I read The Invisible Man shortly after I moved to Toronto to go to university in the late 1990s, and there was so much that resonated with me as a rez kid coming to the big city, even though the novel is about the Black experience of moving from a town in the south to New York in the 1940s. I wish I could tell him how much his book inspired me.
What can readers expect from book 3?
I don’t even know what to expect if a book 3 in the Whitesky Saga ever happens, but hopefully I’ll be able to revisit that world in a few years!