Storytelling Across Genre: On Being an Anishinaabe Poet in a Fiction Writer’s World

The author describes how Indigenous writers like N. Scott Momaday, Louise Erdrich, Leslie Silko, Joy Harjo, and Gerald Vizenor often create works across multiple genres, blending creative nonfiction, novels, poetry, visual arts, and music. For example, Joy Harjo began as a visual artist and later became known as both a musician and poet. This cross-genre approach is a long-standing tradition in Indigenous storytelling, where artists frequently move fluidly between different art forms. The author herself followed this tradition, starting with journalism, then writing scholarship on Native American literature, creating plays, and publishing six books of poetry before turning to fiction. This background shaped her unique approach to storytelling, which integrates techniques from poetry into other genres.

The author explains how her background as a poet influences her fiction writing, particularly in areas like dialogue, restraint, and the use of imagery. For instance, she notes that her poetic training helps her craft distinct character voices in fiction, where rhythm and precise word choice create unique linguistic fingerprints. She also uses poetic techniques such as understatement, ambiguity, and absence to invite readers to engage more deeply with the story. For example, in her story 'Red Ants,' a reviewer noted a 'nuanced ending that...allows some things to remain unspoken,' reflecting the poetic principle that what is not said can be as important as what is. This approach aligns with Indigenous storytelling traditions, where listeners are often expected to contribute to the meaning of the story.

The author describes how specific poetic techniques enhance her fiction, including the use of sonic elements like alliteration, assonance, and sibilance to create rhythm and mood. For example, in her story 'River Dreams,' she writes, 'water winked in the sun, trees on the banks bent low toward the river like they were women about to wash their hair,' using alliteration and assonance to evoke the sensory experience of the scene. She also employs visual techniques from poetry, such as one-word sentences or one-line paragraphs, to emphasize key moments or emotions. In her story 'Copper Traces,' a one-line sentence like 'I have told no one; I have no one to tell' mirrors the narrator's isolation, using both visual and aural elements to deepen the impact.

The author emphasizes that her Indigenous identity and Anishinaabe cultural background shape her storytelling, though she does not consciously apply an Indigenous aesthetic. Key elements of her Anishinaabe perspective include mythic figures, water knowledge, trickster energy, and humor, as well as unconventional story structures that may not follow traditional Western narrative arcs. For example, her stories often feature mythic or cultural references like the Wintermaker constellation or a half-moon scar on a wolf’s flank, which ground her narratives in Anishinaabe traditions. She notes that Indigenous stories are meant to remain alive and adaptable, as they are retold in new contexts and circumstances, reflecting the dynamic nature of oral traditions.

The author discusses her concept of 'strategies of generosity' in writing, which involve leaving space for readers to engage with the story rather than providing all the answers. This approach includes using gesture, absence, and ambiguity to invite readers to contribute to the meaning-making process. For example, in her dark futuristic story 'The Making of Monsters,' the narrator declares, 'Don’t ask for the blood-and-gore war story. I could not bear to tell it, nor you to hear it,' using the unsaid to provoke the reader’s imagination. This technique aligns with Indigenous storytelling, where listeners are often expected to fill in gaps with their own knowledge or experiences. The author applies this strategy to both poetry and fiction, creating intrigue and inviting deeper reader participation.