\u201cAll three words in the title are circling themes or patterns within the book,\u201d says Funk. \u201cWhat did it mean to grow up in a Mennonite family of origin? What did it mean to grow up in this valley, right in the middle of the province, and then what did it mean to grow up female in that context? So those three words\u2014Mennonite, valley, and girl\u2014are circling, questioning heritage, questioning the place that we come from and who we are within that place.\u201d<\/p>\n Growing up in a family of storytellers trained Funk to find stories in her own life and in the lives of those around her.<\/p>\n \u201cI was really blessed to grow up in a family that loved stories, so that component of oral tradition was very much part of my upbringing,\u201d she says. \u201cI think it sort of hardwires you to receive and look for stories in the world. All of our fiction is built out of nonfiction, ultimately. It\u2019s built out of the pieces of our reality; even our imaginations are populated with what we know in the world, what we experience.\u201d<\/p>\n Funk is compelled to share her memories because she hopes they can connect with people on a fundamental level.<\/p>\n \u201cSome memories carry in them a sense of universality\u2014it’s almost as if something is glowing inside the memory and insisting that it\u2019s more than just mine. It maybe belongs to or shares something with the experience of other people,\u201d she says. \u201cEven if the details of the story are not the same, there\u2019s a core truth or a human experience that can be shared, and those are the ones that I\u2019m interested in.\u201d<\/p>\n Funk says that sharing her memories is an opportunity to share her life with other people and find some common ground that allows for self-reflection and growth.<\/p>\n \u201cWhen I read other people\u2019s memoirs, I read it to hold a mirror up to my own life, and to commune with somebody else\u2019s life, and often I\u2019ll find out something true by writing down my own story,\u201d she says. \u201cI think that when we write anything, we find out something about ourselves, we come to some sort of an illumination. To be invited into someone else\u2019s life is really to be asked to look at your own life more deeply, or with more curiosity.\u201d<\/p>\n Stories push us to move away from our self-centred instincts, says Funk; they create interpersonal connection.<\/p>\n \u201cI think the benefit of growing up with stories is that it reminds you that there are more people in the world than just yourself,\u201d she says. \u201cIt teaches compassion, it teaches you to listen, and, gosh, it just gives the gift of having your imagination and your mind\u2019s eye lit up by somebody else\u2019s story rather than just your own.\u201d<\/p>\n New Brunswick-based author Mark Jarman, who will also be a guest at the festival, studied writing at UVic, where he has also taught. He found it difficult to maintain his creative flow after graduation, but he found ways to push through the dry spells.<\/p>\n \u201cAfter I got out of the workshops I found it hard to write on my own,\u201d he says. \u201cIt\u2019s funny, because now I\u2019m kind of obsessed, I just write no matter what, but it did take me a while to figure out how to do that without a workshop, without a deadline.\u201d<\/p>\n Jarman enjoys reading and writing short stories, and laments that they\u2019re disincentivized in the industry.<\/p>\n \u201cStories are great, but they kind of get disrespected in a way, which bugs me,\u201d he says. \u201cAgents and editors, they always want you to write a novel, but I think people should be able to work on whatever they want, you know. I think that some short stories, the really good ones, they\u2019re as good as a novel, they\u2019re just a lot faster to read.\u201d<\/p>\n Jarman\u2019s most recent publication is Czech Techno<\/em>, a collection of stories using music as a central theme.<\/p>\n \u201cI think [music has] always been an influence on me, always been in the background,\u201d he says. \u201cI think that singers like Hank Williams are as much an influence on me as writers like William Faulkner. There\u2019s a singer I like, Gillian Welsh, she does this kind of Appalachian country stuff, really sad, but she said punk is an influence on her, and to me that makes complete sense. It\u2019s not coming through in the music, but there\u2019s something in the background.\u201d<\/p>\n Jarman feels that writers are disadvantaged in popular entertainment, because the barrier to engagement is much higher than it is with music.<\/p>\n \u201cI think writers are always jealous of musicians, because music\u2019s got such power and immediacy,\u201d he says. \u201cYou\u2019ve got an amp and a guitar and you hit a chord and, boom, it\u2019s right there, whereas if you work on a story, a year later you might hear back from an editor who says no, so there\u2019s some attraction to just making a loud noise that\u2019s instant and there.\u201d<\/p>\n Like Funk, Jarman feels that tradition is a long-standing part of human culture, and is ingrained in us.<\/p>\n \u201cYou go back to primitive peoples and they\u2019re sitting around a fire and telling stories. I play on an old-timers’ hockey team, and we just sit around the room afterwards, telling stories. Even if people tell jokes, it\u2019s the same thing, we just sit and listen to someone,\u201d he says. \u201cThere isn\u2019t a fire in the middle of the room, there\u2019s a cooler of beer instead, but to me it\u2019s kind of primal, it goes back forever and will probably keep going.\u201d<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/www.nexusnewspaper.com\/newsite\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/FunkPhoto-cred-Lance-Hesketh.jpg\")
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