Harold Hoefle lives in Overbrook, where the Anishinabe Algonquin Nation lived for 8000 years. He’s been there a month. Before that, forty years in Montreal, half of them teaching English & Creative Writing at John Abbott College (with three semesters of teaching at UVic). Writing-wise: fiction first. Ottawa’s Oberon Press published his collection of linked short fiction, The Mountain Clinic, in 2008. It was a finalist for the QWF’s Paragraphe-Hugh MacLennan Prize for Fiction. His short story, “Ride”, won the 2012 Quebec Writing Competition, sponsored by CBC/Radio-Canada. Poetry…inspired by the ghazals of John Thompson – meaning: blown away by – he started writing poems in 2009. His work has won the Bliss Carman and Great Blue Heron poetry prizes, and garnered a silver medal at the National Magazine Awards. In 2018, his debut collection, The Night Chorus, was published by McGill-Queen’s University Press. rob mclennan is putting out a chapbook of Harold’s poems, Leaning In, in August 2026. A full-length manuscript, Give and Go, is wandering the realm of small presses. Realm? Dark woods? Right now, two of his poems are in The Antigonish Review. David O’Meara has kindly solicited a poem for the upcoming Riverkeeper event (and corollary chapbook), where eight poets – four English-language, and four French – will read a piece related to the Ottawa River.
Q: How long have you been in Ottawa, and what first brought you here?
As noted above: a month. But in 1980, I came here for my undergrad, at Carleton. Four glorious years: skating on the canal, new friendships, and reading dozens of books unrelated to my courses. Also: the National Capital Marathon (flat course = good time). Now I’m here for many reasons: nostalgia; grandchildren in Gatineau; old friends; and the belief that, at a certain point, it’s good to shake up one’s life. New province; new city. I love Overbrook: the entire world lives here.
Q: How did you first get involved in writing, and subsequently, the writing community here?
Someone, probably a long time ago, said that readers become writers. So: the Hardy Boys; Stephen King; then…Camus, Hesse; later, Elizabeth Smart, Munro, Norman Levine…I wanted to try. But the real adrenalin-jangler was Kerouac’s On the Road. So, after reading that, and finishing my undergrad, I spent four years Kerouac-ing around Canada, Mexico, Central America, and later Europe. Notepads always on the go. I tried to write stories; I did write stories; they sucked. Then, in the summer of ’96, I began a year of teaching at St. Xavier’s High School, in Kathmandu. In the evenings, I had time. And I really felt: if I don’t start writing now, I’ll throw myself off a building. No one wants to read about self-hate; I was feeling it. So I started writing. Stories. First one, about my Austrian-immigrant mother; second, about my security-guard work at the asbestos mine in northern BC. Third, the state coffee-farm in Nicaragua, seven years after the revolution…
The writing community here: I’ve met people at events. Writers, here – no different from Montreal – will talk with you, about you, about themselves, about anything. No wall of ego. The opposite: kindness, crystallized by offerings: rob maclennan soliciting a chapbook; David O’Meara, a Riverkeeper poem: that kind of thing. Writers, here, knowing that the new guy should be included. Really – it’s heartwarming.
Q: How did being in such a community of writers shift your thinking about writing, if at all?
Too early to tell!
Q: What do you see happening here that you don’t see anywhere else? What does Ottawa provide, or allow?
Again, it’s early (for me), but I can say I’m impressed by all the stuff that’s happening: readings and a group-walk at Fletcher Wildlife Garden; events at Perfect Books; the upcoming Riverkeeper event (on September 2nd). Also: the few people I know, are introducing me to people I do not.
“Harold, this is so-and-so, she’s on the board at VERSEfest; “Harold, let me introduce you to so-and-so, she worked at the Carleton Library for thirty years…”. And so on. I feel welcomed, as if space has been made. And I’m sure that’s the way it is with other writers who move here. You are brought into the room – or, as at Fletcher, into the garden.
Q: Have any of your projects responded directly to your engagements here? How have the city and its community, if at all, changed the way you approached your work?
Well, the Riverkeeper poem, for sure. I mean, one day I got up early and walked to the path behind the Parliament buildings…en route, I spent ten minutes staring at a cormorant on a rock in the Rideau River, then I exchanged greetings with a guy nursing a vodka soda on a bench – and this was before I reached the Ottawa River. But it’s all in the poem: bird, guy, drink. All writers know: composition is composite. You take; weave; pull out the threads that ruin the pattern. At least, that’s what you think you’re doing.
Too early to say whether the city and community are changing – or will change – the way I work. Hmm. Maybe more café time. I have some volunteer-work ideas, but I’m afraid to air them.
Q: What are you working on now?
Poems. Brewing up a
novel; it’s still in primary. Nowhere
near the siphoning into a carboy of actual pages.

