Imagine you could spend a day with any person, living or dead. Who would you choose and what would you do?

Ooh, this is a tough one. At first, I thought about choosing a historical feminist icon and having deep discussions on gender and social justice. But I have a feeling someone like Joan of Arc would not relate with me much…we may end up arguing a bunch on whether God exists!

Ditto famous writers, musicians, artists, etc. Just because someone is an intellectual great doesn’t mean they’re a good hang. Many of my favourite writers, musicians, and artists…I’m not sure I’d enjoy a lunch date with.

So, I’m gonna go against the grain and pick someone chill and still living. I think it’d be a blast to have a skate day with a female pro skater like Nora Vasconcellos, Breana Geering, Alexis Sablone, or Elissa Steamer. They could probably teach me a trick or two and give me the encouragement to finally attempt the things I’m scared of.

Yeah, that’d be rad.

What advice would you give your ten-year-old self about 2024?

2024 is a way more complicated time than when I turned ten in 2004.

I’d tell her to be gentle with herself. Twenty years later, you’ll be bombarded with media on all sides. So, while it’s still relatively quiet, please enjoy yourself. Run around outside with your friends. Put down the Nintendo DS and try picking up a skateboard. Or a guitar. Or keep drawing and sculpting (I loved drawing and modelling clay at that age).

Learn self-care techniques like identifying the healthy hobbies that make you feel good. Because when 2024 comes around, things will be overwhelming. Hobbies have always been my #1 self-care technique, so I’d encourage my younger self to explore and develop them.

Oh, and spend time with your mom. Cherish every moment you have with her. I’m not sure I’d tell my 10-year-old self that Mom will pass away in 2022, but I’d tell her to read as many books with Mom as possible.

Who has been the biggest influence in your journey as a writer?

My mom for sure. This woman sat down with me every night and read from the Great Illustrated Classics. She even translated them into Cantonese when I was very young. She hoped that by exposing me to the classics, I’d develop an appreciation for great literature.

When I got older and could read my own books, we would read separate books together before bed. She also read my books so that we could talk about them. And of course, she read everything I wrote (that I let her read!), including an early draft of Crash Landing. Which she loved.

Even more than that, my mom had an intellectual curiosity and an open mind. She grew up Catholic and wasn’t 100% on board when I first came out. But over time she became more accepting. I think she understood, on a deep level, that society evolves over time. Which is something we writers need to remember because I think part of our job is to experience what’s happening in our time, think critically about it, and then articulate that in a clear and interesting way.

I’m a Millennial and my beliefs and values are what’s considered widely accepted, even “trendy” right now. But as I get older, new ideas will make me uncomfortable. Case in point, A.I. makes me uncomfortable. So, I remind myself to take inspiration from my mom and approach new things with an open mind.

What did you learn about yourself as you worked on Crash Landing?

I learned that there are a lot of things I don’t know about writing! Haha.

I needed (and had) a lot of help with writing this book. I had consultants that did everything from sensitivity reading to ensuring the skate scenes in the book made sense technically.

And I’m still learning. Every day. Crash Landing is my first book and I don’t have an agent, so I’ve had to navigate the publishing world largely by myself. It still feels very new and at times scary to me.

I’ve learned that your mental health WILL be impacted by the journey. I’m grateful for my therapist, friends, family, editors, and fellow writers. Their support was invaluable during this journey.

What was the last book by a Canadian author that changed you in some way?

Can I name three? Haha.

I recently did an event, “Diaspora Debuts,” with fellow Chinese diaspora writers Yilin Wang (The Lantern and the Night Moths, Invisible Publishing), Jane Shi (echolalia echolalia, Brick Books), and Léa Taranto (A Drop in the Ocean, Arsenal Pulp Press). These are folks I went to university with and whose careers I’ve been following for some time.

Reading their books was a magical experience unto itself because it’s so cool we all debuted around the same time! But it was also cool to see how we each interpret our experiences as Chinese diaspora settlers. Sure, we share a similar cultural background, but our identities are so intersectional. Our writing is shaped by how we each uniquely experience culture, language, gender, socioeconomics…even the neighbourhoods we grew up in.

I encourage folks to read not just one or two authors from an under-represented demographic. No one author can represent their community, not even close. It’s important to remember that each author offers a unique lens into a world. And each lens is a privilege to experience.

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Excerpt from Crash Landing

The edge of my skateboard’s deck smacks against my shin. I swear and flip the hair out of my eyes, and sweat splashes all over my face. At this rate, I’ll never land a kickflip. Which is embarrassing because eight-year-olds on YouTube land kickflips all the time.

      I sit down on my board in front of our garage in the laneway behind the house. It’s Labor Day Monday, the last day before school starts, and it’s scorching hot. It’s almost over—the summer I landed my first ollie. Not like I had anyone to celebrate with, what with David in Korea and Wendy having no interests outside of music and yelling at me to recycle.

      I lift my ponytail and fan the back of my neck. I want to lop off all my hair, but every time I mention it, Ma Mi makes a big fuss. Last week, she told me that having short hair will “confuse” people into thinking I’m a boy and that when I grow up it will be unprofessional to go into a job interview like that.

“But I want to be an artist, Ma Mi, not a stockbroker,” I’d told her, rolling my eyes.

      “Artists are supposed to look out of the ordinary. I would look less professional as an artist wearing a pantsuit.”

      Wendy, of course, had to chime in. “But Ga Jie, being an artist isn’t a real job. I’m a concertmaster and I don’t get paid for it.”

      “No one asked you, Wendy.”

      Ma Mi told us to be quiet and eat our choy.

      I look at the laneway and imagine myself skating it. Actually skating it. Like the videos I watch on YouTube every night: fish-eye lenses of talented people dancing across the urban landscape, nailing harrowing stunts against a backdrop of epic music. Sometimes I don’t know what I like more, skateboarding or watching skateboarding.

      Kunnng! A familiar sound cuts through my humid frustration. I’d recognize that sound anywhere: it’s a skateboard’s wheels rushing on concrete. I block the sun out with my hand and peer down the laneway.

      A girl skates toward me. A girl. She looks my age, and Asian, too. I rarely see other Asian girls skate. I rarely see other girls skate. And the way she zigzag carves her way down the laneway slope, absorbing bumps and cracks like it’s as easy as scratching an itch, I can tell she’s the real deal. I watch her crouch and the way the muscles in her ankles tense. She rides up the ramp to the neighbors’ garage and—bam!—busts out a pop shove-it with ridiculous air: the board spins a quick 180 under her feet, and she catches it and rides back down the ramp fakie. Her body is still and confident, the board controlled and precise despite the massive pop she got off the tiny ramp.

      Nope, this girl isn’t a poser.

      She rides goofy, like me: right foot forward, left foot back. I get a better look at her as she rides closer. She’s lean and athletic. Long black hair with bright red streaks held back with a bandanna. No helmet, of course (I swear, I’m the only teen skater who wears one). Plaid board shorts and a black band tee with a neon shoelace belt. Skate shoes with a healthy scuff. She’s also . . . good-looking. Good-looking enough for me to notice that she’s good-looking.

From Crash Landing © 2024 Li Charmaine Anne (text), published by Annick Press Ltd. All rights reserved. Used by permission.