We were lucky to catch up with Bradley Somer recently and have shared our conversation below.
Bradley, so excited to have you with us today. So much we can chat about, but one of the questions we are most interested in is how you have managed to keep your creativity alive.
It can be tough… a few years ago, I was invited to serve as a writer-in-residence at a local writer’s retreat. Here, I was tasked with working closely with a group of amazing writers over the course of four days, offering advice, energy, critique, and inspiration.
The venue was gorgeous. Crisp snow blanketed the meadow clearings between rolling foothill pine forests, night-time skies so clear the light of the moon cast that special blue light only found in the wintery north, illuminating the log cabins we were staying in. Down to the amber-lit windows and the cliché thread of woodsmoke from the river stone chimney, it should have been a perfect place to write and help others with their craft.
And going in, I had nothing but deep dread, as my want to have anything to do with writing had waned horribly for months. I remember thinking, I have to bring motivation to the table, and I also have to be honest to myself. These were at irreconcilable odds when I pulled up to the main cabin, and having lived with my face long enough to know it can’t fake a smile or hide a lie, I had no clue how I was to pull it off.
I’ve never had a muse, never believed in creative periods. I have always written hard and by schedule. When new words don’t come, there’s editing to do. When brain-fog sets in and editing is no longer possible, there’re books to read and research to do. The will to do any of these had fled, and thinking on why, it was because I cannot write what the mass market demands. After the success of my book Fishbowl, and a more muted return with Extinction, I was disillusioned with the business side of authorship and let that disillusionment creep into the creative side like poison. I knew this at the time going in and knew it was the main cause of my funk.
Within minutes of meeting the small group of writers that I’d be sharing a long weekend, and small cabin, with in the middle of the Canadian winter, I was shown how my thoughts had drifted into foolish terrain. Here was a group of friends, so keen to explore their craft, ideas and skills together, that they holed up in the cold dark to share laughs and stories and an entire weekend of fun together.
And that feeling’s where I’ve learned to return to whenever creativity wanes. Writing is ridiculously difficult and amazingly rewarding. At its core, it should be creating space in your brain to sit down and think about something so deeply you exhaust it, and then figure out a way to dramatize that for a readership to explore what you have. That simple. Authorship is an exercise in dramatizing humanity and thought. The funkiness what rides in with agents and editors and publishers and marketing had stripped that away, and this kind of fellowship with artists had given it back.
The creative cycle still comes and goes in me, and each time a point arrives when I become self-aware enough to recognize a slump, I think back to such weekends. I can control the creative side of my artform. That is all. I go teach a class or have a coffee with a fellow writer and talk about craft and projects, thoughts and ideas; I seek out the company of people who purely pursue the art, not the outcome. The process of publishing is a different beast, and I remember to keep writing stories I am proud of, not slotting myself into a successful marketing plan or thinking about market trends. I’ll leave that to the publishers and thank them for their oft-thankless hard work.
Appreciate the insights and wisdom. Before we dig deeper and ask you about the skills that matter and more, maybe you can tell our readers about yourself?
I hold degrees in archaeology and anthropology, and have worked in the oil patch as a heritage resource manager, living in camps so remote they could be only reached by helicopter. I’ve worked dark-night shifts at Pizza Hut, and in landscaping, and as a real estate agent, all the while writing and writing and writing some more.
“Imperfections” (Nightwood Editions, 2012) was my debut novel, earning a starred review from Quill & Quire magazine and was one of the Canadian Bookseller’s Association Top Picks for 2012.
My second novel was “Fishbowl” (St. Martin’s Press & Penguin Random House UK, 2015), which sold in twelve regions worldwide, including five language translations, two audiobook productions, and has been continuously optioned for film since publication. This book was awarded a bunch of awards and was well-reviewed in the Globe and Mail, The Wall Street Journal, The Toronto Star, Cosmopolitan UK, among many others, and was selected as one of The San Diego Union Tribune’s Best Books of 2015.
“Extinction”, was published throughout the Commonwealth (HarperCollins UK, 2022) and North America (Blackstone Publishing, 2022). It was a best sci-fi/fantasy selection by The Guardian UK and has appeared on several similar lists since. I also penned the screenplay for Extinction, which has been jointly acquired by two Los Angeles-based production companies and is currently in development.
My most recent novel is entitled “We Are All of Us Left Behind” (Freehand, 2025) and it just came out a few months back! This is a coming of age journey about the powers of truth and lies, of what a family really is, and the persistence of hope when there’s nothing else left.
I’ve also had nearly 40 short stories published in various literary magazines and collections. I was a recipient of the 2016 Alberta Lieutenant Governor’s Award for Emerging Artist, and more recently was the writer in residence at: The Banff Centre for the Writers’ Guild of Alberta, the Alexandra Writers’ Centre Society, and the W.O. Mitchell URSA Retreat Centre.
I’ve been married to my husband for 18 years and we live a mostly happy life with friends and family around, having adventures and all the amazing things that come with sharing that amount of time together, and sharing the realizations that these years are too short.
If you had to pick three qualities that are most important to develop, which three would you say matter most?
Looking back from here, anyone wanting to practice in any of the arts, for me the literary arts, is know your form. I am always reading, studying, and improving my art. It is a relentless and compulsive pursuit of craft. If you ever get to the place you think you’ve aced it, you have to check yourself because you haven’t. You can only get better and will never be the best.
For me, keeping another source of income on the go is vital. I keep that day job and value it. It means I’m not beholden to grant juries, market whims, or any of the foibles of the industry. I can write freely. It also keeps me engaged with the larger world. I’ve met many a miserable writer; you can’t sit at a desk writing all the time. If you could, you could churn our several books a year. Novel writing is a slow art, in creation, in production, and in consumption. So the advice… have something else in your life that fights for your attention. The tension and pull from two things you love is good, more is even better.
And again, specific for the arts, but also for any similarly strange endeavour: a pathological level of persistence is required. For authors pursuing publication, you’re making something up, and asking someone to pay you for it, and for them invest even more to get it out there onto shelves and into reader’s hands. Recognize that making something from nothing is both a wonder and a weird thing to do, even wackier is the expectation that someone else will subscribe to it, too!
How would you spend the next decade if you somehow knew that it was your last?
Love it! A grim question, but also an intuitive and easy one to answer: mornings would be having a coffee and reading a good book, afternoons hanging out with friends and family, and evenings I’d switch to a whiskey or two… and a good book.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.bradleysomer.com
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/thebradleysomer/
Image Credits
Phil Crozier, Sarah Johnson
