Interview with 2024 MFP Winner, Sabrina Fielding

Sabrina Fielding

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Read our interview with Sabrina Fielding, winner of the 2024 Montreal Fiction Prize, in which she discusses the experience of winning the prize, having Souvankham Thammavongsa read her work, and signing with a literary agent.

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Yolk began as an electric conversation around a picnic table in Saint Henri Square.

Our scruffy pioneer and present prose editor had previously approached each of us with an idea, a vision: We would establish our own literary magazine in Montreal. And so it was, or so it would be. After that original encounter, eight individuals devoted to the word resolved that they would gather bi-weekly, on Sundays, and bring something new into this busy, manic world—something that might slow its spin down somewhat and cause its patronage to say: “You know what, it ain’t so bad, is it, Susan?”

We are undergraduate, graduate, and graduated students of writing. Some of us learn our craft formally from accomplished authors in seminar courses, and some of us learn by looking out the window of the world and onto the streets that sing below. Some of us learn from screaming squirrels, old curtains, departed grandfathers, and bowel movements. We learn from old lovers, long winters, imperfect mothers, and from the deep internet where a musical genius remains entombed.

Yolk is cold floors on Sabbath mornings, home-brewed ginger beer in the endless afternoon, and downpours of French-pressed coffee in assorted artisanal mugs. Our first official gathering was scheduled for a duration of two hours; most of us remained for six, departing only to attend to the summons of our own beckoning realities. Together, with time suspended, we talked endlessly of contributing something to disrupt Montreal’s literary ecosystem. Something unparalleled, something true.

But what? There was nothing to discuss. There was everything to discuss.

We volunteer our time, hounding some elusive beast composed of combustible words and works. We are hopeful, truly hopeful, that we can give something new, a new way, a new light, and that if we cannot, we might at least uphold the traditions of our predecessors, cast star-wide nets to capture their echoes. We are a thousand decisions. We are a sanctuary for the orphaned word, the solitary writer, the cereal-eating artist who yearns for company, for the comfort of a like mind; we sit together with them at foggy dawn, it rains a baptism, with our arms and hands intertwined, we form an umbrella—underneath, they scribble madly, the perfect picture.

Yolk in no way presumes to be superior to its contemporaries, but its contemporaries should not presume yolk to be anything other than loud—quite, quite loud. We are yippidy jazzed to address the oh-so-technicolorful magnificence of the human experience, but we are prepared also to address the ugliness, to stare at its wet, hairy snout and into its square depth and to roar in return at the things that yearn to devour our skin, beset our ethos, and dig graves in our own backyards.

There’s so much to say, there’s so much we don’t know, but together, with you, we can placate that ignorance, render it peaceful, tolerable, and perhaps even, fucking beautiful.

And Susan says, “Amen.”

Sabrina Fielding's short story "Knick Knack" was awarded the 2024 Montreal Fiction Prize, as judged by Souvankham Thammavongsa. Yolk caught up with Sabrina in anticipation of the 2025 Montreal Fiction Prize, which is judged by Billy-Ray Belcourt and open for submissions until June 15. Full submission details can be found on our website.

You can read "Knick Knack" on our Digital Publication.

  1. What did winning the inaugural Montreal Fiction Prize mean to you? Did winning the prize lead to any opportunities?

"It would not be an exaggeration to say that winning the Montreal Fiction Prize truly transformed my life as a writer. I have been writing stories since I could hold a pencil (and maybe even before then), but I’d always been hesitant to call myself “a writer”. Winning this prize felt legitimizing both on a personal and professional scale: it led me to my first literary agent, who discovered me through this prize. I also very recently discovered the story has been named a finalist for a 2025 National Magazine Award in Fiction, which was incredibly unexpected and exciting – none of which could have been possible without the incredible support of those at Yolk. 

On a personal note, winning this prize felt like a glimpse into a dream I’ve had since I was a child – the confidence to call myself a writer (as opposed to “someone who writes”), and the ability to believe it. (It’s also now on my LinkedIn, so no takesies-backsies.)"

  1. Tell us about coming to Montreal for the launch of the issue and about being presented with the trophy and prize.

"The launch weekend was incredibly exciting and gratifying from start to finish. Admittedly, I was a bit nervous going into the event, unsure of what to expect – everyone had been incredibly kind over email, but you never know if that will translate to real life! Unbelievably, the Yolk team is even nicer in person – they made us feel so welcomed both in Montreal and its vibrant literary scene. The event itself felt so special. I absolutely loved getting to listen to the other contributing writers share their work – I was moved by their vulnerability and sheer talent. 

Receiving the trophy and prize was a wonderful experience as well – to have something designed by a local artist felt so fitting and meaningful to this prize in particular, and it sits proudly on my shelf (it’s also a very excellent conversation starter)."

  1. What was it like having Souvankham Thammavongsa read your work?

"A bit surreal, honestly – I almost can’t think too hard about it. To be read by anyone is an absolute privilege, but to receive feedback from a writer so highly respected and lauded in the Canadian literary scene was so meaningful. Her kind words certainly contributed to the whole “I am a writer” feeling – I have definitely read and reread them more times than I care to admit!" 

  1. Souvankham said, “I love how the title of this story is doing so much work for it. A single letter in the middle of these two words make their difference, but to understand what they mean they have to be together.” How did you pick this title? How do you typically pick a title?

"Great question! I’ve always liked short, snappy titles; anything that can sum up a story in a few words. I also found the words satisfying to say – the musician in me enjoys titles that are almost rhythmic in nature. I also liked the image of “knick knack” together – I have grapheme-colour synaesthesia (meaning I see colours when hearing or reading words and numbers), and the words “knick” and “knack” are the most vibrant shades of pink, with just one colour difference smack dab in the middle: a white i and a vibrant yellow a. This felt like a very visual representation of a mother-daughter relationship: an outward shell of similarities, but each with an individual at its core (sometimes a core that can be hard to see or access). 

I will admit I find picking a title quite challenging, most of the time. If I can’t think of anything I like off the bat, I try to find an image or a word from the piece that stands out, and play around with it until I find some version that works. Often, having an extra set of eyes is helpful with this, too." 

  1. Souvankham also said, “When I was reading this story, I noticed all the ways the writer could have taken us, and I was struck by the many decisions not to.” How do you make decisions about what to include and what not to include? How do you start writing a story?

"I’ll answer these questions a bit backwards – I would say that most often, my stories start with a collision of an image and a feeling, a scene that bursts into my head unannounced. I love people-watching (I try to be subtle about it; not sure if I’m successful), and frequently find myself moved by the micro-stories brewing beneath daily, seemingly mundane interactions. Then, once I’ve decided (somewhat) what it is I’m hoping to capture, I like to find an unexpected way to start, offer readers an unpaved road by which to access the story. 

In terms of what I choose to include, this is a little harder to articulate. Perhaps the best way I would describe it is developing a sort of “cadence” for the story, alternating between present action and past memories, pivotal moments and trivial ones. Scenes that move the plot, and others that deepen character. Most of my writing is about small, human experiences, so I suppose this is my way of reflecting life on a micro scale: something made up of both important moments and quiet ones." 

  1. What inspired your winning story, “Knick Knack”? 

"Though I hate to admit it, the story truly did start with Amazon. At the time I wrote it, I was working as a high school teacher and feeling quite miserable in the job. I’d gone online one morning looking for school supplies, and was led to the bizarre treasure trove that is Amazon. I’ve never been much of a shopper, but at seven a.m. in March in the midst of my existential crisis, holed up in my dark, windowless classroom, I suddenly felt almost… giddy, eerily so. Every material good I could supposedly ever need laid out right in front of me, all bright colours and flashing sales, algorithms predicting (or likely just telling me) exactly what I wanted. As I browsed, I found myself wondering how easy it would be to fall into its grips – its variety, its anticipation of needs, a quick, cheap, band-aid solution to all of life’s hardships and disappointments. I also found myself thinking about someone entirely cut off from the world discovering something so dizzyingly all-encompassing as Amazon (think: “showing things to a Victorian child” meme). 

To be clear, the mother-daughter relationship depicted in this piece is entirely fictional – I am very lucky to have had a wonderful relationship with my mother growing up (who has an entirely normal and healthy relationship to online shopping). That said, there was something about the main character’s teenage self-absorption that I found rang true of that age – the inability to see our parents as fully human. Millie is grown enough to know something is wrong and resent her mother for it, but too young to have empathy, or an understanding of the depth of her mother’s struggles." 

  1. What are you working on now?

"As mentioned, I recently signed with an agent who will be representing my first full-length novel, so I am in the process of getting that ready for submission (yay!) On the side, I have been working on a few short stories, mostly for pleasure. Also pleased that the weather is warmer, so I can resume my avid people-watching – please know that if you ever find yourself in Toronto and feel yourself being watched, it may be me, and you may be written about."

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Yolk acknowledges that our work in Tiohtià:ke/Montréal takes place on the unceded Indigenous lands of the Kanien’kehá:ka/Mohawk Nation. Kanien’kehá:ka is known as a gathering place for many First Nations, and we recognize the Kanien’kehá:ka as custodians of the lands on which we gather.