Writer’s Block: James Cairns

All Lit Up: Tell us about In Crisis, On Crisis. What can readers expect?

James Cairns: The book is a collection of 11 essays focusing on the theme of crisis. I doubt I need to say much about why crisis is a concept that deserves our attention at the moment. We know we’re living through exceptionally dangerous and uncertain times. We hear the word crisis in every newscast. We tell friends about the crises we’re going through at work, in our relationships, and so on. But the more I began tracking crisis-talk in politics, journalism, pop culture, social science, and my own social circles, the clearer it became to me that people use the term crisis in very different, often contradictory ways. What do we mean when we talk about crisis, and what do crises mean to us?

My book explores this question in individual essays that mix broad social issues (for example, the Trump-fuelled crisis of democracy, the ecological crisis, the crisis of truth), and more personal experiences (such as my lifelong struggle with addiction, my love of apocalyptic novels, and my role as a parent to two young children). I suppose I could’ve saved myself the trouble of writing the book by tweeting simply: all our crises come from living within capitalism. But I wanted to explore in finer detail varying ideas and experiences of crisis, at both the social and personal levels simultaneously, in hopes of helping readers think in new ways about the nested character of the crises in their lives.

All Lit Up: Why do you write?

James Cairns: I think about this question quite often, actually. In fact, I published an essay earlier this year in the academic journal Rethinking Marxism titled “Why Do Lefties Write?” My point in that piece is that even among progressives who often write in the service of social justice, there are different reasons to write, right? You might write to raise awareness of a little-known issue or write to challenge dominant discourse in a mainstream newspaper, or to call people to action in your workplace or neighbourhood. These are all excellent reasons to write – but they’re different reasons, and they require different approaches. I don’t think those differences are always as appreciated and addressed as well as they might be. In practice, I think many writers and publishing venues on the left, and I certainly include myself here, could do a better job of clarifying for ourselves from project to project which of these aims is primary.

On a more personal level, I’m a great believer in Gary Barwin’s answer to the question of why write. “Writing reminds us to be human,” says Gary. “It reminds us to be human together.” Writing helps me be human together.

All Lit Up: What books have you read lately that you can’t stop thinking about?

James Cairns: Omar El-Akkad’s One Day, Everyone Will Have Always Been Against This; Elisa Gabbert’s Any Person is the Only Self; Vinh Nguyen’s The Migrant Rain Falls in Reverse; Gary Barwin’s Imagining Imagining: Essays on Language, Identity, and Infinity; Naomi Klein’s Doppelganger: A Trip into the Mirror World.

All Lit Up: What was your most rewarding moment as a writer?

James Cairns: Can I name two? The first was publishing a handful of news reports about the successful movement to kick cops out of schools in Hamilton, Ontario. This was at the height of the 2020 uprising for racial justice across Turtle Island. I was not a leader or major player in this movement by any means. However, after being in the street to support the Defund the Police campaign the night that the Board of Trustees was forced to cancel its police-in-schools program, I was able to use my skills as a writer to share the powerful victory of movement organizers. Writing about that campaign deepened my understanding of the diverse types of work that feed thriving social movements.

The second most rewarding moment developed gradually, over the course of the year I worked on the essay “Blackout” in my crisis book. That essay began with a question I truly did not know how to answer, namely: How do I live with the blackouts of my drinking past? The reading and writing that went into answering that question helped me see things I hadn’t seen before in my struggle with alcoholism. That essay has become key to maintaining my sobriety.

All Lit Up: How do you celebrate when you finish writing a book?

James Cairns: I don’t think I’ve ever really celebrated when sending off the manuscript for the final time. The launch parties for the books I co-wrote with Alan Sears were lots of fun. But I don’t think I’m alone in finding the end of the writing process a bit of a disappointment. When the book is in progress, everything is open. There are problems to be solved, new ideas to test out. There is clarity and focus and direction to your writing life. Then suddenly, when the book is finished, there are no more questions to figure out. Everything is fixed. The fact that the book now has an existence of its own is wonderful. But the vitality of the book is no longer coexistent with your own physiological functioning. So, at least in my case, while sending off the manuscript for the very final time is deeply satisfying, it’s not a moment that moves me to celebrate. Now… hitting upon an idea for the next book? That is cause for celebration.

All Lit Up: What does a typical writing day look like for you?

James Cairns: I have young kids. Juggling parenting and my academic job sometimes makes me wish that more days fit a “typical” routine. Let me describe an ideal writing day instead. One hour of free-writing (I begin the day best when following Natalie Goldberg’s “writing practice”). One hour of reading at my desk (I will fall asleep if I go anywhere near a cozy chair). Three hours of working on an essay-in-progress. Preferably my yesterday-self will have left just the right prompt to launch today’s new words. Quick lunch; 25-minute nap; 20-minute walk. Two hours of reading and preparing for tomorrow’s writing. One final thing: the day I’ve just described has never occurred.

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James Cairns lives with his family in Paris, Ontario, on territory that the Haldimand Treaty of 1784 recognizes as belonging to the Six Nations of the Grand River in perpetuity. He is a professor in the Department of Indigenous Studies, Law and Social Justice at Wilfrid Laurier University, where his courses and research focus on political theory and social movements. James is a staff writer at the Hamilton Review of Books, and the community relations director for the Paris-based Riverside Reading Series. James has published three books with the University of Toronto Press, most recently, The Myth of the Age of Entitlement: Millennials, Austerity, and Hope (2017), as well as numerous essays in periodicals such as Canadian Notes & Queries, the Montreal Review of Books, Briarpatch, TOPIA, Rethinking Marxism, and the Journal of Canadian Studies. James’ essay “My Struggle and My Struggle,” originally published in CNQ, appeared in Biblioasis’ Best Canadian Essays, 2025 anthology.