Joshua Jones has his debut fiction collection, a community art space, and a music project and he’s still up to his ears in other people’s great books. Emma Way talks to one of the most tireless and creative individuals in Wales’ emergent literature scene, not long before he jets off to forge links with his Vietnamese equivalents.

You seem to be a very busy creative, how do you keep on top of all your projects?

Joshua Jones: I’m not quite sure if I do keep on top! I’m currently wrapping up a creative project with Arts Council Wales and preparing to go to Vietnam for a few weeks with Parthian and British Council Wales, after which I’ll coordinate a creative writing project between Vietnam and Wales. I’m also wrapping up final edits on Local Fires, and I co-run Dyddiau Du, a DIY community arts centre in Cardiff’s Capitol Centre. There are a lot of spinning plates!

To manage my workload and my mental health in a way that suits my flavour of neurodivergency, I try to maintain good routines and make sure I find time to read every day. In all my projects I meet a lot of incredibly interesting, creative projects, with whom I feel constantly held afloat and stimulated.

Could you sum up your debut story collection, Local Fires, in a sentence or two?

Joshua: The stories that make up Local Fires are set within my hometown of Llanelli. Characters flow from one story to the next, through memory, time and place, and operate as a vehicle for me to explore and unpack trauma, gender, sexuality, toxic masculinity and neurodivergence.

Why were you drawn to the format of short story writing?

Joshua: Up until I started writing fiction, I was predominantly a poet, both on the page and in performance. Writing short fiction felt like a natural extension of what I was already doing. I’m also autistic and have ADHD – when I began working on Local Fires, in 2019 and 2020, I honestly didn’t know if I had the attention span to write a novel. The format of the short story fits what I attempt to achieve with Local Fires, though – I wanted to build up the town and its inhabitants in prose, these fragmentary yet interconnected lives.

You’ve also veered into music and poetry under the moniker of Human Head: do you like experimenting with how far you can take your writing outside expected forms?

Joshua: The idea demands form. The way I work, I try to strike a balance between gut instinct and conscious decision. The idea behind Local Fires morphed into a short story collection, but I have poems that have become Human Head tracks, or have become installation works – such as my poem Obituary For A Dying Artist which became a ritualistic text hand-painted on PVC canvas, that towers overhead, and was first exhibited at Ty Turner House, Penarth in December 2022. Sometimes an idea evolves into a painting, a sketchbook page or a collage.

What’s the last thing you read that really stayed with you?

Joshua: I have been telling every person I know to get themselves a copy of Flower Factory by Richard Foster and read it immediately! It’s a documentation of a time that doesn’t exist anymore except in memory, and those who are still around or sound of mind enough to relay their stories. It’s also very funny and witty. I also really loved Robinson In Chronostasis – which is given the secondary title ‘A Surrealist Psychogeographical Non-Romance’ – by Sam Jenks, Koji Tsukada and Dan Jackson (writer, photographer and architect/designer respectively), which I found to be very quietly devastating. Interestingly, both are psychogeographic texts considering memory and Hauntings.

How much is poetry thriving in 2023; do you witness new writers coming through artspace Dyddiau Du and feel hopeful for its longevity?

Joshua: As long as poetry remains the language of feeling, then poetry’s longevity or lack of it will never need to be worried for. I’m genuinely very excited about the current state of poetry and writing in Wales. Durre Shahwar and Taylor Edmonds are two absolute powerhouses in poetry, Lucent Dreaming are doing a fantastic job in platforming marginalised voices and publishing debut collections from the likes of Connor Allen and Duke Al-Durham.

Cardiff University has Christina Thatcher on the creative writing course staff, who could not be a bigger champion of writing and young people and is a formidable poet in her own right. Rhys Shanahan, who co-runs Dyddiau Du, is one to watch. Across film, performance, music and experimental poetics, Rhys is paving his own way as a creative and I feel honoured to be a footnote in his progression as a writer.

I was recently on the Emerging Writers: (Re)writing Wales programme run by Literature Wales, tutored by Darren Chetty and Iestyn Tyne, and while the focus was on creative non-fiction, the sheer amount of talent and dedication around one table was staggering. Bethany Handley, Talulah Thomas and Llinos Annwyl, who were on the course and are also expanding the definitions of poetry, whether through disabled, queer and/or neurodivergent poetics or through experimental multilingualism.

I feel very moved when talking about the shining future of writing in Wales and celebrating the work and achievements of my friends and peers. I feel incredibly proud that Dyddiau Du can be a part of it, whether through our monthly open mic nights, exhibitions, or through our Featured Poem and Book of the Month posts.

Could you tell me about your upcoming project with the British Council linking Vietnamese and Welsh LGBTQ+ writers? Why was this important to you?

Joshua: I’ll be working with a group of Vietnamese and Welsh writers to meet within an online space, to consider and produce texts on queerness, connection, community and language, which will then hopefully result in a multilingual printed publication and a series of events. There isn’t a canon of queer literature in Vietnam, and the country have a very different relationship with and attitude towards LGBTQ+ people. Since 2000, same-sex sexual activity has been legal, but is considered to have never been criminalised in Vietnamese history. However, same-sex marriage was only legalised in 2012, and up until August 2022 LGBTQ+ was considered a disease. It was only in August of last year WHO health guidelines regarding LGBTQ+ were adopted, and conversion therapy was outlawed.

Vietnam has a complicated history with queerness – like Wales/the UK does – not to mention the censorship laws in Vietnam. It’ll be really interesting to explore queerness in writing and communication between artists from both countries. Throughout history, LGBTQ+ people have built their own communities and safe spaces. We will be continuing that tradition while also looking towards the future.

Local Fires is due to be published by Parthian on Thurs 7 Sept. You can find Joshua on Twitter here.

words EMMA WAY