Stepping into a body of work like this isn’t so much like picking up a single book—it’s more like arriving somewhere.
Maybe it’s early morning. Maybe it’s the coast. There’s a bit of quiet, a bit of curiosity, and the sense that if you stay a while, something meaningful will unfold.
Spencer Sheehan Kalina’s writing spans poetry, fiction, reflection, and creative practice, but what ties it all together is a consistent feeling: attentiveness, intimacy, and a deep engagement with both inner and outer worlds.
If you’re not sure where to begin, here are five books—each from a different genre—that offer a warm, well-rounded way in.
1. In Practice of Wonder: 365 Poems, A Year of Poetry (Poetry)
If you’re the kind of reader who likes to keep a book nearby—on a bedside table, in a bag, returned to in quiet moments—this is a beautiful place to start.
This collection offers a poem for each day of the year, but it doesn’t demand that you read it that way. You can open it anywhere. Morning, evening, mid-thought—it meets you where you are.
The poems themselves are gentle, observant, and grounded in the everyday. A shift in light. A passing feeling. A moment you might otherwise overlook.
Reading this book feels like:
Sitting with a cup of tea, looking out a window, and remembering to notice your life as it happens.
Why it matters:
It introduces the core heartbeat of the work—attention, presence, and quiet wonder.
2. Choking On Laughter: Short Fiction (Flash Fiction / Literary Fiction)
Now, if you want something with a bit more bite—something that unsettles while it entertains—this is where to go next.
This collection follows a comedian narrator whose voice is sharp, self-aware, and not entirely trustworthy. The stories are interconnected, strange, and often funny in a way that catches in your throat.
There’s an undercurrent here—a questioning of modern life, performance, identity, and what it means to be “on” all the time.
Reading this book feels like:
Laughing, then pausing, then realizing the joke might be about something deeper than you first thought.
Why it matters:
It shows that the work isn’t only soft and reflective—it also has an edge, a willingness to challenge and disrupt.
3. A Year Traveled Toward the Sacred Self: 365 Days of Lessons, Meditation and Exercises (Nonfiction / Reflective Practice)
This book invites you to slow down in a different way.
Structured as a daily practice, it offers small reflections, prompts, and moments of guided thought. It’s not prescriptive—it doesn’t tell you who to be. Instead, it gently asks you to pay attention to yourself.
There’s something very human about it. Imperfect, searching, open.
Reading this book feels like:
Sitting down with a journal and giving yourself permission to be honest.
Why it matters:
It reveals how the writing extends beyond art and into life—into how we care for ourselves, how we grow, how we make meaning.
4. The Love of Farmer Hands: Gay Romance (Novella / Romance)
This is where the work becomes embodied—where emotion takes narrative form.
Set in a rural Vancouver Island landscape, this novella tells a story of connection that feels grounded and tactile. There’s work, land, weather, and the slow unfolding of intimacy.
It’s not rushed. It doesn’t need to be.
The romance grows out of shared space, shared labour, and shared presence.
Reading this book feels like:
Being somewhere quiet with someone who understands you—where not everything needs to be said out loud.
Why it matters:
It brings forward themes of queer love and belonging in a way that feels lived-in and real.
5. Reclaiming Power: An Ode and Guide to Independent Publishing (Creative Guide / Arts Practice)
If you’re a writer, artist, or even just someone who has ever felt the pull to create—this book will likely resonate.
Part guide, part manifesto, it speaks directly to the act of making and sharing work. There’s encouragement here, but also honesty about the challenges of creative independence.
It’s about taking ownership—of your voice, your process, your path.
Reading this book feels like:
Having a conversation with someone who believes in your work, even when you’re unsure of it yourself.
Why it matters:
It offers insight into the philosophy behind the entire body of work—why it exists, and how it continues to grow.
More Than a Starting Point
What you may begin to notice, as you move between these books, is that they speak to one another.
A line in a poem echoes in a piece of fiction.
An idea from a reflective exercise appears again in a love story.
A sense of place—coastal, quiet, expansive—threads through everything.
This is not a collection of disconnected titles.
It’s a living, evolving conversation.
Where You Begin Is Personal
You don’t have to follow this list in order.
You might:
- Start with poetry and stay there for a while
- Jump straight into fiction for something more narrative
- Pick up the reflective work when you need grounding
- Return later and see the books differently
Each entry point offers a slightly different tone, a different pace, a different kind of intimacy.
An Invitation to Settle In
Take your time here.
Let the books sit with you. Let them move slowly. Let them surprise you.
This is not work that asks to be rushed through—it asks to be lived alongside.
And wherever you begin, you’ll find that you’re not just reading a book—
You’re entering a practice.
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