Jonna filled the teakettle in the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, looking at her own face, she thought with sudden bitterness that it couldn't go on like this, these short stories that were never finished and just went on and on getting rewritten and discarded and picked up again, all…
It seemed to happen all at once, this colour and coolness. My husband and I had patio beers with some friends on Saturday, and barbecued in our backyard with other friends on Sunday, and now this. It seems cliché to be this excited for this particular month and the season it…
A friend of mine told me that Macondo Books in Guelph was going out of business, and were having a sale this weekend. I went, not just for the sale, but to say goodbye. Maybe that sounds corny, but it's true. I always found at least one great book every time I…
I've been reading poems like mad recently, so I got excited when Teri invited me to an evening of readings hosted by her friend, poet Gillian Sze. Even getting there felt sort of poetic, visuals full of meaning. My husband and I drove down Dundas in the rain, passing through the…
And when I say "book fair," I don't mean readings or lectures about books or writing or anything like that. I mean a building with multiple rooms of cheap books to buy. Basically, heaven. It started on Wednesday and Saturday was the last day, so my husband and I drove down…
Winter has traditionally been my best writing season. My brain, which sloshes around sluggishly all summer, wakes up and wants to get to work. However, this winter I seem to still be "recovering" from the intensity of my Humber writing mentorship. Either that, or I'm still shaking off the holiday…
I had a bulleted list of highlights written out about my seven-hour day spent at the International Festival of Authors (mostly) with Teri, but for some reason it all seems so personal. I think it has to do with the feeling of being a fan in the way Teri so wonderfully…
It's a cloudy, dark day today, though warmer than it has been. It's quiet. Somewhere around 4pm, there was suddenly nothing else I wanted to do than read an old favourite, The Mayor of Casterbridge. At one point in my life I would have called this my favourite book. I don't…
I finished reading this book a few days ago. It took me a while, because reading Alice Munro both uplifts me and makes me feel like writing is futile. To distract myself from the latter feeling, I often flipped to the inscription on the front. Yesterday it was my birthday…
I seem to be preparing for winter hibernation much too early; before it even threatens snow. I walk through the library, judging books by their covers. I read voraciously in the mornings, when it's still dark. In the daytime, I discover ideas for short stories I'd forgotten about. And last…
