Blog

Stop calling yourself an aspiring writer (please)

Stop calling yourself an aspiring writer (please)

I hope this is a positive rant! I’ve just been noticing that a fair number of people on social media refer to themselves as an aspiring writer. They post pictures of their works-in-progress, they talk about story ideas they’re fleshing out, they talk with other writers, they even attend workshops and conferences.

And every single time, I wish I could tell them: You already are a writer! (READ MORE)

New novel & worldbuilding

New novel & worldbuilding

Okay, I’ll be honest: I just completed the first chapter the other day. What had been occupying my brain up ’til then has been the research, the worldbuilding. I examined the small amount of actual narrative I’d written for the short story, and realized that I couldn’t go on – I hadn’t figured out how the magic system in this world worked. (READ MORE)

Writing in reverse

Writing in reverse

Unpopular opinion: I think the Rewind feature in Instagram stories is better than any other (I’m looking at you, Boomerang.) And writing in reverse is sometimes more fun than writing normally. (READ MORE)

Some old new things.

I couldn’t tell you how I started, but tonight I found myself reading through archives of my blog previous to this one, Clock & Bell. I came across some old writing-related posts that, all these years later, were so much fun for me to read. Such a different time. Was I ever really that person? Writing those things? I was a good writer then and I loved it, but I was shaky on my legs about it, like a newborn foal. (Reading those old posts,… (READ MORE)

January 2009, Calgary: Neighbourly.

There is a middle-aged woman in the building behind mine who I relate to. She has a big comfy chair by the window, and she likes to sit in that chair with her computer or a book or a crossword. There’s a lamp right next to the chair and a desk across the room, but she forsakes the desk for her comfort zone. I like her style. In the apartment above her, a cat often sits in the window and it hasn’t waved back at… (READ MORE)

November 2008, Calgary.

The boy crosses the street towards the School for Bad Children. It is cold but his jacket is unzipped and hangs from his shoulders. He calls cheerfully to his waiting teacher, “I just saw some of my old friends but I walked right by them!” And I think of all the worlds of meaning in this scene and that sentence. I am going to recycle the following: Some kids from the elementary school near my workplace have been installed as crossing guards. They stand at… (READ MORE)