After an hour and a half of reading my novel draft, making notes, and doing research, my eyes look like that. I take breaks to look out of the window of the coffee place, noticing how many people seem to mutter to themselves on their way to the subway. I…
I got my novel printed out today - not printed printed, but just printed. Clear as mud? In truth, I've been sort of avoiding working on it since December. I've peeked in here and there and made some tweaks, but what I really need is to hold it in my…
I'm excited to announce that a short story of mine, Sorry Every Day, is featured in the latest issue of Storychord! The song and illustration featured alongside it are wonderful and everything works together perfectly. I love Storychord and I'm honoured to have been included. You can check it out…
Not very terribly exciting photos today, but picture-taking is difficult with a sleepy dog who needed at least seven more hours before being even remotely ready to play in the snow. I've been thinking lately about a lot of the books I liked when I was younger. I had…
It's a humble PNG image, but to me it's the most exciting one I've seen in a very long time. Today I finished NaNoWriMo. I wrote a novel. I almost want to put an exclamation mark on the end of that last sentence, but I don't think it's really sunk…
If I can't sleep, one thing I like to do is to look at webcams of cities where it has just turned morning. Sometimes nobody is out of bed and sometimes people are already having long chats outside in the dark. Sometimes the spaces look so eerie without people. I…
I finished this book on the way back from Montreal. It was the first time I'd ever read it (I know, I know). It was found in a laundromat by a family friend and given to my mother. Look at the gorgeous cover! Old book design is unmatched, in my…
My parents used to live near the beach, when there was a racetrack across the street. Now, houses are there, painted in too many colours. We walk slowly down the boardwalk and my mother points out trees to my father - "This one is so big now!" She tells me…
Visiting my parents is often so much like a ready-made writing retreat. The house is quiet, softly lit, often sleepy. The TV returns seven channels and there is not much in the way of distraction. I sit straight up, I do crosswords from the paper, I write hundreds of words…
My old Goose on a Moose print and various old photos of my mother and Finland. I'm not really a fan of Doris Lessing's fiction, but I love her as a writer. If she catches me not writing, she shakes her finger at me and tells me to get moving.…
