good morning other world

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 always feel like I should preface this by saying “I’m not some weirdo,” but can it be weird to watch the world wake up in […]

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in praise of vintage books

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 opinion. Old books are great, especially when they’ve been used by a student in a mixture of relevant class notes and future invention ideas. I

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blustery beach(es)

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 that when she was my age, when everything was new, she dreamed of living in the little building in the last photo, just her and

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retreat

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 at the kitchen table I carved my name into at age eight. — Lindsey has an amazingly good story in the new issue of Storychord,

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istanbul_lamp

where i write

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. A dusty plant given to us by friends, and an old monster made by Suzen a long time ago. An oil lamp from Istanbul, a

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angles

today was a productive writing day

There is no greater excitement than starting a story. Finishing a story is satisfying, but in a different way – it’s a worn-out, bleary-eyed kind of happiness. You almost don’t even care. You don’t really remember the thrilling beginning, the new idea becoming a narrative with real, live characters. Today I took myself and my laptop to a coffeeshop. I opened my Word doc called “Ideas and Beginnings” and picked something at random. I copied

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sign

yesterday was a frustrating writing day

My husband J and I were sitting on our bed in the dark, our dog snoring on her own little bed a few feet away. I was sitting with my chin on my drawn-up knees and trying to put into words why I’d had such a frustrating day. It was hard, partly because you can’t actually speak too well with your chin on your knees, but also because it’s so difficult to talk about writing,

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to become immortal, and then die

Breathless/À bout de souffle, 1960. I know, I know, I’m the last person alive to have not yet seen this movie. I won’t give a review of it or anything, mostly because I’m terrible at reviews but also because nobody needs yet another review of this classic film. All I can say was I liked it. Groundbreaking, eh? It was also interesting to me in one weird way: Jean Seberg in this movie resembled the

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solaris, 1972

Solaris, 1972 – the original! This is another great movie I randomly borrowed from my local library branch (see my previous post if you want to read me gush about the selection there). I enjoyed some of the out-of-context quotes in this one, as you can see. Of course, I also enjoyed the look of it and took many photos of my TV as proof. I haven’t seen the remake yet, and honestly I’m not

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