Five Years a Writer

I have learned to write just about anywhere. I always have a notebook and pen in my bag, and I can set up my laptop on a table, desk -- or even my lap. A room of my own is not necessary. Finding space to write is not my issue.  My issue is in t he kitchen.  I know where it is and I function well in it. The fridge and cabinets contain food items to work with, and I know how to produce a good meal. It's just, well, there are days when I wish the meals would sort themselves out without input of any kind from me -- not thinking, planning, shopping, prepping or making. Just POOF, appear on a plate, ready for me to eat.   I love good food, enjoy exciting flavours, and function best when I eat regularly. But, some days, the effort required to produce something decent is just too much, or seems to be too much, because, ultimately, hunger and good sense prevail and I get down to preparing the necessary meal. Not necessarily exciting, but functional. As I do so, I fantasize ab...

Deborah Romeyn: friend, teacher, massage therapist —  and songwriter & singer Introduction by Amanda I am intrigued by how different forms of creative energy and creative output share so much fundamental DNA. Whether painter or musician, writer or dancer, it is talent, drive, hard work, persistence, self-doubt, community as essential core support, audience as key, self-belief as crucial that connects artists across the genres and around the world. Creative energy is life force that defies the odds, the critics, the naysayers  — and I look for creative energy wherever I can.  Sometimes it’s tucked away in a corner, evident only because an accidental light shines on it: Discovered! Sometimes it is loud and proud and out there trumpeting itself for anyone within reach: Watch me! Read me! Listen to me! Most usually in my circles, it is quietly present, made known when someone asks an interested question. Today, my own spotlight is shining on my sister Creative Deborah Ro...

My friend Penni Mitchell has died. I knew her as feminist, writer, editor and all-round face of feminism in Winnipeg and beyond. She was a force, taken by cancer much too young.  I credit Penni with encouraging me to write and to think about myself as Writer, as I told her in this letter I dropped into her mailbox a couple of years ago. May 17, 2023 Dear Penni: This weekend, I took stock of my writing by creating a ‘record of publication’ that lists what I’ve written and where it’s been published. Doing this made me realize that you played a major role in setting me on this track of writing and then submitting it and then, sometimes, seeing it published. The first piece on my list is the one I wrote about Norma Scarborough for the summer 2009 issue of Herizons . You may or may not recall it as starkly as I do. It went like this: I called you to say that Norma had died and that Herizons should write a tribute or look-back over her life. You said, Why don’t you write it, Amanda? Wh...

We watched the NBC news show Meet the Press on Sunday, which included an interview with President Volodymyr Zelensky. Throughout the questions put to him, he was continually  in the position of having to characterize his relationship with the current president of the United States. Zelensky chose his words carefully. Underneath every one, I sensed both his deep regret the alliance is not stronger and more consistent, and his disdain/pain/disgust that this is how it is these days. He has no choice. He must be diplomatic towards the world power while being loyal to, and proudly representative of, his country. Not an easy line to walk, but walk it Zelensky did — and does. There is no war in our house, but there is, currently, a minor skirmish between us and tiny invaders. It’s pitch black dark when I get up with the cat, then walk quietly with her to the kitchen where she gets food and I make tea, then I creep down the basement stairs and stand still, listening, listening fo...

Life is a collection of dots... Abigail Thomas , the American memoirist, says not to worry about chronology when we are trying to capture our life ’ s stories. Just get the dots down, she says. Worry about connecting them later. I find this freeing. In a recent writing class, the prompt was the image of an old-fashioned pencil sharpener — the kind that was affixed to the wall of my primary school classroom. I mulled on it a while, thinking about pencils and sharpening them, a most satisfying action. Then, after a conversation with a writing friend who said the image reminded her of ‘back to school’ times, I realized I had two dots stored in my memory bank that I could work with: Miss McCormack, my Grade One teacher in Montreal; and Frau Doktor Friedrich, my home room teacher at my middle-grade school in Germany. I started with those two dots, inserted a third ‘teacher’ dot in between them, and then noodled on how to extend the piece beyond those three dots into something I would share ...

“ Write something ”  is a favourite encouragement of mine: Just start. Put words on the page. Write. Time enough later for editing, revising, refining. Today, right now: Write something . My sister sent this lemon poppyseed cake from my neighbourhood bakery to celebrate the launch of my handbook,  How to be a Writer in Four Steps , this past Saturday. Yum! Of course, my one fear was that no one would come. My other, much less rational, fear was that so many people would come the room would burst. Of course, neither of those things happened. This past Saturday, about 50 people came to my book launch. I know this number only because my clever friend Jacki counted the 45 people seated to which I am able to add the handful who came to buy the book but were unable to stay for the formal event. What a spectacular feeling — to have people, many known to me but also some total strangers, come to an event designed expressly to celebrate the launch of my handbook into the world. While I...