Five Years a Writer

Tintagel, South West Coast Path , Cornwall, England My memories of a family holiday in Cornwall, England from the early 1970s are few but vivid: fishing for mackerel off a small boat in a rocky sea; meeting the Fosters — a large and lovely family who taught us how to play Racing Demon, a raucous card game that we continued to play for years in our own family; and cool weather — family photos show us in jackets and long pants, no swim suits ever captured on camera. These memories are precious reminders for me of a particular summer * during my childhood. Hold that thought In 2018, when I heard of a new memoir by an unknown author about the walk she and her husband took along the South West Coast Path in Cornwall, I knew immediately that I wanted to read it: memoir is a genre I enjoy; the landscape through which the couple walked is raw and beautiful; and their story sounded amazing — hardship and loss, redemption and healing, renewal by way of walking, and success through writing. Ever...

a maple leaf from eastern Canada I love my car I love our cat I love my country I love my partner I love my parents I love my country I love your garden I love their goldfish I love my country I love his hair I love your house I love my country Is all this love — this loving things — the same? Equal? Worthy of the word? Hmmmmmm…. Throwing love around is easy when it’s just a word…   but put into action and what does it actual ly mean? We hear “I love my country” a lot from politicians, especially these days with politics far and near being what they are — fractious, divisive, often snappy, sometimes scary. What do the politicians mean? That they love the people and the animals and the nature within the man-drawn boundaries of the geography they call country? That they will protect them with their heart , their head and their work ? That they love the opportunities a particular geographic place has given them? That they would march to the border and protect everything — and ...

Thank you for the love you sent my way in response to last week’s post . When I put the story about my birthmark out into the world, I didn’t know how it would land. But your comments and messages confirm two things: My readers are observant and kind, and my writing can spark powerful connections when I risk vulnerability in telling a story whose time has come. Writing about something a bit hard can open not only the writer but also the reader. That opening is the magic that happens when we tell our story with both truth and, dare I use this old fashioned word, honour. Tell the story as it is, don’t hedge your bets. In so doing, you honour yourself and, crucially, you honour your reader by trusting them with that truth.   The poet David Whyte says, “vulnerability is the underlying, ever present and abiding under-current of our natural state. To run from vulnerability is to run from the essence of our nature.” Marion Roach Smith, author, memoir coach and teacher, says vulnerability ...

Amanda speaking at the mic Photo shared with permission:  Mikaela MacKenzie / Winnipeg Free Press Writing in the third person is an interesting exercise; using she, he or they when writing about ourself can be immensely freeing and can tease out a story that, when considered from the first person "I" perspective, just cannot find purchase in words.  The micro story  "Marked from birth" (below) , written a couple of years ago, found its way onto the page only once I switched from "I" to "she". The rest of today's post, which I felt quite fine writing from the "I" perspective, was sparked by the photo above that appeared a couple of weeks ago in the local paper. I was not expecting to see it, but when I did see it and then really looked at it,  I did so without inhibition and with some good degree of joy.  The whole of today's post is maybe greater than the sum of its parts, or maybe not. I am not sure. All I know is that I have h...

The Crown of Bitter Root Book 2 of the  IGGY'S VOYAGE  trilogy science taught Iggy to ask questions -- magic taught her to believe a novel for  middle-grade-age readers by Ani Birch Publisher: Resource Publications, an imprint of Wipf and Stock (Oregon) Release date: March 13, 2026 Review by Amanda Le Rougetel Iggy continues to be a thoroughly intriguing character in this second story of her adventures (and misadventures) in the far-away land of Mystral. An ordinary girl, she struggles with the mysterious magical powers that she seems to have inherited. She continues to rely on Oona, the flying dragon, and Quinn, the adorable puppy, for much-needed companionship, and she is still trying to figure things out with her dad and her grandmother. Can she trust either of them? Can her dad make it safely back from the dark side? Is her mind-reading grandmother good or is she evil? Poor Iggy. So much for this brave ten-year-old to figure out. “Don’t repeat your ancestors’ mistakes...

This week, a tiny story arising from some deep thoughts that came to me one morning recently as I looked around the house filled with so many things so important to me. Really? Important? Or just habit?  One day, one day soon, maybe, I'll test my resolve to sort, chuck, donate.  One day.  Maybe soon...  Maybe... Hope lives in a tiny house With less space to lose herself in, she wondered whether she might inhabit her life more. Day after day, she watched the sun rise, drank coffee from the same mug, wore the same clothes and, slowly, discovered that living small was enlarging her sense of self, of wonder, of peace. ............................................................................................................................................ To receive my weekly blogpost in your inbox, use the SUBSCRIBE feature (above, in the left-hand column), or email   fiveyearsawriter at gmail dot com .  Put SUBSCRIBE in the subject line.   Land acknowle...