Five Years a Writer

Sometimes I just want to be alone to get on with my work, but sometimes I want -- and need -- company. That's when I wish for someone to join me as I wander my way down the writing road of more or less clarity and coherence.  And these last few weeks, I've had a lot of company.  A comment I posted to the  Jungle Red Writers blog , which I've been reading for years, resulted in the invitation to submit a guest post; of course, I jumped at the chance and my piece was published on  February 15th . It was a big thrill to see my writing included on that site of published authors, but it was an even bigger thrill to receive comments from the blog's readers. I've always said that my ambition to be a writer lies in wanting my words to be read; well, that day, my words were read and responded to.  That experience has pushed me further down the path of building my identity as a capital W writer, and it's given me the confidence to keep putting myself out t/here ...

Last post, I told you about an upcoming exciting event for me. Well, that day is fast approaching: a door has opened for me into a delightful jungle... Mark your calendar, please, for this Saturday, February 15th and plan to head over to the Jungle Red Writers blog , where I will be the guest writer. This is quite a thrill for me, as it's my first international audience -- and on a blog that I admire for its wide-ranging treatment of writing and of mysteries in all their various forms, and for the community it continues to build among readers, writers and fans via the internet.   The JRW bloggers -- seven published writers of mysteries -- are generous in opening doors to members of the community they help to nurture.  When I attended the iconic  Bouchercon  conference in Toronto a few years back, JRW members Hallie Ephron and Lucy Burdette welcomed me warmly when I bumped into them at the registration desk; such is the warmth of the JRW community...

February 2020 is a big month for me, because it will mark my 60th birthday. I am astonished that this date has arrived -- or will arrive in a mere few days. It seems that, suddenly  it's here. I’ve been anticipating it for a while and now it’s here. Wow, and also, oh dear, as I haven't followed through on the commitment I made to myself last April: "For my 60th birthday, I would like a professional headshot and a proper website from which to run my blog." Rats! I'll just have to carry this one forward to next year. (I think that's what grown-ups can do when a plan doesn't get executed on time, right?) That one non-achievement not withstanding, I haven't been sitting still. Deborah and I ran our "Writing as a Tool for Transformation" workshop last fall, and we hope to run it again in March if enough people register. In addition, we're planning a Part Two for this coming fall, to take the work further and deeper for those who wan...

The election of Donald Trump on November 8, 2016 was a marker for me in my sense of myself. If that man could be elected, I realized, I could certainly step into my own abilities and reach higher to be a leader at work.  The speech by Greta Thunberg to the UN on September 23, 2019 was a turning point for me in my sense of how far to push myself to take action on an issue important to me.  Greta spoke truth to power in simple, straightforward and very clear language. There was no mistaking her message, her anger, her commitment. If she can put herself out there at the age of 16, surely I can find it in myself to do the same within my own sphere (which doesn't include speaking at the UN, to be sure).  Greta's actions don't call us to do exactly what she does. Her actions call us to do what we can, to push ourselves beyond the immediately comfortable, and to step into the tougher next level of engagement.  Take a step, a smal...

Election campaigns are nerve wracking, exhilarating, hard work and exhausting. They can be educational, are frequently annoying, and usually costly. They are democracy in action. And knocking on doors is all of that in microcosm.  I have been involved in political campaigns of one level or another since my university days, when I ran for a position on the student union executive. My team didn't win, we were accused of illegally distributing literature to residence-students' mailboxes, and we were red baited. But throughout the campaign, I learned how to articulate the issues, speak in large lecture halls, and nab individual students passing in the hallway to talk to them one on one.   Alberta: Early 1980s university days Despite our loss, it was all quite good fun, so I next became involved in a provincial campaign. I was just a junior volunteer and spent my time in the candidate's office tidying up, stuffing envelopes (pre-email days) and taking the odd in-coming p...

Friday got off to a roaring start, but by 12:30 the day had ground to a halt when we couldn’t find the cat.   I had taken the day off work to get a jump on the long weekend, so I was at the grocery store by 7 a.m. and home from the full round of errands by 10. Breakfast and packing followed swiftly; Holly, the cat, was in from her morning rounds and settled — it seemed — into her quilt on the sofa.  I began to load the car. So far, so good.   Then I heard the thunk of the cat hitting the floor. She left her place of comfort for…where? I wasn’t immediately worried as she was, after all, in the house; far easier to find her inside than out. I continued to pack the car. Val, compromised by an ankle injury, was stuck on kitchen duty.  By about 12:15 we were both done, the car was loaded and all that was left was to get the cat into the car and head off up the highway to the cottage. So, I went down to the guest nook in the basement to look under t...

If you had told the 18-year-old strident feminist me that I would, in my somewhat-softer fifties, rejoice in the wearing of a wedding band, that younger me would have laughed you out of the room.   First, that younger me knew that same-sex marriage wasn’t (at the time) possible (and had no faith in politicians to change that any time soon) and, second, even if it were, that younger me knew she would never choose it. Voluntarily submit to the state’s sanction of my relationship? Ha! Forget about it, sister. Wouldn’t ever happen. So, imagine my surprise when, at the age of 53, getting married was exactly what I wanted to do.  By that time, same-sex marriage had been legal and possible in Canada for about ten years, but tying the knot with, Val, my long-time partner still held no appeal for me. I had no need. No interest. No plans.  Then cancer struck her for the second time and Val no longer seemed invincible, nor our relationship unshakable. Suddenly, it w...