Five Years a Writer

Numbers are not my thing. I prefer words. I can corral them better, and I understand clearly how their relationship one to the other delivers on the page what I want to achieve for the reader. But, every now and again, numbers are useful. And, as last week’s “Life Sketches in Words” class included the homework to prepare an activity report on my ‘work’ today (with work having any meaning, connotation or context I might wish to give it), I have prepared an activity report on my writing. First, the numbers: I have had 15 pieces of writing published in the last 23 months. By my (wonky) math, that’s about 65% ‘success’ rate, meaning…what? I’m not sure what that percentage actually demonstrates, so I created the graph below with pretty colours that map my publication record in a straightforward way, showing that July 2023 was a banner month with three pieces published — a one-time feat I'm sure, likely not to be repeated.   My record is made up of the following individual pieces, eac...

The news is much on my mind these days — what it shows us, how it shows us, when it shows us. The images, the noise, the intensity — it’s all everywhere all the time. As I try to process it, make meaning of it, memories of how it used to be burble in my mind. I remember learning in my masters in applied communication program about how US President Ronald Reagan and his media people took a strategic approach to managing the news of the day. I cannot find the reference for it, but I am pretty sure I remember learning that Reagan’s press secretary knew that if he could get his preferred story to lead the 6 o’clock TV news, the whole country would take its political cue from it: Control the national news, control the national narrative. This reference I did find, from a New York Times story on October 14, 1984 : “Mr. Reagan … and his aides have achieved a new level of control over the mechanics of modern communication — the staging of news events for maximum press coverage, the timing ...

We have gone electric, with a Chevy Bolt EUV.   Day 1, Saturday : Wake up early to the cat in the distress. Roar her into the vet for an unexpected visit. Wait for the vet to call. Receive that call with relief, as a round of antibiotics should do the trick. That and an expensive extensive ultrasound; booked for Tuesday. Get dropped off at the local bookstore’s community classroom to deliver the 3-hour “What’s Your Story?” workshop; wish Val, my partner, well as she zooms off to pick up the cat. Return home after a successful afternoon. Eat. Fall into bed. Writing? What writing? I talked writing in the workshop; that will have to do. Day 2,  Sunday : Wake up early to finish editing the piece for sharing in that afternoon’s “Spark Your Writing” session. Walk outside in the amazing fall sunshine. Enjoy the session with fellow writers. Enjoy the cat’s returned vitality. Writing? Yes: Done early and shared with the group. Good. Day 3,  Monday : Confirm the landscape company’s...

Why do I write what I write?  Sometimes, the idea lands in my mind more or less formed, and it is simply a matter of pulling the words together to give that clear idea some shape and flow on the page.  Sometimes, the deadline drives the process. The clock is ticking and I dig and sift for ideas to shape into form on the page and meaning for my readers.  Sometimes, a spark is received and it sits in the back of my mind, percolating away, drifting through my imagination until, in one happy moment, I realize what I have to write about.  So it was this week for me.  The spark came in the form of, literally, the first 'spark' shared for the 4-session Spark your Writing group that gathered for the first time this past Sunday. My co-facilitator (Debbie) and I compile the sparks, so what landed in my email inbox was not a surprise to me. But it sparked my thoughts, nonetheless, in a...

I do not sew and would not contemplate making a quilt, but I understand the concept: create something from smaller pieces by stitching them together to make a beautiful new whole. The other day, it came to me that this is how I approach life writing. It is how I am approaching writing about my life. Not for me a linear path of carefully planned chronological tales. No. My approach is to keep my eyes open for prompts that spark a memory. Nurture that spark, and tease it into a story. Safe-keep that story in a metaphorical box or actual drawer. Keep being open to prompts and alert to sparks; keep writing them into stories; and keep saving the results. One day, sometime, will be the right time to take those bits and bobs, those scraps of a life lived presented as story, and stitch them into a whole of some sort. This, then, you might call a memoir and you might give it a title and others might read it. What a day that would be! In the meantime, it is both fun and valuable to be prompt...

The Le Rougetel family circa 1965: Anne, Charles, Amanda, Katy, Colin I recently attended the celebration of life for a friend’s father who had died at 95. The service was bright with song and lively with memories, and it got me thinking about how we wrap up a life with stories. Stories of fun and adventure, success and achievement, of impact and wisdom. Or maybe stories of hardship and pain, of loss and lack, of hard luck and sorrow. Or, likely, a mix of all that. Regardless, at the end, we celebrate a life in story. It got me thinking about how my story might be told when my end comes. That’s a long way off, I hope, but in the meantime, I pulled out an activity that Deborah and I have used in one of our writing workshops . It’s a variation on the “I am from…” prompt developed by George Ella Lyon , and it’s surprisingly thought provoking. It asks you to dig ever deeper about where you are from — while the cheap answer is Toronto (city where I was born), the richer, more valuable answe...

I love a good conversation. A vigorous back and forth of ideas and opinions between people who think and ponder and wonder about the world and how to make it a better place for more of us. Sadly, as the infamous quote from Canada’s first (and so far only) female prime minister, Kim Campbell , goes, election campaigns are not the time for robust discussion of serious issues. Even if the issues are raised, debate — real debate, grounded in evidence-based reasoning and articulate arguments supporting policy promises — is very, very rare. And what a loss that is for the voters. From the door step to the TV lecterns, very little real debate happens. On the TV, it seems scripted and vicious — often it’s jabs that are delivered at the opponent more than persuasive arguments against their positions. On the doorstep, it’s a challenge to even get the door open.  And, once open, it’s rare, these days in my experience, to encounter an individual interested in an exchange of viewpoints no matte...