Five Years a Writer

In dark times Will there also be singing? Yes, there will be singing. About the dark times. from “Motto” by Bertolt Brecht We are in dark times. Though I cannot sing (in tune), I can write and I do write, so that is what I am doing in these dark times. Writing about these dark times. The world is witnessing the beginning of Year Three of Putin’s invasion of Ukraine. With 31,000 Ukrainian soldiers killed so far and countless civilians dead or maimed, I wonder how much worse it can get. Of course, actually, the world has already gotten a whole lot worse with the October 7 invasion of Israel by Hamas last year. A stark and bloody reminder that dark times can always get darker. How to survive? For those fortunate enough by happenstance of birth to be nowhere close to those two conflicts (only two of 80  in the world today  according to the Geneva Academy ), I believe it’s important to be aware of the magnitude, to witness the horror, to hold the victims in our heart, and to keep ...

My friend Kevin is moving way up north; he and his wife are driving across four provinces to reach their new life and I am with them — in my mind. Their journey is bringing memories flooding back of my own cross-province trip almost four decades ago when I moved from Alberta to Nova Scotia. In a Toyota Tercel. Packed full of possessions that did not include a bed. Or a table. Or a chair. Those were the days.  My former partner (FP) and I were young, open to adventure and keen, so keen, to begin this new chapter in our lives, precipitated by her first post-PhD job offer. 1986: Halifax is where beautiful Bountiful came into my life. We arrived in Halifax after a week of driving and, after just two days of serious home hunting, found a lovely second-floor flat overlooking Bedford Basin. We slept on the floor, used a Pepsi crate as our ‘dining’ table, and, after a little while, gratefully borrowed a sofa and armchair from our friendly landlords who took pity on us and who, quickly and...

The men were so invested in how it had always been that they couldn’t see past their own habits to imagine a new way of managing the system. But the women could. They knew the old-boys gerontocracy had lasted several generations too long, so they took out Donald at the Supreme Court.*  They let Joe exit with dignity. Hillary welcomed AOC , who consulted with some of  the youngest female political leaders in the world  ( Sanna and Mette and Kaja and Katrin ) and, together with supporters of all ages and colours and genders and visions, they breathed new life into US politics. If only it were so… * This tiny story is just a fantasy, but, sometimes impossible things happen in real life; for the moment, this is where that is at.  ........................................... ................................................................... To receive my weekly blogpost in your inbox, use the SUBSCRIBE feature (above, in the left-hand column), ...

THINGS I KNOW : Val loves me. I can write. I love teaching in the community about writing. I enjoy walking and riding my bike in the sunshine. It is restorative to just sit and enjoy the view across the lake at the cottage. Not all issues can be solved by politicians. It is pure joy (on several levels) to see Manitoba’s Premier Wab Kinew read books to children during I LOVE TO READ month. Freedom is complicated and requires both an open mind and a courageous heart. Finding our way in this world involves both pain and joy; both confident strides and tentative steps; both absolute assuredness and awkward fumblings — these are the ways of fragile fallible humans. Having loving parents, supportive friends and non-judgemental teachers and counsellors in schools is vital to a child’s healthy development. Asking questions is key to learning. Talking about difficult subjects is taxing and absolutely vital for knowing who we are and how we can best live day to day and over the longer term. Con...

Rock climbing fun for my brother (right) on a childhood holiday in Cornwall: no guard rails here!  When we lived in England in the early 1970s, I loved visiting my aunt Vivian, as she lived in a large house and kept horses. Kitty was the gentle one, so I was eager to test out my (very) rudimentary horse handling skills one day by bringing her over from the stables to the house on my own. What I knew about horses came mostly from reading my favourite Jilll-and-her-ponies books, rounded out with instructions and role modelling from Vivian who loved her animals and was fearless around them. At age 13 or so, I wanted to be the same.  Which is what led me to believe I could ride Kitty over from the stables with only a halter as tack — no saddle or bridle. I don’t remember how I got on her, but I surely remember falling off her. She was a clever horse, so when she detoured to the enormous tree just beyond the stable yard she must have known what she was doing with the rank amateur “...

Source  Kirsty Kelly  took this picture of her daughter Rebecca  in Kelvingrove Art Gallery (Scotland) on September 29, 2012. THOUGHT 1: I love the unselfconscious abandon with which the little girl is dancing in front of John Lavery’s 1911 painting of the Russian ballerina Anna Pavlova. She clearly saw something in the painting and responded to it with her whole body, literally throwing herself into her response. It is a glorious response. DESIRE 1: I want this in my life, this open joyful response to something that someone has created. Or, indeed, to have someone respond to my own creative endeavours in this way. THOUGHT 2: “Sometimes the future changes quickly and completely … and we are left only with the choice of what to do next … We can choose to be afraid of it, to stand there, trembling, not moving, assuming the worst that can happen or we can step forward into the unknown and assume it will be brilliant.” Dr. Cristina Yang’s exit speech, Grey’s Anatomy...

When someone asked me the other day what I write, I answered with confidence, “I write short-form creative nonfiction.” It tripped off my tongue as if I knew what I was talking about and, after the past 28 months or so of writing, sharing, submitting and experiencing both rejections and acceptances, I guess that I do. That’s the beauty of experiential learning: Do it (whatever ‘it’ is), put yourself out there, and learn from the results. It ’ s more fun to succeed (i n my case, be published) than to not succeed (I hesitate to use the word “fail”), but I have probably learned more from the pieces that have been rejected than I have from those that have been accepted. My style is uncomplicated. I aim to inform, to enlighten or to inspire. I sometimes play with the form in which I present my writing, but usually it’s straightforward (beginning, middle, end). Short is beautiful: There is so much to read in this world of ours; more words are being pumped out into the universe virtually eve...