It's been several years since I first decided to take a creative writing course. I signed up for the continuing education class "Writing the Novel Part 1" at Sheridan College in Oakville. Since then, I've amassed enough notes to light a fire and keep myself warm for decades, or at least roast a few marshmallows.
Here's are some of my favourite bits of advice:
Here's are some of my favourite bits of advice:
Read MoreShortly after November 8th, 2016, I stopped reading the newspaper entirely. Previous to the election of the 45th President I had been a regular subscriber to national and local newspapers and several political magazines. I’d been following some of the loudest voices on social media, and like many others, turning to SNL for comfort. Not even Justin Trudeau’s good looks were cheering me up. Not even a shirtless, boxing version of Justin Trudeau was cheering me up.
Cancelling my subscriptions one by one I decided I didn’t want to be depressed every day. I’d convinced myself it was important to be informed, (this article was particularly humbling) but I also understood on some level that to care about everything was to care about nothing. By that I mean my attention was divided. 24-hour news and information weren’t making me more compassionate, if anything, the deluge was slowing my central processing and dulling my empathy to the point where I felt de-sensitized and cold all the time. Knowledge can lead to enlightenment, but spin can lead to cynicism, and I needed a remedy to my rapidly calcifying heart.
I still wanted truth, but beauty, too.
I wanted to feel, but not be crushed by the weight of the world.
Read MoreI’m not that into sermons, but I love to be put in my place. These days it happens less and less from the pulpit and more via Memoir. You might think that if I wanted guidance, the place to start might be the Christian Living or Spiritual Growth shelf, but you’d be wrong, because those books read like self-help or Hallmark Cards. They lack the essential ingredient I need to engage: story. Just like the Bible is story, and Judeo-Christian celebration is always about re-visiting what God has done, Memoir reminds me how to live. Lately, I’ve read a number of thoughtful, personal memoirs, but I connected particularly with this one.
Read MoreI’ve spent the past month in my hometown and the memories have flooded back as I’ve cross-crossed the side roads of the Beaver Valley. If you’re a Globe reader, perhaps you read my nostalgic piece last week?
Here’s another “Valley Story.” It’s about a wedding, a family farm, a young bride and her penniless friends.
I was twenty-one the year we got married, some might say my husband robbed the cradle, but as the years go by the gap in our age has shrunk. (I still find him quite immature!) The August we married, my parents, fiancé, three brothers and various cousins all lived together on the family farm, an apple orchard. The house, which had for years held six of us together, now heaved and groaned under the pressure of twelve. The well ran dry and we took to bathing in the bay each day after the work on the farm was done.
Read MoreWe meet on Wednesdays. There are only women. When we laugh, sometimes we cackle and then we cover our mouths in embarrassment, or more often, delight.
I delight in these women. They are my mothers and sisters and our secret handshakes give us the inner strength to carry on doing our covert activities week after week.
What covert activities you may ask? On the surface, if you were to walk by our table in the coffee shop, you might think we were friends catching up. And we are becoming friends but the purpose of our gathering is writing. Each week we bring drafts of our memoirs-in-progress, our baby-novels and our dreams and carefully, we lay them on the table for scrutiny and encouragement.
We are the L.A.K.S. The Loving Ass-Kicking Society.
Read MoreI've been working on a novel for the past few years about a vivacious real estate agent who buys her dream home (actually a crumbling mansion) for her golden years, only to discover her husband's been dreaming with someone else. Rather than do the sensible thing (get an apartment, maybe a cat), she invites a high society outcast, an infirm and icy former exec and a risk-averse single mom to move in with her. I'm inspired by women feisty enough to start over and find family in unconventional situations. Here are some of the books from this particular canon that have inspired me along the way.
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