i'm obsessed with shorts. short. stories.
Rea a noir gimlet. “The bartender set the drink in front of me. With the lime juice it has a sort of pale greenish yellowish misty look. I tasted it. It was both sweet and sharp at the same time. The woman in black watched me. Then she lifted her own glass towards me. We both … Read more
i’ve got nothing, nada, not one thing to say. this is a problem because i’m writing a lot and i wonder if this apathy translates into my work. lordy, this writing business–it’s like walking through sludge. somebody bring me a cool compress, i’m swooning. and a gimlet, whatever that is. do you have the recipe … Read more
this week, i’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to be a writer who is professional. by that, i mean someone who takes their writing seriously, as opposed to a technical writer. i believe a professional attitude is key to success, however a writer defines success. what does this mean? i believe in … Read more
luxury goods floated like dirigibles across the screen. illusions. by: me.
dear alice, i read an essay by Cheryl Strayed titled ‘Munro Country’ in which she describes corresponding with you and, further, goes on to discuss how she came to read your stories. it’s a long essay and Cheryl’s a good writer, a better writer than i’ll ever be. anyway, in her essay Cheryl talks, at … Read more
when i was a psych nurse, i took care of a lot of different kinds of people. ten years of work, on both the open wards and psych emergency, taught me a thing or two. i don’t like to talk about it much because i fear marginalizing people who are already, sadly, shoved to one … Read more
i’m currently practising my story “A Suitable Dress” to read at Astrid’s salon in Edmonton, AB. fortunately, i’m able to read an entire story, which is something i’ve never done. it’s a longer read and i’m building up my stamina. wish me luck, imaginary readers of this blog. what would you read if you were given … Read more
i could taste the humidity and feel the nougahyde upholstery seams against my legs and i could smell smoke and sex and expectation and i knew it was wrong of me to be there—because i was the Sargeant’s daughter, the Sargeant’s daughter—but when you are eighteen or nineteen, you figure that you can handle a … Read more
i enjoyed a trip to the Glenbow Museum the other day, namely, Fred Herzog’s exhibit. he’s a street photographer from Vancouver who has wandered the streets of that city for 50 plus years, snapping photos of people, alleys and urban signage galore. he’s an interesting guy, Fred. he loves taking photos and takes a great … Read more
i listened to this podcast with Marisa Silver in which she discusses her inspiration by an iconic 1936 photograph of a migrant mother. this image drives her entire novel. this process of image/inspiration is thought provoking for me, as i use images in my writing and often start with a particular image or object in … Read more