i lie awake and think about the flood. it is happening all around me. helicopters flying all night long, checking the levels of the glenmore reservoir. dreaming, jumbled images of war. soldiers advancing across dark fields, animals floating down bloated rivers. there’s mud everywhere. i can feel the mud clinging to my bared feet. the … Read more
floods are bastards. #thatisall
i’m done my final story of this ms. PS send gin. PPS send tonic. PPPS limes, too.
in a recent New Yorker podcast, Richard Ford states that novelists cannot be perfectionistic, that it doesn’t fit the novelistic form; however, this trait fits the short story form. this really got me thinking, took me on tangents into the writing/personal. last year, i tried to write a novel and it fucking freaked me out. … Read more
sweet jesus, i returned home to a letter from Alice Munro. did you know that she tapes her envelopes for good measure? says a lot about her.
dear alice dear imaginary readers of this blog, i have won a writing prize called The Brenda Strathern “Late Bloomers” Award. it’s for people over the age of 40 who are looking to publish their first book. that’s me. with the monies i will go forth into the creative vortex known as The Banff … Read more