and with him, a unique voice. but his words remain. there’s something about reading Garcia Marquez that frees me. i took a creative writing class at U of C that was beyond hell, but i studied Garcia Marquez’ CHRONICLE OF A DEATH FORETOLD, a novella. it’s a story told in reverse. here are the opening … Read more
a speech for each of my kids weddings. a story that features Cheap Trick’s song ‘I want you to want me’. i’ll set it at a house party on CPR Hill with a view out over Shuswap Lake. a drunk menopausal woman will likely take over the story. a story about a brave red-headed boy … Read more
here’s a quote from Roddy Doyle about writing: If I want to be a writer, like you, should I start by writing short stories? Are they easier or harder?! I find short stories harder to write than novels. But that’s just me. When I started writing, I wrote novels – because I loved reading novels. … Read more
first lines are important. when i think of memorable ones, i remember them for different reasons. some are classic. like Dickens A TALE OF TWO CITIES: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of … Read more
Death by Rainer Maria Rilke Before us great Death stands Our fate held close within his quiet hands. When with proud joy we lift Life’s red wine To drink deep of the mystic shining cup And ecstasy through all our being leaps— Death bows his head and weeps.
in the 80s i drove a 1970 Ford F100 stepside, short-box, half-ton truck called Blue. the previous owner blew his brains out in the cab one dark January morning. Dad neglected to pass along this information when he brought the truck home.
Colm Tóibín has penned these important rules of writing and i’d best pay attention. Finish everything you start. Get on with it. Stay in your mental pyjamas all day. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. No alcohol, sex or drugs while you are working. Work in the morning, a short break for lunch, work in the … Read more
i left Sicamous in the 80s, tired of the small town lack of privacy, tired of gender role expectations. i remember thinking, as i waved my parents goodbye from the window of a greyhound bus, that i was free for the first time in my life. the city provides anonymity and space to discover oneself, … Read more
i am cursing you, in this oil-rich city, my hands unsteady. the walls are reverberating. it’s cold outside, and sunny, and even in the early afternoon, the wind is brittle. this morning, i watched the sounds of an olympic hockey game–an announcer in a floral suit, rock n’ roll regurgitating–collapse in the corner of this … Read more