I was listening to a podcast this morning while engaging in forced labour. By forced labour, I mean working on my husband’s half of our aspirational weekend job list—the list longer than we have the time, physical endurance, equipment, man power or complimentary weather complete.
My husband grumbled all this winter about how he wanted to cut down the creeping branches along the edge of his fields. Many of our fields are surrounded by bush and eventually, the trees stretch into the unencumbered space to steal sunlight from his crops and barricade his combine.
So, following my husband along the edge of the field as he sawed off pesky new growth, it was my job to drag the bud laden branches into the bush and away from his crops. On the podcast I was listening to, they said we writers need to lean into learning and be willing to grow… to adapt. And this got me to thinking about how, if mother nature can adapt to find the open spaces, surely, we as writers can as well. Read more
Tis the season of stress. The season of hunting for that perfect precious gift while you get your elbows up to wrestle for that last sale item on your list. Not only do you need to tackle your regular laundry, dusting, vacuuming, dog walking, work and dishes… but now you need to clean your house before you can hang up those pesky decorations and Christmas lights (fit in the marital spat over the lights, apologize and then make up for your poor behaviour), drag out and dust off the ol’ Christmas tree, and then somehow remember to move the freakin’ Christmas Elf every night before bed. 
When our son moved downstairs, I took over his bedroom and renovated it into my writing space. I justified it by calling it an office and a guest room.
When a cat in need presented to my veterinary practice, pregnant with nowhere to have her kittens, I volunteered to bring her home. Unfortunately, the only open space for her to take up residence was my writing room. I cleared away my personal belongings, set up a cat litter, removed the soft furniture and covered my luxurious rug with mats and sheets.
Writing is generally considered to be a lonely affair. Granted, when your writing hits that utopic pace where the words flow and your characters finally begin to speak for themselves, it is anything but lonely. I recently experienced writing connection through my participation in the Muskoka Novel Marathon, where writers from all walks, genres, experience, and aspiration, come together to write for 72 hours straight to raise money for adult literacy.
