I have long been fascinated by quantum physics, poetry, and the musings of what is reality, and it shows in my writing. I go about coolly accepting the unreality of the universe, peering enthralled at the night sky, knowing I’m only seeing the light energy of stars that ceased to exist aeons ago. Read more
I don’t typically write about politics in this space because this space is reserved for reflecting on writing and books (and I will talk about writing and books, in a moment, honestly). But in light of the attempted insurrection at the U.S. Capitol last week, well, how can we not talk politics?
More specifically, I want to talk about the badass romance writer who may well have saved America.
Have I got you scratching your head, wondering what the hell a romance writer has to do with the current worrisome state of affairs in America? Well, scratch no more, because I’m talking about Georgia’s Stacey Abrams.
Let’s face it, 2020 was tough on some of us, if not all of us.
I know that my writing plan for last year was sailing smoothly from January to February, and then, by mid-March, it skidded into a crazy tailspin, halting at our first lockdown. From March 17th through to the end of December, it felt like running over a bed of sharp nails—known as a contagious pandemic—which flattened all four tires in a matter of seconds. It left me feeling extremely anxious about my family, my friends, my health, my wellness, my job, and my writing career (what there is of it at this point). As of December 26th, we landed back into another 28-day lockdown that may hang-on much longer than we want it to.
So, what do we do? How do we plan for a possible 365-day lockdown in 2021? I know that I don’t want to repeat the mess I waded through in 2020, that’s for sure.
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It’s late December, the clock’s ticking, and we’re almost done with 2020. A friend sent me a joke on Facebook this week. He had selected four book titles to describe the year: Great Expectations, A Series of Unfortunate Events, One Hundred Years of Solitude, and Far from the Madding Crowd. Read more
It’s December 21st. Happy Solstice everyone!
Winter solstice – the longest night of the year, marking the beginning of the planet’s slow tilt and turn toward spring’s days of increased light.
The changing of the seasons has been revered throughout the ages in ancient civilizations, indigenous cultures and various religions. Celebrations included feasting, gathering with loved ones and gift giving and were the origins of our modern traditions at this time of the year.
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Bah Humbug (def’n): An expression used when someone does not approve of or enjoy something that other people enjoy, especially a special occasion such as Christmas. (Cambridge Dictionary)
The BAH HUMBUG Christmas of 2020 is coming, steadily advancing, crawling along, daring us to disregard all the Public Health Warnings that bombard us daily with the dangers of Covid-19. Upwards of one half the population of Ontario is in the Grey Zone … locked down once again. We are all cautioned not to travel, not to shop except for essentials and to stay home to protect ourselves and others.
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Here it comes, the darkest days of the year as we slide into winter—and we’re in a pandemic. I think most of us are ready to say goodbye to 2020. It wasn’t a great year, but it won’t quickly be forgotten. Now Old Man Winter is begging us to hibernate and the government is asking us to stay home too; stay safe. What better time for a writer?
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I don’t have to tell you that 2020 has been a poop sandwich.
The world wide pandemic, a political and social disintegration for our neighbours to the south thanks to Trumpism, a record year for hurricanes and devastating wildfires. It’s a long and unforgettable list in a long and unforgettable year.
If you’re a fiction writer, it’s a dream year in terms of material. I mean, EVERYTHING is happening. Peoples’ lives have changed dramatically. Our daily life is perhaps forever altered in some very meaningful ways. Read more