I’ve had to take a few tests in my time, I mean, I made it through public school and high school and got a diploma of some sort from college.
And outside of school I’ve had to take various tests in order to be allowed to do different things in life, drive, save someone from a stabbing wound caused by a shard of glass using nothing but my wits, a dixie cup, electrical tape, a box of Read more
When beginning this blog, my intention was to explore the language that peppers social activism discussions these days. Terms such as virtue signaling, manufacturing consent, false flags, being woke and right to protect were mostly new to me. Instead, the writing was sidetracked and I learned an important lesson along the way.
FAIR WARNING – RANT ADVISORY!
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For the past few years I have been posting a salutation on International Womens’ Day to women in my circles, chronicling how they meet the chores and challenges of daily life in important ways, mostly unsung, but nevertheless persisting.
This year was different.
Like everyone else, I have been feeling horror and helplessness as the war in Ukraine has unfolded. And what of the women of Ukraine? They were in my thoughts before the 8th of March, and will continue to be for a long, long time. With your indulgence, this is what I have written in my blog.
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Above all else, writers should be writing, but what if you have trouble getting words on the page?
With the world raging in turmoil outside our windows, writers start to wonder if the words they are writing will matter in a time like this. We thought the pandemic was challenging, but now, people are dying thanks to a man with a greed problem. I’m simplifying this because the man has more problems than greed, but I’m sure you understand we are on the verge of World War III now that Putin, the Russian leader, has ripped up the peace deal and has launched a devastating attack on Ukraine by air, land, and sea.
This news is scary shit. Read more
Some years ago I found myself to be in some sorrow.
I had spent twenty-seven years as a married man. Life had its ups and downs, as it should, and I learned to gather enjoyment from both the good times and from our ability to deal with the not so good times.
All that ended the day after my twenty-seventh wedding anniversary when Read more
The dreaded ‘comp’ or comparative title is every querying novelist’s nemesis. You spend years writing and perfecting your novel—a book only you could have written, a story unlike any other—and then you’re asked to list the similar books.
What? Are they crazy? Of course, there is nothing exactly like your novel—that’s why you wrote it.
The trouble is—this is the business of books. If you want an agent to promote your work, if you dream of the day a publisher will commit to printing your pages and you can’t wait to see your glossy hard cover baby mingling on the shelves of your favourite bookstore, then you need to help everyone to position your book. Read more
Is there any subject spanning the ages that has been written, sung and contemplated about more than love? How many battles have been fought and tragedies endured over love?
Seeking inspiration for writing a Valentine’s Day sentiment, I sorted through my late grandmother’s postcard collection and found a few valentines she had received between 1908 and 1913. The cards are little works of art, most printed in Germany or Saxony. Surprisingly, a number of messages included requests to let the senders know if she was still alive. It was hard to tell if the questions were asked in jest or if it was a very real concern given it was early in the twentieth century.
The cards inspire a lot of creative imaginings. They were mailed from distant places and I wonder about those who sent them and how they knew my grandmother.
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What is something every writer craves, besides an active imagination?
The answer is time. To be more specific: UNINTERRUPTED TIME.
Why?
So, you could write and possibly finish that novel you have been working on for a year. Or has it been two or three years? Since the pandemic started, it feels more like one big giant nightmare of when-will-this-ever-be-over kind of day/month/year. Sad, but true.
What if I told you that I know where there is a private island? Read more