I had lunch with a sweet friend recently, which was so nice and not something I’ve done much of over the past two years, with all things Covid affecting our lives. Big things,...
The act of authentic writing is like performing open-heart surgery on yourself. Without anesthetic. You slice open your chest, rip apart your flesh, hack into your bones and pull...
As far back as I can remember, I wrote. Private young-girl thoughts in secret diaries, then poetry filled with teenage angst and dark poetry peppered with profanity. I wrote daily letters to God in Hilroy notebooks, short stories and poems for kids, sad country songs, and raw truth-telling stories about life growing up in a blue-collar neighbourhood in Northwestern Ontario. These are those stories and poems.
