I moved to the other side of the mic for a visit to Sunday night's The Storytelling Show to talk about Tales Untold, an exhibition of art and writing that I took part in at The Reach Gallery and Museum in Abbotsford which is running now until September 2. The show features clips of artist … Continue reading The Storytelling Show – Tales Untold
The eviction notice came in the middle of a long winter, on one of those afternoons when M just couldn’t warm up, no matter how many sweaters and blankets she piled on her shoulders.
Thanks so much to Leah Mol for inviting me to be a part of this inspiring project again!
The final transmission from Station Alpha came from General Watkins himself, who had gone to inspect the new device just two days before. Right up until the moment of the explosion, there had been hope that the device, a single man’s dream realized through unprecedented international cooperation, was the solution everyone had been hoping for.
There was no picture in the final transmission. Cloaked in static, Watkins’ voice was thick, moaning even. “The Earth’s heart is heavy.” He sighed. “So much heavier than we could even have imagined…” Then the whole facility evaporated.
Marcella Watkins, the General’s wife and special envoy to the United Nations, knew the voice well. It was the one he used when he wanted her to move closer, toward his side of the bed. It was the voice he used for quiet, reflective thoughts he could only express near sleep.
“Something is coming,” Marcella Watkins told…
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I wrote this bit of flash fiction in response to an image by Juan Travieso.
The birds in my neighbourhood are having an existential crisis. They’re hesitating on their branches, resting for a moment longer than they should. Even when I scream and stomp my feet at the foot of the tree, they stand there, thinking about whether or not to fly away, wondering if it even matters.
I learned the term “existential crisis” from my English teacher because we’re reading The Stranger by Albert Camus. I’m in this advanced class where everything is so deep. I love it. Anyway, the birds, right? I think I noticed it before I learned the word—is that possible? Can you notice something subtle like that and then learn the word for it, or is it kind of invisible until you can name it? I guess it doesn’t matter—the point is I’ve learned it and I can’t unlearn it.
It’s weird because I was pretty sure flying…
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They've finally done it! My first ever publication of a short story is available on Joyland Vancouver. From the Joyland website: "In an article on the state of literary magazines, Quill and Quire proclaimed, 'A savvy, sleek publication, devoted entirely to new short fiction. Based in Toronto, Joyland boasts editors in several major North American cities and … Continue reading Short story published by Joyland