Category Archives: About Writing

The Importance of Feminist Writing and Feminist Presses

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My colleague and sister-in-spirit, Elaine Morin, just pointed out a great interview about Inanna Press in Booknet Canada that highlights one of our co-edited anthologies, Writing Menopause. It’s a delightful endorsement of our work from the Assistant Publisher, Evelyn Elgie. (I almost said “new” assistant editor, but she’s been there almost a year now.)

She says:

“So, the community of older women that I see at Inanna is really, really powerful of women who are writing on all sorts of different aspects of society. The different things that are important to older women that we often don’t talk about that can maybe be taboo. For instance, we have a book called “Writing Menopause,” which is an anthology. I have taken it to every market that I’ve done, every sort of tabling opportunity since I’ve been at Inanna. I took it to the National Women’s Studies Association Conference last weekend in Puerto Rico. And what I consistently see is that it gets a ton of attention. There’s not a lot of work on women’s experience of menopause.“

Sure, it should come as no surprise that the Assistant Publisher of our own press might endorse our book. But what really pleases me is that she pulled it out of the way back catalogue to highlight it and that says she takes it with her to every conference. She highlights the importance of it and its continued relevance to readers. It remains the only book of it’s kind. Not bad for a book that is almost a decade old in a world where books can take years to get published and forgotten in weeks. I’m proud to have produced something that lasted. I think I can speak for Elaine on that point too. And I’m still so proud of all of our contributors who wrote so fearlessly.

If you’re curious about feminist publishing or already care about it, I encourage you to listen to or read the whole podcast. It’s worth your time.

Love is in the Air

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Wedding flowers against a natural forest background

Wedding flowers


Love is in the Air! What can be better. And in the wise words of Mary Oliver, “If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it.”


I’ve had “Don’t Hesitate” pinned up by my desk for years, but never was it more apt than now. It was read as part of my daughter’s wedding ceremony. She and her partner are two of the kindest, most committed people, all too aware of lives and whole towns destroyed. They are active in the causes that matter to them (which are many) and live their values in all ways. In a world of unkindness, they are kind. Their kindness is a way of fighting back against the darkness. Their joy will never be made a crumb.

We all feasted on joy this weekend. The wedding was outdoors. We were surrounded by old cedars, the meadow was full of daisies, and we could hear the crash of the ocean waves in the background. There were friends and family, babies, and people soon to have babies. There was cooperation and full participation. Everyone took on something that helped make the day beautiful. Even the weather cooperated with the rain giving way to sun at the same time as the wedding started.

This was a three day gathering and a community that made it happen. We got to know everyone better. My daughter’s partner’s family is lovely, thoughtful, creative, full of heart. There were wonderful conversations and I came away amazed and heartened by the awareness and optimism of my daughter’s generation. They are living their values, using their skills, and committed to making this difficult world a place where there is still love and hope.

My deepest gratitude and love to all.

“Joy is not to be made a crumb.”

The election is like a cancer diagnosis Part 2

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So, if the election is a cancer diagnosis, what happens now? Again, I should know.

Like I said in Part One, for most of us, it’s too soon to call in MAiD. (But I defend your right to do it.)

It’s easier to find any fight left in you if you have some help. Some community. Some solidarity. Some fellowship. Some sisterhood. Look for it. It’s there. This is something I know for sure.

But first you have to get up. (I saw this reel this morning, and I liked it.) Getting up might be metaphorical. Maybe you actually can’t get up physically. That’s ok. Maybe you can get up mentally or emotionally.

When you’re ready. But don’t take too long. Because the antidote to despair is action. So get up.

When you get a cancer diagnosis, you need a lot of help. If you’re lucky, you’ve got a deep bench already. I don’t usually go to sports analogies, but this one works. You need people who will drive you to the hospital, drop off casseroles, pick up the walker you’ve had to rent and drop it off to you. You need someone to help look after the kids. That kind of thing. If you’re really lucky, you’ve got some people in your life who will talk straight with you. Treasure them. And when you are able, do the same for them.

But what happens if everyone gets a cancer diagnosis at the same time and we all need the casseroles? Well, look around. There are models.

The disability community has been showing us how to do this forever. Mutual aid built around radical acceptance. That’s what you need.

Look around some more. The climate action folks have been doing this forever. In the most hopeless circumstances, they work. And they have made progress. Look at the progress. Don’t get too mired in the defeats.

Look around. Look at the LGBTIQ community. Solidarity in action, love in action. And look at how to do it with JOY.

There are many other places to look. What they have in common is empathy. Kindness. Grit.

People are already doing the work. You are not alone. Join them, or recommit. Redouble your efforts. Maybe that group you thought was “too radical” is just what you need now. Maybe stop working for people who only want a wee bit of change, just enough to make themselves comfortable. Look for the people trying to make everyone better.

Start a mutual aid group in your building, on your street. Talk to your neighbours. Go to the community centre. Maybe you can be that subversive voice in the knitting group. Do it. Knit little hats for the babies of all the teen moms (there are going to be more and more). I love knitting analogies more than sports analogies. And cooking analogies too. It doesn’t have to be hard or fancy or perfect. It’s ok to drop a stitch. It’s ok to burn the edges of the lasagna a bit. Maybe lasagna was too hard to do. Make something easier. Throw the ingredients on a sheet pan. Keep it simple. Start a knitting group and bring the sandwiches. You are needed. When you have the energy, you are still needed. And when you don’t have the energy, you are allowed to rest. Do what your heart calls you to do, do what you can, and do it until your last breath.

You do not have to accept the unacceptable. The hardest work will be to set boundaries, recognize the gaslighters. You are going to have to let some people go. You are going to have to say no to a lot of nonsense. Fascist-adjacent is just as bad as fascism. Don’t make excuses.

Read Timothy Snyder’s book On Tyranny. Lesson One is “Do not obey in advance.” Do not alter your moral compass to adjust to their misaligned North. You know where North is. It hasn’t changed. Hold fast to your true north.

We are in this together. You are in it with other people. Reach out. Start knitting. Knit this broken world together again in a whole new unexpected shape. Not by yourself. Just add some stitches. It will help.

There is still life after the cancer diagnosis. It might not be the life you wanted or thought you deserved. Grieve. And then, keep going.

The Next Book

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A box full of notes about ”Alice,” my (maybe) next book.

People ask me about my next book, and I appreciate their faith that there will be one. Such optimism! Even referring to Patterson House as my first novel is optimistic. But with recent news that appears to be pointing at the demise of the publisher of PH, I wonder.

I love writing. I love interacting with readers. I love giving readings. I love being in the company of other writers. And I love books—libraries, book stores, my own bookshelves, perusing the shelves of others! The smell of a book when I open it. It’s all great.

I do not like the business of books, particularly that awful time when I have a book complete and I am seeking a publisher. The book business is hard and getting harder.

For a long time, I searched for an agent. An agent would be helpful for me, especially given my brain injury. I need someone to handle the business of my writing. That part of the work holds me back. Agents are hard to come by. I had three close calls when I was shopping Patterson House, all with variously heartbreaking endings. So close.

Now, like so many others, I go it alone. But that’s not really true either. I have a group of incredible writing friends that I rely on for feedback, for business advice, for commiseration, for shared joy at success. I’m grateful to all of them.

Will there be a next book? Probably. I have a project I’m into that I refer to as ”Alice.” I can’t think about publication. That feels like too much right now. If a book is written and no one reads it, does it still count? I think so.

Single Family Dwelling

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Overheard— “Yeah, this old lady lived there forever. Her garden was incredible. Like, you would stop on the sidewalk to look at it. Then she died. There was some sort of problem with the house. I don’t know. But these crack-heads moved in and it took, like, fifteen years to get them out. By then, the garden was ruined.”

I wonder— Did her garden offer a respite, a brief solace, a minute of uncomplicated pleasure, to anyone? Did someone notice the daffodils peek up from the soil in the spring, stare deep into the heart of a rhododendron, or watch a bee gather pollen? Did the scent of lilac help someone sleep? Did anyone look out to the yard through that cracked bedroom window, see a bud or a bloom or a leaf and wonder, if only for a second, how am I connected to all of this life?

Historical Fiction is fiction. And fact.

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Copy edits and fact checking are going on now for PATTERSON HOUSE and I suddenly realized I forgot an author’s note, which is a pretty typical thing to put in historical fiction. Who doesn’t like a little chat about sources and accuracy, something to the effect of this is history AND fiction, and how it is not possible be 100% accurate when I have inserted a completely fictional family into the mix? I have messed with the space time continuum. I have violated the prime directive. These actions leave marks.

Do I know who owned the Phoenix Block before it burned to the ground in the Great Fire of 1904? Well, yes, I actually do. But for the purposes of this book, it was William Patterson. Why? Because the imagery of the Phoenix is just too good to throw away.

Mr. Newton Wylie actually was a real person and a leader in the prohibition movement. And he really did break his back. I did not make him up. Or did I? Do I know if he was married or if he was the kind of man to notice a woman’s hat? No. No I don’t. But his name was too perfect to set aside. Mr. Newton Wylie is part of my PATTERSON HOUSE world now and welcome to him.

Bishop Strachan was certainly a real person. Do I know if he would have helped marry off a cousin in England? I do not. But this is what historical fiction is like.

What I like about historical fiction is the possibility of anchoring the story in real events. I believe it lends a story authenticity. What I also like about historical fiction is making the story up.

Somehow, I will get that into my author’s note.

The Phoenix Block, burned to the ground after the Great Fire of 1904