Category Archives: About Writing

Fire! It’s Wild!

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We study the wildfire maps. Any road trip these days demands at least that much preparation. Wildfires are everywhere.

Look at today’s maps. Oddly, so far, Northern BC and the Yukon are still not too bad.

Fire Map for BC 6/17/26

Fire Map for Yukon 7/17/26

Wait a second.

The fact that I am saying the wildfires aren’t too bad right now is proof that the brainwashing propaganda machine that has tried to normalize wildfires the last few years has successfully lodged itself somewhere in my brain. I have to shake it off. The truth is, this is terrible!

About the best comment I’ve heard about the wildfires was something like, “I never had to stay indoors as a kid because of wildfire smoke.” Neither did I.

A few years ago, we drove to our friend’s place north of Kenora, Ontario from BC. Just east of Calgary, the smoke started. It was so thick in places it was like fog. You’ve heard it all before. The car was covered in ash. The smoke lasted for over 700 km. Luckily, I had a small portable air filter in the car. And luckily, if there’s one thing I always have, it’s masks.

We’ve all heard how Toronto had the worst air quality in the world this week. AND, it was outrageously hot. A bad combo. Doomy people say this is the future, but guess what? It’s the present. The future is here. Meanwhile, drill baby drill and let’s build another pipeline! We all have ringside seats to the end of the world.

I wonder: Since the beginning of the pandemic, a lot of folks have spent a lot of time gaslighting us all into believing we don’t need to do anything about air quality. More normalization of terrible things. Imagine if we had spent the past six + years actually improving indoor air quality, upgrading HVAC, adding HEPA filters. It would have paid off not only in protecting us from disease, but also in helping us deal with wildfire smoke. Now there’s a project of National Interest for Mr. Carney that I could get behind.

Instead, we have this pervasive idea now that air quality is not something we can do anything about, or that we can afford to do anything about. To do something about it would be to admit there is a problem, and we can’t do that. We’ve invested too much in our denial, at least most of us have. We’ve created the perfect conditions for maximum denial—don’t ask, don’t tell, don’t test. We can’t even mention COVID. No one has it anymore. They all have something else. (Reader, lots of people have COVID. Check the wastewater data.)

Anyway, we can do something about air quality.

Filter your air! Build yourself a Corsi-Rosenthal box. It’s easy and cheap to clean your air at home. Build a second one for your kids’ daycare or classroom. Ask the owners of the public buildings you frequent about their HVAC systems. Just ask the question. Get them to think about air quality. On a larger scale, make the link between climate change, pipelines and wildfires. Do it in casual conversation, at the office, in the grocery store, at the dinner table. Do it for people who think we can continue to extract without killing the entire planet. Canada is more than a site for resource extraction.

Talk about air quality. Talk about it now while it is an undeniable problem and there may be some motivation to change someone’s ideas.

Sad news from Dawson City, Yukon and Disaster Tourism

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The Pit, the old Westminster Hotel in Dawson City, Yukon, has burned to the ground.

Built in 1898, it was sometimes thought of as the “living room” of Dawson City. I’ll never see it. Sad.

It had already been closed because of a terrible flood, but hopes were high that it would reopen this summer. What is a flicker of sadness for me is a deep gash in the lives of those in Dawson City. I’m going to make a bold, even over-the-top comparison. It is like when Notre Dame burned down. For Parisians with a lived connection to the Cathedral, it was soul crushing. For tourists, it was sad, but not the same. The Westminster Hotel was that important to Dawson City.

The loss of the Westminster Hotel has me thinking about how everything seems to be changing so fast and what some people call disaster tourism, a desire to see something before it’s gone. Get to Taiwan while it is still Taiwan. Go north and see the polar bears before they go extinct. I think of the tiny town of Lytton, BC, still reeling and not rebuilt from the wildfire that went through it in 2021. A year later, we were travelling through the area and there were signs up asking tourists not to go there. Disaster tourists. No one wants them. They do not help. And there they are, looking for a sandwich. No one has the time or energy to give them a sandwich. They need all the sandwiches they have for themselves.

There’s so much that is disappearing. Some of it happens because of “natural” disaster, and some of it happens because of shockingly bad policy and politics. According to a recent story, “Climate Policy on the Ropes” by Chris Hatch (Sunday May 17, 2026 in the National Observer), the pod of Southern Resident Killer Whales known as J-Pod that live near me is about to be even more endangered. Changes being brought in by Mark Carney’s Liberal government that eviscerate environmental approval processes and therefore environmental protections are coming so that Carney’s major projects (many of which are pipeline and fossil fuel related) will get passed. Hatch writes,

“Tim Gray, a veteran of the Harper government’s assaults, and now executive director of Environmental Defence, says the [new] proposed process would ‘sacrifice the rule of law and our most sensitive species and ecosystems in order to build pipelines and other projects. If approved, this proposal will take Canada back to a more dangerous, toxic and destructive time and leave Canadians facing impacts that could last for generations.’ Several government sources told [journalist] Althea Raj that the proposal is specifically designed to facilitate projects (like a West Coast pipeline or ports) that would impact the critically endangered southern resident orcas. There are only 74 whales left (perhaps as few as 10 or 12 reproductive females) and they’re the ones that make tragic news every few years when mothers carry their dead babies for days and even weeks in painful displays of mammalian grief.”

And that’s just the Orcas.

According to the World Wildlife Fund, the rate of species extinction is estimated at 200 to 2,000 extinctions per year, which is about 1000 to 10,000 times greater than the natural extinction rate. It’s a big differential, for sure, until you remember that we are still guessing how many species are actually on earth. Every moment we fail to address climate change or demand our governments address climate changemakes us all culpable.

Beyond different plants and animals, land itself is changing. Glaciers are melting. So is permafrost. Deserts are getting larger. Shorelines are expected to continue to change dramatically with sea level rise.

So, if, for some strange reason, you have a wild desire to go see Florida, you’d better go soon. The Everglades are already just a shadow of what they once were. So is the Amazon rainforest. Even the Colorado River is drying up.

[Side note: There is a magnificent essay about the Everglades in Joy Williams’s book, “Ill Nature.” The whole book is great, but the Everglades essay has never left my soul.]

Go before it’s too late. This is the essence of disaster tourism.

I’ve been to the Everglades. It bore no resemblance to what I saw as a child on the TV show “Gentle Ben.” I hiked the Blue Mountains in Australia the season prior to giant wildfires that raged through them and changed them forever. It was not disaster tourism but I was also so grateful I got to see this beautiful place before the worst happened. Not to mention a colony of little penguins along the southern shore of Australia.

What really troubles me about it all is all the effort, energy, money, and even C02 that goes into tourist trips to see the “almost gone” that could go to saving what is. We should put at least as much effort into mitigating the disaster as we do to witnessing it. I am coming to grips with the ways in which I am culpable through my travel.

How much of my desire to go to the Yukon this summer comes from wanting to see this magnificent place as it is now, before it changes (even more) forever? Or is it more simply something I want to experience before I die? How much damage will my trip cause. What is the impulse? Do I want to see a herd of caribou? You’re darn right I do. Muskox? I’d love to see Muskox. We might see Muskox if we were to take a short flight-seeing tour to Herschel Island. Herschel Island is currently being consumed by rising sea levels. The flight seems too much like part of the problem to do it.

But there’s more to my desire to go to the Yukon than ticking off the Muskox box. Have you ever seen the light in Kluane National Park? One of the parts of the trip I am looking forward to the most is a trip through the Mackenzie Delta. I just want to feel what that is like. I want to be in that place. It’s not something I can explain. At least not yet. I anticipate joy in this trip. Lots of joy.

But there will be no Westminster Hotel. My condolences to the people of Dawson City.

Muskox

Muskox

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.