Writing is a solitary pursuit--the imagination guiding the hand moving the pen. I'm pretty old-school, valuing the work of good editors and the revisions process before letting my words go public. But life is short, right? And sometimes, just sometimes, we need to spout off.

About me...

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A writer, mother, teacher, friend, I love books, blizzards and beaches, music from Hildegard von Bingen to the Beatles to Bonnie Raitt to The Brood; I love medieval churches, red wine, creme caramel, and roasted beets, and walking the woods and coastlines of home. 

Thursday, December 31, 2009

Happy New Year!

After a feed of Nova Scotia lobster (hope it didn't come from Halifax Harbour) here I sit sipping an Italian red and messing around with technology. Embrace it, right?
In the book world we authors keep being told we have to flog and blog our books and talents and market ourselves or else die in the dinosaur hell/haven of print.
Words are like the starlings that swarm my frozen garden, after the tiny blackened rosehips out there--flocks and flocks of them pecking the ice-spiked grass. Survivors, they are; tough (tougher) than we Canadians. (Why do we live here, again? she asks, after a stroll by the ice-caked Arm in the kind of cold that makes the trees creak.)
Sad news today as yet another indie bookstore went down.
But we writers, like starlings, are an optimistic lot.
So as long as we can keep pulling down words, this is what we do. Joyfully, and with grace (we hope).
Happy 2010 to everyone out there who loves the written word, wherever you may be,

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