Tag Archives: Year of the snake

Shedding Skin 3

We talk of history repeating itself, and I think it’s meant as a negative statement. As in, “when will you learn” NOT to do something. Mistakes happen again and again; heads hit the same wall to no avail. Nations go to war at one end of the spectrum and children rebel against parents at the other end.

When I did or said certain things growing up, I was “just like Heather,” my adventurous, independent 1960s auntie who never married. She told me once, “You can be lonely in a relationship too.” Oddly, I let everyone down when I married and had a child. Now who would they live through vicariously?

History is history.

When the stars realign and the situation seems pretty familiar, it’s actually the present offering new opportunities. Shedding the past to receive a new present. To accept and digest the present–not throw it all over the place in bloody pieces to create more harm. It’s been a privilege to participate in relearning the history of the land that I have always called home.

Shout out to Kaleidoscope Theatre! https://kaleidoscope.bc.ca/shows/frozen-river/

Recently I read the play Frozen River [Nikwatin Sipiy] by Michaela Washburn, Joelle Peters and Carrie Costello … I hope to see it performed locally and won’t spoil the brilliant end. But the character in that play who really caught my attention was Moon. Always there in the background, above the actors, watching, commenting. Cycling through seasons and decades–different each time, but given time, similar. Our shared past no matter how we try to deny it.

It feels like we are at so many intersections that require choices. Frozen River gives hope in so many ways.

My family found a new refrain to replace “Just like Heather.” “Why are you so sensitive?” I always shrugged: It’s what an artist is. It’s what the moon brings to the world–the mystery of seeing into the dark, illuminating it, and coming out with a story.

Will we shed old skin and emerge new and perhaps more vulnerable? That’s how it feels to publish writing. Putting artwork out. Staging plays. Sometimes courage is needed to just to voice compassion in a room where thick skins and sarcasm dampen conservsation.

Home: 10 Short Stories is a collection of stories covering a cycle of seasons. Threads of toughness shimmer through difficult times. It’s a book for the settlers here, that we let our hearts be brave.

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Shedding Skin 2

The turn of the millennium seems, well, a millennium ago! I did so much writing then.

The short stories I wrote in the early 2000s helped me process the new field I was entering, the world of education where it intersected with at risk and vulnerable youth. As an educator, I had to grow beyond my biases and judgements, those fear-based ways of holding on. Like a snake, I stretched my jaw through writing to take in and process amazing stories of resiliency, failure, and the hard snap of systems based on monetary measurables. Thankfully, in those years I was surrounded by amazing support from Youth Opportunities Unlimited and the Boys and Girls Club.

At the turn of the Millennium, there was the Internet, and I was an early adopter. No Facebook, no Instagram or TickTock. The iPhone wasn’t out yet, and Blackberry had its simple, but brilliant, message system (remember BBMS??). The newspaper, gossip, the radio shows and 6 o’clock news on TV were our information highways. We saw the same news at the same time. We could observe our local neighbourhood, our workplace, but we weren’t linked to instant news and entertainment.

The stories I wrote came from observations. The style of telling couldn’t be the usual hero’s journey because there was so much to overcome, and sadly, losses and more losses. All the unanswered prayers.

Most of the stories were told within a short time frame, but formed by a kaleidoscope of views. Me stretching my skin to understand the whole picture, and how to present it? Through dis-connection. In the end, the patterns coalesced, the endings not endings at all. Or writing an “if only.”A skin shed, and the living carry on.

Home: 10 Short Stories is shed, at least in the first layer and available to readers through Amazon. Though that won’t be the end of it.

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Shedding our skin

It’s been a year of work. Family work. Paid work from the heart work. Creative work. Stories written in the past have come back, and darn, I think they are good. The Year of the Snake is coming to a close. Shedding fiction is a fun skin to lose, to observe it separate from oneself.

This fall “Alignment” found its way into the London Writer’s Society anthology. I think I can say that Emma Donoghue has read my work now, and I have certainly have read hers. The LWS group has fearlessly marketed this anthology, asked the authors to participate in all kinds of events. And they have found so many local bookstores to take this anthology in. Tuckey’s Home Hardware is one of my favourite places to see it on display. It takes a village to raise a book!

Shedding a story feels great. It’s not about money or fame, but about having space to renew the craft and bring out new ideas. This year, the short stories are leaving–

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