Month: November 2021

There is a splinter of ice in the heart of a writer. Graham Greene I’ve got a writing problem that seems to mystify my writing friends: my characters seem to be inordinately good souls. Apparently I need to learn how to create believably bad individuals — I need to hone that splinter of ice that… Continue reading Unbelievably good characters

I’ve had rather a few weeks of a hiatus, all in all, after the writing frenzy to get sufficient words ready for the Adventures in Fiction ‘New Voices: First Novel’ competition by the 14th September. Thereafter, it was a spell of poetry which was the only creative response I could manage while my father died.… Continue reading Back to the 1000 a day discipline

I grew up appalled at the concept of ‘manifest destiny’ though simultaneously I knew, and was proud of, my ancestors who pioneered homesteads on the great prairies of Saskatchewan at the turn into the 20th century. The Anabaptists always sequestered themselves apart from the state, but they weren’t averse to land exploitation schemes, and my… Continue reading Remembering heritage . . .

Half-way through our sojourn in the Outer Hebrides, in Harry Hymer (HarryCarrieAndMe.wordpress.com), we got the call that everyone dreads, though death really is a part of life. My father was dying. Within a couple of days, he was gone. A very full life, he lived, to the great age of 92, and it was a… Continue reading A death in the family . . .